#like he cares a lot about things for better and for worse

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this)

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Dynamight agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[xxchumanixx]

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment, you thought you'd have a headrush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

Tag List:

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @freyathehuntress @skywalker0809

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Husband x Depressed Reader

Request are open.

You were so happy at the starting of summer. As a teacher you were happily spending your summer break relaxing in your house with your husband yan. No students, no lectures, no annoying colleagues. Just you, your house, the summers and your loving husband. The perfect summer.

But soon your perfect relaxing summer turned into a nightmare. Why?

Because your grandma died. What's the big deal? Every old person die someday.

But it is a huge deal to you. Because you were greatly attached with your grandma. You spent all your childhood and teenage days with her. She babysit you while your parents worked.

Most of your memories consisted of her. You and your grandma cooking, baking, gossiping, watching shows, going on walks. She was a cool chill grandma who supported you with everything.

She was your grandma, mother, friend, everything. And now she is gone. She passed away due to old age.

You were planning to spend this summer break with her as every other. But now nothing.

The person who has been there with you since you were born is no more. This broke your heart. You loved your grandma a lot.

The funeral happened, people gave their condolences, everything just flew while you were filled with grief, sadness.

What once you envisioned as a perfect summer was now nothing but a ugly reality.

Nowadays you just cry, stare at spaces, and lie in your bed while recalling all your memories with her. You wished you should have spent more time with her.

Seeing you like this broke your husband's heart. He knew how attached you were to your grandma. He just can't sit around and watch you filled with sadness. So now he has taken upon him to cheer you up.

• This man has been cooking your favourite dishes.

• Making sure your favourite icecream and snacks are stocked.

• Trying his best to make you laugh or smile by his humour.

• Bringing you flowers.

• Forcing you to go out with him on walks, picnics, dates.

"Y/n you can't just rot in the house all day. Look how beautiful the day is. Let's go out"

• Binge watching with you cheesy rom coms even though he hates them.

• Playing board games or uno with you.

• Calling over your friends to spend time with you and cheer you up when he is away at work.

• This man tries his best to be their for you.

• Constantly tells you that "I am there for you" " You can vent to me all you want".

• Takes you in his arms while you are crying and tries his best to console you.

• Listens to everything you are saying while crying.

• Reads everything on how to support your spouse when their grandparent pass away. And follows the instructions.

• Brings your favourite deserts.

• Makes sure you take your meals. As you have been neglecting them recently.

• "You know she is always there with you. Watching over you. She loves you a lot. She won't want you to cry over her like this. " Yan would say things like this to make you feel better.

Days went by and you felt better as yan, your friends and parents cheered you up. You were so grateful for having them in your life. Especially Yan. He took care of you at your lowest like a baby.

You were on a walk with yan or more specifically yan dragged you out with him out for a walk while saying "Let's get some fresh air. Being all day in house is not so good."

While walking hand in hand with yan you felt overwhelmed with thinking how much he helped, listened, pampered, supported you while you were in grief.

"Thank you for everything. " You said to him while feeling so lucky to have him in your life as your husband.

"Through Better and worse" Yan said making you remember your wedding vows making you smile.

Suddenly You remember your grandma words which she said to you at your wedding about yan.

"He is so badly in love with you. I am so happy you found such a good person for yourself."

Guess, she was absolutely right.

For more yandere reading :

[1d1195]

Most - Extra I

Read Most here | ~2k words

From me: It's probably too early for an extra for them, but I seriously couldn't resist. Takes place sometime within the first couple of months of the last part.

Warnings: this is going to be disgustingly sweet. Nothing to report except you'll have a toothache after reading.

Summary: Harry gets to rush home from work now to the love of his life. Everything about her makes his heart ache.

Harry was exhausted. Now that she was home, he didn’t have a reason to avoid going home to be by himself. There was no need to feel suffocated by loneliness because he wasn’t alone anymore. So, he changed his work schedule quite a bit. He wasn’t single anymore (even if he never felt that way anyway). But he didn’t do overtime much anymore. He didn’t pick up shifts that others didn’t want or were unable to work due to their own families. The station was never left stranded regardless, but he wasn’t the go-to ask anymore. He felt a little bad and still occasionally took a short overtime shift, but not nearly as many as the insane hours he was prior to her coming home. He didn’t take his time leaving either the way he used to. There was no need anymore. Fortunately, all his coworkers were completely understanding.

48 hours on and 96 hours off. A normal shift for a firefighter. It was so much better than the 18-hour days he was doing before she returned. He could see her for days at a time. He pampered her, snuggled her, and kissed every inch of her skin like she might disappear again even though he really didn’t believe that anymore the way he did when she first came home.

But the end of this two-day shift left him exhausted. It was exceptionally busy. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Only one small house fire contained to the kitchen and the toaster that caught the curtain in the window at fault. There was lots of paperwork that needed filing and reporting for a hundred different things. There was more training. Another visit to the elementary school and a safety outreach program in partnership with other community groups.

Harry grabbed his bag from the back seat, locked his door, and headed inside. Each step felt heavier than the next. He couldn’t wait to get into bed beside her and snuggle her. With the way her work schedule was, she had arrived home after him the last few times. But today, her car was parked next to his. It made his heart flutter. Happy that he had everything he ever wanted. The love of his life, a cute house, and everything. But Harry could have done without the house, the car, the career he loved.

She was there.

That was everything.

It was late. Almost eleven. The outside air was chilly. The moon glowed so bright it almost felt like a stage light on his arrival home. There was the smell of a campfire somewhere a few streets over. All concluding to a perfect fall night. He almost wanted to wake her just so she could come outside and smell it because it reminded him of a bonfire they went to when they first started dating. They made out under a tree and giggled about all their future while their friends drank around the fire.

Quietly, he unlocked the door. He was hoping she wouldn’t wake from his arrival. Her classes alongside work had been kicking her butt. Maybe worse than a 48-hour shift not that she would ever let him think that. No, she doted on him and made sure he was doing okay regardless of how tired she was. It made his heart ache with how much she adored him, but Harry was lucky to have five days off between his shifts. She was lucky if she had one.

Kicking his shoes off right inside the door he was overwhelmed with how good it smelled. A combo of whatever she cooked for dinner and the now permanent scent of her hair care wafting through the house from bathroom all the way to the living room. If this had been even a year ago, Harry never would have thought it was possible to have it all. But the smell of her shampoo was enough to make his eyes watery. Especially after a long couple of days.

He dropped his bag by his shoes, locked the front door, and turned to make his way to the kitchen to put his Tupperware in the dishwasher. He wished he looked sooner because the sight made his heart skim a beat. A strangled, quiet groan came from his throat, as he tried to stop it so he would wake her. Wouldn’t start sobbing with how much he adored her.

Harry rushed to the living room sofa, dropped to his knees beside it. One hand fell to her hip and danced up the curve of her waist, resting on her ribcage as her breath moved her body up and down at gentle intervals. “Kitten,” he murmured.

She didn’t stir. Harry placed a hand over her ear along the side of her head. Softly he rubbed his fingertips into her head. “Baby,” he tried again. Seeing her so peacefully on his couch made him possessive and happy. He wanted nothing more than to watch her like she was his favorite show. All she had to do was sleep; it was enough entertainment for him. They dreamed of things like this and now it was here, and he felt so much love it made him want to cry.

She grunted softly. “Hi baby,” she hummed reaching out and grabbed at his T-shirt. She pulled at the chest, right below the collar of it and tugged him toward her more. Then, she slid her hand over his face. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Why aren’t y’in bed, kitten?"

"S'cold,” she mumbled, yawned.

“So, turn the heat up, baby,” a smile was in his voice as he shook his head at her.

She shook her head back in response. Slowly, she sat up. Her arms came and wrapped around his shoulders and tucked her face into his neck. “Not that kinda cold,” she mumbled.

Fuck, he loved her so much. She was so cute it made him want to scream. She was purposefully on the sofa. Waiting for him.

He swallowed the emotion that was blocking his throat, and he exhaled slowly to calm himself before he had to explain to her why he was crying like a baby because of her and how much he loved her.

He was royally fucked when she walked down the aisle. He would blubber. There wouldn’t be enough tissues in the world to dry his eyes.

“Baby, y'can't sleep on the couch every time m'at work."

"Watch me."

God. His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed the side of her head as he rocked her gently. He couldn't be close enough to her. "S'bad for your neck t’be on the couch, kitten.”

"It's bad for my heart to be without you in bed."

Harry was going to sob because of her. He squeezed her again. He wasn’t arguing. He just wanted her to be comfy and cozy. Gently, he gripped just behind her knees and pulled her legs around his hips and swiftly stood all in the same movement. He kissed her temple. “Are you hungry?” She asked sleepily. “I’ll make you a plate,” but she nuzzled into his neck, and he almost wanted to say yes, just so he could see how she would manage while half asleep. He thought it was adorable. She was adorable.

“No, kitten. M’fine.”

She frowned. “Did you eat?”

“I ate baby. Don’t worry,” he promised.

“You don’t have to carry me. I’m heavy and you worked so long—”

“Shh,” he hushed. He supported one arm beneath her bum, cradling her to him. He carried her to the bedroom and placed her softly on the mattress before he moved away. She pouted rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand.

“Where are you going?”

He really didn’t think his heart could take how cute she was. It felt like it was bursting, threatening to break out of his ribcage and find its way into hers so it could be next to her heart. “M’jus’ changing, baby, showered before I left,” he explained. “Gonna be all snuggled close.”

She sighed with relief. Crawled beneath the covers and waited patiently while Harry stripped down to his boxers and went to the bathroom to quickly swish his toothbrush around his mouth.

Harry wasted no time getting into bed. He lifted the sheet, blanket, and comforter that she had decorated the bed in a pattern Harry never would have had if she didn’t live with him. It was plenty warm. Rendering her defense all the sweeter.

He opened his arms for her to nuzzle against him where she also wasted no time falling into his embrace.

Maybe one day she would sleep in bed without him suffocating her with his cuddling.

But it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“I love you,” she murmured to him.

“I love you,” he kissed down the length of her neck.

“Missed you so much.”

Sometimes he didn’t know if he meant her shift or the three years that he didn’t see her.

“I missed you, baby,” honestly it didn’t matter what she meant because the moments she wasn’t within his sight he missed her like crazy. Too much time apart made him a little insane. A little hungry for time that he couldn’t get back. But he would try anyway and enjoy every second of it. “Don’t sleep on the sofa waiting for me,” he hummed. He worried about her always. “It’ll hurt your neck.”

“Don’t you care about how my heart will hurt, Harry?” Her voice was soft, joking.

“More than anything, kitten,” he promised, seriously. “M’always going t’come home t’you though. Did y’sleep on the sofa last night?” He wondered, realizing that there was always going to be a day he didn’t know where she slept. She nodded against him. No speaking. Perhaps she was too tired. Too tired to pretend as well. There was a tight pressure around his heart and a half-smile, half-frown pulled on his lips. “Baby,” he tutted. “I don’t want you t’do that.”

“S’too late. Spent too many nights without you,” she mumbled.

So, Harry understood. He would have to think of something to help her. But for now, he understood. “M’in love with you,” he reminded her.

“Me too, baby,” she squeezed him making him feel whole.

He cupped the back of her head, kissed the center of her forehead letting his lips press there for so long he hoped it would suction his mouth to her skin just so he never had to let her go ever again. “Can we have French toast in the morning?” She whispered.

He nodded easily, his eyelids felt heavier as they closed, and his chin bumped the top of her head. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

“Whatever I want?” She murmured.

He nodded again. “Always.”

“Harry?” She whispered. It seemed she got a bit of a second wind from the time he got her off the sofa and brought her to bed. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t feeling any bit of it. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to her for hours on end, he hadn’t slept much the last two days and he felt sleepiness winning over the desire to speak.

“Hmm?” He hummed, almost falling fast asleep before he could hear her again.

“I hate sleeping without you. I never want to do it ever again unless you’re working or you’re on a trip with your family or because Niall wants to sleep with you,” she took a deep breath while Harry smiled and shook his head at her. “So, when we get married, I don’t want to do a single night apart, not even the day before.”

Harry reached for her left hand that rested on his shoulder and he softly rubbed her ring finger. He nodded. Kissed the crown of her head and sighed. “Okay, angel,” he murmured. “No night’s apart that aren’t necessary.”

“I’ll stop talking. You can go to sleep.”

“Don’t get out of bed in the morning,” he murmured and squeezed her tighter. “I hate when y’do that,” he grumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll wake you.”

“Good,” he sighed. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you,” she answered. “More than anything.”

--

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[yandere-paramour]

Yans During a Hurricane

In honor of a hurricane absolutely ravaging my state, here is some content before my power goes out.

Vivien

Vivien is worried. Like really worried.

He lives in an apartment, so he's not worried about his indoor plants, he's worried about his plot at the community garden. He doesn't care how wet it is outside, he will do whatever he can to try and save those tomatoes.

He's also worried about you and him. Obviously, he wants you to come over, the thought of you weathering the storm alone is physically painful.

He tries to think of everything you both might need from snacks, making sure both your cars are gassed up, and collecting plenty of batteries and flashlights.

It's like he's planning for doomsday, he's really worried. The thought of being unprepared and something happening to you because of his hubris makes his stomach seize up.

He gets stressed and tries to turn that into making things. He does a lot of cooking and baking for the two of you, making enough so you don't have to leave the house for a few days and can just stay inside and wait.

You're going to have to somehow get him to calm down and relax otherwise he will work himself into a state.

His apartment building isn't the best so, of course, you are the first in the city to lose power. You both gasp in unison at the sudden way everything grows quiet.

Vivien nearly cries when the cookies he's baking suddenly stop. The thought of not being able to provide for you is very, very upsetting to him.

You'll have to redirect/cajole him into a new activity that doesn't require electricity like tending to his plants, that always calms him down. Or maybe build a blanket fort, rainy days like this are perfect for blanket forts.

Gently you poke into his side and ask if he wants to build a fort on the rug, and he gives you a quizzical look, wondering if you're making fun of him or something.

When it becomes clear you're serious, his face lights up and he drags every single chair, pillow, and blanket in the apartment.

He is very strategic as he builds, and you just let him do his thing, knowing he needs this to be able to feel secure.

When it's done, your fort is a masterpiece. It is large enough for you both to crawl inside, and Vivien has decorated it with some small battery-operated tealights so there's enough light to see. The many pillows are comfortable to sit on, and you both giggle like excited children as you both do a craft together.

You two spend the night cuddled in each other's arms in, snacking on fresh fruit, talking about nothing, and listening to the melodic rains outside, and finally, Vivien is able to take a breath and know that this storm will pass and you and he will be okay.

Atalanta

Do you really think Atalanta Montclair is going to stick around and have to deal with running out of food and her power cutting out? Get real.

She, her parents, and, by extension, you are getting tf out of there.

Atalanta makes the executive decision to shut down Montclair Industries for a few days. She doesn't want her employees to have to work when they should be with their families, and she definitely doesn't want anyone to get hurt or worse in the process of working.

Whatever happens, she'll deal with it when she comes back.

She even puts Noelle in charge with a promise of a bonus while she's gone (And you know Noelle's taking that shit, there is nothing that could come up that Noelle couldn't handle)

Somewhere where a hurricane is not currently raging, that's where you're going.

Enjoy a nice sunny weekend with your wife and In-Laws!

Lots of normal Montclair activities (beach lounging, fancy dinners, going to the theatre, museum browsing, generally experiencing what it's like to be in another part of the world)

Any worries you have about things back home, Atalanta will soothe and comfort you and generally do everything she can to make you calm down. If it makes you feel better, she can give some employees a quick call to make sure everything is perfectly fine.

She wants you to enjoy the little vacation with her, so just let her send a quick text, and then she'll get you another fruity drink so you have something to sip on while you both walk through the night market.

Noelle

Noelle is mildly concerned, but she is not going to pass up a few days off to spend with her Darling.

Atalanta left Noelle in charge of the company while she's gone with promises of a sizable bonus (and you know if Ata says sizable, she means it), but that's really only for anything big or emergent.

Basically, all she has to do is keep her phone charged and nearby, and check it every once in a while, and that's an extra few thousand on her paycheck.

Noelle is very pleased about that.

You're usually alone during the day, but now Noelle is here with you! You're so happy to spend so much time with her!

To begin your little respite, both of you start with a relaxing bath together, which always turns into a little skincare/spa night. Noelle is so very gentle as she wipes your face with toner, and you get to see her cute puzzled look as she surmises which face mask to give you.

As a little treat, she orders in from whatever restaurant you like best and you both eat on the couch, laughing at a movie you pick. She cradles you in your arms, kissing your arms and hands and hair because she doesn't want to mess up your moisturizer.

After the first movie, Noelle inspects her supplies. Of course, she has everything she needs, but she may need to top off your snack stash if you've been hardcore snacking this week.

Anything you need, she will quickly get delivered so you both can spend the next few days being as comfortable as possible (with a generous tip for the delivery guy for braving the pouring rains).

She lives in a much nicer apartment than Vivien, so her electricity never cuts out so you both stay comfortable and warm the whole weekend.

Noelle spends the entire weekend absolutely doting on you. Anything you like, she is doing with you and making sure to praise you for every breath you take. She will paint with you, bake with you, even game with you (but she's terrible). She knows she's terrible, but she just wants you to have fun.

You catch her watching you with tender eyes many times, and you are just so touched by how much she loves you and how well she takes care you. You in your matching pajamas, clean and moisturized, fed by some chicken and rice Noelle cooked for you, soft and sleepy and ready for her to brush your hair and cuddle you to sleep, humming that little song she always hums for you.

By the time the hurricane has passed, you're severely disappointed that Noelle has to go back to work, but she just kisses and comforts you, saying that if you be a good girl and wait for her, she'll bring you a treat back later.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Welcome back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

“Darling,” Jonathan enters the apartment as he always does. In the days since you got there, it’s all become routine. Almost too much so. “You called? Was my phone not in service?” 

You look up from the book borrowed from the shelf in the hallway. A thriller that’s less exciting than it genre may suggest. You fold your hands over the pages. 

“I haven’t heard anything. About my suspension.” You frown, “how about you? Have they said anything?” 

“Oh, fawn, you know if I do, you will be the first to know. And as ever, I will vouch for your innocence,” he nears and strokes your cheek as he looks down at you. “Forgive me for letting my pride drive me to such rabidity. It is only that cretin that makes me this way. The way he insulted you.” 

“Hm, I know, it’s just... I feel useless. I don’t want to be living out of your hand forever.” 

“Out of my hand? Darling, it is how these things work, is it not? One day, I might require your support, eh?” He tickles along your hairline, “you should enjoy the time you have to yourself.” He looks around, eyes narrowing as he scans the apartment. “My, my, this place is tidy.” 

“I vacuumed. Lit a candle. Did the dishes,” you sit up and close the book. “I’m terribly bored. Maybe...” you stand and take the novel under your arm, “I should start looking for a new job. I don’t think they’re going to take me back. I’m not like you. I’m not important.” 

He turns on you and crosses his arms, “darling, please. Firstly, you are not permitted to speak of yourself such. I won’t have that. Secondly, am I to feel worse than I already do? I would’ve gladly taken the slap on the wrist. I said as much in my interview.” 

You swallow and look down guiltily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just... I don’t know.” 

“You should be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. The wedding is just around the corner,” he girds. 

“Well, it’s Geri’s day. I just have to show up.” 

“And look as stunning as you always do. Have you made an appointment for your hair and makeup? That might cheer you a little,” he suggests. 

“I can’t... I can’t afford that. I can do my own,” you insist. 

“I can,” he counters. “I’ll ask around for recommendations and you’ll book something tomorrow before all the appointments are snatched up. Won’t you?” 

“If that’s what you want,” you shrug. 

His lips form a straight line and he drops his hands to his hips, “I want whatever you want, fawn, yet is seems even you do not know what that is.” He looks down with a solemn hum, “I wonder if you should even want me.” He turns away slowly. “I know you think of him still. You have such a deep heart, darling, and I shouldn’t blame you but it hurts all the same. I should be the only one.” 

“You-- you are. It’s just... It was just a crush,” you step closer. 

“Was?” He peeks over his shoulder, searching your face desperately. 

You nod, “yes. We’re together now.” 

He smiles. Just a little. He turns back to you and puts his hands on your upper arms. “I... I can’t tell you how lovely that is to hear you say. I am not so nervous anymore.” 

You flutter your lashes, “nervous? You?” 

He chuckles softly, “yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be afraid that you won’t see me as I see you? You are my world.” 

His declaration takes your breath away. You stare at him. You don’t know what to say. You like him. A lot. But you can’t lie and say you feel everything for him. That you don’t still get a pang in your chest when you think of Colin. Even if you know what you should feel, you can’t force it. 

“I’m... trying my best,” you step closer. “I... I have a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” 

“Mm, well, like I said, I’ve been bored,” you grab his wrist and gently pull his hand from his hip. “Come on.” 

“Shall I close my eyes?” He asks playfully. 

“Don’t be cheesy,” you warn. “I was googling stuff about England and I found a recipe for a dessert. Um, sticky toffee pudding? It took me a while to get it right but I think I figured it out.” You open the fridge as you pull him with you. He stops before the interior’s glow as you point to the cake pan. “For dessert.” 

“For me? You made that? All by yourself?” He asks. 

You nod proudly as your cheeks tweak. “Yeah. I love baking but my place was never big enough and I know it’s not much but I wanted to say thank you.” 

“You mean to stab me in the heart,” he accuses and you flinch in surprise. “The way you are plucking on my heartstrings, I think I might completely break, darling.” He turns you to him and smirks down at you. “How have I been so lucky to come so far across the world and find the only treasure in it?” 

You giggle. He’s so sweet it hurts your teeth. It makes you feel worse for spending all day moping. 

“I’ll make dinner. I didn’t find any cool recipes for that though,” you say. 

“My darling,” he draws you near and the fridge shuts on its own, “you are all I need in this moment.” 

💔

The artist, Marissa, helps you down from the chair. You’re dizzy from reclining for so long and the pins in your hair jab your scalp. You glance at your reflection and blanch. You look like you but... not. In a good way. In a way prettier way than usual. 

She leads you out to the counter at the front of the salon. Jonathan stands as he sees you. You thought he might busy himself elsewhere. You’re surprised he stuck around that long. 

“Wow,” his blue eyes shine as he nears, “you look splendid. Not that you aren’t always immaculately gorgeous, darling.” 

Marissa giggles from behind the till, “aw, that’s so sweet. Is this the first family event for you two?” 

You nod as you face her, Jonathan’s hand hover behind your back as it so often does. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you managed to put in a few details about the dinner but were just as happy to let her gab. 

“It is,” Jonathan answers as he pulls out his wallet. “And a wedding right after. It will certainly be exciting.” 

“And you two... are the bells ringing for you soon?” She tinkles playfully and turns the pinpad to him. 

“Mm, well, that matter should always be a surprise, shouldn’t it?” He taps his card. “Thank you very much. You’ve done a masterful job.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she preens. “I hope you have a lovely dinner.” 

You smile and let Jonathan herd you away. He opens the door ahead of you and Marissa gives another swoony ‘aw’ as her coworkers whisper. You’re overwhelmed by all the attention, yet you’ve never had anyone jealous of you. It makes you feel special, albeit a bit guilty too. 

As Jonathan drives, you fidget nervously. You look at the time on the dash and chew your fingertip. He glances over. 

“Try not to mess your makeup, darling,” he girds. 

You rip your hand away and apologise. 

“You’re nervous?” He asks. 

“A little.” 

“Shouldn’t you be happy to see your family?” He wonders. 

“Umm, yes, but it’s just... a big event. Besides, it’s Geri’s dinner. I’ll just let her have her time,” you shrug and fold your hands in your lap. 

“Of course, but it won’t be too bad, will it? I’ll be there with you. I don’t mind if you hold my hand,” he reaches over and rests his knuckles on your leg. You twine your fingers through his. “I’ll need courage myself. Three sisters. Mother, father. I am outnumbered.” 

You squeeze his hand. You feel suddenly very selfish. He’s so cool and calm, you never once thought of how he might feel about it all. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say. 

“Yes, so long as we have each other, it will be,” he agrees. 

Back at his condo, you stand in indecision before the hangers. You’re not sure which dress to choose. You opt for the deep shade of midnight blue. Since it is an evening event, that would be more appropriate than the champagne. 

You step into the dress and pull the fluttery sleeves up over your shoulders. You reach back for the zipper but can’t quite reach. You spin in your struggle and as you face the door, you find Jonathan watching you with an amused slant in his lips. 

“Need help?” He prompts. 

You nod and give a bashful smile. You hold up the lacy bodice as he strides toward you. He wears a sleek pair of checkered grey slacks and a matching jacket, with a complementary tie with geometrics lines over a pressed white shirt. He is sophisticated and sauve and you still feel like that unwanted girl in her lonely apartment. 

You turn your back to him and he grabs the tab of the zipper. As he tugs it up slowly, his thumb tickles your spine. It sends a shiver through you. You spine to face him again. 

“Fawn, how do you only get more beautiful with each breath?” He says. 

“Oh,” you blush and sway. “Me? You look... great. Handsome.” You feel all mushy saying the words out loud.  

“Now, you are going to make me melt,” he purrs as he runs his hands up your sides. “Do you think we can cancel? Perhaps show up a bit late?” He winks and squeezes your hips. “That dress is doing something to me.” 

“Jonathan,” you smack his chest lightly. “No, my mother would kill me.” 

“Oh, Eugenia is a sweetheart,” he grins. “But I am a gentleman so I will have you there on time. So, let us not linger or my worst instinct may take over.” 

You shake your head, “just need to grab some shoes. Oh, and a purse.” You hang the other dress in the closet and spin around. You had a clutch... there. “Um, did you still have my phone? I can let my sister know we’re on the way.” 

“Hm, yes, but you shouldn’t need it with you. It is an event. We can’t be on our phones all night,” he chides. 

“No, I know, it’s just... I feel like I haven’t checked my emails in ages.” 

“Mm, alright,” he sweeps out of the room and you stand, a bit startled by the shift in his demeanour. You remind yourself that he might be anxious about all the new people. 

He returns and hands you your phone. You message Geri and your mother, just to be sure. You keep the cell in your hand and look at Jonathan. 

“I’ll put it to do not disturb,” you suggest. “Okay?” 

“Well, I suppose there may come an emergency,” he sighs. “I won’t argue. We haven’t time for it.” 

You flinch and tuck the phone into the clutch. You rub your lips together then stop yourself. You follow him from the room and stop to check your make up in the mirror hung in the hall. It’s still in tact. 

You step into your heels and bend to strap them on. Jonathan sidles around you, his keys jingling. Before you can stand, you squeal at the grope on your ass. You pop up and teeter on your shoes. 

“Jonathan!” You exclaim. 

“I’ve got to get it out of my system now,” he smirks. “Oh darling, I’m not sure I’ll make it through the night.” 

“If I have to, you have to,” you poke him. “Now please, no more. I can’t handle it.” 

“Oh, you cannot?” He chuckles and steps closer, drawing you flush to him as he scoops your ass in both his hands. “Not this?” 

“Jonathan,” you press your hands to his chest. “Please.” 

“Mmm, what if I was quick?” He purrs as he rocks you. 

“We have to go.” 

“I know, darling but I’m so very hungry,” he slathers down at your chest. “We can make an excuse. Traffic is absolutely terrible, isn’t it?” 

“Oh gosh,” you squeak and squirm, “I can’t--” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, fawn,” he slides his hands down as he lowers himself to his knees. He tugs at your skirts as you cry out in shock. “I only want a taste... I’ll save dessert for after dinner.” 

He throws your skirt over his head and disappears beneath. He pulls your leg up and over his shoulder and you wave on one leg. He has you off-kilter as he nuzzles the front of your panties. He hums and it rolls through you.  

You grab onto the shape of his head through your dress and cling to him to keep from falling over. You couldn’t stop him if you tried. As all things with him, it’s easier to just let him do as he will. Besides, you are in no hurry to face your family. 

[cadaveerie]

ignore this post if you're tired of reading anything abt transphobes complaining about trans ppl (and top surgery scars) in dragon age, but:

David Gaider, the creator of the Dragon Age setting and veteran writer at BioWare (no longer working there, he didn't write for DATV), has given some reasoning as to why top surgery scars can be justified in the world of Thedas. Here are his posts:

"You want this to be about the top scars? OK, let's go. 1) There's no evidence that shapeshifting can selectively, and permanently, alter body parts. Even if it could, shapeshifters can only alter themselves. Morrigan cannot turn other people into spiders." "2) Even if other magic could alter body parts permanently, and there's no evidence this is the case, not everyone has access to it. One cannot walk into a Circle of Magi and go "remove boobs plz"." "3) If your issue is "why not heal?", healing magic also does not do everything. Scars exist. Why does Cassandra have a scar on her chin? If anyone could go "heal scar plz", it'd be her. Recognize there's a difference between the way it works in gameplay and lore, with healing as many other things." "4) If your issue is "how surgery exist?", you're probably looking at our own medieval world. Thedas is, at best, quasi-medieval. There are SO MANY instances of things that, in our world, didn't exist until the Renaissance or even later. It's not our medieval world and never tried to be." "But it's not about the top scars, is it? You've been presented with new information and you just don't like it. You don't want it. Like anyone who balked at the qunari change in DA2. So you try to make it about inconsistency because you feel that's stronger than this just being about YOUR biases."

source: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

I know that if you're pro-trans (or just normal) you understand all of this, but still. This is literally coming from the person who created Dragon Age. He defends the existence of both top surgery and its scars with a watsonian reasoning. At least this in-world explanation might be valuable for some people. That such a significant person behind Dragon Age justifies to you directly why this decision can make sense in such a world. And even from a POV that's pro-trans, it's cool to hear the in-world reasoning from someone that knows the setting better than anyone.

Overall I'm glad he's openly defending it because even if it's logical it's also nice that he speaks about it when he doesn't have to, especially since he's not involved in this project anymore. Idk if all of them, but it's nice to see that the devs are overall so trans-friendly. And nicer to see that there are trans devs to start with involved in the game.

And this whole thing is bigger than it should be, but the reality that not only people are still transphobic, but most big games simply don't have top surgery scars at all. Some have trans options, but they're still incredibly binary and restrictive, like BG3 and Cyberpunk 2077 (I like both of those games a lot, but being able to give a very stereotypically masculine character a vulva and vice-versa, or even worse, having that situation but the character's voice be directly related to pronouns, is not good enough. It shows a lack of care and understanding of trans people. And in BG3's case at least you can independently change voice and also go by they/them, but even then. Overall, it's good that those games went in that direction and that you could in that way be trans at all, but it was still not good at all. It was like saying "you are allowed to be trans, but only in this very passing, gender-conforming way and binary way." I feel like in this case, DATV's approach is one of the best I can think of so far, so in that sense I'm grateful (and apparently you can also say in the game that you're trans, which if that's true, that's great.) And this doesn't mean that the CC couldn't be better and more inclusive in a lot of other ways, but this is decent at least for trans characters.

So anyway, it's nice to have top surgery scars in CC. I hope at some point trans people will stop being targeted in this way and that it can be just something that's in the overwhelming majority of games, and done respectfully, and that people just leave us alone. Also wishing the same for POC, women, and people with any condition they decide is woke like... having vitiligo I guess.

[beecauseevan]

omg established buddie yes

movie nights!! with chris preferably

Silence permeates the living room, expectant and uncomfortably tense. Eddie shifts in his spot on the couch, cringing when his jeans rasp against the cushions. He steals a glance at Chris, who is transfixed by the images flashing across the TV screen. Next to Chris, just visible over his brown curls, Buck is chewing on his bottom lip. Despite that obvious struggle to keep his big mouth shut, he's not the one who breaks the tense silence.

"Oh man," Chris says. His fingers twitch, like he's fighting the urge to cover his eyes with his hands. "I knew you were old, dad. I didn't know you were ancient."

Buck's laugh is choked and startled and only grows louder when Eddie glares at him over Chris' head.

"That's not—" Eddie starts. "This was already old when I watched it."

Chris tears his eyes away from the TV just long enough to shoot him an incredulous look. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't know you were a nerd," says Buck, who watches documentaries for fun and really doesn't get to talk. "This is all new information."

"I'm not a nerd."

"This is pretty nerdy," Chris argues.

Eddie shakes his head and eats an indignant fistful of popcorn. This is what he gets for trying to educate the youth. 

It's Christopher's fault, really. 

"I want to watch something," he said earlier, at dinner, chewing on Buck's newly perfected version of Bobby's veggie lasagna. "Something with space."

"Star Wars?" Buck suggested, twirling his fork between his fingers. "We haven't watched Episode V in a while."

Disapproval scrunching up his face, Chris shook his head. "We've watched it like a thousand times, though."

"It's a masterpiece," Buck replied, making Eddie—who had introduced him to Star Wars—very proud. "Can't see it too many times."

Eddie didn't add anything to their back and forth, a quietly content observer, warmed from the inside by Buck's lasagna and from the outside by the presence of the two people he cared most about. 

"Or," Buck added, "we can watch Revenge of the Sith, if you want."

"You hate that one," Chris said.

"I don't hate it. I just think the original trilogy is better."

"You're wrong." 

"The original trilogy has Han Solo," Buck said. "And Yoda. And Luke."

"Yoda is in the prequels too," Chris argued. "And the prequels have Jar Jar Binks."

"That's—a good thing?"

Chris shrugged. "He's funny."

Buck glanced at Eddie, who hid his smile in his palm. "He has a point."

Buck's eyes said does he, but of course that's not what came out of his mouth. Buck might be a worse pushover than Eddie, if that is even physically possible.

"Fine," he said, "Revenge of the Sith it is."

"No," Chris sighed, stabbing his fork into the leftovers on his plate. "I want to watch something new."

And Eddie, naive and optimistic wounded heart that he is, suggested something he would soon regret: "I really liked Star Trek when I was a kid. We could check that out."

"The movies?" Chris asked. "We've seen the movies, dad."

Chris meant the new ones, and Eddie didn't have the strength to tell him that he was a little too old to have watched those movies as a kid. He let that comment slide and shook his head. 

"No, the show. The original one. With William Shatner?"

Chris shook his head, and a moment later, so did Buck. Eddie took a moment to picture the horrifiedly disappointed face Chim would make in response to that statement, then moved on. 

"You guys are in for a treat."

He meant it then, too. He really thought they would love it. 

Turns out childhood memories don't always depict reality in all of its grainy, puke-yellow flannelled glory. The show is a lot more rough than he remembers and it doesn't help that he started them off with the first episode of the first season, instead of one of the good ones. He thought this would be a hit and they'd end up watching it regularly, but—well. 

"Why do his eyes look like that?" Chris asks, frowning at the screen. 

Eddie just shrugs—Buck, who has never been able to leave a question unanswered, is already digging out his phone. 

"No googling," Eddie scolds him. "You're gonna ruin the immersion."

Buck waves him off, phone screen lighting up the smirk on his face. 

"I just wanna know why they're wearing pajamas," Chris adds.  

"Wish our uniforms looked like that," Buck says, glancing up from his phone just long enough to smirk at Eddie. "They're probably really cozy."

"Not very cool, though," Chris points out. 

"It's tinfoil," Buck cuts in. "Tinfoil contacts. That's how they got his eyes to look like that."

Chris frowns. "Ew."

"Guys," Eddie complains weakly. "This is a classic."

Buck has the decency to say, "I'm sorry," but the way he mumbles it against his palm, barely concealed laughter coloring his voice, tells Eddie that he's not that sorry at all. 

"You said the same thing about Die Hard," Chris points out. "That was bad too."

Eddie shakes his head, stunned, and looks at Buck, who shrugs. 

"He's not wrong."

"That's it," Eddie decides, while the tinfoil-eyed monsters continue to poach the crew of the Enterprise, "I'm moving out. I bet Chim will take me in."

"More lasagna for me," Chris says, entirely unbothered. 

Buck laughs, loud and clear, and Eddie puts his hands in front of his eyes and pretends, badly and unconvincingly, to be upset. He isn't, he couldn't be, even if this were his favorite piece of media in the whole entire universe as opposed to just a show he used to enjoy as a kid—he couldn't be mad, because it's hard to be upset when you're faced with such stark reminders of why your life is as close to perfect as it could possibly be. Eddie loves that Chris and Buck hate the show, because they hate it together. He loves being the center of their good-natured mockery, because it means they're teaming up on him. They're a family. Eddie's family. And he loves them more than life.

As the episode goes on—and it goes on for ages—Chris grows more and more quiet. When the credits start rolling, he's dozed off. His head is pillowed on Buck's arm and Buck sits perfectly still, which in itself is a little bit of a miracle.

"Think he'll wake up if I carry him to bed?" Buck asks quietly, carefully, like he'd rather stop breathing than disturb Chris, which, knowing Buck, might not be too far from the truth.

"Probably," Eddie says, "I think you're gonna have to move."

"I really don't want to."

"Guess you're sleeping on the couch," Eddie shrugs.

Buck sighs. Then he moves, and Chris blinks awake, yawns, and for a moment he's six again, so small Eddie could delude himself into thinking that all he needed to do was fold him into his arms and the world would never be able to touch him.

Then Chris groans and rubs his eyes and looks around, instantly annoyed in that way only a tired teenager can be, and Eddie is back in the here and now, and he finds he likes it just the same.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Buck pokes Chris' shoulder and Eddie watches, with a smile that almost hurts his cheeks, as Chris rolls his eyes, teenage stubbornness without any sort of sting, because even though he's biologically and socially obligated to find adults annoying and embarrassing, Buck is still his person. "You ready for bed?"

"Yeah, yeah," Chris grumbles.

"I can come with," Eddie offers, and gets the same kind of eyeroll in return, and feels a rush of warmth when he realizes that maybe—maybe he's still Chris' person too. It's been a long road since Kim, but maybe they're getting there.

"I'm not a baby, dad," Chris tells him, straightening up on his crutches. "I can brush my teeth on my own."

"Alright, alright," Eddie relents.

Chris goes off on his own and by the time Buck and Eddie are done with the dishes, the rest of the house is quiet, including Christopher's room. Eddie glances at Buck, standing by the sink, and finds Buck looking back at him. He's wearing yellow rubber gloves and an apron and the smirk on his lips is not entirely innocent. 

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Buck says, stripping off the gloves in one smooth motion. Eddie wonders what it says about him that that kind of turns him on. "You know, I thought Star Trek was all about homoerotic sexual tension. Didn't feel much of that."

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"Captain Kirk and the guy with the," Buck points at the side of his head, "ears."

Eddie feels a smile coming on and bites down on his bottom lip. He can't be that easy. "You know about that but you don't know who William Shatner is?"

"I have niche interests," Buck tells him, hands finding Eddie's hips. His smile is brilliant. His hands are cold. The sleeves of his hoodie are still rolled up. Eddie loves this man to the core. 

"Hm." Eddie sways closer, wraps his arms around Buck's shoulders, brings their lips together in a lingering kiss. "Boy, do I have the episode for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie hums. Another warm kiss later, he laces their fingers together and leads Buck back into their living room, turns the TV back on. "This one is called Amok Time."

[sparklingcid3r]

The words were out, hanging in dead space between them. So cruel and violent. Pony wished he could take them back, but no retraction would ever repair the damage he’d caused.

Something in Darry must have died that night. Or maybe Ponyboy had finally killed what little was left of him, and snuffed out any chance he had of getting his relationship with his big brother back.

In which words sometimes speak much, much louder than actions.

-

Pony always thought that Darry would be the one to cross the line first. Pony knew how to put a cork over his fury; tasting copper was better than a verbal beatdown. Biting his tongue was one of the few things Pony was better at than his brother.

But he really ought to have known, with his nose constantly shoved in a book and all that. With enough pressure, every dam will break.

Darry’s eyes glittered like ice as he stood from the recliner, his arms folded. Soda was there, too, though he stayed curled up on the couch, letting Darry play bad guy.

“Where the hell have you been, Ponyboy? Curfew was two hours ago.”

Pony was tired. He wasn’t in the mood, so he kept his gaze low. “You guys didn’t have to wait up. I was fine.”

“How are we supposed to know that? You didn’t tell us about your plans after school, you didn’t call, nothing. When you don’t show up, what are we supposed to think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t gotta share everything with you.”

Darry thought that was a hoot. Pony could tell by the mean scowl on his face as he said it.

“So long as you keep your nose outta trouble, you know I don’t care what you do.” That was true. After the accident, Darry could have been a lot worse. By all means, he should have been. A lot had changed in their family, he supposed, and Darry was trying out a few new tactics.

He ran roughshod over Pony’s retort before he could make it. “You didn’t even think to tell me you’d be out late, so here we are, making sure our kid brother ain’t been left for dead somewhere, worrying our asses off, just for you to walk in, right as rain.”

Somewhere along the way, Soda ceased to exist in their world. He couldn’t have said when.

“Glory, Darry, are you happy to see me or not?” Pony snapped. “Make up your damn mind!”

“Happy?” Darry scoffed. “Yeah, I sure am happy you think the rules we have in this house, under my roof, don’t apply to you.”

“I ain’t saying that—“

“Then what are you sayin’? ‘Cause all I been hearin’ is a load of bull.”

Darry was getting real mad. He liked keeping his southern twang on the down low—Pony figured it had something to do with his bitterness over not getting the hell out of Tulsa—but it flared up when he got all riled.

Pony knew he should throw in the towel and just start appeasing, but the tiniest spark of indignation lit a whole fuse in his chest, and suddenly he was hollering right back.

“I don’t gotta tell you anything, you said so yourself! I wasn’t doing nothing wrong, so what if I show up an hour or two late? I’m here, aren’t I?” And it felt real good seeing, even for a second, the startle in Darry’s face, that his pathetic little brother could spit fire right back. “All you do is holler my ears off, day and night. Lay off already!”

Darry recovered so quick that if Pony had blinked, he’d have missed that sweet moment altogether. “You better watch that tone, Ponyboy, or so help me God.”

“Naw, you don’t go pulling this with Soda. Why does he get to do hell all without no permission?”

“Because Sodapop’s pulling his damn weight around here, helping me pay our bills and for our groceries. And this is how you repay us, by sneaking around past curfew and letting me think some Socs got their hands on you.”

Pony never wanted to do to Darry what he thought the Socs would do more than in that moment. He wanted to wrap his knuckles and sock his brother in the mouth, see how he liked it being someone else’s punching bag. Using Soda like that was a low blow.

Of course, he was about as capable of hurting Darry as a fly was against a bear, but his chest is too hot and tight to consider retreating now.

“If money’s all you care about, I’ll drop outta school and get a job. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t you go even entertainin’ that thought.”

“Then don’t you go dragging Soda into this!”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re killin’ us, Ponyboy! That’s all you been tryna do lately, send us both to an early grave!”

“You wanna talk about graves? Mom and Dad are gone and all you’ve been doing is tryna replace them, but you ain’t even good at pretending to know what you’re doing!”

Shame was already boiling in the pits of his stomach, but his anger blinded him. The best he could do was turn his back and flee.

Darry caught Pony by his bicep. His grip was tight, and Pony’s first thought was that he was about to be tossed into the couch. “Don’t you dare pull that shit on me, Ponyboy Michael, using them against me—“

Pony wrenched his arm free and whirled on his heels, smacking Darry’s hand with a snarl carved out of his face. He pointed an accusing finger and let his fury loose in the worst way he could think of:

“I wish you had died instead!”

Time froze. His hand wasn’t quick enough to cage the monstrous words back into his mouth. They were acidic and would have burned on the way back down, but he would have preferred it.

Even Soda, watching from a distance, was stunned into abject silence, his lips parted and his chest heaving up and down, yet he made no sounds.

That was all it took. Not a clenched fist adorned with sharp rings or a heater packing back to back rounds. Six words laced with vitriol from the mouth of his kid brother, and Darrel Curtis buckled.

What did Pony say next? Should he speak at all? He peered through Darry’s glassy eyes and saw the fresh devastation they harbored within. Where he saw it most, though, was where it did not show itself at all. Darry’s hands were loose at his sides, unfurled and calm. He was perfectly still, not even harsh pocketfuls of air shaking his shoulders as they so typically did. Save for his shuttering expression—a coldness steadily fought for the place of raw hurt—Darry was just a body stood upright.

“Darry, I…” Ponyboy‘s rasp was wet and quivering. He felt the heat of shame and tears on his face, burning his ears and behind his eyes. The words shriveled up when they reached the cusp of his tightening throat.

Sodapop tried to intervene. His hand went up as if to brush Darry’s arm, but he thought better and settled on hovering just above.

“Hey, Dar—“

“Go,” said Darry, strained. “You have school tomorrow. Go to bed, Ponyboy.”

Pony nodded immediately, but Darry was the first to retreat. He pulled away from Soda. Pony staggered back to let him through, and he was spared no glance in the aftermath, not that he deserved it. He didn’t deserve any of what Darry had spent the past two months giving him, or anything that came after.

It was only a matter of time before Darry hated him for it, and he was pretty sure he just set that process on a fast track to fruition.

[sofastuffing]

the guy

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.

[yuridovewing]

i understand the frustration with “i made this gay pairing cis x trans so they can still have biological babies” with no thought to other methods and how ppl assume thats the case when it comes to mothpool aus where mothwing is also the mother of the three, but also…. idk i kinda dont give a shit if someone wants to do that and i dont really think its inherently transphobic as long as its handled with care and respect.

what really concerns me about this debate is how some people are adamant that you cannot portray trans people having biological children in media or youre being disrespectful. and im gonna say as a nonbinary person who doesnt want children for themself- thats kinda fucking weird? like i understand that for some people, theyre trans themselves and theyre speaking from a place of dysphoria, and i absolutely get that, which is why i think the topic should be handled with nuance and diversity in trans characters, but like…. guys. pregnant trans men exist irl. trans women get people pregnant irl. trans ppl’s ability and right to parent and have biological children are being debated irl. we get denied the opportunity to adopt as well.

in a climate like this, are we SURE we want the stance on rewrites and headcanons in the silly cat books to be “if you portray trans characters having children, especially with a gay couple, youre a transphobic freak no matter what!” does it really matter? especially if its being done by a trans person handling the topic with nuance who has a lot of trans characters with varying perspectives?

obviously yes, remember that thats not the only way certain gay couples can have kids, remember that not every trans person is fully comfortable with it and keep that in mind, remember that surrogacy and adoption are also perfectly valid ways to give fan babies- but remember that there are OPTIONS. not that you need to condemn the idea of transgender parents in the first place unless they fit the very specific criteria of “proper transgender representation” and anything that dares deviate from that is proof the op is a transphobic monster (bonus points if theyre a trans creator bc i mostly see trans people getting shit for this and it kinda pisses me off. although idm if cis people do it either as long as theyre handling it with respect)

[moeblob]

Erin, to her crush: You're a dick

Mason, the crush: I won't argue! But to clarify -

[paperlovesadness]

Me seeing all the comments under Glasto-themed posts blaming Alex for being sick and calling off Dublin

I'm barely able to fold that knife though.... And I'm not trusting myself that it'll stay folded.

[moldy-flowers]

I love the scene in naruto shippuden where Kakashi says "I'm really starting to take a liking to you" not because naruto freaks the hell out but because this implies that for the other like 3 and a half years Naruro knew Kakashi and the 16 years Kakshi knew of Naruto Kakshi just did not like Naruto at all.

[kariachi]

Sorry-not-sorry I'm back on my normal 'Kevin and Argit were so small' bullshittery.

Because they fucking were. Kevin was twelve when Servantis tossed everybody, and Argit couldn't have been far off. They were middle school aged. 'Puberty would be starting about now if we weren't wandering the Null Void and therefor likely not eating near enough' aged.

A pair of children, with minimal education, no paperwork, no homes, no guardians. Wandering the Null Void and then the Milky Way, on their own. One a prime target for the slave trade, both prime targets for adults looking to take advantage of them (*coughcoughOttocoughcough*). With only as much security as they could provide themselves and each other. Only able to rely on themselves for the basic necessities of life.

And then this show has the audacity to try to tell me that they turned to crime due to poor morality. That they're money focused because they're just naturally greedy. That they don't trust people and look out for themselves because they're bad people that either will always be bad people or will only improve because of the power of Tennysons.

What options were there for them? What jobs are there in the Null Void? What jobs are there in the galaxy that'll hire barely-teens, if even that, with no paperwork or educations, that wouldn't ruin them as badly and pay worse than the crime they already had experience with? Will keep them fed and clothed and sheltered? When one of them already has a criminal record, for violent crimes at that? When there's nobody there to stop even the 'good' adults from taking advantage of them?

The show will sit there and tell you that Kevin's violent crimes were the result of a rough childhood, but he and Argit's non-violent ones? Totally on them, no excuse, wholly a matter of greed and not giving a shit about other people. Fucking bullshit. This is a pair of kids who had to grow up way too fast, up against an existence that saw at least one of them as easy profit, with nothing but themselves and each other, and no opportunities. They're a pair of traumatized kids who grabbed the opportunities available to them with both hands and were molded by the problems they faced.

Of course they're money-focused, unlike the Tennysons they don't and haven't had anybody making sure they had enough to get by. They've had to support themselves and live with the constant worry that something is going to go pear-shaped and they'll have nothing.

They spent years with anybody and everybody being a potential threat (even between the two of them, Argit's noting that Kevin's snapping while he worked for the Rooters was the worst he'd seen 'before or since' makes it quite clear he's seen him on and passed the edge at least as much if not more than we have), of course they're going to be slow to trust, quick to toss people aside, and unwilling to help their enemies without some sort of payout, they've been burned before.

Just- Damnit these two come from some shitty fucking situations, the effects they had on them are obvious if you bother to fucking look, and they both deserved better than the series just going "oh yeah they're assholes what do you expect they're criminals" and moving the fuck on. Like, for fuck's sake at least acknowledge that they're like this because life was a fucking lead pipe to the teeth to them! We know Kevin's situation was shit even before they met, we got to see it, but even if Argit had a perfectly good life beforehand (unlikely) the earliest we see him is being held captive for illegal experimentation purposes by law enforcement! These two have been through shit! At least acknowledge it!

Fuck, they could've replaced Color of Monkey with that, hitting on the differences between how Kevin and Argit adapted to their circumstances, give us upfront the Tennysons being a safety net that let Kevin heal (rather than just 'oh the Tennysons taught him morals because they're the Good People') while Argit's issues and lack of security kept him stagnant. It would go better with what we see of him over the course of OV leading up to the Rooters arc, and what we're shown in the Rooters arc. Give us him still being far from great or on the up-and-up but improving with the stability that comes with his 'hero' status, a repairing relationship with Kevin after that arc, and a flourishing, above-board business. Rather than backpedaling on any good the writers had thrown at him like they'd realized they were coming up against a cliff.

Shit that makes you want to get the writers by the shoulders and shake them mercilessly.