#i hope it's okay if i made a starter from this!

[penanceisthecure]

@a-hazbin-spider from Here

Falcata snorted. "The best mess is somebody else's mess. But if it works for you then more power to you."

They couldn't sit tall like Angel Dust with the pain in their ribs, but were comfortable enough conversing with him. They're not nearly as experienced with relationships, but they like to gossip. "The hotel isn't abstinence-only for their redemption plan, is it? Then I'd know this place is a joke."

They paused and glanced over their shoulder. Rather Charlie and/or Alastor not overhear that.

[kiillerqueen]

" You know it would have just been so much easier if you had just accepted the fact instead of trying to put up a fight. " Scott hadn't been lying when he told the fem that she wasn't going to have any other choice but to go along with his request of pretending to be his wife for as long as this assignment took to bring in the guy that the detectives wanted. Of course he spares her the details that involve the fact that this is all to help aid law enforcement as part of his deal to keep his ass out of prison. Originally he had thought that it would have been harder to find a woman to play the role , but then he remembered the debt that was owed to him by her brother and the plan all fell into place. " I want to make it very clear that it had never been my intention to have to threaten your brother , but you made it very hard not to when you thought you could fight me on my demand. " Continued || @silvrmoon

[byoldervine]

How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

[tojicide]

DOCTOR, DOCTOR! ☆ ZAYNE LI.

summary. when you’re feeling under the weather, doctor zayne is quick to prescribe you with what he knows will have you feeling better in no time.

warnings. fem!reader. nsfw. smut, fluff. pet names. boyfriend!zayne. praise, masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), cockwarming, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, creampie, aftercare. the rocking chair is featured.

wc. 3.9k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Zayne is an intelligent man, that much was evident, but for the first time in his career, he’s absolutely stumped.

Why is that, you may ask? Well for starters you, his beloved girlfriend, have been a bit distant lately. Not cold, not rude, but distant.

With his busy schedule, he didn’t see much of you during the day, and by the time he got home, you were usually fast asleep. It was easy to think that he was simply missing you and that was why his brain had led him to feel this rift between the two of you, but alas, he couldn’t be more wrong.

This entire ordeal truly got him thinking…

He saw a few tissues in the trash bin—perhaps you were catching the common cold. But when he prepared a spoonful of bitter medicine and a glass of water to wash it down, he was met with your denial that you masked with a smile.

If it wasn’t that, what could it be? Zayne asked the same question.

Maybe you were stressed out because of work. He finds that to be probable, so he made it a point to get home as early as he could last night to give you a massage after he cooked you your favorite meal.

You seemed to be soothed by his touch, murmuring a few ‘ah’s and ‘ooh’s of satisfaction as his skilled hands threaded into the tense muscles of your shoulders. Once you were at ease with your head resting back on his chest, he gave you a tender kiss on your cheek before he turned in for the night.

Call him overly analytical, but when it took you awhile to join him, he had a feeling that the massage hadn’t quite accomplished what he hoped it would have.

His mind then started to wander even further. Had he forgotten to run the dishwasher? No, of course not. Had he forgotten to pay the utility bills? Absolutely not, he took his credit score very seriously and a late payment was simply unlike him.

Had he forgotten to put the toilet seat down…? Okay, he definitely did, but that couldn’t be why you were acting so unlike yourself.

And then, as he sat at his desk with a fresh plate of food in front of him, it dawned on him. When was the last time you orgasmed? More importantly, when was the last time he’d given you one himself?

It was almost inhuman how fast he jumped up from his office chair to inform Yvonne that he would be out for the remainder of the afternoon, because oh was he feeling downright horrible.

He was back at your shared apartment in no time, pushing the door open and setting his shoes in the nook positioned in the entryway.

(He had a bad habit of trucking on the hardwood floors without removing his shoes, and considering he was already on your shit-list, he made sure to do it now.)

“Honey?” he calls out to you, making his way towards your closed bedroom door. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

Zayne’s eyebrows raise as he glances around, finding that your apartment looks rather empty and desolate. “I’d like to apologize. I know I haven’t been present for you lately and—”

And then, he hears something. Something that makes him stop in his tracks. His eyebrow quirks up with intrigue as he presses his ear to the door, listening in.

He’d know those beautiful sounds anywhere, even if it’d been awhile since he had lured them out of you himself. Your moans were muffled by the door, but they were enough to make his cock stiffen up beneath the fabric of his black slacks.

“God… please,” you muttered, clearly out of breath and in frustration. “Damn it!”

Behind the door, you were resting on his side of the bed, hoping that his scent would be enough to make you finish. Your fingers toyed with your clit as you desperately tried to get yourself off, but nothing seemed to be working.

Zayne was practiced in a way that only he could be. He knew female anatomy better than you did, but more importantly, he took pride in learning yours. He knew what you liked and what you didn’t, what made you crumble and cry out.

And now that you’ve gone without him for so long, you’re finding yourself more pent up than ever. A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you try again, again, and again—only to be edged with your release without reaping the benefits of it.

He exhales, twisting the doorknob as he cracks the door open. To no surprise, there you were, sitting on his side of the bed with your hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

You hardly looked horrified at the sight of him, more so desperate if anything. He pulls his tie loose as he takes a few steps towards the bed, his knees finding the plush comforter as he sinks onto his stomach.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, almost sounding sympathetic. He runs his hands over your thighs as he hikes them over his shoulders. “Let me see.”

You roll your eyes. “Who’s to say that you deserve to?”

Zayne gives you a look that you know all too well, one that silently reads ‘girl, are you serious?’ And no, you aren’t serious by any means, so you nod your head to give him your permission.

He pulls the damp fabric of your panties to the side, his gaze slimming as he sets eyes on your cunt for the first time in what feels like forever. (It’s only been two weeks at most, but you’re both awfully dramatic.)

“I’m sorry,” he speaks into your heat, almost as if he were apologizing to both you and your pussy. He raises his eyes to yours as he flattens his soft tongue to swipe along your wet folds. He moans at the mere taste of you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you even closer to him. “I had no idea. Truly, baby, I didn’t.”

You whine at the sensation of his gentle voice rumbling against your sensitive skin, your hand delving into his hair. “No idea about—hah—what?”

Zayne takes a moment to reply. His mouth is certainly distracted with the way it’s buried into your soaking cunt while his tongue laps at your inner lips, his nose brushing against your clit with each movement he makes.

“I hadn’t realized I was neglecting your needs,” he clarifies, cracking his eyes open just enough to look at you with hollowed cheeks as he sucks onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He releases it with a ‘pop’, his tongue quickly replacing his lips as he curls it in up and down motions that stimulate you in ways you can’t even comprehend. “My girl is too sweet to be treated like that,” he whispers, thumbing at your folds to give himself better access.

One of his hands continues to rub your thighs for some sort of comfort for his behavior, and soon, the other reaches up to take your hand in his own. You squeeze onto it immediately, finding the gesture to be much appreciated.

“So, you… mmh— you remember I exist after all?” Your words are meant as a joke, but he doesn’t seem to consider them as such with the way he presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away.

“Honey, I’m being serious,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I’d never want to make it seem like I don’t consider you and your feelings.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before he smiles, adding an earnest, “and truth be told, I’m rather surprised that I’ve gone so long without tasting this pretty pussy of yours,” before he delves right back into eating you out like a man starved.

Zayne hasn’t noticed it until now, but he truly was starving, and not for the lunch that he left on his desk back at Akso Hospital. He wasn’t much for alcohol, but getting drunk on your pussy was one of his favorite pastimes, and he’ll never go this long without doing it again.

He was a man of science, and even then, he would never be able to explain the chemical imbalance that tasting you set off in his brain. Sure, medically speaking, the preoptic area of the brain is what triggers an erection, but what you did to him was far beyond that.

It was safe to say that Zayne was almost as in love with your pussy as he was with you, and judging by the way he’s making out with it right now, you have no doubts about that.

Your head tilts back against the headboard as he reintroduces his middle finger to your entrance, feeling the way your walls clench around it.

“Mm, quite sensitive, are we?” he lowly asks, licking a few swipes at your clit before adding, “Is it because you’ve been using your own hand for quite some time now?”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly you nod, your fingers grasping onto his dark locks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss onto your folds. “It’s the only choice I had,” you whine.

(He makes a mental note to give you his credit card so that you can purchase anything and everything you’ll need in order to satisfy yourself whenever he isn’t around. The fact that he hasn’t thought of that sooner is a problem in and of itself.)

He nods in return, though the movement only invites him to make hard licks at your pussy, collecting your slick on his tongue. His cock is rock hard, but he’ll get his turn soon enough.

Even if his turn never came, he’d be more than happy with this alone—that much was incredibly evident.

“I know it, my love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your sensitive clit as he slides another finger into your hole. “Is this alright?”

Your thighs tense up at the sensation, but you nod, tilting your head down to look at him. With your permission, he continues, his tongue swiping at you while his fingers fuck you into oblivion.

When you tilt your head back, he squeezes your thigh. “Eyes down here, I need you to watch closely.”

A sharp whine escaped you as his mouth somehow latched onto your pussy in the time it took you to look at him. He pulls off of you to speak, his lips coated with your arousal. “There will be times like this in which I won’t be able to give you what you need, and as much as it kills me, your pleasure can’t be limited to the times I can have you like this.”

You tilt your head. “What… what do you mean?”

Zayne nods his head, urging you to tune in. He curls fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each push. “Hm. I suppose I can teach you how to touch yourself a bit more effectively. Would you like that?”

Your hand goes flying to his shoulder as you nod, your teeth pressing down onto your bottom lip. “Hah… mhm.”

He nods, grasping onto your hand. He presses a few kisses on your knuckles as he guides it to your clit, helping you swirl the pads of your fingers around it in smooth, moan-earning circles. “Very good. You look happier with me already.”

“You’re still a jerk,” you huff.

“I’m sure I have been behaving like one, yes,” he murmurs with a laugh. “Don’t let me off the hook too easily, either. I need to get a few orgasms out of you before you should consider that.”

That sounds perfectly fine to you, so all you do is moan in reply, which makes him smile. He likes to please his woman, and knowing that he hasn’t done a good job of that makes him even more determined to make up for it.

“It’s okay to use two hands, sweet girl,” he continues teaching, tilting his head towards his own hand that was still thrusting two fingers inside of you. “While it may be mine right now, yours will work just the same.”

Something switches inside of you the moment he begins to help you masturbate, his own fingers fucking inside of you while yours stimulate another part of your puffy cunt. You always had a thing for acts of service, but when it came from your boyfriend, you were practically putty in his hands.

“That’s right,” he purrs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Such a pretty girl. Perhaps you just needed to be reminded of how to treat yourself.”

His hazel eyes are still on your face, watching as you pinch in absolute ecstasy, your thighs shaking on his shoulders. “I see that I’ve underestimated you,” he teases, dipping his head to lick at your folds, his tongue brushing against your fingers as he continues to guide the movements of your hand. “It seems like you’re doing just fine for yourself after all.”

You huff, shaking your head. “No, no… it’s all you.”

Zayne chuckles at that, sucking your fingers that were circling your clit into his mouth before he places them back on your sensitive pearl, giving you a bit more lubricant. “There’s no need to be so hard on yourself, I’m merely helping you. We’re practicing together, sweetheart,”

You almost roll your eyes at that, because the last thing Zayne needed was practice on how to please you. He may have been a bit distracted, but that could never take away from how perfect of a lover he was.

And… it was difficult not to be hard on yourself when he’s practically taken away your ability to orgasm on your own. With the way he’s making you feel right now, his absence was almost worth it.

Your eyes haze over as you look down at him, a soft moan leaving your lips. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out.

To that, he nods in understanding. He thumbs apart your folds, leaving you to play with yourself as you please while he dips his head in to lick at your cunt in any way he can, feeling the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s right. Look at you, honey, such a quick learner.”

Zayne grasps onto your thigh with his free hand, pressing a few wet kisses along your inner skin as you come down from your high. Your hand still has a death grip on his hair, but he doesn’t mind it. He knows that he deserves to lose a few strands of hair after how he has left you alone.

You pant, your chest heaving as your body reels from your orgasm. While your vision is blurry, you can still make out the picture of your boyfriend sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them free of your release.

“Mm, you know, the release from an orgasm does much to calm people,” he murmurs, giving your mound a chaste kiss before he rises up to give you one on your forehead. “Do you feel any better, my dear?”

You do feel better, but a part of you, one that you can’t quite shove away, is still yearning for more. Despite that, you nod, brushing your hand along his cheek as he dips his head to give you a kiss.

Sugary and sweet are two words you’d used to describe kissing Zayne, because those were adjectives you’d also use to detail how he always behaves when around you.

He pulls away from the kiss, propping himself up on his elbow above you while he uses his other hand to brush away your hair. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of a raw honesty that makes your heart squeeze.

You shake your head with a smile. “I know you didn’t mean to,” you reply. “It’s just… you made me feel like you didn’t need me, like what I felt was one sided.”

Zayne’s expression seems to soften as he shakes his head. “Of course I need you, I always need you. Your needs are never one-sided, especially not needs of this nature.”

He brushes his hand over your cheek. “And I was serious about my endeavors of making it up to you, sweetness. C’mere.”

Before you know it, you’re plucked from your position on the bed and carried to the corner of the bedroom. Zayne takes a seat in the rocking chair positioned there, spinning it around until it faces the body length mirror just in front of the two of you.

He then undresses you entirely, kissing along your thighs, your hips, the curves of your back, on the cheek of your ass—everywhere and anywhere he could. Sure enough, you hear the rattling of his metal belt buckle behind you, and when you glance over your shoulder, his cock is pulled out from the confines of his boxers.

His slacks are still bunched up around his thighs, as are his boxers, but he pays no mind to it. He raises two fingers as he beckons you to sit in his lap, and you do.

Zayne rests one hand on your hip while the other grasps onto his shaft, pumping it in his first a few times before he smears the head of his cock along your folds, gathering your slick. “The ‘teaching’ is over, but now, I simply want to show you just how much I need you.”

His words stir something within you, and when he leans up to press a kiss on your shoulder, you already feel like your lover is here to live up to his word. “Is that alright?” he asks against your skin, prodding your entrance with his tip.

When you nod, you’re already sinking down, taking him inch by inch until you’re cockwarming his thick length. He smiles at you in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes drifting over your body that he will never forget to worship again.

“So beautiful,” he coos, his hands mapping out the curves of your waist, your hips, your thighs. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush at his words. “Thanks.”

Zayne shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me for speaking the truth,” he whispers. “That’d be like thanking Einstein for developing the theories of special and general relativity—it’s practically a given.”

You aren’t sure where the correlation is, but when one of his hands slips in between your thighs while the other grasps onto one of your breasts, you don’t care about fighting it out.

“Point is, I mean it. Every word,” he adds.

You feel like a goddess being worshiped as his mouth finds your shoulder, the smacking of his lips omitting into the otherwise quiet room as he places open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His middle and ring finger work to toy with your clit, his other hand squeezing onto your breast.

And then… he begins to rock.

You gasp at the feeling of his cock just barely moving inside of you, your body entirely engulfed in the sensations that he is so eagerly providing you.

“You feel—hah—so, so good,” he whispers against your skin, his lips climbing the curve of your shoulder. His fingers circle your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, and when you place your hand on his to guide his movements, he smiles at you in the reflection. “There’s my girl. Such a quick learner, just like I said.”

You lazily return his smile, your head resting back on his shoulder. He removes his hand from your breast to pluck his glasses from his face, placing them on yours instead.

“My baby is such a smart girl,” he purrs, his lips finding your neck as he admires you. Flushed skin, hair messed up, his glasses resting on your nose. He could come inside you at the sight, but he wants to prolong this. He doesn’t ever want to leave this moment with you. “And so beautiful too. Absolutely ravishing.”

You chuckle at that, though your laughter was interrupted by a soft moan as his fingers pick up the pace as they circle your puffy clit. “You’re… hah—handsome,” you manage to return.

Zayne chuckles at your words, nodding his head as a silent thank you. He presses another kiss on your shoulder, though he quickly leaves another one once you begin to rock your hips. He sits back, catching a glimpse of how you look when you bounce on his cock.

He grins, his hand finding the swell of your ass as he gives both cheeks a nice squeeze. “We can move back to our bed if you’d prefer, sweetheart. I don’t want you to have to put in any more effort into your pleasure tonight.”

You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. “I wanna see you,” you breathe.

“Honey, there are positions—”

He’s interrupted by your hand reaching back to hold his jaw, pulling him up so that he too could see the reflection of you both in the mirror.

And oh, was it a sight.

“I wanna see you,” you repeat.

Zayne is in no position to deny you, so with a nod of approval, his hands find your hips. “At the very least, let me help you.”

The sound of slapping skin and your breathy moans fill the room, his large hands keeping their iron grip on your hip bones while your hands rest on top of his. He peers out from behind you, watching as your tits bounce just as you do, your hair flying messily.

“Pretty baby,” he pants, more to himself in reaction to the mere sight of you. “Such a lucky man you’ve made me, fuck… take it, baby, yeah. I love you so much, so much…” he babbles, not quite sure what he’s saying, just that he’s speaking whatever graces his mind.

“Oh, I… I love you too, Zayne,” you gasp.

You whine, grinding your hips in fluid motions as you feel your second orgasm quickly approaching. You were sensitive to begin with, and the feeling of his cock stretching you out was more than enough to bring you here.

“Shit,” he rasps, his head falling back onto the rocking chair as his eyes screw shut. “You take me so well, you fit me so perfectly, baby… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna… oh, shit.”

You weren’t far behind him, and as your movements grow lazier, you opt to sit on his cock entirely as the both of you find your orgasms only second apart.

Ropes of white paint your insides, your cum coating the base of his cock as the two of you become one in a way that you’ve missed so dearly.

Only bliss envelopes the two of you as you slump back onto his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him. The two of you sit just like that for a moment as you find your breaths that have run off, relishing in the feeling of your combined warmth.

Zayne reaches up to carefully grasp your jaw, turning your head back just enough so that he could kiss you. Your breaths mingle to add to the scent of your love that looms in the air, his other hand running soothing strides along your hip.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathlessly says with a lovesick grin. “Quite frankly, I don’t. You’re wonderful to me.”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him again before he slowly helps you up onto your trembling legs. “Oh, stop that. Just because you’ve been a little caught up with work doesn’t mean that you’re suddenly a bad partner.”

Zayne sweeps you into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “See? You’re simply too good to me. Such a lovely personality, the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard, the cutest snores when you sleep, the sweetest pussy in existence… my dream girl in all capacities.”

You smile as he sets you down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead as he crosses the room to draw you a shower to your liking. Warm—not cold, but not hot enough to the point that your skin tingles. He’s had plenty of practice in this area, and he’s gotten it down to a science by now.

“I do not snore,” you murmur, shaking your head.

As he peels off his clothes, discarding them without care on the bathroom tile. He extends his hand to you to invite you inside the shower behind him. “Mhm, sure you don’t.”

You scoff, tipping the toilet seat shut. “You can tease me for my snoring once you, my 27-year-old man, master the art of putting the damn seat down.”

“…Oops.”

note. my dr. zayne would never forget to please his woman! but i really liked the concept sooooo :3 it was rly difficult for me to write him lol the dialogue might suuuuuckkkk but i hope i did him justice < 3 thank you for reading, interact if you enjoyed !!!

i ALSO kinda wanna do a similar version of this with sylus except… not nearly as gentle ig?? would you be interested??? do let me know.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[mariasont]

GOOD LUCK CHARM - A.H

a/n: this came to me yesterday and i sat my ass down and WROTE

that should be me fr

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

warnings: just my babies being so infatuated with each other it literally hurts, hotch is a pining fool, i love him, i need him, i want to kidnap him to my basement

wc: 0.8k

Hotch was having a rough day. He had never put much stock in the idea of luck, favoring the belief that a path was carved from the choices made. However, if he were to entertain the notion of luck, he would concede that today, he seemed to be rather out of it.

A lot had gone wrong. For starters, he had stained his favorite white dress shirt with coffee this morning. This undoubtedly set the precedent for the day, he was sure.

As soon as he arrived at his office, he was greeted not by the familiar click of the lock but by a stubborn door that refused to budge, his key sitting on the side table in his apartment. This then led to him reaching out to the custodian for a spare, only to be intercepted by Chief Strauss, who, in her usual fashion, had a litany of critiques ready for the BAU.

The day had been steadily unraveling, and the realization that you wouldn't be in until lunch because of a doctor's appointment was the tipping point. Normally, all these minor irritations could be overlooked, but in your absence, he could truly grasp just how much he relied on you.

You handled a lot on his plate, if not everything. You planned out his schedule, answered his phone calls, you double-checked his paperwork. You consistently shouldered more than he ever asked, despite his repeated warnings about overloading yourself--warnings that he, admittedly, never listened to.

Time seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. He found himself unwittingly watching the door, anticipating the bright burst of pink and the shimmer that accompanied you, but unfortunately that did not happen. Lunch couldn't come quick enough.

His vision began to waver, the words on the page melting into an indecipherable stew as he pressed a long finger into his temples. The lamp at the edge of the desk flickered capriciously. A mental note to replace it was quickly overshadowed by the more pressing need for an aspirin, prompting him to reach for the left drawer.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, fingers reaching into the space as he pulled the flimsy object from the drawer. It was a hot pink sticky note, its surface alive with glittery ink, smiley faces, and hearts. The corners of his mouth lifted, the tension in his back easing just a hair.

Aspirin isn't in this drawer silly! First one to your right! And don't take more than 2, okay? Between that and your scotch drinking habits your liver is screaming!!!!

He couldn't suppress the laughter that rumbled through him as he pressed the note to his desk. He turned to the drawer on his right, pulling it open to find, much to his satisfaction, the aspirin. Attached to it was yet another sticky note.

You found it!! So proud!! Hope your day is going amazingly! Don't miss me too much! :)

His heart thumped louder in his chest, a wave of heat blossoming across his neck as he carefully folded the sticky notes, tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket.

When you finally came ambling into the office--your ponytail swaying, a pink ribbon securing it in place--he felt an instant lift in his mood. His jaw relaxed, fingers instinctively straightening his tie--a needless act but one that gave him a moment to admire you. You looked beautiful. You always did, but as he fingered the note in his pocket, he could feel his chest constrict just looking at you.

"Hi there, Mr. Boss Man," you sang out, voice as sweet as syrup as you glided towards him with an ease that defied that height of your heels. "The office didn't burn down without me, did it?"

"It came close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you giggled, the bracelets on your arms tinkling like wind chimes as you wrapped them around your notebook. "You look stressed. Are you stressed?"

"I'm fine, just a headache." He paused, his hand absentmindedly reaching again for the sticky note. "How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Squeaky clean bill of health." You beamed at him, shifting your weight to your toes. "Did you see my note?"

"I did. Thank you." A grin was vying for control of his features while his hand found its way to his neck, pressing lightly in a vain effort to steady his racing pulse.

"You're so very welcome," you chimed, sending him a smile that nearly made the air evaporate from his lungs. "Also, I fixed a couple issues in your calendar, and I ordered you a new lamp, I noticed yours was broken. I hope that's okay."

More than okay. You were perfect. If he were a man who believed in luck, he would be inclined to think you might be his good luck charm.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[watcherintheweyr]

I can't believe I'm writing this

To open up with: IT IS ABSOLUTELY OKAY AND VALID TO BE DISAPPOINTED BY THE LACK OF WORLDSTATE CUSTOMIZATION IN DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD. I have my own disappointments about it!

Ok? We have that covered? We good?

Cool, moving on.

To people who are genuinely, hatefully angry, saying we will now be 'forced into Bioware's worldstate' (when this year alone they've stated there is no 'canon' worldstate more than once), or saying that none of our prior dragon age choices matter, I need you to take a step back and walk with me for a second, okay?

For starters: John Epler stated that one of the reasons they narrowed the choices is because they DO NOT want to invalidate the worldstates of their longtime players. However they also don't want to alienate newer players who don't have the history and lore of the past choices. It's a narrow line to walk.

Secondly, I want you to really look at the choices made by your Hero, Champion, and Inquisitor. Which of those choices genuinely affected NORTHERN Thedas, not Southern Thedas, to the point it would linger for years afterwards? Which of those choices weren't things that specifically affected or altered the sociopolitical Southern Thedas climate and landscape in lasting ways?

The Well? Kieran?

That only leaves that if your Inquisitor drank, they now have knowledge from ages long past... that Rook doesn't need. Rook has a direct line into Solas' history and a possible Veiljumper background, unlocking those very secrets on their own.

It's entirely likely and probable that the Well's fears and threats were a red herring. Think about it. We as a gandom have spent TEN YEARS worrying about the Well, about Solas, about Mythal.

Come June 2024, we're slapped in the face by the big bads of Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan.

Morrigan likely isn't going to be close and friendly with Rook- so there's likely not much reason for her to tell us about her child or husband if she has them.

The rulers of Southern Thedas aren't going to affect us. We aren't tackling the current world ending crisis from the position of a leader of armies like the Warden and Inquisitor, but as leader of a small task force. The Southern Divine doesn't much affect us either- nor do Southern mage politics or templar politics.

Because Rook is an entirely new perspective.

Because Rook is in an ENTIRELY different sociopolitical climate/landscape.

I DO think there should've been ways implemented to specify your Inquisitor's bonds and personality. I'm HOPING maybe there still are that we haven't seen. But otherwise?

My Warden is free. I can say she's cured her Calling and is wandering the world with Zevran.

My Champion can retire into total obscurity with his husband or be quietly helping said husband destroy the slave trade. Either way.

Your history and choices in Thedas still matter. Your heroes still matter.

They just aren't Rook's focus.

Take a breath please. And stop sending death threats to the devs bc what the **fuck.**

EDIT:

further context from the devs on Bluesky

[bahablastplz]

Best friend's brother: Chan x reader

Thinking about best friend's brother Chan that has always been secretly obsessed with you Content: extremely fluffy, slight hurt/comfort, smut, really vanilla smut but super sweet Warnings: Oral sex (f! receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 2000

Obviously, you and your best friend were inseparable. You grew up right next door, and her parents considered you to be another one of their children. You and Hannah were, for lack of a better word, siblings. Her older brother, however… that was a situation that you weren’t sure how to explain. 

You had always harbored feelings for the older man, despite the guilt that ate away at you. You could never tell Hannah that, however. Nor would you ever tell Chan or let your desires come to fruition. 

Which is why, once you came home for summer break you had no problem getting ready for your date at Hannah’s house. Though the thought of her brother being there made you gulp, you would just have to hope you wouldn’t run into him and everything would be fine–

“What’s got you dressed all up?” Of course, Chan appears from behind and makes eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. Hannah is sprawled across her bed and scrolling through her phone. 

“She’s got a hot date,” Hannah replies, snarkily. 

“Hot date?” Chan inquires while crossing his arms. He holds a slightly disapproving glare. 

“Yeah, with some guy she met online. He’s a real smokeshow–” 

“Hannah!” You say sharply, willing your best friend to somehow spare you the humility. 

“Where is he taking you, hm?” Chan says with a small, teasing lilt to his voice. 

“We’re going to a club…,” you whisper. 

“On the first date? No no no, that’s just a recipe for disaster, Y/N.” 

“It’ll be fine, Chan!” Hannah says. She doesn’t even bother to look him in the eye, so he bores holes into your own instead. He mutters out something about how he doesn’t like this and that you should really be careful before returning to his room.

As you finish getting ready, you admire yourself in the mirror. Your black dress hugs your body just right, and your makeup brings out just the right contrast to your face. Hannah says out loud exactly what you were thinking: 

“You look hot.” 

As you share your location with her and get ready to leave the house, it is almost 9 p.m. and your uber has arrived. Though you know the night will most likely not end up with you falling head over heels in love, you’re still hoping to have a good time and maybe get to know the guy more. However, before you step out the door you feel a hand grab your wrist. 

Chan is looking at you with a look you don’t recognize in his eye and you pause, waiting for him to speak. 

“Please, be careful. If anything happens, you have my number. I don’t care what time it is, you can reach out. It doesn’t matter if he’s being a creep or if you just don’t want to be there anymore, I will come and get you,” he says. He looks at you softly before adding, “And even if you don’t need me to get you, please text me when you’re home safe.” You could tell he was genuinely worried and this made your heart pang slightly, making it harder to will away the crush you have on the man. 

Your date shows up late, for starters. After twenty minutes you take your first shot, and your second drink arrives when your date does. He is unapologetic and starts touching you the second he sees you–that’s when you realize he is already wasted. Letting out a groan, you humor him with one dance, but when he immediately starts grinding on you you decide you have had enough. 

“I’m not really feeling it,” you say. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.” 

The man scoffs and immediately becomes defensive. “C’mon darling, you’re not going to show up looking like that and then act like a prude, are you?” He spits out some more mean insults that you don’t hear, because you’re already out the door and dialing Chan’s number. 

He picks up on the first ring. 

“Are you okay–” 

“I’m fine, can you please come and get me?” 

“I walked out the door the second I saw your name flash on my screen,” he says. You hear his engine start and know he is telling the truth. 

It’s cold outside, but Chan has the heat pumping in his car when he pulls up. You curl into yourself, feeling embarrassed at the situation you’ve found yourself in. The ride is silent, though it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s playing your favorite music. 

When he pulls up to your driveway, he puts his car into park. 

You start talking before he says anything, even though you know he wasn’t going to force you. 

“He showed up completely trashed and started touching me before I even really talked to him,” you said. Tears start streaming down your face and you hope that Chan won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. He leans over the center console to wipe a tear away. 

“He showed up drunk? Oh, I’m so sorry… you don’t deserve that,” he says. “I knew it was a bad idea.” 

You know he’s trying to console you but you feel so defeated. “Why is it such a bad idea for me to want to go out and have fun?” You practically cry out. “Why does everybody else get to have a normal dating life and get to hook up with people and enjoy college, but when I try to do it it never works out?” Chan just nods along to your words. 

“You just haven’t tried with the right person yet, Y/N…” 

“There will never be a right person, because the one I want is you and that’s never going to happen!” You slap a hand over your mouth and stiffen when you realize what you had said, and when you meet Chan’s gaze you see that he’s staring at you with wide eyes. You’re completely sober now. 

You are out of the car lightning fast, slamming the door behind you and racing to your house. You’re fully sobbing now as you unlock your door, but when you go to slam it behind you Chan sticks his foot in, holding it open. He uses the opportunity to invite himself in and immediately you’re in his arms, in a warm embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” you say against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I–” 

“Don’t say that,” he warns. “Don’t you dare take it back.” 

“Chan, I–” He pulls you away to meet your gaze, placing his hands around your face and using both his thumbs to wipe your tears away. 

“Y/N, I have known you for as long as I’ve remembered and I’ve never seen a part of you that I hate,” he says. “I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you every day, so to hear you say that… Please don’t take it back. Please don’t tell me that you don’t want this,” he trails off, his eyes darting to your lips. 

You crash your lips into his at full force and breathe against him, completely enamored. He picks you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist and carries you to your room, the one he had been in more times than you could count, all while keeping his lips locked against yours. He drops you onto your bed with a flop and you bounce, observing his admiring gaze. His lips are on you again, then they trail to your neck, leaving long burning kisses behind as he trails lower. His thumbs press into your waist. 

“It made me sick,” he confesses. “The thought of you going to the club with some guy that was just going to use you. Some guy you had never met, someone who would never in a million years make you feel the way that I could.” 

He drops to his knees at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to his face by your hips. He pulls your legs apart, slotting his body in between them, and starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs. You watch his every move, your body relying on your elbows to keep you upright so you don’t miss a second of this. 

“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me, that you need me as bad as I need you.” 

“Chan please,” you breathe out. “Wanted you for so long… Thought you’d never like me like that.” 

“Are you kidding?” He chuckles. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” And with that, he lifts your dress up. It bunches against your waist messily and his nose presses into your clothed core. You groan out at the contact and he does as well, placing agonizingly slow kisses and licks against you. He grabs at your waistband and you lift your hips, allowing him to slide them off of your body. He wastes no time before diving back in and your head lolls back at the feeling. 

“Look at me, please,” he begs. “Let me watch you fall apart.” Your eyes snap back to meet his gaze and you immediately feel so comforted and seen from his expression. It allows you to let yourself relax as he flicks and swirls his tongue around your clit. 

He watches your every expression, every hitch of your breath and every buck of your hips, expertly making you fall apart on his tongue. One finger slides inside of your pussy, pumping in and out experimentally, and you feel yourself coming to your peak. 

“God, Chan, please–” 

“I gotcha, baby,” he says. “Come for me.” You fall apart for him completely knowing that he will be right there to put you back together, and he helps you ride out your high, observing the fucked-out look on your face as if it would be the only time he would ever see it. 

You pant and reach for him and he interlocks his hand in yours, coming up to kiss you even more passionately than before. He presses his clothed bulge into your center and you hiss at the contact, still sensitive. 

“Can I?” He asks. 

“Please,��� you respond. His pants are slid down and he pushes himself into you in a moment. You feel emotionally overwhelmed, looking down to see where you are completely and utterly connected. The way his breathing becomes shallow, you know he’s thinking the same thing. 

He picks up one of your legs, wrapping around your shoulder and starts pistoning into you, and the change of angle makes you go utterly weak. Your back arches and his lips are against your skin, anywhere they get a chance to meet. 

“All mine,” he grunts. His hips start slamming into yours faster, and one hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises that might be starting to slip. “Say it… say you’re all mine and only I get to… fuck, see you like this.” 

You can tell he’s close, and the hand that reaches down to start rubbing against your clit confirms your suspicions. 

“Chan… so close… I’m all yours, Chan, please, please…” His name releases from your lips like a mantra, and as you feel yourself come to your high once again and clench around his length, he pulls you even closer, releasing himself into you. 

Your arms wrap around him and your fingers run through his hair comfortingly as he collapses on top of you. 

You and Chan have always been relatively close by association, particularly given the situation, but at the moment you and him are so intertwined you aren’t sure you can ever let go. 

He holds you as you fall asleep that night. 

“Do you think Hannah will be mad?” you ask. 

“No way,” he mumbles against you. “She’s been trying to get us together for years.” 

You laugh incredulously against the man. Though you weren’t expecting to find your true love that night, you guess life had other plans.

*** First real ff post on tumblr yay!! Welcome to my skz blog, I wanted to start off with something tame lol...I have a lot of really exciting things planned to post so stay tuned <3 Masterlist Recs

[navybrat817]

How often does Dad!Bucky get hit on when he's in the baby aisle grabbing diapers?

A lot, Cia! And you get to see it one day.

The Dad Diaries: Diaper Aisle

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You witness a woman flirting with Bucky, but you don't react the way you expect. Word Count: Almost 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, flirting, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), parenthood, random woman thirsty for Bucky (we get it), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Next part of The Dad Diaries and from your perspective. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky doesn’t like to make a big deal out of people flirting with him. For starters, he’s a married man and has made it clear that he has no intention of ever stepping out on you. He would never. You are his wife and soulmate, the love of his life, and the mother of his child. You’re all he needs.

Second, he’s unassuming. You tell him regularly how handsome he is, but he isn’t arrogant about his looks and doesn’t think every woman who looks his way has the intention of hitting on him. He may give a polite smile or nod if he catches someone staring, but will immediately divert his attention back to the task at hand, such as getting those diapers for Jamie.

Fatherhood is sexy on him.

“Your Dada is amazing,” you say to Jamie as you wait beside your cart for Bucky to grab the box.

You smile to yourself when a woman nearly runs her cart into the shelving when Bucky walks past. Not that you blame her for staring. With his luscious locks flowing free, his worn jean jacket fitting like it was made for him, and the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination, you would’ve gawked at him, too.

Which you did earlier and were now.

“Excuse me,” the woman calls out loudly, making Bucky pause as he puts the box under his arm. “So sorry to bother you, but would you mind grabbing a jar for me off the top shelf? I would really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says, giving you a small smile from across the aisle as he goes to help the woman.

You wait patiently as the lady thanks him with a grin. You get why she wants Bucky close by. Beyond his overall gorgeousness and kindness, he displays a responsible side of himself when he walks through the baby aisle. He never carries himself in a way that says he’s annoyed or inconvenienced by being there. Carefully selecting the diapers and anything else needed shows how attentive he is. And responsible.

You understand the appeal.

Though, you do wish the lady would stop undressing your husband with her eyes. You practically hear her inhale when he’s close enough. He does smell good, but does she have to step into his space?

“This one?” Bucky asks.

The woman has to blink a few times before she responds. “Oh, sorry. The one next to it. You really are too kind,” she answers, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe as he reaches over for another jar. You have to bite the inside of your cheek when she takes it from his hand. “It’s too bad you can’t help me bring this stuff in when I get home.”

Yeah, it is too bad.

Clearing his throat, Bucky nods in your direction. “Well, my son might miss me if I’m away for too long. And I’ll miss him and my wife.”

The woman goes rigid as she looks your way. “Your wife?”

Bucky smiles from ear to ear when you wave. “Yeah, my wife,” he proudly states, making your heart skip a beat.

Any jealousy or bad feeling you have slips away when you see some of the light leave the woman’s eyes and the sag in her shoulders. It’s almost like seeing her in a different light because you know how you’ve felt since giving birth. At times, you feel less attractive than normal, that your body won’t be the way it used to be. You wonder if Bucky still wants you.

And you want to be seen.

While you don’t know her story, you understand the need to feel wanted and desired. It doesn’t go away when you become a mother. You don’t even know if she is a mother or if she’s in the aisle shopping for a sister, friend, or someone else. Maybe her partner isn’t giving her the attention she needs. Maybe she isn’t with anyone.

Maybe she just needed a win today.

“Take care,” Bucky says politely before he walks toward you, leaving the woman alone to stare after him. “Anything else we need?” He asks once he puts the diapers on the bottom of the cart, giving Jamie a small tickle and making all three of you smile.

“I think we’re good,” you say, glancing down the aisle. You could grab Bucky’s hand and stake your claim as the woman makes eye contact with you, but you give her a small nod and a sympathetic smile instead before you push the cart away. “That was nice of you to help her,” you say once you’re out of sight.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as he glances your way. “I don’t usually say this outright, but I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.”

“Oh, she was,” you agree.

“Does that bother you?” He asks, brushing a kiss to your temple and making your heart race.

You shake your head as you think about it. “It did at first because it’s only natural to feel that way, but it went away pretty quickly. I have no reason to feel jealous or defensive. If it would’ve been bad or crossed a line, I would’ve stepped in. But you proudly proclaimed that I’m your wife and she backed off right away. And I know you’re coming home with Jamie and I, so why would I let it bother me?” you explain, spotting something soft in his gaze.

Like he’s amazed by you.

“That makes sense,” he says.

“I can only hope that someone like you comes along for her,” you add, your heart going out to the stranger.

The blue of Bucky’s eyes shine a bit brighter when you catch his gaze. “I love you,” he says so tenderly that you feel butterflies in your stomach and heart.

“I love you, too,” you promise before you nudge him. “And you know what? I don’t fault her at all. You know what wearing those pants does to people. It’s like some sort of sexy magic.”

His nose crinkles as he laughs, the sound making a few turn their heads. Once again, you don’t blame them for gawking. “Did you just say ‘sexy magic’ in front of our son? Is that why you like these pants?”

“Oh, yeah. You put a spell on me,” you smirk before you smile gently at your son. “And I’m very lucky for that because now I have you.”

You don’t know it yet, but Bucky will write in his diary to Jamie about how you handled yourself today. How you could’ve stormed over and grabbed him or made a snide comment to the woman, but you didn’t. And that if you felt jealous, even for a moment, you didn’t let it cloud your judgement. You know when to observe and when you need to step in. You know when to lead with your heart.

Just one of the many reasons Bucky Barnes considers himself lucky to call you his wife and the mother of his child.

And no matter how many times he gets hit on in the diaper aisle, he’ll always come home to you.

I adore this family. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hi!! this is the same anon from earlier and i saw you wanted to write for james potter. and i’m so sorry if you’ve done something similar. so maybe after a quidditch match, win or loss, all james wants to do is lie and bed with reader and hug her. but they’re not dating and he ends up confessing too, still tired, he doesn’t even realize he’s admitted his feelings

thank you again for your time:))

-can i be ‘🎀 anon’? lolol

hi lovely 🎀! thanks for your sweet words and adorable requests 😊 i hope you like it!

pairing: James Potter x reader tags: fluffy fluff, some angst, gn reader if you want word count: 1.9k

Cuddles and Confessions

So close. So bloody close. And to bloody Slytherin to top it off? The defeat stung worse than any other James could remember. 

As he lumbers back up toward the castle after the match, frustrated and furious, some Slytherin fans jeer at him from across the lawns. It pushes him over an edge, and he turns to — well, he’s not sure to what; berate them? beat them up? — a strong hand grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.

“Easy, mate. They’re idiots but they’re not worth it,” Sirius says easily. Sirius of all people being the voice of reason has James realizing maybe he needs to calm down. 

James falling into step with Sirius without a word, the two make their way back up to the castle. 

When they get to the common room, it’s packed with mad and sad-looking Gryffindors consoling each other, complaining about bad calls, bad-mouthing the Slytherins: a typical post-match defeat. 

“Thank Godric,” Sirius sighs, heading immediately to a small table stacked with firewhisky. He grabs two glasses, but James stops him before he fills the second one.

“No thanks, mate. Don’t really feel like the company,” he says, scanning the room. He admits to himself there is one face that would have made him stay, one person whose company was actually the only thing he wanted right now. But he doesn’t see you. So he stalks off, bounding up the stairs to his currently empty dormitory. 

He’s lying on his bed, tossing a ball up and down when he hears a soft knock. 

“What?” he yells, the harshness of his voice even surprising him a bit. Surprise shifts to horror when your beautiful, blushing face peeks around the door. 

“Hi, Jamie,” you say shyly. “I’m sorry. Sirius said you wanted to be alone. I should’ve listened. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I’ll just —” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushes, going over to you and pulling you into his room. “I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t go.” 

You smile a bit at this, looking down at your feet before nodding slightly. 

“Ugh, I’m a prick. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His voice is soft now, warm and enveloping as you look into his pleading eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I get it. Rough night, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, smiling for the first time all day. You had a way of bringing that out in him. 

“Want a hug?” you offer. He nods immediately, internally cringing for being so uncool in front of you.

“Yes please,” he half laughs. 

You step close to him, and even this increased proximity has him reeling. He can’t wait to feel your warmth around him, to smell your hair as he nuzzles into you. 

He’d been hoping to win tonight’s match for more reasons than one. He hated Slytherin for starters. He loved winning for seconds. But also, he had been hoping a Gryffindor victory party could be the perfect place to finally tell you how he feels about you. Firewhisky flowing, adrenaline pumping, maybe he’d finally have the courage he was supposed to have as a Gryffindor and tell you the truth. 

You bring your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, bringing one hand to his messy hair and scratching comfortingly. James’s large body immediately melts into yours. He hums into the crook of your neck, and you giggle. 

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” he whispers into your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Why would I want to be downstairs wallowing with everyone else when I could wallow with you?” you tease, pulling back slightly to be face to face again. He hates how much he just wants to pull you back into him. 

“Oh, I’m much better company than those wankers,” he plays along. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Seems you’re quite chipper from your greeting.” 

He cringes and whispers “sorry” again. You shake your head quickly, wanting him to know you’re only teasing. 

The silence stretches a bit too long, neither of you knowing what to say. It’s especially awkward because your hands are still on his shoulders, his on your hips. 

“So what were you doing?” you ask, coming up with nothing better. 

“Just lying in bed, wallowing,” he confesses. 

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. You break apart from him, the tension becoming too much and head over to his bed, plopping down onto it. He laughs and follows, sitting close next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice low. “I came to cheer you up, but I think I’m doing a bang up job so far,” you chuckle, scrunching your nose. 

Before thinking about it, James brings his hand up to your face, lightly tracing his finger down your nose for you to relax it. 

“You’re not,” he says earnestly. “I’m already better, just having you here.” He thinks he feels your face warm where his hand still caresses it but pushes the idea down, not wanting it to be wishful thinking. 

“So what do you want to do?” you ask again gently.

“Honestly?” he asks shyly. Nervous was a weird look on him, usually so cocky. 

“Of course,” you giggle in your warmest tones, wanting him to be open with you, relishing in the intimacy you seemed to be building. 

“I want to keep lying in bed wallowing.” 

You stiffen immediately, chiding yourself for misreading his nerves. He wanted you to leave; that’s why he seemed shy. 

James sees — and feels — you tense at his words, and luckily for him, he realizes right away what you’re probably thinking. He continues before he can stop himself, dreading your leaving more than dreading saying something stupid. 

“With you,” he adds hastily. He feels himself blush, hates it, but pushes on. “I want to lie in bed and wallow… with you,” he repeats more softly. 

“Oh,” is all you can think to respond.

“I mean, just hang out, you know. I just… you just… I just like hanging out with you. And even just your hug made me feel better,” he rambles sweetly. 

You smile and pull away from him a bit. Before he can be disappointed, though, you’re pulling him with you as you shuffle further back onto the bed, lying down and bringing him horizontal with you by the shoulder. 

You’re lying next to each other, both tense, facing the ceiling, your sides grazing but nothing more. You look over at him, and he looks at you, and you both look away like idiots. 

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself he literally just told you he wanted to be here with you, clinging to that to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You turn toward him and bring your hand up to his hair. His eyes snap to yours. First they show shock but that quickly melts to adoration. Then they show nothing at all as they close in comforted bliss. You chuckle softly and see the corners of his mouth tug up at the sound. 

“Feels nice,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you whisper too. He just nods. 

You shuffle closer to him, and he turns his body towards yours. Your arm is cramped now between your two close bodies, so you do the reasonable thing for comfort, you tell yourself, and wrap your arm under his shoulders. His face coming to the crook of your neck, you miss the huge smile that breaks out on it at the contact. 

He’s lying on your shoulder now, the rest of his body flush with yours. Your arm is around him, your hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. James brings his arm over you, hugging you close, and you place your arm on top of his. 

It crosses James’s mind that friends don’t cuddle. But he stops his internal monologue in time to savour the moment rather than over-analyse it, which he’s bound to do later.

You just lie there in silence for  a bit, the tension having eased considerably. 

In your warm, comfortable cocoon, you bring your face closer to the top of his head on your shoulder and nuzzle him a bit. He just hums in response. 

“You’re comfy,” he says. It sounds muffled, his mouth squished against your shoulder. You laugh, and it shakes him up and down the slightest bit. 

James loves the feeling of your vibrating chest just below him. He can’t help himself and tickles you where his hand rests near your ribcage. You laugh louder. You hold down his arm to stop him and playfully shake him off a bit to protect yourself from more tickling. His grip tightens in response, and he’s almost on top of you by the time he’s done adjusting himself. 

“No, no, don’t go,” he chuckles. “I’ll stop.” 

Your laughter has mostly subsided, but your voice is raspy as you respond, “Promise?” He nods into your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay if you behave.” 

He laughs, squeezes you, whispers, “Promise.”

Any tension that had been left has dissipated completely, and you fall into easy chat as you hold each other close. Your hand continues playing with his hair, tugging it when he says something stupid. His arm draped over you occasionally squeezing you more tightly whenever either of you says something nice. You go over the highlights of the match, lamenting the result. Without realizing it, you start talking about any and everything else, and by the time the conversation lulls for the first time, both of you chuckling lightly, James wonder how much time has gone by. Not enough, he thinks to himself, wishing this would go on forever. 

The quiet, your hand in his hair, your warmth radiating around his body, it all soothes him into a half slumber. It washes over him how exhausted his body is from the match, how tense it had been from the fury at its result.

“This is nice,” he slurs. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum. 

“I’m not even mad anymore.” He sounds astounded even in his sleepy tones. You chuckle. 

“Good.” 

“Mmmm. We’ll prank the Slytherins tomorrow. And I’ll think of another time to tell you how I feel.” Your hand halts its motions. James is still completely relaxed, and you realize he’s pretty much half asleep, not truly realizing what he’s saying.

You don’t want to take advantage of him in this state, but you want to be honest with him too, and he clearly wanted to talk to you about whatever this was. 

So, you warmly whisper, “How do you feel, Jamie?”

“I love you,” he mumbles. You’re melting at his words, and you can’t wait till tomorrow to say them back. You shift your weight so you’re more facing James than under him, and this rattles him a bit more awake. His drowsy eyes are heavy initially but then they startle slightly. Before he can worry or regret, you hold his face gently in both your hands, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. 

“James…” He just looks deeply into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, not saying anything. “I love you, too.” 

His face shifts as if in slow motion. His eyebrows rise; his lips smile widely; his eyes crinkle.

“You love me?” He sounds equal parts giddy and disbelieving. 

“Yeah, I love you, you grump.” He chuckles. “You love me?” you echo.

He takes his time responding. Scanning your features adoringly. Eventually, finally, calmly and assuredly he says again, “I love you,” nodding as he closes the little distance between you. 

Your kiss is slightly awkward at first, your lips smiling automatically at his words before realizing they’re being called on to take on new, intoxicating shapes. 

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

hi luv! i hope you're doing great. Saw your recent post and i do have a hc request (since im having a haikyuu brainrot rn 👀), what would you think of making papa!haikyuu hcs 😩. How would these volley boys make as a father! (especially kenma, tsukki and noya) and you can add your favs too 💕sjsjjsjs hope you have a great day ahead!

I'm doing okay, I hope you are doing good and that you have a nice day! I hope you enjoy this post and it is to your liking

Them as fathers

Characters: Kenma, Noya, Tsukki Gender neutral reader, it is not mentioned whether the children are adopted or biological, Kenma’s is longer than the others because i had way too many ideas for him

Kenma Kozume

First things first: I don’t think Kenma would have more than one kid, if you really wanted to have more he would relent but he is perfectly happy with just one, he thinks 3 people is the perfect number for your little family.

You may think he wouldn’t be that involved in his kids life, but that is a big misconception,

No matter how much work he has to do he makes sure to spend time with you and your kid.

Kenma would never show his child on the internet in any way, he wants to keep his private life private and keep his child safe, he knows how cruel the internet can be, no way in hell will he put his young child into that kind of situation.

Once your child learned to crawl he brought the three starters of Pokémon black and white (gen 5 best games I don’t take criticism) to see which one your child would choose.

Based on what they chose he will be sulky or proud. (I nearly made this into Oshawott propaganda but I didn’t you’re welcome). But at the end of the day he knows that they just choose one based on colours and shapes, he would teach them once they are older how to perfectly choose a starter.

Best believe that as soon as your kid is old enough to understand things he will show them all kinds of (age appropriate) video games.

You enter his gaming room with some snacks for him and you can just see him play Slime Rancher as your kid sits in his lap, eyes glued to what their father is doing.

He already has started a Stardew Valley coop farm for you three to play together one day, he is just waiting for the day your child is old enough.

Now enough video game talk, (though I have so many more ideas about this lol) your child loves it when Kenma reads to them before they sleep, his voice is very soothing to them.

Once they are asleep Kenma stays at their side a bit longer, watching them sleep a serene smile on his face.

Kenma can’t say no to your kid, he will buy them anything they want. You sometimes wonder how he can be so responsible with his money in any other situation, but your child just needs to point at something and he will buy it for them unless you intervene.

Lastly, be prepared for Kenma and your kid to team up against you. Board games? Yeah they are a team even if the game isn’t a game for teaming up. (Monopoly is a nightmare with them, Oh you need a red? Too bad your kid and Kenma are trading it between one another instead of giving it to you) But you can’t really seem to mind when you see the way Kenma and your kid smile. (Unless you are like me and are fiercely competitive in games then you may want to strike Kenma down)

Yu Nishinoya

Noya would take longer to have children with you, at least until he is done travelling, he does want kids but is aware that travelling the world with them wouldn’t be ideal, he wants them to have a stable home.

Once you two do have kids, he wants at least 2 or 3. Noya wants a big family.

I feel like he is the type of Dad that throws his kids in the air and then catches them (he won’t do it high) and it always gives you a heart attack.

Instead of reading them good night stories he always tells them (embellished) stories from when he travelled the world, for example he once exclaimed to one of your kids how a mermaid vied for your attention but he fought them heroically off.

This does bite him in the ass years down the line once your kids are teens, they will bring these stories up whenever they can to tease him.

Asahi is basically an uncle to your kids, he often visits you and brings the kids many gifts. He loves to spoil them.

And yes Asahi designs the clothes for your kids as well, it often leads to many people asking you and Noya where you got the clothes for them from since they are such a high quality.

Yes, he will teach your kids “Rolling thunder”. No you can’t stop him. Even if your kids don’t play Volleyball they will still know the move.

This leads to your kids looking for his old jersey’s from highschool, putting them on and pretending to  be their dad. No he is not crying, he just got dust in his eye.

Vacations and holidays are important to Noya, while he can’t travel the world with your kids, he will take them on memorable vacations across the country when they are old enough to remember them.

He wants them to have a happy and fulfilled childhood with as many experiences as they can have.

Kei Tsukishima

When you first brought up having children with him he asked “Are you sure you can take care of a child? Don’t you wanna practise with a pet rock first?” You lightly punched him in the chest for that and he had his signature smirk on his face.

He is honestly neutral on the aspect of having kids, he is not against it but also it was never his dream of having them, so he is fine with whatever you want.

Just like Kenma he would probably only have one kid, with his Job as a Volleyballplayer and everything he isn’t home that often, so if you had more than one kid he would feel guilty leaving you home alone with them.

Tsukki is probably the first one from Karasuno to have a kid, so he is smug about the fact that he is ‘better’ than the others in that regard.

The first team reunion after you two had your child will have him holding his child proudly, while he tells all the others how slow they are for not having kids yet, which has everyone rolling their eyes. He is very proud of his kid so that he will hold it up Lion King style so everyone can admire it.

Unluckily though he miscalculated the height of the ceiling and bonked your kids head on it, which left everyone in the room in a stunned silence (True story from my infant days, my dad did this exact thing with me)

You had made him change every diaper for 2 weeks for the heart attack he gave you with that, even if your kid was fine and wasn’t hurt.

Tsukki and you switch every night who is going to read your kid, while you pick different topics every time, he only ever chooses dinosaur stories to read to your kid.

Speaking of dinosaurs, Tsukki once claimed he had to educate your kid on certain things while you went out grocery shopping, when you came back you saw that the thing he was educating your child on was “The land before time” which made you smile.

Now no matter if the child is biologically yours or adopted, it somehow interhits his sass, which means you will be surrounded by two sassy little pieces of shit (affectionate).

Though you get both of them to calm down their sass by offering them some strawberry cake if they stop, it surprisingly works better on Tsukki then on your kid, who would have thought?

[goodnightmemes]

AGATHA ALL ALONG SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You don't seem like yourself. ❜

❛ If you wanna be in control, you can be. ❜

❛ Is this really how you see yourself? ❜

❛ Do you remember why you hate me? ❜

❛ The things that you're roasting me for are the things that make me dangerous. ❜

❛ How long have I been here? ❜

❛ Call me "nosy," I'll cut out your tongue. ❜

❛ Can you put on some clothes? 'Cause you... 'Cause you're naked. ❜

❛ Do you remember pain? It kind of tickles, doesn't it? ❜

❛ Maybe I can't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead. ❜

❛ I am not the only one that wants to see you dead. ❜

❛ Ugh! It really warms the heart. ❜

❛ You don't have a heart. ❜

❛ Be sure to tell the vengeance-seekers I said hi. ❜

❛ That's why I saved you from the spell you were under. ❜

❛ Wherever you are, a coven there shall be. ❜

❛ I feel really optimistic about this. ❜

❛ So you're a bit of a kook. Every witch has their process. ❜

❛ Witches like you are the reason people think we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies. ❜

❛ Don't you miss the glory days? ❜

❛ The path you're currently on leads nowhere. ❜

❛ Hey! Where do you keep your jade eggs? I'm fresh out of marbles, and my pelvic floor is all over the place. ❜

❛ I haven't seen you since I made a really pointed effort to never run into you again.❜

❛ Historically, we as a group don't do well in courtrooms. ❜

❛ People like you are dangerous. ❜

❛ Are there any real witches in the house? ❜

❛ What a team of rejects. ❜

❛ This is just a really, really, really horrible party. ❜

❛ It's giving "middle-aged second chance at love" vibes and I'm here for it. ❜

❛ Okay, so a witch is really just another name for a bad girl, is that right? ❜

❛ I'm not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles. ❜

❛ So the hallucinations seem chill. ❜

❛ I can't protect you! ❜

❛ I do not wanna die here. This is not where I die. ❜

❛ They can take your power, but they can't take your knowledge. ❜

❛ I didn't think you had it in you. ❜

❛ We were supposed to look out for each other, but we didn't. That was our fatal mistake. ❜

❛ I wish we could go home. ❜

❛ People can't be replaced. ❜

❛ Are we in trouble? Like, more than we were ten minutes ago? ❜

❛ Honestly, I don't know how to feel. Do I hate her? Or do I want her phone number? ❜

❛ I'm feeling impatient. I'm feeling like I wanna cause some damage. ❜

❛ Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in. ❜

❛ The only way to end a curse is to face it. ❜

❛ Sad is better than angry. ❜

❛ You don't have to know a person's name to know who they are. ❜

❛ Are you really defending a noted serial killer, you creepy lurker? ❜

❛ The moral of the story, kids, is always finish what you started. Also, mercy is overrated. ❜

❛ Who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave? ❜

❛ I mean, or we could just slit her throat. ❜

❛ But we were getting along, weren't we? We were clicking. There was unity. ❜

❛ She's possessed! For real this time! ❜

❛ I hate ghosts. ❜

❛ Why do you hate me still?❜

❛ You were born evil. ❜

❛ Please take me with you. ❜

❛ She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it. ❜

❛ I couldn't... I couldn't control it. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. ❜

❛ You're so much like your mother. ❜

❛ We love you more than we could ever hope to communicate in human words. ❜

❛ You don't need to be a psychic to see that you're a good egg. ❜

❛ Enjoy the now, baby. It's the only thing that's certain. ❜

❛ Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you. ❜

❛ I want you to know the real me. ❜

❛ You're so adorably trusting. ❜

❛ Word to the wise, don't go sniffing around there. ❜

❛ You seriously don't know what kind of crazy that lady eats for breakfast. ❜

❛ I panicked, so I ran. ❜

❛ Could we, like, maybe not, with the physical violence? ❜

❛ Power doesn't interest me. ❜

❛ Yeah. Well, what you did was ehhh … but life goes on. Yours, anyway. ❜

❛ I mean, I've killed...uh...my share. But you don't see it holding me back. ❜

❛ Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. You survived. ❜

❛ So you broke the rules. Big deal. That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. ❜

❛ I don't need you anymore. I don't know if I ever did. ❜

❛ If you really wanna finish this together, just know that I do not trust you. At all. ❜

❛ You'll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind. ❜

❛ Hey, you want straight answers, ask a straight lady. ❜

❛ Tell me what more I should see, when I look at you. ❜

❛ You know, we really hated each other from the beginning. But now...I love you, guys. ❜

❛ I'm a forgotten woman. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. It is what we all have in common. ❜

❛ I can see all the pieces falling into place. The gaps are filling in. ❜

❛ I'm telling you now because soon I'm not going to remember any of this. ❜

❛ I hope you'll join me. ❜

❛ I needed you. My coven. ❜

❛ What can I say? I like the bad boys. ❜

❛ I loved being a witch. ❜

❛ That's it? That's all the... That's all the time I get? ❜

❛ This can't be the end. It has to be the beginning. ❜

❛ I watch you. Just as closely as you watch everyone else. ❜

❛ No one in history has had special treatment like you. ❜

❛ You gave me nothing. You took. ❜

❛ Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm? ❜

❛ What fresh horrors await us! ❜

❛ You seem relaxed. Usually at this point you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly. ❜

❛ It's nice. That feeling when your body knows it's safe. ❜

❛ Sometimes...boys die. ❜

❛ Congratulations, my love! I'm sorry I didn't have a ribbon for you to run through. ❜

❛ Why don't you want me? ❜

❛ Power looks good on you. ❜

❛ You do this and I will hate you forever. ❜

❛ Please let him live. Please, my love! ❜

❛ If you want to survive, get used to this feeling. ❜

❛ I cannot protect you from what's coming. ❜

❛ I saw you die. ❜

❛ And now, I'm a ghost. Can you dig it? ❜

❛ By the way, I did not sacrifice myself for you. I took a calculated risk. ❜

❛ You're making fun of me. This is just one of your tricks. ❜

❛ You have something of mine. I know you took it. ❜

❛ Why are you still here? Why won't you just die? ❜

❛ I'm sure he would forgive you for... whatever you did. ❜

❛ We could make a good team. You and me. ❜

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

016 ┆world pause (1.2k words)

The boys arrived at the gymnasium, meeting their coach Mr. Jeon at the benches. 

“Are they here yet?” Jake asked while placing his stuff down behind the team bench. Mr. Jeon nodded his head as the opponent team made their way into the gym they all stood in.

Usually, in shows or movies there would be an odd chill vibe between the two teams, but that wasn’t the case in Decelis Academy.

Instead, Jake’s childhood best friend was on that opposing team—Kang Minhee. They were locked in like two peas in a pod. There was no way they’d hate each other even if one of them were to lose.

Jake’s head whipped over to the third entrance to the gymnasium with a smile. He was excited to reunite with this said friend. It had been long since their last match against each other anyway. 

“He’s like a child when Minhee appears.” Sunghoon teased while unbuttoning his uniform. Jay smiled at the boy’s words and slipped on his jersey, the number nine and his surname plastered on the back of it.

“Minhee’s a sweet guy. I don’t blame him.”

“You’re right.” 

Jungwon placed his stuff down a little later than the boys did. To be honest, he wasn’t feeling his best all day. Nevertheless, he couldn’t miss school—especially, not the game. He didn’t want to disappoint the boys. 

Never.

“You okay? You’re quieter than usual.” Heeseung said, coming to a stop beside Jungwon who proceeded to change.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” He replied and took a seat on the bench. 

“Coach will probably put you on as a starter, are you okay with that? I mean, I know what’s been happening lately.” 

Jungwon drank from his water bottle and tilted his head back to catch his breath.

“It’s okay, seriously, I’ll be fine.” The boy smiled at his friend, his dimple popping in the process. Heeseung wasn’t sure if he should take Jungwon’s words with a relieved feeling or a tense one.

However, he let it go. The game was more important to focus on anyways.

Mr. Jeon called everyone into a huddle with Jake jogging back to their side of the court and then began to explain today’s game plan. The clock on the scoreboard read 3:00 p.m. The game was set to start at 3:30. They had to get everything done quickly.

You prepared the camera for today’s game. The settings were already set to your liking due to the explanation session with Jungwon earlier. Although you were on the verge of losing your mind, you were glad he could finally be of use to this project.

You pulled out your phone to check the time and ask for permission to leave class. It was now 3:05 p.m. You were quite early for the dismissal, but all was okay. Being on time was the better option anyway.

The sounds of volleyballs ricocheting off of the net and colliding with the floorboards, shoes grazing against the polisher the janitors had used beforehand, the constant whistle blows and cheers the boys executed were all heard from behind the doors of the gymnasium. 

You opened the door with hope that a volleyball wouldn’t come flying at you this time. And to your luck, there wasn’t one.

Nobody batted you an eye either. They were all too distracted with their practicing. 

You walked through the sidelines until you reached the fellow scorekeepers, being careful to not trip over the boys’ belongings. It would be best if you stood in a safe spot and had a good angle when snapping the pictures.

Sunoo stood at the edge of the net, setting the ball to those who were lined up to hit it. His fingertips hit the volleyball briefly before letting up in precision. It was as if the spiker had a magnet in their palm that drove the ball to it perfectly.

You began to snap a few pics, not looking back at them until the end. There was no time for it anyway. This process continued multiple times without you even noticing that the boy you were looking at through the viewfinder was none other than Yang Jungwon, your worst nightmare.

He strode down the court over to the net as Sunoo set the ball towards him. Jungwon’s arms pushed back one moment and the next he was up in the air, hand against the volleyball. The impact between the two objects created a loud sound that brought you back to reality. 

Only then were you able to realize that he was the one before you while your finger pressed down on the shutter button, capturing the moment with a shutter sound right after. It felt as if your world briefly paused.

If this was what Intak meant when he said Jungwon’s spikes seemed deadly, it would only be wrong for you to disagree. They genuinely were impressive, but you couldn’t let that overshadow your hatred for him.

The boy landed on both of his feet and walked away in silence. Heeseung held out his hand from the line of boys and awaited Jungwon’s hand to clash against his own, in which it did. 

Without them even knowing, the clock had hit 3:30 p.m. in no time. 

It was officially time for the match to start. 

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @samyria @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo

© JUYEOZ

[ebonysplendor]

Bruh review the new version of TKaTB bruh because WOWIEEEEEEEEE

I've found that I don't usually do whole reviews on the updated versions of the visual novels I've already written about...but I find it dope that this implies that you lowkey want my unhinged, scatterbrained story telling. Also, big preesh for keeping me straight lol, because, once again, I've been meaning to get around to playing the update, and I just haven't, which is extremely disrespectful. But anyways! I'm yappin' way too early...

TL;DR: HE HIT IT FROM THE BACK. I REPEAT. HE HIT IT FROM THE BACK! ... technically ... we need to have a serious discussion about this thing called "consent", though...

Game Link: https://fantasia-kittcat.itch.io/the-kid-at-the-back-demo

Notable Features: Yandere LI, Custom Pronouns, Self-Insert (first and last name), Two LIs, 1+ Hour Long Demo Spiciness: 2/5 or 8/5 -- Again, it depends on which version you get. If you get the regular degular free version, it'll be more innocent with some flirtiness here and there. If you pay for the NSFW version -- HIGHLY SUGGESTED by the way! -- it'll be way more sinful and the way that the Gods intended it to be. LI Red Flags: 4/5 or 7/5-- Breaking-and-entering, possessive, drugged us, lack of consent, but that "lack of consent" goes even farther in the NSFW version (yes, even farther than in the previous demo) ... but I still can fix him, ya know? Like, that's bae

Wanna know more? If you are not 18+, ABSOLUTELY NOT. You will NOT put this fantastic game in jeopardy, because you're some curious 14-year-old. I honestly don't even want you on my page...but let's be real, are you actually going to listen to me? I hope that you do...ANYWAYS. My 18+ crew, let's get into it!

Almost an entire month with no visual novel review? Nah, we absolutely cannot let that happen.

You know what else we can't let happen? My constant disrespect towards this visual novel. Once AGAIN, the dev(s) ate and left absolutely no crumbs. Like, damn, can you at least leave the plate? Like-- Okay, wait, no, stop. I don't want to get too far into that, because the yap sesh will get kicked off way too early, and I won't have anything for the actual review portion.

That being said, I have done a review of TKATB before, but I'm doing an update of...well, the update. That also being said, because I'm trying to avoid parroting myself too much, the review is going to flow differently. ALSO! Once again, thanks to the bestie, I was able to see the degeneracy LIVE AND IN 4K and biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch~! Let me tell-- Wait, no, no, no, stop. Not yet. Later. We'll talk about that later...at least sorta.

Anyways, like always, I'll def try to make this as spoiler friendly as possible, especially since it's lowkey a different game at this point. Like, the dev(s) have added in extra SCENES. We have new CGs! Like...we've got CONTENT in this update, y'all!

Okay, for realsies now. Enough yappin'. Let's get into it, and y'all...there's a lot to get into.

So, effin' BOOM.

...Actually. Let's do this another way, because we already lowkey know the story. Again, if you don't, I made a review of it a few months back that will get you somewhat caught up. This time around, though, let's just talk and vibe. Enjoy some snacks or whatever, ya know?

Go ahead and pick; there's plenty. I've got me, like, three capri suns and some donut holes. Like, I'm really tryna get into this game convo with y'all because we're squad, ya know? So, let's get comfy while gettin' into it.

All right, so -- *big siiiiiiiiiiip* -- my husband Solivan Brugmansia, right? Let's discuss. Not about him being my husband or not, the game. Respectfully, check yourself. Anyways.

My Gods. that is bae right there. Like, gah damn...

For starters -- even though, I can totally fix him, and I want to make that very clear! My baby ain't do nothing entirely wrong! Like just- just give him to me. He is just a lil' traumatized and misunderstood; he is very capable of change. Like, I can fix him! I can! -- it's only fair to remind you that he is, uh, kind've batshit crazy. Now, the wild part is that I for realsies forgot that he is not entirely sane. Like, not even kidding about that.

This experience has been a sort of "Let me seep you into the madness" versus a "Let's make him insane off rip", and because it was like that, when he started doing typical yandere shit, there were -- specifically -- two different times that I experienced genuine shock. It was literally like, "Oh yeeeeeeah. This is a visual novel with a yandere love interest. Solivan's the yandere. He's not wrapped too tight. Ah, yes, I forgot about that factoid", ya know? The shit genuinely caught me off guard.

Anyways, still can't trust the orange juice, 10 is the magic number, and don't kiss Crowe...like ever lmao. You can dismiss the fuck out of that man, but he's lowkey a simp like Sol is, so as soon as you kiss him lmao...

Just remember that it's implied that Sol is, and has always been, keeping a close eye on you. Actually, let me back up a little. Let's talk more abo-- Oh, wait, do you need a refill? Okay, hold on for a second. Wait, are you good on snackies? You know what? I'll just grab everything, just in case.

...

Okay, now, let's talk more about the orange juice.

Never --

-- and I mean NEVER, trust the orange juice.

There was a moment that we got with Sol, and it was like, "...Aw :)", and then, he was like, "I made orange juice~!", and it was like, "...Aw :(". Like, lmaooooo, I thought we were past that, ya know? Like, I obviously like you! I have you at a 10! Why are you resorting to nonphysical violence? I mean, he got physical in other ways, but it wasn't violent, ya know what I'm sayin'~?

Now, the "10" thing that I keep bringing up.

This competition between them is more intense than I thought, bro, and Sol does not cope with failure well. You know how people will be like, "a win is a win"? Well, with Sol --

-- a loss is a loss, even if it's just by one point.

Remember that whole "Don't kiss Crowe" thing? I genuinely mean that. As tempting as it may be -- and believe me, it's tempting especially because...Crowe can really make a girl feel really, really... wanted, ya know?🫦... ANYWAYS -- DO NOT kiss that man, because that's the game point. Now, who's the actual winner in that scenario.... 👀🧃*dramatic siiiiiiiiiip*. I ain't gon' say it...but I'm just sayin' lmao.

Even though, I really ain't shit because...I willingly cheated on Sol with Crowe. WAIT. LET ME EXPLAIN WHY THOUGH.

This man, dear Gods, this man. I must stay focused... This man is the one that you SHOULD be dating. This is the one that all of your friends and your family really like and approve of. This is the healthy choice, but you don't choose him, because the one that you want is "dark and hot and tall and mysterious" and you're like, "but daddy, I love him!". Meanwhile, your friends are desperately trying to tell you about all the red flags with the other guy and are like "What is with you and toxic men?!". Then, when you defend your toxic crush, they shade you because they "should've saw it coming" when you had picked Sesshomaru and Sasuke over Inuyasha and Naruto.

...But, anyways, when I say that Crowe is Prince damned Charming? Babes... And then he let that hair loose????

Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabes~!

As a side note, lol I wasn't pulling those descriptions (completely) out of my ass; that was the literal intention.

See? "Dark and mysterious" vs "Princely".

Anyways, Crowe's rizz game is...surprisingly strong? Like, I honestly don't know why I was so shocked, but I was shocked. Like, a girl was genuinely flustered, because what do you mean that "you knew that we were going stargazing but you didn't know the brightest start was going to be right in front of you" and "anything for me"? Not to mention that this man was putting flowers in our hair and carRYING US TO OUR APARTMENT IN THE RAIN? BARELY GRUNTING WHILE DOING SO??? Like, sir, please, don't do this. I have a husband...but it's like, shit, I won't tell if you won't at this point.

That's pretty much all the new stuff -- well, that I was willing to partially spoil for you. There's other stuff, but you definitely gotta see that live and in 4K, and trust me, you're gonna want to.

Once again...THE FATTEST EFFING SHOUTOUT TO WHOEVER SENT THAT ANON MESSAGE AS THEY HAVE PUSHED ME TO STAND ON BUSINESS ONCE MORE.

It is even more beautiful than I remember, and thanks to the bestie, I was able to see my husband in all of his glory LIVE and in 4K. Okay, but I was degenerate throughout this whole post, so let's just put a pause on that and actually review the game properly.

This is still a work of the Gods, and I honestly love the tweaks and additions that were made. From Brittany's personality being tweaked so it reads more as "I swear, I'm not mean; I'm just really bad at talking to people" to Crowe's scenario being way more in depth to getting some more CGs of my husband Sol. The art style is still damned IMMACULATE to look at, and the plot is STILL plotting. Also...he's cute, but I lowkey don't trust Crowe, because why are you so perfect? The dev(s) is/are writing the EFF out of these characters. Like, honestly? Continue to pop off.

I definitely plan to buy my own copy, and I HIGHLY suggest that you do the same. It's honestly just the spicy scenes, so it's not like "Ooh, extra lore!" or anything, but they are honestly so deserving of that monetary support. Not to mention, the NSFW version is what the Gods would have wanted.

Even though, I'm wondering if we'll ever explicitly know Sol's (and definitely Crowe's and Hyugo's[/Geo's]) background. Now, admittedly and as far as I know, this is really the only piece of "lore" that you'll miss if you don't get the NSFW version, because I'm certain that I'm not the only one that's noticed it, but just in case you haven't (and I'm cutting the heck out of this CG because it's very spicy, but I need you guys to see what I'm talking about).

What's up with these bruises? Like, you see that right? But it's not in the other picture, so it's like...? What the eff happened? Like, the reason why I say that is because the second picture happened BEFORE the first picture, so something happened to him, but what? I know that it's implied by some of the things that Sol says and how he responds to stuff and some of his mannerisms that he came from a pretty shitty background, but what exactly and is it ongoing?

But, then again, it's like duh it's ongoing, because he said that "it's the usual" that he deals with...uh...certain situations. Check this out though; in that same breath, he was like "every bruise is worth it". Like...what? That's not-- That's not a normal or healthy thought let alone something you'd actual verbalize. Like, I'm telling you, the dev(s) is/are murdering this visual novel thing. No wonder it's so easy to forget that Sol is a literal walking red flag. I'm more focused on the plot than whether or not he's gonna drug my food.

Also, also, also, I just want to yap really briefly about my favorite CG... screen... UI thingy...that I can't show you. Not because it's a spicy one but because, even though you can probably read between the lines, it'd be, what I feel is, a major spoiler. Just as a slight "pro" tip. That little green heart at the top right of your screen that turns blue when you hover over it?

It leads to that screen with the scale that shows your affinity level for Sol and Crowe. Just...check in on that thing a lot; you may see something interesting. When you do see that interesting thing...please, think of me ಥ‿ಥ Because next to the way that the affinity level is shown altogether, it was my absolute favorite thing about the update. That was done so beautifully. ...Damn, I want to show you all so badly ._.

Anyways, I think my yap session should end here. I've already said it a handful on times, but what's one more time? I highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend this game. It's so good, the art is amazing, the plot is plotting, and so much work and love has gone into this game, and it's STILL only in its demo phase. I suggest donating $5 to have (permanent) access to the NSFW version and/or telling the dev(s), "Hey! Really love your game! I was just wondering if you take human sacrifices? Would that expedite the full release? Anyways! You're doing great, sweetie! <3"; aggressively supportive validation is really the only way to go, because they really are doing more than a damned good job. You should honestly see it for yourself. Here, I'll put the direct link for ya.

I'm yapping again. I'm ending it for realsies now. The biggest preesh for hanging out with me today and getting this far. PLEASE, remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

The Kid at the Back (DEMO)

[suzuarou]

never quite free | shouei barou

⋆˙⟡♡ wc: 3.9k

⋆˙⟡♡ tags: gn reader, childhood friends, so much pining, barou is a softie for his person, barou-centric, reader is drunk, one (1) instance of vomit

⋆˙⟡♡ a/n: i love when mean, loud characters are softies for their person. so i wrote 3.9k words about it with the mean, loud man that has been haunting my every thought. enjoy!

at the wise age of seven, after just witnessing you punch a boy in the face for insulting your sidewalk chalk art, shouei barou made you a promise: he will always be there for you. he swore that day, crossed his heart and hoped he’d die if he ever failed you (far too serious for a seven year old, but he has always taken his promises very seriously), he will drop everything to help you.

“but why?” you had asked, and grabbed your chalk to resume your drawing.

he crouched down next to you to get a better look at what you had done so far, red eyes tracing over the rainbow you were trying to perfect. “you’re too pretty to be punching anyone.”

and, to seven year old shouei’s credit, he’s consistently kept his promise over the years. even after your parent’s split and you were allowed to be neighbors every other weekend. even after high school finally separated you two and he could only walk you halfway to campus before your routes diverged (he would always carry your bags for you until that point). even during the blue lock program when talking to you was a privilege he had to earn rather than something he did every single day. and now, as a professional athlete with an obnoxiously busy schedule, shouei is always there for you, sponge and wet wipe in hand, ready to clean whatever mess you’ve inevitably made.

which is why, at two o’clock in the morning, after too many drinks at a bar you’ve never been inside of before, it feels like second nature to call him.

alongside with keeping his promises, shouei also keeps a very strict routine. so when his cell phone starts trilling at an ungodly hour, his first instinct is to curse out whoever thinks it’s a bright idea to disrupt his sleep during his off-season. but once the cobwebs of sleep clear from his brain, he realizes there’s only one person who can bypass the do not disturb mode on his phone: you. he’s swiping his thumb across the screen in a heartbeat.

there’s a thump of some sort of bass music in the background of the call, several different conversations muddled together to create a white noise effect, and then your voice breaks through it all, a bit slurred but still carrying a familiar soft quality to it.

“shou-kun,” you breathe into the line, and shouei is up and putting pants on.

“where are you?” his voice isn’t unkind, but the gruffness of sleep is still thick and causes him to sound more irritated than he actually is.

you give him the name of the bar you’ve found yourself in, and shouei is punching in the address on his phone’s gps as he’s sliding a shirt over his torso.

“stay on the phone with me?” you ask, and he can hear the pout on your lips.

he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “yeah, sure, but go somewhere quieter. loud as shit and i’m still waking up.”

you sound a bit more sober as you reply, “‘m sorry, shou-kun. i can ask someone—”

“don’t be. i’m getting my shoes on. keep talking to me.”

it takes every ounce of self control to obey the traffic laws on his drive to the bar. logically, he knows you’re okay. you’re babbling on about the intricacies of a sourdough starter (“is it even worth all of that effort?” “i’ll make you a loaf and then you can tell me if it is.”), and sipping on some water (bottled of course, and he made you watch the bartender hand it to you). you seem to be your usual, bubbly self, even if you’re refusing to tell him why you’re out so late to begin with. but still… his overprotective streak has been going strong for nearly two decades, and he won’t feel satisfied until you’re in the passenger seat of his car, buckled in and safe.

the bar is as sleazy as it sounded over the phone—drunk people hanging around outside smoking, the thump of the base-heavy music rattling outside, flashes of lights streaming through the frosted windows. definitely not your typical scene. but then again, this entire night isn’t very typical for you. you have never been one to drink excessively, let alone at bar you’ve never been to before, so to have to navigate through an intoxicated crowd to find you is something shouei doesn’t have much experience in. a few faces flicker with blurry recognition, and shouei ducks out of their line of sight before a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having begins.

shouei’s irritation level does significantly decrease when he finally spots you sitting at a table all by yourself, water bottle halfway emptied, your brow furrowed in a way that lets him know your thoughts are heavy. the outfit you’re wearing suggests you had intentions of someone seeing you in it, rather than sulking at a bar surrounded by strangers too drunk to recognize their own reflection. acidic jealously churns shouei’s stomach, ugly green and caustic and deadly to nearby organs. he tries his best to ignore it. now isn’t the time for his ego. his top priority is getting you out of this sorry excuse of a bar and to safety.

the way your eyes light up upon seeing him make his guts churn even more for an entirely different reason.

“shou-kun.” you breathe out his name like a sigh of relief, like even just saying it brings you comfort. this time, his heart flutters, and it irritates him even more.

your name rolls off his tongue gruffly, and he’s reaching over to pull you near him. “what are you doing here?” he asks over the loud music as he acts as a shield through the crowd of intoxicated partygoers. “do you know what time it is?”

your hand reflexively wraps around his, and it’s almost like you’re kids again—shouei acting as your personal bodyguard as you allow him to pull you along through anything. he’s always been so good at protecting you. two decades later, and his promise is still in tact. shouei might be the most stable thing in your life, and that thought alone has tears springing up to your eyes. you continue on, gaze glued to your intertwined hands and how shouei holds yours as if it’s something precious to him, as if it’s worth the patience he’s always showing you.

the night air is crisp and fresh compared to the damp, alcohol-soaked air of the club, and it helps sober you up enough to realize you’re more than likely going to vomit tonight. wonderful.

shouei gets you buckled into the passenger seat of his car, ruby gaze scanning your body to make sure you’re fastened up to par with his impossible standards, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt.

you put your hand over his, and when his eyes flicker up to meet yours, the heaviness of them nearly knock the wind out of you. “shou-kun, i’m all buckled in. can we go home now?” your voice is barely above a whisper, and that only makes his brow furrow. he shuts the passenger door and makes his way over to the driver’s side nonetheless, and begins the drive back to his apartment.

home for him is different from home for you. home for him is a humble two-bedroom apartment located downtown, one room dedicated to workout equipment to keep him in shape during his off season without the hassle of a public gym, the other room is master bedroom that no one but him have really laid eyes on. and for you, home is shouei, and not the four-bedroom house you found on craig’s list filled with strangers.

which is why he knows to drive to his apartment with no questions asked. like hell he’s going to trust your housemates to take care of you.

“what were you doing there?” he asks after the silence between you two stretches on for too long.

you’re resting your forehead against the cool window glass to help ease the throbbing behind your eyes. “date blew me off, so i went to the nearest bar.”

he knew it. taut skin stretches over his knuckles as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “yeah, well, they’re a fucking idiot for ditching you. and you’re an idiot for getting so drunk without anyone there with you.”

“‘m sorry.”

“you’re gonna be more sorry tomorrow when you wake up with a killer hangover.”

the rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the music you decide to flip on to drown out your self-loathing thoughts. shouei isn’t much of a music person, but he is thankful for gorillaz for keeping his mind too busy to think about what sort of person you were dressed up for. it must still be on your playlist. you’re the only person who really gets in his car, after all, save for his sisters whenever they need a ride from him. but even they don’t get radio privileges. that’s saved solely for you.

while 2d goes on singing about rhinestone eyes, you watch the way the street lights flicker over shouei’s face. his hair is down, a rare sight but a welcomed one, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than usual, indicating he really did fly out of bed to come swooping you away like some knight in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. his jaw ticks, and you wish you could kiss it.

“you okay?” he asks you, pulls you out of your drunken-trance.

you hum a response, and press your forehead against the glass once again, eyes closed but the image of kissing shouei’s jaw still plays behind them.

the car comes to a gentle stop before you can doze off, and shouei is climbing out of the driver seat to open your door and help you out. he’s careful to tap on the glass to rouse you, and when you slowly blink your eyes open to look up at him, his lungs seizes in his chest and his feet are glued to the cement. though you’re very obviously drunk, unbridled trust and love is written openly all over your face in a way that makes the world feels a little wobbly. your eyes are still on him as you unbuckle yourself, and shouei thinks his heart might just explode in between his ribs, the ribbons of it hanging off of the latter on bones and fluttering down to his intestines. he moves out of your way to allow you to open the car door, but he’s quick to grab your elbow to stabilize you as you sway a bit.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, and your smile is nothing short of a sun. he fears he may go blind if he isn’t careful. he isn’t sure if he cares, since he’s always wanted your smile to be the last thing he sees anyway.

when walking proves to be a difficult task for you, shouei scoops you up bridal style, and it’s unfair how natural it all feels to him. taking care of you, muttering words of encouragement, feeling you tucked under his chin and curled into his chest, all while you’re dressed to meet someone else. someone that was probably easier to digest than shouei, less egotistical, home often enough to establish a day-to-day routine with you. someone that you don’t have to warn your other friends about preemptively.

shouei has never worried about what other people think of him, can’t find it in himself to feel insecure. a king doesn’t bother himself with a peasant’s thoughts. he does, however, worry about where he fits in your life now that he’s a pro athlete and you’re still trying to find your footing. no one can ever replace him, he knows this. there will always be a spot for shouei in your life. how big that spot is, is what sometimes keeps him up at night, especially now that’s he’s recently come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with you. has been for the last two decades.

light snores leave your mouth as shouei places you down on his bed, trash can set up for when you inevitably vomit, and he’s just beginning to take off your shoes when you begin to stir again.

“go back to sleep,” he gently commands. “you’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

you pout at him. “room’s spinning.”

“i know. that’s why there’s a garbage can next to you.”

“oh thank god—”

and before he can get your other shoe off, you’re leaning over the side of the bed and emptying the contents of your stomach into the bin. shouei moves to rub your back soothingly, nose scrunched as you retch. once your head pops back up, shouei rearranges the pillows and blankets so you’re tucked in snugly, careful to not move you around too much and risk upsetting your stomach again. he stops when he feels your hand resting on his cheek.

“you’re a good man, shou-kun,” you state with a dopey smile on your face. “always taking care of me. even when i probably don’t deserve it.”

“don’t start that self-pity bullshit now,” he replies gruffly, but his eyes a soft pools of ruby. he’s always been soft for you. always will be. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”

“yeah, when we were seven.”

“and that hasn’t changed. i’m still here.”

your thumb moves from the apple of his cheek to his bottom lip, languidly tracing it, tugging it down to see the teeth that he takes such good care of despite how much his career threatens to knock them out, rows of ivory encased by pretty pink gums. and shouei allows you to, ruby gaze boring into you, trying to gauge where the boundary line is and how solid it is. he would never, ever take advantage of anyone in this state, especially not you, but he does wonder if alcohol has made you uncover some dormant feelings. if you’re thinking about kissing him the very same way he’s been thinking about kissing you ever since your second year of middle school when he watched you punch a boy for calling him a jerk. only shouei would find such an act of violence romantic. everything between you two started with a punch, after all.

“‘s not fair,” you pout, thumb resting on the corner of his mouth.

“what isn’t?”

you purse your lips, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so pretty. when did you get so pretty?”

he rolls his eyes. “i look the same as i always have. just taller.”

“mm, no.” your other hand comes up to brush his hair back, and his lungs swell until they’re pressing against his ribs. “you’re pretty, shou-kun. and kind. and sweet. and stubborn. and ambitious. and hardworking. so why?”

“why what?”

“why aren’t you with anyone?” when your eyes fall back down to his, shouei feels his chest crack, his heart flayed open and put on display, a pathetic art piece dedicated to you. the world tilts on its axis, and shouei barou has never felt more exposed than he does now under your drunken gaze and steady hands.

he finds his voice long enough to reply, “i don’t care about dating. too much drama and no one knows what they want.”

“do you know what you want?”

you. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, burning a hole through the muscle and burying itself in his enamel, where it will get swallowed down along with the lump in his throat. this isn’t the time to go around confessing, not when you’re drunk and still wearing clothes you put on for someone else. gently, he takes your hands off of him and lowers your body down against the mattress again, and he thinks he feels his heart crumble a little.

“i want you to get some sleep. it’s late as hell, and you have a hangover to prep for.”

and before you can protest, he makes a break for the kitchen to get a glass of water and some tylenol for you. it’s easier to breathe out here where he doesn’t have to choke on long overdue confessions and your perfume. where you aren’t looking at him as if you know just how stupidly in love he is with you. god, he really is pathetic for you. his skin is still warm from where your hands were and all he can think about is how much he wishes you were sober so he wouldn’t feel so guilty for wanting to kiss you.

“the glass is overflowing.”

he nearly jumps out of his own skin at your voice, and whips around to see you standing barefoot in his kitchen, one of his shirts draped over your frame, a pair of his boxers low on your hips. it’s unfair how much better you look in his clothes than your own. hell, you look better than he does in his own clothes. un-fucking-fair.

“what the hell are you doing out of bed?” he barks as he turns the sink off, flustered and unsure of himself. a deadly combination for a man of his caliber. “and when did you change?”

“you were taking forever,” you whine, and tug at the hem of his shirt to pull it further down your thighs. “got bored waiting for you.”

with the water and tylenol in hand, he ushers you back to his room and gets you tucked back in. “you should be asleep. c’mon, it’s late. take these when you wake up and puke in the bin if you need to. i’ll take care of it in the morning.”

but before he can leave his room to sleep on the couch, you’re fisting the back of his shirt and rooting him in place. he waits, as he always does. as he always will. for you.

“sleep with me?” you ask, and chuckle when you feel his breath hitch. “not like that, pervert. like we used to. when we were kids.”

“i’m not a pervert,” he grumbles as he turns around to face you. you’re looking up at him, earnest and hopeful, and he feels his resolve crumble. “let me change into pajamas first.” the smile you flash at him is enough to reaffirm his belief that everything ounce of his yearning and pining is worth it if you just keep smiling at him like that.

once he emerges from the bathroom in his pajamas, you open your arms up to him, bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes him want to bite it. he crawls in bed next to you instead, teeth tucked firmly behind his lips, and you wrap yourself around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

cuddling with you now is different than when you were kids. for one, he wasn’t pathetically in love with you back then. and two, there’s an undertone to it, a slow lulling of temptation, an unspoken promise that things could always be like this if maybe you returned his feelings. the payoff might be worth the risk. but could he really put the friendship he’s cherished for two decades on the line for his own selfish desires of having you as a partner? it’s the same haunting thought-loop he’s been in for the better part of nine years, and though he isn’t one to dwell or drown in self-pity, you’re the one thing he doesn’t want to risk. and so he lays in bed next to you, your body curled around his, wondering if spending the rest of his life pining for you is a privilege or a curse.

“why didn’t you kiss me?”

your question breaks the silence between you two into a million tiny slivers, each one stabbing at his heart and lungs, lacerating them to bloody ribbons. he doesn’t dare turn to face you, doesn’t want to see what sort of expression is on your face. he’s never been a coward before, but he’s also never been in love before, and they don’t seem to be mutually exclusive things.

finally, he finds his voice buried somewhere under the gore of sliced up potential. “you’re drunk.” it’s barely above a whisper. it’s all he’ll allow himself for now.

“so? i saw that look in your eyes, shouei barou.” he feels you shift behind him, feels your breath fan across the shell of his ear as you tuck your chin next to his shoulder. “you wanted to kiss me.”

it’s a hefty accusation, one heavy with the painful truth that he’s been wanting to kiss you for far longer than just tonight. he turns his head so he can look at you out of the corner of his eye, and is shocked to see you pouting as if you’re disappointed. disappointed that he didn’t kiss you. disappointed he took the chivalrous route rather than the selfish one. two decades later, and you still surprise him.

“so what if i did?” he asks, turning his face back so his gaze is to his plain wall and not the pout on your face. there’s no use in denying it. you’re going to find out one way or another. “i’m not kissing you while you’re drunk. ‘s not right. you deserve better than that.”

“will you kiss me when i’m sober tomorrow?” the hope in your voice is thick, causes him to feel giddy in a way that’s borderline irritating.

“if you want me to, then sure.”

you hum and bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and he melts a little in your arms. “i’ll want you to.”

“how are you so confident?” he huffs and adjusts his body so it’s easier for you to wrap yourself around him. you respond by throwing a leg over his waist, and everything is alright in the world for a moment. “you’re drunk out of your mind.”

you scoot closer to him. “because i’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

the confession has his heart seizing in his chest. and though a part of him is screaming at him to not take your intoxicated words seriously, a caged sort of optimism roots itself in his bones, blooms between his joints. he turns his body so your head is tucked under this chest, leg still wrapped around his waist, and his nose is buried in your hair, the smell of your shampoo infiltrating his lungs until it’s all he can think about. he’s okay with this, he thinks. he wants this, in a very selfish way. it might be worth the risk.

“we’ll see how you feel when you’re hungover as all hell,” is what he says instead.

“i think it’ll make me want you to kiss me more,” you giggle against his chest. “my knight in shining armor. always making everything better.”

his fingers find your hair as they often do when you’re snuggled into each other like this, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your knight in shining armor. it’s cheesy in a way that’s almost endearing, most certainly because it’s you and almost everything about you is endearing to him. it’s a role he’s proudly filled for the last two decades, and will continue to fill as long as you need him to.

“goodnight, shou-kun,” you murmur. “thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

he hums his reply and pulls you a little closer to him.

because he’ll always keep his promise. always.

[spider-stark]

notes regarding the blackwood x bracken bullshit below - definite spoilers for season 2 episode 3 below the cut, as well as screenshots from the episode

for starters - what the fuck

okay, now that we have that out of the way: I don't care if his Davos, Benjicot, or Blackwood #3 -- it needs to be discussed how terrified that Bracken boy looked to even be in his presence. from the jump, he looks noticeably off-put and by the time he draws his sword, he looks like he's shaking in his goddamn boots, ok?

additionally, you cannot tell me it's not Bloody Ben behavior for this Blackwood to quite literally decide AGAINST drawing his own weapon before approaching this boy with a GRIN ON HIS MOTHER-FUCKING FACE only for it to then cut scene and we see the Bracken laying dead on the ground with his own sword jutting out of his throat.

I mean, they made a point of showing the pommel of the Bracken's sword prior to this scene. they wanted it to be clear he was slain with his own weapon, which - as I just said - would be such textbook BLOODY FUCKING BEN BEHAVIOR.

but, then, I propose this:

I think there is a good 99.9% chance that this is our boy. I would love to say I'm banking on the 00.1% that it's not, but I'll be honest guys - I'm not hopeful in the slightest. every aspect of the outfit that can be seen is practically identical to what the Blackwood (Benji/Davos/Whatever) was wearing previously.

with that being said, I feel like this scene was poorly executed if that's the case, considering we then go to the scene of Aegon's council so soon after and make it a point to say Samwell Blackwood was slain in battle -- that would have been more impactful to me if we had just seen the aftermath of Bloody Ben and, essentially, been formally introduced to the new Lord of Raventree Hall and Head of House Blackwood.

any and all opinions/comments/theories welcome because I am dying to discuss. additionally --- what the actual fuck do we do about the fan fiction

[uranometrias]

hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.