#I'm happy with the texture of the table and chairs

[bloodbendingbrosenjoyer]

Uncomfortable conversation in the spirit world!

[ddejavvu]

this is depraved, but grinding on logan’s happy trail to get off 🫢

Hands Free - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

You've caught Logan at a bad time. The surly mutant is a complicated man, and one with less psychological damage than him might be eager to whip it out whenever, but Logan isn't. He's busy brooding, and he's not to be interrupted when he's got a bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other.

But you need him. There's a pit in your belly that's only made worse by the scowl on his face, and your cunt aches beneath your now-slick panties for something to envelop. You're desperate for Logan to fuck you, but there's no way you'll convince him if he's not in the mood.

"I can feel you staring," He grumbles, eyes still cast to the floor as he takes another swig of burning liquor, "What do you want?"

There's no polite way to say you.

"Uhm," You shift on your feet, thighs clenched, "I'm just feeling- I'm a little, um, I-"

"Spit it out."

"I need you." You breathe, ashamed by the sentence, but Logan's face remains untouched, nothing moving but the lingering smoke from his smoldering cigar.

"I'm not in the mood." He grunts, like it isn't obvious.

"I- I know." You fall awkwardly silent again, rising onto your tiptoes and falling back to your heels. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Up-

"Don't make a mess." He shifts in the chair, lowering his hips until they're level with his abdomen, offering you the best seat in the house.

He's shirtless, which means that if you can't have his cock, or his fingers, you can get the next best thing. A combination of the friction from the waistband of his jeans, and his toned abs, blanketed with coarse, wiry hair.

You mount him eagerly, which isn't hard to do seeing as his chair has no arms. It's got a back so that he can lean against it, but your support system is his chest, where you firmly plant your hands in preparation to get yourself off.

There's a dark line of hair that trails from the bottom of his navel and disappears beneath his waistband, flanked on either side with a sharp line of muscle that tapers down towards his cock in a V. His body is a work of art, and you only wish his equally gorgeous face was pointed your direction.

No matter- you won't push. You're lucky he's letting you get off on his lap, you'll take what you can get.

"Easy," He grumbles, rocked by the sudden jerk of your hips. As you settle into a steady rhythm you realize you've already failed his one directive of not making a mess, but there's no way to stop or slow the steady stream of slick that's pouring from your weeping cunt. It's sobbing, slobbering, begging for a cock, but you drag it flush against Logan's abs and mat his happy trail down with your translucent arousal.

"One fuckin' job," He gripes, reaching down to swipe two fingers through the slick that's glistening on his stomach as you find better friction near the waistband of his jeans. The texture of the denim is rough, and you realize with giddy desperation that he's getting hard in his pants despite his insistence that he wasn't in the mood.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth for a taste, his cigar left behind in its ashtray on the side table. He doesn't relinquish the bottle, but he takes equal sips of that and of the mess you're making on his abs.

Finally, thanks to the sizeable bulge in Logan's jeans, you're able to hump your way to completion on his stomach. It's not hard, considering you'd been achingly horny before, but without something inside of you your release feels empty and wasted. You'd use your fingers if you could, but you can't move your hands or you'd faceplant on Logan's chest, and you don't want to invade his space any further in case he decides your privileges have been revoked.

"Poor thing." He murmurs when your hips slow and you're panting against his chest. You glance at his face but he's staring at your cunt, not at you, "She's so hungry."

It takes him one, two, three seconds to reach for his belt, "Well, c'mon. Up now, there y'go." As you shimmy up his abdomen, slicking his happy trail up with your release once more. As soon as he's able to free his cock he slides a hand under your ass, boosting you up so that you're finally able to sink down onto his red-tipped, leaking cock.

"Jesus, she's sucking me in," He grunts, his voice gruff and ragged, "How long were you waiting to ask me?"

"Too long." You whine, pussy already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now in utter bliss from finally being penetrated after all that teasing, "I- hnngh! My toys don't work anymore. They're- they're nothing like you, I can't use them. I can't ever finish."

Logan scoffs, still in a mood as sour as the liquor on his breath, but his hands find their place on your waist as he helps bounce you on his cock, "Shame. Those were supposed to keep you busy. Guess I'll have to do it then, hm?"

You nod vigorously against the crook of Logan's neck, your nose buried where his neck meets his shoulder, and where sweat accumulates sticky on his skin. You lick it up, and Logan hisses against the mouth of his bottle as he takes another swig.

"Fine." He grumbles, butting the bottle up to your head and forcing it against your lips, "Take this, take a nice big- there you go. That'll make you sleepy," He vows, and the head rush comes just like he'd warned. His hips begin shifting, circling slightly in gyrations that only add to the pleasure of bouncing on his dick, "And this'll knock you out, crazy."

[kaluxsims]

Happy merry!! Merry happy!! Jingle twinkle! Double well-wishing for channukah and xmas!! I usually give our sims some pj's for the holidays, but this time it's somewhere to wear those pj's. I might actually have gone "ooo" when I first saw @bostyny's Ageless Bedroom for TS4. It had to be my xmas set this year. A must. Then part 2 came out and I wondered if I'd bitten off more than I could chew. This is part of why my updates have been a bit sparse lately.

I mean...look at it though! Don't you just wanna snuggle in and wait for Santa?

Since this is a long post, you can download it up here or down at the very bottom. Choose either merged or unmerged recolors. Unmerged is almost 500 files total. Merged is 22. There are a ton of recolors and I could only repo some of it.

Download:

merged - SFS or MediaFire unmerged - SFS or MediaFire

Full details, credits, more previews, etc under the fold.

I love that this set is called Ageless. It's the perfect name. Depending on the colors and items, this set can be airy or dramatic. It's so versatile! Great stuff, Bostyny!

I didn't convert absolutely everything. I didn't have the time, and some stuff was beyond my skill level. I left out the mirrors, paintings, ceiling lamp, and jewelry stands.

Each object comes with 27-ish recolors. I only added some new recolors for the olive branches. Everything else is Bostyny's swatches. I repo'ed what I could, but there are still almost 500 files total in the unmerged folder. Yeep.

I reduced poly counts here and there, when needed. I also reshaped and tweaked some stuff. The table comes in two different sizes, a side table and a larger one you can use as a desk. The TS4 dressers I did as console tables, for multiple reasons.

Here's a list of what's included, poly count, recolors, etc:

Single bed - 1432 polys - 27 recolors

Double bed - 2240 polys - 27 recolors

Single blanket - 872 polys - repo'ed to double

Double blanket - 1166 polys - 27 recolors

Deco blanket - 730 polys - 25 recolors

Candle - 557 polys - 33 recolors

Candle 2 - 557 polys - 33 recolors

Chair - 2002 polys - 28 recolors

Console table 1 - 1486 polys - 30 recolors

Console table 2 - 1242 polys - repo'ed to console1

Console table 3 - 1486 polys - repo'ed to console1

Nightstand - 632 polys - 26 recolors

Nightstand 2 - 980 polys - repo'ed to console1

Olive branches - 1718 polys - 32 recolors

Olive branches small - 1718 polys - repo'ed to olive branches

Rug - no mesh - 60 recolors of NL 3x3 round rug

Side table - 566 polys - repo'ed to table

Table - 566 polys - 27 recolors

Slippers - 588 polys - 26 recolors

Slippers 2 - 436 polys - 27 recolors

Table lamp - 1662 polys - 19 shade, 11 base recolors

I've included a collection file.

And a few more previews, because why not?

The rug and bed blankets aren't in these previews, but you can see them in the ones further up.

Here's that download stuff again, because I'm not gonna make you go all the way back up.

Download:

merged - SFS or MediaFire unmerged - SFS or MediaFire

Credits: @bostyny for TS4 meshes and textures, @hugelunatic for the bed blanket that doesn't need cheats to place (I cloned it)

[nochepsicodelica]

"Good morning, baby," you greet, disrupting the early morning stillness that Toji had immersed himself in. You stand behind him, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and lean in to pepper a barrage of kisses on his temple.

Toji uses his fork to cut out a bite of his little pancake stack for you and brings it up to your mouth. The smell of breakfast suffocates the kitchen and already had you salivating the second you left the bedroom, so without hesitation, you take the bite and savor. Savor the sweetness of the syrup he doused his pancakes in and the buttery softness of the texture.

"God, you're amazing," you say, muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallow the bite before leaning in to press a few more sticky kisses on his cheek. "I love you."

Toji chuckles at your clear, genuine appreciation. "What's got you in such a good mood this morning?" He doesn't say it like he's starved of good mornings from you, more like he just wants to know what is so great about this one.

"I don't know. I'm rested and it's early." You exhale, lips curling contently. "We should go on a walk—no, a run. And then after--"

"Baby, sit," Toji instructs, pushing the chair beside him back with his foot. "That's for you," he says, nodding at the plate of breakfast he fixed for you on the center of the table. "No coffee, 'cause you clearly don't need it," he says, pulling your mug in his direction.

"But, but... Toji, please!"

"No," he responds, grinning smugly before taking a sip of his caffeinated delight, like he's mocking you.

"I'm gonna crash out, baby," you warn. "And it's gonna be a bad morning. The floor is gonna crack open and we're gonna be able to see straight down all the way to hell."

"How 'bout some orange juice?" He suggests, attempting to calm you down before you throw your overdramatized, premeditated fit.

You hum, thinking for a few seconds. "Mm... no, I want coffee. Look, you prepared it just the way I like it and it's right there," you say, pointing at the full mug. Toji doesn't look because he knows he did exactly that.

"I didn't. I put a fuck ton of creamer in it. You wouldn't like it," he lies. "Let's get you some juice, yeah?"

With a sigh and a defeated look in your eyes, you nod. "Okay."

"There we go." A soft smile plays on his lips. "I got it," he murmurs, getting up from his chair. He places a kiss on the top of your head before continuing on to the little kitchen area to grab the orange juice bottle from the fridge and then a glass from the cupboard. The second he sets the glass and bottle down on the counter, he sees you, not so sneakily reaching for the mug of coffee.

You're trying so hard to chug the hot coffee, burning your tongue and lips. His footsteps only make you more nervous as they get closer but you try to drink even more. Your eyes grow glassier from withstanding the burning sensation on your tastebuds.

"Whatcha doing?" He asks, gently pulling the mug away from your lips before taking it out of your hands. You don't even try to hold onto it, handing it over without a fight. A satisfied sigh leaves you, like you were parched and those scorching sips of coffee were a nice glass of water.

"It's really good," you utter, licking the sweet remnants off your lips. "Which is conflicting because the coffee was made by a liar."

Toji rolls his eyes, but the amused grin that makes it's way onto his face is inevitable. "What are you talking about now, ma?"

"You said you put too much creamer in it, but it was perfect—as always. Let me have the rest of it, yeah?"

"No. I'll put it in the fridge and you can have it cold later. You have enough energy right now," he says.

"Why did you get to have coffee?" You argue.

"'Cause I woke up a little earlier to make the breakfast that's getting cold right in front of you," he bites back.

You roll up one of the pancakes on your plate and take a big bite out of it, turning to him with puffed up cheeks.

"Thank you. Happy?" You mumble, wishing you had that cup of juice to wash down your food.

"You're welcome, and yes," he says, leaning forward to peck your overstuffed cheek, before heading back to the kitchen to pour that cup of juice for you. He catches the way you make grabby hands at the mug, and utters a simple "no" as he keeps walking.

The juice is poured out, the juice bottle and your forbidden coffee in the fridge, and Toji is finally making his way back to you.

"Here." The cup is set down beside your plate and Toji takes his seat, again.

"It's so good," you mumble, through bites of food.

"Yeah?" Toji responds, wiping a crumb of pancake from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

"Mhm, it's a lot, though."

"You're just used to your itty bitty portions. That's a good serving right there, so you're gonna finish the whole thing."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President, sir!" you say, with mock seriousness, expression and all, before continuing to chow down.

"God, you're such a dork sometimes," he mutters under his breath. Still, the edges of his lips turn upward as he picks up his fork again.

You talk about everything and nothing. Lunch and dinner are planned out together, while you occasionally utter compliments about how good the food he made is.

"How did you even learn to make this?" You ask, taking a sip of your orange juice.

"Memorized your movement," Toji responds, casually. He didn't expect your face to light up the way it did, in such a precious manner. It's almost as if he made you shy with the revelation.

"What? You know how often I'm around while you cook?"

"Almost every time," you answer, with a giggle. "Clinging to me like a koala."

"Exactly," he says, shamelessly. "So... are you impressed or what?"

"Mhm," you hum, taking the final bite of your breakfast. "Very much so," you assure, locking eyes with him as he takes the final bite of his meal.

"So impressed that I get a fat smooch for my hard work?"

"Yes, please," you say, all too eagerly, causing the table to shake and the tableware to clatter slightly.

It's one of the things Toji loves most about you—how excited you get over the simplest things. It's as if you're about to start bouncing off the walls over some kisses. "Then, come here," he commands.

You almost knock over your glass of juice and his coffee mug from how quickly you stand up and make your way to him. Toji barely has time to drag his chair back to make room for you on his lap before you plop down on him and make yourself comfortable. He thinks you're going straight for his lips, and he's ready to feel the softness of your own against them, but you take your time and savor. Savor the way he hums when you leave a trail of kisses on his jaw and how he squeezes your hip as you greedily riddle the rest of his face with more.

"Can I buy you one of those 'Kiss the cook' aprons?" You murmur into his ear, biting his earlobe after.

A small groan accompanies his chuckle as you continue nibbling on his ear. "Depends... is there a limit or will I be spoiled?"

"You know the answer to that," you respond, letting him pull you in even closer.

"Tell meee," he grumbles, against your cheek, luring an amused chime of laughter from you.

"That apron will become a kiss magnet," you say through unrestrained giggles, withstanding the quick burst of pecks he scatters along your cheek, until he reaches the corner of your lips. "Instead of--" you're cut off by a direct, chaste peck to your lips, but pick up again immediately after. "Instead of saying 'oh shit, where's the salt?' while we're cooking, i'm gonna say 'oh shit, where's my handsome bobansome? Gotta give him a fat smooch.'"

He chuckles, something low and comforting to your ears. It's the sound equivalent of having warm soup belly on a cold, cold day.

"You're crazy, mama," he responds.

"Mhm," you hum. "So, can I order the apron or...?"

"Fine. Gimme-"

"Yay!- Oh sorry," you mumble, earning an irrepressible snicker from Toji, as you lean in to give him the fat smooch you promised him.

-

A week later, the apron is finally delivered and it's nearly impossible for you to contain your excitement. You giggle to yourself as you scurry back to the bedroom, where Toji is sprawled out on the bed, like a sunbathing cat about to fall asleep.

"Baby! Baby, baby, look," you call, enthusiastically, unfolding the black apron. It says 'Kiss The Cook' in bold, white lettering, and it has a single, red kiss print to add a dash of color. Toji merely cranes his neck to look at what you're fussing about, and when he sees the item you so proudly hold in your hands, he instantly turns away with a lazy grin and a shake of his head before letting his eyes fall shut, again.

[deansbeer]

⋆₊˚ ೃ BRAIDS AND SEASHELLS. ࿔*

୨୧ synopsis. she sits between dean's legs as he braids her saltwater-kissed hair, holding strands in his teeth, talking about kids, and loving her.

୨୧ warning(s). domestic fluff | beachbum!dolly | older!dean |domestic themes | mentions of having kids in the future | physical affection | casual touching | hair braiding | sweet kisses | mild language (dean being dean, there's gonna be some light swearing) | slight sexual innuendos (?).

୨୧ kari notes. happy birthday to my sweet angel baby twin @daylighted !!!! a lil bday gift dedicated all for her, because she loves braiding her hair in tiny braids, so guess what i did ??? write this cutesy lil fic idea + because she was also thinking of beachbum!reader who i miss so dearly <3 i hope u have an incredible bday, my pretty girl !!! i love you so so much, & forever thankful for u <3

the sun was beginning its slow descent, casting golden light across the ocean, making the waves shimmer like something out of a dream. the air was warm but not stifling, the salty breeze carrying the distant laughter of kids still playing in the sand, the rhythmic crash of the waves a soothing soundtrack to a lazy evening. she sat on the wooden steps of the open back porch, toes buried in the warm sand just past the last step, arms resting loosely on her knees. the porch led right onto the beach—no fences, no barriers, just an open view of the endless ocean stretching out in front of her.

behind her, dean settled into one of the old wooden deck chairs, the thing creaking under his weight as he got comfortable. his little speaker sat on the table beside him, playing some soft classic rock—nothing too loud, just enough to fill the quiet in a way that felt comforting. chicago's if you leave me now drifted through the air, mixing with the sounds of the ocean, and she smiled to herself. it was rare to have moments like this, where he wasn't off hunting something nasty or fixing up baby. where it was just the two of them and nothing else.

her fingers absentmindedly played with her hair, twisting small strands between her fingers, the saltwater from her earlier swim making it all textured and curly. tiny braids were scattered throughout, some with little seashells tucked into them, ones she had found along the shore earlier. it was a habit of hers, something she had always done—braiding bits of her hair after a day at the beach, letting the ocean do its magic. dean always said she looked like some kind of sea goddess when she did it, but she just rolled her eyes and called him cheesy.

"c'mere, baby," dean suddenly said, voice low and lazy. she glanced back at him, raising a brow.

"what?"

he tilted his head toward his lap, patting his thigh. "sit. lemme fix your hair."

she blinked at him, a little surprised. "fix my hair?"

"yeah," he shrugged, reaching for the glass bottle of beer he'd been nursing. "you got all these braids goin' on, but they're kinda all over the place. figured i'd make 'em look nice."

she couldn't help but laugh, turning fully to face him now. "you know how to braid?"

he smirked, taking a sip of his beer before setting it back down. "sweetheart, you forget who you're talkin' to. i'm good with my hands."

she rolled her eyes at that, but there was no heat behind it. still, curiosity got the best of her, and honestly? she wasn't about to say no to having dean play with her hair. so, she shuffled over, settling between his legs as he stretched out comfortably in the chair.

the wood beneath her was warm from the sun, and the breeze carried the smell of the ocean mixed with the distant scent of barbecues somewhere further down the beach. her back rested lightly against his chest, and he smelled like sun-warmed skin, a hint of that ocean-scented shampoo she had gotten him, and just something uniquely dean.

his fingers threaded through her hair, carefully undoing some of the messier braids before starting fresh. his touch was gentle, surprisingly so, and it sent little shivers down her spine.

"damn, baby," he murmured, combing through a particularly tangled section. "feels like a damn fishing net."

she snorted. "gee thanks, winchester. real sweet of you."

he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of her head before getting back to work. his fingers were deft, moving with precision, and she realized pretty quickly that he wasn't lying—he actually was good at this. he separated sections of her hair with ease, weaving them together effortlessly, fingers pulling and twisting without hesitation.

at one point, he needed both hands free, so he did the most dean thing possible—he held a small chunk of her hair between his teeth to keep it out of the way.

"okay, that's just ridiculous," she laughed, glancing back at him.

he muttered something around the hair, something she couldn't quite make out, but his eyes were glinting with amusement.

"what?" she teased. "you tryin' to tell me this is a normal thing to do?"

he let go of the hair, chuckling. "hey, you want this done right or not?"

"oh, definitely," she said, grinning. "this is serious business."

he flicked her ear playfully before going back to braiding, and she relaxed against him, letting her eyes drift shut for a moment. the sun was dipping lower now, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. the music played on, the ocean kept rolling in, and dean's fingers moved through her hair with steady ease.

it was such a simple thing, really—him braiding her hair. but it was also everything.

it was the way he was always paying attention, even when she thought he wasn't.

it was the way he learned the things that made her happy, no matter how small.

it was the way he took his time, like this mattered just as much as anything else.

she sighed, content, as he finished up one of the braids, securing it before moving on to another. "you really are good at this," she murmured.

"told ya," he said smugly.

she tilted her head slightly, glancing back at him again. "where'd you even learn?"

he hesitated for a second, then shrugged. "dunno. just picked it up. figured it'd come in handy someday."

she raised a brow. "for what?"

he paused, then cleared his throat. "y'know… for when we have kids. if we ever have daughters, they'll probably want their hair done up all nice, right?"

her heart stumbled.

she wasn't expecting that.

dean wasn't the type to talk about the future like that—not usually. his life had never really allowed for it. but here he was, casually mentioning kids, like it wasn't the scariest, most vulnerable thing he could admit.

she swallowed past the lump in her throat, turning fully to look at him now. he was focused on the braid he was working on, but she could see the way his jaw ticked, like maybe he didn't mean to say that out loud.

so, she reached up, resting a hand over his. "hey."

he finally met her gaze, his green eyes softer than usual.

she smiled. "you'd be a great girl dad, you know."

his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile too much. "yeah?"

"yeah," she nodded. "i mean, look at you. sittin' here, braiding my hair like a pro. you're a natural, baby."

he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "guess i gotta start practicin' more now, huh?"

"mhm," she hummed, turning back around so he could finish. "but i'm warning you now—if we do end up having a daughter? she's gonna have you wrapped around her little finger."

he didn't even try to argue. "yeah," he admitted, a little too easily. "probably."

the thought of it made her smile, picturing dean years from now, sitting on a porch somewhere, braiding tiny little pigtails while a giggling little girl chattered his ear off.

but for now, it was just the two of them and the waves.

and that was more than enough.

[nonsensical-pixels]

it's finally done! 🎊 to the (multiple people) who requested this, i'm so sorry for taking so long to finish it up, but hey--it's here now, just in time for the new year! i hope you enjoy this conversion of @syboubou's enchanted dreams kids' set as much as i enjoyed making it 💓

there are 25 new build/buy items to delight your littlest and not-so-little sims, all low to medium-poly. this set features not just my first functional playmat (showcased above by babble broke!) but also a functional toddler bed cloned from one of @themediocresulk's, a one-tile crib cloned from @hugelunatic's, another monique's hacked computer, and much more! peek below the cut for the deets 👇

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF 🌼

credits go to @syboubou for the original ts4 meshes & textures, @themediocresulk for the toddler bed as a pet bed (but for toddlers) that i cloned the toddler bed from, @hugelunatic for the one-tile crib that i based the wicker stroller off of, enjatoki (deactivated?) for the playmat mine is cloned from, and anyone else whom i've probably missed! 🥰

DESCRIPTION

Originally by Syboulette for TS4, converted to TS2 by nonsensical-pixels. Part of the SYB Enchanted Dreams Bedroom Set.

THINGS TO NOTE

The Crib has no animations, owing to its shaping, so expect clipping when babies are put in and out. The Changing Table has no trash can attached, so expect some awkwardness when sims throw trash into the void. The Computer functions as a Monique's Hacked Computer and requires the files from it to work. The Dresser is repositoried to the Changing Table. The Playmat is FULLY FUNCTIONAL and functions like the Baby Mat from the TS2 Store. The Trash Bin is completely decorative. The Wicker Stroller is cloned from a 1-Tile Crib by HugeLunatic and is functional! Only babies can be placed inside. The 12 Wallpapers each have two versions; to fill a whole wall with one alternate between A and B for seamless textures.

ITEMS INCLUDED

Bed Light - 400 polys, $49 Ceiling Lamp - 280 polys, $89 Changing Table - 556 polys, $349 Computer - 1298 polys, $1799 Crib - 848 polys, $219 Crib Drape - 864 polys, $109 Desk - 1148 polys, $399 Desk Chair - 1226 polys, $99 Dresser - 504 polys, $309 Ducks Toy - 1062 polys, $29 Kid Bed - 3658 polys, $299 Kids Books - 92 polys, $29 Lamp - 650 polys, $89 Little Alchemist Table - 2648 polys, $299 Lunch Box - 392 polys, $99 Nightstand - 240 polys, $119 Playmat - 723 polys, $100 Potty - 942 polys, $149 Rug - 2 polys, $79 Stuffed Rabbit - 1656 polys, $99 Toddler Bed - 1396 polys, $199 Trash Bin - 252 polys, $49 Wallpaper - 12 swatches, 2 variants each Wall Tree Light - 1128 polys, $99 Wicker Stroller - 1424 polys, $399 A collection file has been included for ease of browsing the catalog.

if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,

( @4t2ccdatabase )

[elylyfe]

Hello! Could i make request?

Could you please right about Teru and tsuchigomori ( separately) receive a kiss on the cheek from their crush for the first time please?

Thank you!

pairs .ᐟ teru x reader ,, tsuchigomori x reader

w.c .ᐟ 7.6k

content .ᐟ fluff, no pronouns used, not proofread, might be ooc..

a/n .ᐟ I'm so sorry for the delay (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠) I was swamped with school works, but anyway!! tysm for requesting and I hope you enjoy, happy valentines .ᐟ

🌸 request & taglist are open .ᐟ

Several papers sat on your dark oak desk; scratching pens and fluttering papers permeated the room—loud chatter served as background noise from the yard, and a sense of envy sprang from your heart. "Ugh…what's with these teachers coordinating and giving us all a task in each subject?" Light grumbles escape past your lips, fingers toying with the edge of the hardened rough texture and turning it. Time seems to slow down during these agonizingly painful seconds, with your thoughts screaming at you to give up and simply procrastinate like you always do. Focusing on the engraved words in the pages takes control of your mind, lulling you to sleep with your head supported up on your right arm.

The crimson pen in your palm rolled down the floor with a faint sound, wandering into the crevices of the sofas in front of your table. Teru's hands grasped the doorknob, turning and gently closing it. His actions come to a standstill, his gaze fixed on your figure, sleeping on the table with papers squeezed beneath it. A chuckle echoed from his lungs, and he gradually steps closer, removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulder. His attention was drawn to the notebooks on the desk's side, that he opened and examined with familiarity.

"Procrastination didn't win them over? What a surprise." A glimmer of amusement glowed within his eyes; Teru knew you'd give him a stern glare if you heard his statement. His clothes creased from his actions, namely reaching for and drawing the chair close. He adjusted the sleeves of his polo shirt, holding a black pen between his fingers and moving it across the page with gentle motions. Satisfied with results of his labor, he closed your notebook, set aside the materials he had used, and returned to his job duties.

Your body rises swiftly, searching around the room fervently before settling on Teru, who is sitting in calm.

"What time is it?" you questioned, sitting back down and sorting the papers, sighing sadly at how crumpled they were owing to your movements.

"It's… 3:45." Teru responds, reassuring you that you haven't yet missed the dismissal time. Slumping in your chair, you reached for your notepad to begin highlighting once more.

The sight of a familiar handwriting next to yours made you freeze; it offered clearer explanations and formulas that eased your understanding of the subject.

You glance at Teru in suspicion, but to your surprise, he's already staring back at you.

Your head instantly looks to the other side as you tried to collect your thoughts about your crush staring at you in such a intimate way. You cleared your throat, muttering a "thank you" under your breath.

"What was that?" Teru's teasing voice was torture to you; you shrieked, looking away—that didn't deter Teru as he leaned closer.

"Aw, come on. Won't you repeat that for me?" Your hands twitch, holding yourself back from throwing your notebook towards his direction. Calming your head, a surge of confidence and the need to tease him back switched your personality. You turned to him confidently, kissing his cheeks and backing away.

"Thank you for...the notes." You wanted to yell at yourself for kissing him on the cheek so suddenly like that, what exactly were you thinking?! The door swung open, and you took advantage of the opportunity to flee the scene, not glancing back at Teru for fear of his reaction.

Oh, if only you knew..

Teru's eyes widened with the kiss; his form froze completely—slowly, his entire face flushed red. His heart beats so rapidly and loudly that he assumes you heard it. He wanted to stop you from walking away, but his mind was still processing what had transpired.

His... the object of his affection kissed him on his cheeks..

"Your expression looks weird right now." Akane's words and presence destroyed his daydreaming, teru's face darkened.

Until to this day, Akane still doesn't know why he was almost sent to heaven by Teru.

The library was quiet, save for the flipping of pages between books, scratching of pens, and the occasional clicks on the keyboard by other students.

Tsuchigomori was seated on a chair just near the corner of the library, the brightness of the sun spilled through the windows—shining the papers that was organized Infront of him. His one hand flip through an old textbook while the other twirl the red-colored pen.

He was supposed to be grading papers—tedious, mind-numbing work—but his attention kept drifting toward the figure across the room. You stood Infront of the mythology section, a brown-leathered book in hand—yoir head was tilted, fully showing your keen interest towards whatever text or images printed within the pages of the book. Your lips would often quirk up, your mouth opening to repeat after the words, and occasionally your brows would scrunch to express that you were displeased.

Tsuchigomori let out a scoff, truly, humans are predictable. He had seen the same quirks, the same habits a thousand times over. Yet, when it comes to you.. he finds himself watching a little longer than he should be.

"You're staring." You said without looking up, voice laced with amusement.

Tsuchigomori's grip on the pen faltered, the object falling on the papers that should have been graded by now. His mouth twitched into a smirk, leaning on his chair—feigning boredom.

"Hah. As if, I was just wondering why you're here, spending your time pretending to read when you'd usually spend your time chatting someone's ears off." You turned to him, shutting the book with gentle movements—your eyes glint in mischief.

"Pretending? I'm just taking notes." Tsuchigomori hates how he can sense your incoming barrage of teasing.

"It seems that you're always watching me, Mr. Tsuchigomori. Has that become your habit now?" Your lips etched into a smirk, putting the book aside on the table as you sat beside him.

Tsuchigomori ignores your last comment, eyes now stilling on the papers before him and picking his pen up.

"Sure, like you even passed the first page of reading that." He drawls, choosing to open his lecture book instead—he had a feeling he won't be able to get anything done with you next to him like this.

Your brows raised in amusement, humming and reaching your book to open it and showing it to him. "Page 23." His gaze settled on your book, then to you.

"It says here that 'The supernatural world, though unseen by most, exists in delicate balance with the mundane.' Am I right? Teacher Tsuchigomori?" His eyes carefully read through the page of the book, his smirk faltering slightly.

"Tch. That's beginner knowledge." He claims, looking away.

A carefree smile spreads on your lips from his words. "Yeah well, everyone starts in the beginning." You leaned closer to him, elbows resting on the desk—Tsuchigomori could smell the daily scented shampoo that you always liked using due to your proximity.

His gaze flicked to yours, sharp and wary—just like how you had expected it to be.

"Careful." He warns. "You're getting too bold."

"Well, maybe you're just easy to read." You tilt your head, silently provoking him even more.

He opened his mouth, ready to fire back his own clever retort, when, without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheeks. The touch was soft, light—your kiss comes and goes in a speed of light as it only brushed his cheek rather than fully enveloping the warmth brought by it.

Tsuchigomori paused, eyes wide as his sentence was stuck on his throat. His mind lagged behind reality, replaying the sensation of their lips against his skin, the faint warmth lingering like an afterimage.

"Hah?" He responds late, his voice came out sharper than he had intended—not out of anger but sheer disbelief.

You grinned with delight from his reaction, savoring his lost of composure as if you didn't just kissed him on the cheek, as if it was something so casual like handing a book to him.

"You looked like you need a little encouragement or rather motivation to finish grading your papers."

Encourage...ment?

Tsuchigomori's eyes narrowed from your words, scrutinizing every detail of your face and expression for any signs that could hint that this was just a joke.

"You've got some nerve, pulling that kind of stunt out of nowhere." He lets out a scoff, flipping open the book placed Infront of him as if that kiss hadn’t just set his entire equilibrium off-balance

"Doesn't seem like you hated it." You teased, enjoying the memory of his façade breaking due to your own actions.

Tsuchigomori clicked his tongue, responding back to you in the same pitch—but this time, the usual bite was not present.

"Watch it, or I'll start thinking that you like me." 'back' he almost added yet held himself back, this was an attempt of revenge. To see you be the receiver of your own teasing.

Yet, you smiled knowingly. You stood up, leaning close again—Tsuchigomori's body tensed thinking that you'd kissed his cheek again.

"Maybe you should start thinking." You whispered before leaving, your steps that sound against the tiled floors taunt him.

Tsuchigomori's fingers twitched against the pages, almost wrinkling it.

Damn You. You always know how to get under his skin, and worse? He wasn't sure he minded.

[plumvy-cc]

4T2: Silent Hill 2 Study

25 Objects Information under the cut!

I wanted the bookcases to be more versatile and I managed to edit the meshes! I cut off the extra L part so I'd be able to use them next to each other instead of only in a wall corner. They're not perfect and there is a transparency on top but overall I'm still happy with them! I also threw in two versions without the books so they can be freely decorated~ please read more below!

Download: Google Drive

Original by Mimoto🖤

The textures are not very good but that's how they look even in the original objects. I looked them up on SketchFab and where Mimoto got them and that's just how these textures are. For some unknown reason, possibly the mesh itself, I couldn't decimate the drawer, desk, or books A so those are pretty high poly from what I want them to be. I'm still sharing them in case.

Comfort → Dining Chairs

Chair - 530 Poly - Functional

Comfort → Living Chairs

Ottoman - 332 Poly - Functional

Decorative → Wall Hangings

Paintings - 78 PolySwitch - 46 Poly

Decorative → Sculptures

Photo Frame - 40 Poly Box B - 10 Poly Box A - 18 Poly Decanter - 180 Poly

Decorative → Rugs

Rug - 211 Poly

Electronics → Small

Clock - 154 Poly

Lighting → Table Lamps

Lamp - 914 Poly - Functional

Lighting → Wall Lamps

Wall Lamp - 557 Poly - Functional

Surface → End Table

Table - 340 Poly - One Slot Night Table - 491 Poly - One Slot

Surface → Misc

Drawer - 5,120 Poly - Two Slots

Surface → Desks

Desk - 9,271 Poly - Functional

Hobbies → Knowledge

Memory Book - 92 Poly Books A - 2,884 Poly Books B - 255 Poly Bookcase V1 A - 4,187 Poly Bookcase V1 B - 4,498 Poly Bookcase V1 Empty - 3,572 Poly Bookcase V2 A - 2,547 Poly Bookcase V2 B - 3,041 Poly Bookcase V2 Empty - 2,211 Poly

[haikyu-mp4]

February

word count; 585 – f!reader

The end of a dark season left a lot of people tired and full of melatonin, which Oikawa Toru could undoubtedly feel that particular day in February. He wanted to get some schoolwork done in the library and sat across from a pretty woman by a table in the corner. The notes on the page slowly started getting blurry as his studying proceeded, and he eventually closed his eyes and rested his head on the tabletop. You only noticed Oikawa when he began lightly snoring. He was wearing nice clothes, and you could appreciate that along with his other striking features. A laugh bubbled in your throat before poking his arm with the back of a pen until he picked his head up at record speed. While you held your breath, he rubbed his eyes with a small mumble, "Sorry."

Embarrassment crept up his spine, but a joyful sound replaced it as laughter rang in his ears. You chuckled at Oikawa’s sleepy face, and he decided then and there that he wanted to hear it more. For the rest of that evening, he would look over at you every time someone in the library did anything and imitated them dramatically. He emphasised his facial expressions, sometimes even crossing his eyes or repeating their sentences. It made you laugh every time. This man was undoubtedly incredibly charming. "You're distracting me," you whispered, leaning slightly over the table and looking him in the eyes.

"What's the hurry?" he whispered back, genuinely wondering.

"I have a project," you informed him, followed by a heavy sigh as you leaned back in your chair to look at your notepad. "A big one." Instead of leaving you to work, this caught Oikawa’s attention. He switched seats to be beside you and looked at what he had supposedly distracted you from.

To his surprise, drawings of clothing and cutouts from magazines filled the pages. Funky coats and tailored pants seemed to be prominent on the page in a variety of colours and illustrated textures. "Fashion design? Amazing."

"I think so too, but we have to make a small collection, and I've created so many pieces that I'm struggling with making it all work," you rambled, and Oikawa showed that what you said genuinely interested him. His intrigued eyes almost made you lose your words.

"Can I help? I'm Oikawa, by the way." His look reminded you of a soft puppy as he held out his hand. What he said was interesting, though, and you didn’t expect it. He did dress very well, from what you had seen so far.

You took his hand, lingering for a second too long. "Y/n. I would like that, but don't you have anything you should work on?"

"It's not nearly as interesting," Oikawa answered quickly, closing his books for dramatic effect.

Thus, you met again one day later, in the same seats, looking at what you had so far. Immediately, it felt like you were old friends, not afraid to ask questions or make jokes.

Arms crossing over each other’s, moving cutouts and exchanging ideas in hushed voices made you forget everything around you until you finally agreed on one outfit. Oikawa even had some exciting ideas for each piece. Sitting back in your chairs with wide happy grins, you gave each other a high five. A loud clap rang through the room, and several heads turned, so you acted like you didn't know where it came from either. A dynamic duo in the making.

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[fcthots]

Okay but I like to think that Jason's helmet has like noise and brightness controls so he can focus when things get bad.

If you ever have a sensory overload day when he's near, and everything is just too bright, too loud, too much, he'll gently plunk his helmet on your head, turned down to block out almost everything but still leave you aware enough of your surroundings to know he's there.

The quiet helps, your eyes don't hurt as much. And you feel safe knowing he's protecting you.

❄️

ANON THIS IS FUCKING EVERYTHING

this may be a little too self-indulgent but, fuck it, I needed this

It started when you fell asleep last night, not meaning to, so you had to take a shower in the morning. Then you had to wear the pair of stiff jeans because you had fallen asleep before you washed clothes. Then the seams of your shirt became incredibly bothersome and ever-present. All of this is to say: you were destined for failure today.

The Wayne family had agreed on a public outing to go eat and keep up appearances. Afterwards, everyone would head back to the manor to either get ready for patrol or just hang out. The entire family was invited and so were the significant others, hence you. It's not something you could cancel and Jason was so happy to ask you to go. You were determined to tough it out. For him.

You sat down at the table and your chair was uneven and wobbly. Ok. Ignore it. Move on. The lights were almost painfully bright. You tried not to think about it. The music was on loop but there was a small static gap when it looped and the song itself wasn't long, so the static was every minute. Ignore it. You were seated with your back to the door so you couldn't see when or where noises were coming from. Ignore it. There was a baby crying somewhere around the back of the restaurant. Ignor-

Someone taps you and your shoulders raise. Jason retreats his hand back immediately.

"Are you ok?" You can see the worry and calculation in his eyes.

"I'm okay." Your words sound grating to your own ears.

He doesn’t look like he buys it. "Do you want me to order for you?"

You nod your head and he has you point to what you want on the menu.

You hold polite small talk with the entire family and try to avoid touching the napkin that's texture felt like sandpaper. You can do this.

You ignore the shuttering of paparazzi photos from the window and the constant buzz of screaming from outside.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You can do this.

The waiter comes back and hands out the food. Yours is very clearly burnt.

But Bruce is paying for the food and it would be rude not to eat it, right? Yeah that's something that your mother told you.

You put it in your mouth and do your best not to gag at the texture. Jason narrows his eyes at you. Fuck, he's onto you. You smile and put your all into not gagging until he turns back to look at Dick, who is telling a story.

Nailed it.

Eventually. Finally. You get to leave the restaurant.

But it's already too late for you. You can hear cars wizzing by, horns, tires screeching, engines revving, people yelling, and all other sounds of Gotham traffic. You're thankful Jason drove his car today and not his motorcycle ir you think you would have died. Steph and Duke are engrossed in their own conversation in the backseat after they refused to ride back with Bruce after he disagreed with their opinions in some fight you didn’t get the full picture of. Jason eyes you warily, but doesn’t say a word.

It's barely 5 minutes before you're at the manor. You're sitting on the couch, back straight and legs together. Alfred likes the living room to be bright, so all the lights are on. Great for Alfred. Terrible for you. You swear there must be 50 people in this fucking family because you can hear each and every one of their voices.

The sounds are grating, the lights are too bright, Cass and Tim are tossing their gear at each other over the couch and over you head, the dogs are barking, someone is yelling, Dick squeezes your shoulder as he walks past (with good intentions), you can't fucking think-

Jason's helmet is slipped over your head. He's done it before, just not often, so you forgot it even had the function.

Everything is made dark. The noise, instead of sounding like its coming rom inside your skull, sounds low and distant. Cass catches her last piece of armor from Tim and moves presumably to go down to the cave.

It's like a sensory deprivation tank and you think you might just cry of relief.

You see Jason crouch in front of you. His voice, though quieter than it usually would be, is still clear.

"Better?"

You wordlessly nod your head. In doing so, you notice that everyone else is gone. When did that happen?

"Why didn’t you tell me?" You start getting nervous. You just knew how excited he was and didn’t want to ruin it for him. And you know he still would have wanted you to tell him, but you felt terrible. You anxiously raise your shoulders into a nervous shrug.

He sighs. "I shouldn't have asked. Questions only make it worse, huh?"

You nervously nod your head. He laughs.

"'M sorry, baby."

You shake your head no before he can continue that train of thought.

"You wanna go put on one of my big comfy shirts and we can put you in my bed?"

You nod again. That sounds like fucking heaven.

He holds out his hand and you take it.

[writingforstraykids]

I always see you

Pairing: Minchan (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4048

Summary: After their break Minho isn't quite happy with his currently gained weight. Struggling to accept himself, his friends make it worse by pointing out the changes of his body lovingly and teasingly. Chan tries to figure out what's wrong, but it takes a while until Minho lets him.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, weight gain, minho hates the sight of himself, gets called soft, squishy, cute, etc. for it, minho collapses at the gym

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho stands before the mirror, his eyes tracing the new curves and edges of his body. It's not new, this version of himself that greets him in the morning, but he never likes it. The changes their long break caused are undeniable: his cheeks fuller, his midsection softer. Each glance brings a new fresh wave of discomfort, a stark contrast to the image he had of himself just months ago. The many weeks of freedom had been very beneficial for his mental health but the lack of work, stress and hours of practice made his body soften, all the food rounding his edges. 

He inhales shakily, fingers hesitating, then presses into the softness at his belly. The texture feels so different to what he's been used to. Minho sighs, the sound as heavy as the thoughts clouding his mind. This isn't just a physical change, it's a whole shift in how he sees himself and what he thinks others will see now. 

He pulls one of Chan's shirts over his head, relaxing a little at the way it falls around his body. Chan's broader than him, there's no chance he'll fill it out the same as Chan with his shoulders and trained arms. Minho forces himself downstairs, the scent of breakfast making his stomach growl already. He swallows hard and slips into his chair next to Chan who's talking to Seungmin next to him. 

Chan's hand finds his thighs and Minho relaxes at the simple but soothing touch. He reaches for some water and leans back in his chair after, smiling as Chan turns to him. “Hey there,” Chan whispers, leaning in for a kiss. 

“Hey,” Minho says softly, a genuine smile tugging at his lips as they kiss. “You slept okay?” he asks, gently brushing back his hair, fingers running through the soft curls. 

“Yeah, missed you though,” he confesses. Minho said something about not sleeping well lately and not wanting to wake him up so they decided to sleep separately. 

“I'm sorry,” Minho whispers, swallowing hard. He's sleeping just fine but the thought of Chan clinging to him, hands wandering over his body isn't as soothing as it usually would be. He'd notice. 

“Are you two done being all loving that early in the morning?” Hyunjin teases and Minho redirects his attention to the table. 

Chan hands him waffles Felix made and reaches for the orange juice. “You want some?” he asks and his boyfriend nods politely. 

“Thank you,” he smiles, as Chan pours him a glass. 

“You're welcome, baby,” he smiles brightly. 

“Why is Minho hyung getting served breakfast and not me?” Jeongin chimes in teasingly. Minho giggles and takes the first bite. He bites back a moan, tasting the perfectly fluffy waffle. 

“Who can blame him? Have you seen how cute Minho looks lately?” Jisung asks and Chan laughs. 

“Lately?” he wonders. 

“Look at his cheeks,” he tells him and gently pokes Minho's cheek. “They're so squishy, it's so cute,” he giggles and the room erupts in laughter.

The comment was meant in good humor, but scraped against Minho’s insecurities like sandpaper. His smile remains, but his eyes don't meet his friends’. He slowly lowers his fork and reaches for the juice instead, hand stopping mid-air before reaching for the water. Chan notices and frowns softly. “You're okay?” he asks quietly, only for them to hear. 

“Yeah, just not really hungry,” he lies with a brave smile. He subconsciously pulls at his shirt, trying to mask the softness that settled around his middle. Minho catches himself searching for signs of judgment in the eyes of his friends whenever they look at him. The mere possibility of them thinking ill of him makes him sick to the core. 

Minho’s struggle with his self-image continues long after the breakfast table has been cleared and the last jokes have faded into the background. The comments about his cheeks, meant lightly, linger in his mind like echoes in a hollow room. Minho can't shake off the heavy blanket of insecurity that has settled over him.

He finds himself back in front of the mirror again and swallows hard, meeting his reflection. His thighs look thicker than usually, his arms feel soft and he hesitantly pinches his cheeks. Tears well up in his eyes as he crawls back into bed and curls up beneath the blanket. 

A gentle knock at the door startles him and only seconds later Chan's inside. “Hey, kitten,” he says softly. “Want some cuddles?”

“Not really,” he lies, his whole body craving to be held by Channie. 

“Oh,” Chan nods and chews on his lower lip. “You're okay?”

“Yeah.��� Another lie. 

“...Are we okay?” he asks timidly, the sound feeling like a punch to the stomach for Minho. 

“Yeah, we're okay,” he whispers and can tell his boyfriend's relaxing. “I just need some space, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Chan assures him. “You know where to find me if you need something.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly and curls up further into himself. “Channie?” he asks, but it's too late as he's already gone. “I love you,” he whispers, hot tears pooling in his eyes. 

The room feels too large, too empty as Minho buries himself deeper under the covers, his heart aching with a pain that seems to seep into his bones. The silence left in Chan’s wake is deafening, and Minho is left alone with his swirling thoughts and escalating fears. The words of comfort he longs to hear are absent, replaced by the echoes of his own insecurities that replay in his mind like a broken record.

The day drags on painfully slow. Minho spends hours just lying there, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his mind replaying every moment that morning when he felt judged, whether it was real or imagined. The light-hearted comments at breakfast, the shared laughter—all of it now feels like subtle digs at his changing appearance.

As the sun begins to set, painting the room with hues of orange and pink, Minho realizes he can't stay hidden forever. He needs to face his fears, his friends, and most importantly, Chan. Pulling himself from the bed, he washes his face, avoiding his reflection in the mirror, not ready to face himself just yet.

Walking into the living room, he finds Chan there, lost in a book. The sight of him, so relaxed and content, stirs a mix of emotions in Minho—envy, longing, and love. Chan looks up, his expression changing instantly from calm to concerned as he takes in Minho’s appearance.

“Hey,” Chan says softly, setting his book aside. “You look like you could use this more than I could,” he gestures to the spot next to him on the couch.

Minho hesitates, but the inviting warmth in Chan’s eyes is too much to resist. He sits beside Chan, maintaining a small gap between them, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance he feels.

Chan respects the space for a moment, then speaks. “Minho, talk to me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

“I can't,” he shakes his head. 

“Why?” Chan asks patiently. 

“I…I've changed,” he says, avoiding Chan's confused look. 

“Changed?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

Minho’s eyes fill with tears and Chan moves closer, bridging the gap between them. “We all change, Minho. It’s part of life. But those changes don’t define us. They’re just... part of our story. And my story isn’t complete without you in it,” he tries his best, not really knowing the true issue at hand. 

The simplicity and truth of Chan’s words wash over Minho, bringing a sense of peace he hasn’t felt in days. He leans into Chan, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder, allowing himself to feel the support and love he’s been denying himself. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away,” Minho murmurs.

Chan wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer. “It’s okay. I’m here, whenever you’re ready.”

They sit in silence, watching the sun dip below the horizon, the sky a canvas of colors that slowly fade into twilight. 

-

On a breezy afternoon, Minho and the others arrive at the television studio, ready for their guest appearance on a popular show that was famous for putting celebrities on the spot with unexpectedly personal questions. The friendship among the group is evident as they joke and laugh, trying to ease their nerves before facing the unpredictable host and live audience.

As the show begins, the host greets them warmly, his booming voice setting a lively tone. The studio is abuzz with excitement, fans cheering as the camera showcases each member's face. The host begins with light, easy questions about recent projects and upcoming plans, allowing the group to settle in and get comfortable with the format.

However, the atmosphere shifts as the host transitions to more personal inquiries, a segment known for revealing responses and creating memorable TV moments. The questions range from their living habits to romantic lives, pushing the boundaries of what they usually shared publicly.

They handle the questions with humor and grace, skillfully navigating the trickier topics. But the tension ratchets up when the host turns the conversation toward a lighter, yet subtly challenging question, “Who among you would you say is the cutest?”

Instantly, the members burst into laughter, playfully pointing at Minho. “Definitely Minho,” Chan declares, his statement echoed by nods and chuckles from the others.”But, I'm biased,” he winks at Minho who flashes him a shy smile. 

“Yes, have you seen his cheeks? Absolutely pinchable!” Felix adds, his comment drawing laughter from the audience.

Seungmin chimes in, his tone teasing but affectionate, “And don’t get us started on his soft tummy and those thick thighs, he’s the cutest!”

“Minho's one of the best people to cuddle with,” Jisung agrees. 

While the audience find these comments amusing, laughing and clapping at the banter, Minho forces a smile, feeling a familiar sting of insecurity. His cheeks burn, not from flattery, but from embarrassment. Though he knows his members meant no harm, the focus on his physical attributes in such a public setting reignited the deep-seated insecurities about his body image.

The host, sensing a hit with the audience, decides to dig deeper. “Oh, really? That sounds adorable! Minho, how do you feel about being the ‘cutest’ in such a... unique way?”

Minho clears his throat, searching for the right words. “I guess it’s nice to be appreciated,” he replies, his voice slightly strained, hoping to steer the conversation away from his body.

The show continues, with other members discussing their own quirks and stories, but Minho grows quieter. He laughs at the right moments and answers when spoken to, but his responses are brief, his mind replaying the earlier comments.

After the recording ends and the cameras stops rolling, the group retreats to their dressing room. Minho is unusually silent, keeping his distance. Chan notices Minho’s subdued mood and follows him to a corner of the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chan asks gently, concern evident in his voice.

Minho sighs, the weight of his emotions visible. “I don’t know, Chan. I just felt really put on the spot out there.”

Chan nods, his expression understanding. “I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have drawn attention to you like that. I just worried that if I didn't say my boyfriend's the cutest people would think we'd be fighting.”

“I know, love,” he sighs softly. “I wasn't talking about you.”

“Oh, you meant the others? When they said why you're cute?” he asks and Minho nods slowly. “But they have a point, you know? Your cheeks are so cute and I love how they get so adorably squishy when you smile. I love your thighs, I don't think we have to talk about that. And yeah, your stomach got so soft, it's adorable,” Chan says and Minho blinks at him timidly.

“So…you agree with them?” he asks quietly and Chan glances through the room, distracted by a sudden shout. 

He doesn't see the desperation in Minho's eyes as he answers. “Yeah, I mean, you're cute and I love all that about you,” he says, not seeing Minho's face fall, anxiety clouding his features. 

“Yeah, I - uhm - I'll be back,” he stammers, quickly walking to the bathroom, barely noticing Chan scolding two of their friends. Shit. His own boyfriend thinks of him like that as well.

Minho rushes to the sanctuary of the bathroom, the cool tile against his skin grounding him as he leans against the sink. His heart races, a chaotic drumbeat echoing the turmoil in his mind. Chan's words replay over and over, each repetition a sharp twist of the knife of insecurity that had already dug deep into his self-esteem.

Inside the small, dimly lit room, Minho stares into the mirror, his eyes tracing the contours of his face and body that Chan had described with such casual affection. But where Chan sees cuteness, Minho sees only flaws magnified by his own harsh judgment and now, seemingly confirmed by the person whose opinion matters most. The disparity between how he views himself and how Chan claims to view him creates nothing but doubt in his heart.

Trying to stifle the rising panic, Minho takes deep breaths, attempting to focus on the reality of the situation rather than the distorted thoughts fueled by his insecurities. He tells himself that Chan loves him, that his words were meant in fondness, not critique. But the warmth that should have accompanied such assurances feels cold and distant now.

After several minutes alone, battling his inner demons, Minho washes his face, the cold water a sharp wake-up call to the emotions he needed to manage before facing the others again. With a final glance at his reflection, he squares his shoulders and steps out, attempting to mask the inner fight with a calm demeanor.

Back in the dressing room, the atmosphere had shifted. The earlier craziness had been replaced by calmness as the members sensed the tension. Chan immediately notices Minho’s return, his expression one of concern mixed with confusion.

“Minho, are you okay?” Chan approaches, reaching out but stopping short of touching, as if unsure whether his comfort is welcome.

Minho nods, not trusting his voice. His mind is still racing, not just from the comments on the show, but now more painfully from Chan’s unintentional confirmation of those.

“I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did,” Chan said earnestly, his eyes searching Minho’s for forgiveness.

Minho manages a small smile, appreciating the apology but still feeling the sting. “It’s not just you,” he admits. “It’s hearing it said out loud, on TV, and then... it just feels like everyone sees me that way.”

Chan’s face softens. “Minho, to me, and to all of us, you’re perfect. And if anything we say makes you feel less than amazing, then we need to fix that, because you deserve to feel loved and secure.”

Chan sounds sincere, and Minho feels a warmth begin to break the icy hold of his fear around his heart. “Thanks, Chan. I just need some time to process this, I think.”

“Of course,” Chan agrees, giving him space. “We’re all here for you, whenever you’re ready.”

-

One morning, a few days later, Minho wakes up earlier than usual, his sleep restless and disturbed by thoughts of dissatisfaction with his physical self. The mirror is no kinder at dawn than at any other time, reflecting back a version of himself he still struggles to accept. With a determined breath, he decides to take a more active approach. He knows that Chan has always maintained a consistent workout routine, even during their break, his discipline unwavering.

Minho walks quietly into the kitchen where Chan is already up, probably preparing for his morning jog. The kitchen smells of coffee, and the early light filters in softly through the curtains. Chan, noticing Minho’s early appearance, looks up with a smile that’s both questioning and welcoming.

“Morning,” Minho starts, his voice a little more than a whisper. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, what’s up?” Chan nods, focusing fully on him. 

Minho takes a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking... I want to start working out again. Seriously. And I was wondering if... if you could help me? Maybe go to the gym together?” His voice is hopeful yet tense, the weight of his request more significant than the words might suggest.

Chan’s response is immediate and supportive as always. “Sure, kitten. I’d love to help you out. When do you want to start?”

“Maybe today?” Minho suggests, a bit hastily, driven by a surge of motivation that he fears might dissolve if given too much time to think.

“Today it is,” Chan agrees with a nod, his tone encouraging. “We’ll take it easy, start slow, and find a pace that feels right for you.”

The decision made, Minho feels a brief flicker of relief, quickly followed by anxiety. He’s committed now, no turning back.

By the time they arrive at the gym, Minho’s as excited as nervous. It's been ages since he joined Channie here. Chan leads the way, guiding Minho through the initial stretches and warm-up routines. 

They start on some light cardio, and Chan keeps the conversation light, sharing stupid little stories and ensuring Minho’s mind is engaged and his body correctly paced. But as they move on to weight training, Minho, feeling a rush of determination, begins to push himself harder. He adds more weight than Chan advises, his thoughts fixated on erasing the softness that has become his focus of discontent.

“Take it slow, Min. There’s no rush,” Chan tries, noting the strain on Minho’s face.

“I’m okay,” Minho insists, gritting his teeth as he lifts, the muscles in his arms trembling with the effort.

But the desire to see immediate change, to regain some control over his body, drives him to ignore the signs of fatigue that begin to creep up on him. He moves from one exercise to the next, increasing the intensity despite Chan’s growing concerns.

“Minho, that’s enough,” Chan finally steps in firmly after Minho bypasses his recommended weights yet again. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Minho’s next lift is shaky; his arms quiver violently as he tries to bench press more than he's handled in months. As he struggles to lift, a wave of dizziness washes over him. The room tilts, his vision blurs, and suddenly, the weight feels like it doubles. Chan reacts quickly, stepping in to re-rack the weights, but Minho’s strength gives out. He collapses onto the bench, his breath ragged, his body surrendering to the exhaustion and strain.

Chan is immediately by his side, his voice laced with worry. “Minho! Are you okay? Talk to me, baby.”

Lying on the bench, Minho’s breaths come fast and hard. He closes his eyes, fighting the nausea and the embarrassment that floods through him. “I... I'm sorry,” he manages to say, his voice weak.

“We need to get you checked out,” Chan insists, but Minho shakes his head.

“Just... just give me a minute,” he pleads, needing a moment to gather himself.

Chan nods, visibly concerned, and sits down next to him, offering silent support. Minho’s breathing gradually slows, and the dizziness subsides, leaving behind a sobering realization of his limits.

After a few minutes, Minho sits up, his body still echoing with the aftermath of his collapse. “I’m sorry, Chan. I just wanted to... I don’t know what I wanted.”

Chan’s response is gentle but firm. “You don’t have to push yourself to prove anything, Minho. It’s okay to take time, to build back up at a pace that’s healthy. Let’s just focus on that, okay?” Minho's eyes brim with tears and before he can stop himself a sob ripples through his chest. Chan looks up in shock, surging forward and pulling him into a tight hug. “No, baby, I'm sorry, it's okay. I'm not mad,” he rambles worriedly, holding him tight. 

“I'm sorry,” Minho sobs and Chan's not quite sure what he's apologizing for. 

“Shh, I got you, Minnie,” he promises soothingly, kissing his hair. “I'm here, baby.”

“I-I lied,” he admits. “I said I'm fine but I'm so not fine,” he tells him through tears. 

“What's wrong, hm? You can tell me,” Chan encourages him gently. 

“I just… I feel so out of place in my own body. Every comment, every look—it feels like a critique. I thought if I pushed hard enough today, if I could just start looking the way I used to, maybe I’d feel better about myself. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so… so disgusting,” Minho confesses, his voice breaking under the weight of his insecurities.

Chan tightens his embrace, his heart aching at Minho’s words. “Minnie, you’re not disgusting. You’re not any of the negative things you think about yourself. I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling this way, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like you need to change anything about yourself. I love you, just the way you are, always.”

They sit in silence for a while, Chan holding Minho as he cries, letting out all the pent-up emotions he had been holding back. Gradually, Minho's sobs subside, and he feels a sense of relief having shared his deepest fears with Chan.

“Thank you,” Minho whispers, feeling a bit lighter. “I guess I’ve been so scared of not meeting everyone’s expectations, including my own, that I’ve been pushing myself too hard.”

Chan nods, helping Minho to stand up. “Let’s take things slow, okay? We’ll work on a plan that feels good for you, no rush or unrealistic goals. And we'll focus on how you feel, not just how you look. Your health, both mental and physical, is what’s most important.”

Minho nods, feeling grateful for Chan’s understanding and support. They decide to leave the gym for the day, focusing instead on recovery and rest. 

-

Gradually, Minho’s perception begins to shift. The mirror no longer feels like an enemy, but a tool to observe and appreciate the natural evolution of his body. The softness he once viewed with disdain became a sign of the life he had lived, the meals enjoyed with friends, the nights spent curled up with Chan, safe and loved.

Their journey wasn’t without its setbacks. There were days when old insecurities crept back, whispering unwelcome thoughts into Minho’s mind. But now, armed with new coping strategies and supported by Chan’s unwavering love, Minho faced each challenge with a resilience that grew stronger over time.

Through it all, Minho’s relationship with his body transformed. It became less about what he saw in the mirror and more about what he felt within. With Chan by his side, he rediscovered confidence, not just in his physical self, but in his emotional and mental resilience.

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, Minho stands in front of the mirror again. This time, however, the reflection he sees is different. Not because his body had changed significantly, but because his perception had.

“I’m okay with this,” Minho says softly, tracing the same curves and edges he used to criticize. Chan, standing behind him, wraps his arms around Minho’s waist and rests his chin on Minho’s shoulder.

“You’re more than okay; you’re amazing,” Chan whispers, kissing Minho’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

Minho leans back into Chan’s embrace, a smile spreading across his face. For the first time in a long time, he believes those words. He was learning to love himself again, and with Chan by his side, he felt unstoppable, ready to face whatever challenges came next, knowing he was enough, exactly as he was. “I think I’m finally starting to feel like myself again,” he murmurs.

Chan squeezes his hand, a silent vow echoing in the simple gesture. “I always see you, Minho. And I always love who I see.”

In the end, Minho realized that the journey to self-acceptance wasn’t about returning to who he was before but about embracing who he was now and who he was becoming. Each day brought new challenges, but also new opportunities to love himself a little more, supported by Chan’s love, which remained constant like the horizon—always present, no matter the changes in the landscape.

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[caffedrine]

Keith Howell Sequel 07 - Fan Translation

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this fan translation, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server.

In the grand hall we were guided to, a black-painted table and chairs were neatly arranged, and a man was seated at one of them.

(This person is Kagari's brother, the first prince of Kougyoku, Shiou...)

With emerald green eyes and dark crimson hair almost black, reaching down to his waist, his hair was tied back in a single ponytail.

As I took my seat upon encouragement, Shiou, sitting across the table, wore an elegant smile.

Shiou: “I sincerely thank you for accepting the invitation.”

Shiou: “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Keith?”

Alter!Keith: “It has been a while, Shiou. I’m glad to see you well.”

His golden eyes turned toward me, and he gently lowered his head.

Emma: “I’m Emma, Keith's fiancée. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Shiou: “Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m happy to meet you too.”

Shiou: “Now, here’s a question.”

Emma & Alter!Keith: “? Yes?” “................”

Shiou: “What do you think is the most popular confection for tourists in Kougyoku?”

Caught off guard by the sudden quiz, I pondered.

(I might end up answering dorayaki...)

Emma: “...Is it nerikiri?”

Shiou: “Correct. It’s an artistic creation that represents the seasonal motifs and nature, the pinnacle of form.”

Shiou: “And with its gentle sweetness and smooth melting texture, it pairs excellently with matcha or sencha.”

Shiou: “It’s not only enjoyable to eat; it’s also pleasing to the eyes. That’s the charm of nerikiri, in my opinion.”

Emma: “I believe you’re right.”

(Kagari loves dorayaki, but I wonder if Shiou prefers nerikiri...)

Though I was overwhelmed by his eloquent manner of speaking, it helped to dispel the tension I felt from meeting him for the first time.

Shiou: “—So, I had my favorite nerikiri prepared for you.”

Without a sound, a servant appeared, setting down a plate decorated with vibrant green matcha, along with nerikiri, monaka, and easy-to-eat dango.

(So beautiful... Truly a work of art.)

Shiou: “Matcha becomes unpleasant once it cools down.”

Shiou: “You probably have questions, but let’s first have our tea party.”

Alter!Keith: “That sounds good; we can talk later.”

Alter!Keith: “Since most of the sweets in Kougyoku are dorayaki, I’m looking forward to tasting your favorite, Shiou.”

Shiou: “...Ah, is Kagari still fond of dorayaki?”

Shiou: “Did he also take over the desserts at the goodwill meeting?”

Alter!Keith: “Yes, he made a tower of them.”

Shiou: “Haha, he’s a child who really gets into what he likes.”

Seeing Shiou with his emerald eyes downcast, I felt more sadness than nostalgia.

(...Even if they are siblings, they are no longer on easy terms to meet.)

I hurriedly shook off the thoughts that started to spiral from his casual gestures.

After that, Alter!Keith and I indulged in matcha and sweets that could only be enjoyed in Kougyoku—

(I’m glad I memorized the proper etiquette beforehand.)

At the moment the tea bowl was taken away, Shiou changed his expression and opened his mouth.

Shiou: “You must have been surprised by the sudden invitation.”

Shiou: “I heard from a merchant that he saw you disembarking from the ship at the Kuga faction's port.”

Shiou: “Since I knew about the goodwill meeting, I personally thought about whether you would participate or not, but...”

Shiou: “The head of the Amagase family... King Iguna has a rather difficult and complicated personality.”

Shiou: “If he learned that Jade's royal family would attend the goodwill meeting of another faction, he would likely have doubts.”

Shiou: “I decided it would be better to meet for friendship’s sake, even if just for appearances.”

Shiou: “I’m sorry for forcing you into our convenience when you came to Kougyoku as my brother’s friend.”

Alter!Keith: “I share the same sentiments; I wish to maintain our relationship with the Amagase family as before.”

Alter!Keith: “I actually appreciate your consideration.”

(Though I was a bit surprised at the directness toward King Igna...)

(This tea party was held to maintain relations between the royal families, after all.)

(..................But on the other hand, I feel like a warning has been given.)

(Something like ‘Jade wouldn’t engage in acts that betray the Amagase, right...?’ )

Since we participated in the goodwill meeting of a faction, I felt no discomfort with that intention.

(Oh...…)

At that moment, our gazes met.

With a friendly smile that hadn’t changed since entering the hall and eyes that revealed nothing.

As I was gazing back, almost about to look away, I heard a small cough from beside me.

Alter!Keith: “Perhaps it would have been better for me to attend the tea party alone.”

Shiou: “I may have been looking too closely. I tend to stare at beautiful things.”

Resting his chin on his hand with a smile, but honestly, I was unsure how to react.

(He feels like someone who is hard to grasp.)

Alter!Keith: “That’s a habit that seems likely to involve you in various troublesome matters.”

Although I hesitated to say it, knowing it was Alter!Keith's teasing behavior changed my perspective.

(Is it just my imagination? Is Alter!Keith a little irritated...?)

Shiou: “Haha, sorry about that. The habit was a joke.”

Shiou: “It’s nostalgic because the first time I met you, Keith, we were still just children.”

Shiou: “It feels as if I’ve encountered someone very important. Once again, congratulations on your engagement.”

Alter!Keith: “Thank you.”

Though Alter!Keith smiled gently, the indescribable atmosphere remained. It felt as if I was the only one becoming restless and unable to settle down.

~Flashback~

Emma: “I wonder what kind of person he is.”

Alter!Keith: “He seems like a suspicious guy.”

~End Flashback~

(It seems that Alter!Keith may not have a very favorable opinion of Shiou...)

What choice will you make?

Gently intertwine your fingers with Keith's hand.

Change the subject.

Eat some sweets.

(Oh...…)

His large hand tightened around mine, enveloping it. It seemed that my feelings of gratitude for having been rescued from Shiou's gaze were properly conveyed.

(Keith’s warmth is calming...)

The gentle heat lit a fire in the center of my chest, and as our fingers intertwined, I naturally tightened my grip on Alter!Keith’s hand.

Shiou: “.....”

(Shiou...?)

For some reason, Shiou relaxed the ends of his eyebrows, showing a somewhat relieved expression.

Shiou: “From your demeanor, it seems you are enjoying your stay in Kougyoku.”

Shiou: “...I might have been worrying needlessly.”

(Needless worry?)

Alter!Keith: “What do you mean?”

Shiou's gaze hesitated for a moment before he spoke quietly.

Shiou: “I’m not trying to scare you, but I wouldn’t recommend staying in Kuga’s territory as things are.”

At his unexpected words, a tension filled the grand hall.

(Not recommending staying means... something might happen in Kuga’s territory?)

An indescribable chill crept up from my feet, unsettling my heart.

Alter!Keith: “Could you tell us more?”

Shiou: “...I’m also somewhat skeptical. Just take it as a rumor.”

Shiou: “You learned at the goodwill meeting that the Kuga faction formed an alliance, right?”

Alter!Keith: “You know quite well.”

(Though the confirmation of the factions that formed alliances should have been at the goodwill meeting...)

Shiou: “I have a well-connected informant. He brings me new information from time to time.”

Shiou: “Information is an important weapon for deception. Especially for Kougyoku, now that the country is divided.”

Shiou: “Because of that alliance, I’ve heard that another faction is trying to wage war against Kuga.”

Shiou: “To be honest, I think it won’t happen while the royal family of the supporting nation is present...”

Alter!Keith: “If they decide to invade Kuga’s territory, now might be a good opportunity before the allies strengthen their forces.”

(Certainly… it would be better if they acted as quickly as possible.)

The sharp gazes I felt at the goodwill meeting, which seemed to carry a sense of murderous intent, were not singular.

The thought that someone might have been mixed in among them made my body tremble.

Shiou: “Kuga is still a young nation. But there is a powerful yaksha who can alter the course of battle on his own.”

Shiou: “Even if war were truly instigated, they likely wouldn’t suffer a major blow.”

Shiou: “...However, if you feel uneasy after hearing this, you are welcome to stay in the Amagase territory.”

Alter!Keith: “That would benefit you as well.”

Shiou: “Yeah. I have a bad personality and I’m not suggesting this just out of goodwill.”

Shiou: “First and foremost, I worry about your safety, but in the event anything happens, there is a possibility of support being cut off.”

Shiou: “I would like to avoid that for Kougyoku.”

Shiou: “...However, King Iguna seems to be concerned about the deepening of friendships with other factions.”

From his heavy sigh, his true feelings seemed to seep out.

(Since Alter!Keith is the next king and a friend of Kagari,)

(It’s possible they’re worried that Jade might only support the Kuga royal faction someday.)

(As long as Keith is around, Jade would never make that choice, but...)

(I wonder how Keith will respond to Shiou’s suggestion.)

Alter!Keith placed his hand on his mouth as if deep in thought.

The silence unexpectedly ended quite soon.

Alter!Keith: “Thank you very much.”

Alter!Keith: “Considering safety as the priority, it might be right to take you up on your offer to stay in the Amagase territory.”

Alter!Keith: “However, the reason I visited Kougyoku this time was due to the invitation from my friend Kagari.”

Alter!Keith: “As you mentioned, Kagari possesses the power to change the course of battle on his own.”

Alter!Keith: “I don’t believe someone like him or the Kuga king would give an opportunity for enemies to invade before or after the goodwill meeting.”

Alter!Keith: “So please allow me to stay in the Amagase territory for tourism purposes on another occasion.”

Alter!Keith: “Oh, I decided this on my own, didn’t I...”

Emma: “I share the same feelings as Keith.”

Alter!Keith: “Thank you.”

As my hand on my lap was held tightly, the anxiety that had been affixed to my back began to dissolve.

Shiou looked as if he wanted to say that it was as expected and shrugged his shoulders.

Shiou: “Your sincere nature hasn’t changed since time immemorial. I knew you would hold back.”

Shiou: “Well then, I need to think of an excuse for not being able to retain Keith.”

Shiou: “An excuse that will also satisfy the troublesome King Iguna... Will you accompany me?”

Alter!Keith: “Sure, if it’s fine with me.”

After that, the tea party with Shiou flowed smoothly with a peaceful atmosphere—

We headed toward the port to return to the Kuga royal territory.

Alter!Keith: “............”

Emma: “............”

Shiou: “What’s wrong? Are you nervous because I’m riding with you?”

Shiou: “Don’t worry about it; just enjoy the conversation. If my gaze is bothering you, would this be better?”

Shiou suddenly opened a fan he had taken out, revealing a beautiful pattern with cherry blossoms to hide his face.

Alter!Keith: “........................................... What a hassle.”

(Alter!Keith’s voice... no, his expression also shows it.)

Taking advantage of the fact that Shiou couldn’t see him, he wore a face of complete disdain.

However, as soon as those emerald eyes appeared from behind the fan, his expression swiftly returned to normal.

(This is a skill born from the experiences he has accumulated...)

Shiou: “It might not be comfortable, but please forgive me.”

Shiou: “When it’s someone you don’t know when you’ll meet again, one tea party doesn’t quite suffice for a conversation.”

Shiou: “Let me see you off to the port.”

Alter!Keith: “Please don’t forget to buy King Iguna’s favorite food in the town to accompany your excuses.”

Shiou: “Oh right. I completely forgot about that.”

Seeing Shiou smile while hiding his mouth with the fan made me smile as well.

(Hmm...?)

I glanced out the window.

(Is that...?)

As I recognized what came into my view, I unknowingly grasped Alter!Keith's arm.

Alter!Keith: “What’s wrong?”

Emma: “There’s someone sitting at the entrance to the forest who can’t move.”

Emma: “From a distance, they seem to be injured.”

Alter!Keith and Shiou looked outside, following the direction I was pointing.

Alter!Keith: “Shiou, is it okay?”

Shiou: “Of course. Thank you for noticing, Emma.”

Shiou: “A few days ago, there was a territorial dispute in a small town. He might have escaped from there.”

The driver stopped the carriage at the entrance of the forest following Shiou’s instructions.

(There seem to be multiple injuries, but the medicine I have should be sufficient.)

As I hurriedly reached for the carriage door, for some reason, my wrist was suddenly grasped from the side.

Alter!Keith: “.....”

Emma: “Keith?”

Alter!Keith: “...It’s nothing.”

Alter!Keith: “You can down after me.”

Emma: “...Yes.”

Alter!Keith slightly frowned.

From his profile, it felt as if he didn’t think too highly of going outside.

(But right now, I’m the only one here with the necessary items for treatment.)

(…)

Shaking off the hesitation that hung in my chest, I followed Alter!Keith and descended from the carriage.

Following Shiou, I stepped out of the carriage.

The man sitting on the ground had skin peeking through his torn clothes, and on his face, and there were several marks that resembled bruises rather than cuts.

(What is this sense of discomfort? It seems, as Shiou said, that he escaped from a battle...)

Emma: “Please let me treat your injuries. Is it okay if I touch you?”

Man: “Ugh... Yeah.”

Emma: “Excuse me. Please tell me if it hurts.”

With Alter!Keith standing nearby to protect me, I reached out to touch the man’s arm to treat his injuries.

(Huh... the blood is this thin?)

(And this wound...……)

A terrible premonition crawled across my skin at that moment—

Alter!Keith: “Emma, get back!”

Suddenly, Alter!Keith grabbed my arm, pulling me away and making me stand up.

Emma: “Alter!Keith, that wound...”

Alter!Keith: “It’s fake. At least it seems there’s still a human heart in there since it’s not real blood.”

Right after he spat those words, people cloaked in black appeared.

[221beloved]

Yarn

(Link to ao3)

"Ouch!"

John jumped up from where he'd just settled down in his chair. He turned around to examine his seat and picked up a ball of wool.

"What's that?"

Sherlock stretched his neck to see what John was complaining about.

"Oh, Mrs Hudson must've forgotten it."

"Isn't wool supposed to be soft?" John muttered, placing the ball on the little shelf next to the door so they wouldn't forget it the next time they saw their landlady.

"Some of the balls can be surprisingly firm, I've had that acquaintance already," Sherlock said, absently.

John went back to his chair and finally slumped down into it.

"Well, I'm happy for her that she's found a new hobby, but it's a bit much, don't you think?"

They both looked over to the pile of knitted socks, scarfs, and even a jumper, placed on a side table.

"Well..." Sherlock shrugged.

John groaned and sank deeper into his chair.

"She's committed herself fully to her yarn. She's even on forums and all that, watching instructions on youtube and on Gallery, or whatever it's called."

"Ravelry," Sherlock corrected.

"Ravelry, then. Who introduced her to all this stuff, anyway? Last month she had difficulties sending an e-mail via phone, now she's doing... all of that."

"I think her nephew gave her the new phone and introduced her to everything that came with it," Sherlock said from the desk.

"Dear god..." John sighed. "She hardly talks about anything else these days. There's wool and fluff everywhere, soon she'll forget her needles up here."

Sherlock chuckled. “Worried about your buttocks?”

John grumbled.

"Anyway, are you looking forward to Christmas, John?"

"What?" John sat up to look at Sherlock. "What does Christmas have to do with this?"

"Can't you imagine what we'll get from her this year?"

John blinked at him for a moment, then threw is head back with a groan.

"Oh no..."

"I don't know what you have against her knitting. As you said earlier, it's good that she's found a hobby, right?"

"Yes of course, and I'm happy for her," John hurried to assure, "I just don't think two middle aged men are the right recipients for her... crafts."

Sherlock looked at him questioningly. "Why is that?"

"Are you wearing anything of what she's given us so far?"

"No."

"You see?"

John sighed.

"It's well meant, but I don't think we'll wear this stuff until our bodies get cranky."

Sherlock tilted his head. "You could wear the socks."

"No, my feet will get sore from the texture when I wear them in my shoes. My mum used to knit socks for me."

"In bed, then," Sherlock pressed.

"Hah," John laughed. "You're the one with the cold feet. You should wear them!"

"John!" Sherlock called out indignantly. "They look ridiculous."

"Well," John shrugged, "Your cold feet are ridiculous. One day you'll give me a heart attack when you just put them on my legs without warning."

Sherlock huffed, looking away pointedly.

"But you could wear the scarfs she made. You're a scarf person."

"I prefer my own scarfs," Sherlock replied.

"Besides, the wool she's using itches."

They were silent for a moment.

"What now?" John asked after some of time.

"I don't know, you're the social one. You're supposed to guide me through such situations."

"She's your landlady as well. You know her even longer than I do."

Sherlock scowled.

"Maybe," John mused, "Maybe we can convince her to make a blanket for the sofa, instead of the pieces of clothing?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Maybe."

"We could use a new one. And a blanket is above the clothes. Would be warm without itching. And maybe she'd make it big enough for me to get a bit of the blanket, too."

"Well, I am taller than you, I need more of it," Sherlock tried to defend himself.

"Yes," John agreed," Doesn't mean you can get the whole blanket."

Sherlock pouted at him. "You don't need a blanket. I can warm you."

"Oh yes?" John gave him a challenging look.

"Prove it."

Sherlock was on his feet and on the sofa before John could realise, wrapped in their current blanket and beckoning John over with an impatient glare.

"Okay, alright, I'm coming."

And though a blanket would've kept his entire body warm and not just parts of it, John had to admit that Sherlock was doing an excellent job of cuddling him to inner warmth.

--

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[turbulentscrawl]

Happy Valentines!

A little thing for @athanasius-symposium-of-writings It's about time I return the favor and write something for you!! I'm sorry it's not longer, but I hope you like it all the same, friend!

The lights were dim. Remnants of your dinner were strewn about the coffee table, along with your half-empty wine glasses and the entirely empty wine bottle. Like-authored books lay strewn about the floor, laying open and dog-eared from excerpt readings. Bouquets of roses spotted the other available surfaces, and the distinct aroma of them mingled with the scent of spiced tobacco. The smoke of it still hung in the air, twisting tantalizing patterns all the way back to the man who held the pipe. The man whose knee your chin rested on, admiring from your seat on the soft rug.

Orpheus blew another stream of smoke into the air, idly ghosting his fingers along your hair line, almost petting. Your eyes met, and with the faintest of smirks his fingers shifted along your face, to your ear, and traced the sculpted shape of it.

“You look tired,” he mused. “Have the wine and reading made you drowsy?”

“Just relaxed,” you assured. “I’m plenty awake.” That was a bit of a lie. You were a bit tired—you were full, buzzed, and wooed, but you weren’t ready for the night to end. It was hard to get the undivided attention of a man like Orpheus for such a long period. You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to convince or bribe everyone in the manor to stay out of the smoke room tonight, but you wouldn’t dare complain. Your first proper Valentines in however many years into this eternity, and it was better than you could have ever hoped.

“Good. I have a few more things for us,” he said, and reached for the drawer of the table beside his leather chair. You watched him produce a decorative box, painted with textured oils. Edgar’s work, no doubt. He balanced it on his opposite knee, holding his pipe between his teeth, and flipped it open delicately. Arranged inside were six chocolate covered strawberries.

He looked them over with great consideration, plucked one from its paper with ungloved fingers, and then brought it delicately to your lips. His eyes held yours with an unspoken order for you to do the same, and so you opened your mouth a bit slowly from the treat while gazing into dark amber. A drop of red juice rolled down your chin and slipped into the white of his dress pants.

“Very good,” Orpheus whispered once you’d swallowed. Returning the favor, he bit from the strawberry as well, subtly licking at the marks left by your teeth in the red flesh, and then retuned the final bit of the fruit for you to finish. “Another?”

“Save them,” you said, licking your lips. The motion of your tongue was what finally broke his eyes from yours, if only for a split second. “We can make them last. What other ‘things’ do you have for us?” You had an idea already, and the way he smiled when you rubbed his shin further cemented it. A shiver slipped up your spine. He set the box of strawberries aside, then occupied his hand instead by capturing your jaw with a careful but firm vice.

Orpheus took one final drag from his pipe—looking all too angelic in the low light as he closes his eyes and breathes in fumes—and leaned forward to kiss your captive mouth. The sweet, spiced pipe smoke slipped through the little gaps of your melding lips, dancing tongues. It coiled up around your faces like a curtain, filled your nose, fogged your squinting peripheral vision. You managed to inhale a bit of it too, and the airy burn it left at the back of your throat, you decided, suited Orpheus’s intensity perfectly.

Any remaining thoughts scrambled after that; Orpheus slipped down from his chair, graceful as a swan, and joined you on the rug, where you could roll together in a sea of his words.

[lisupandowntown]

Lis, happy Sunday Sickness! Can you talk a little about your OCs style? Personal style or decoration wise, you pick

Hi Soup! I'm going to do decoration style because home and personal space is really important to me, and I like thinking about how my OCs surround themselves with comfort when they are home.

Noa, being a photographer, loves light, clean lines, open spaces, and neutral palettes broken up with interesting pops of color - but is likely to create interest with texture over a lot of color - and she likes a bit of the industrial look. She collects vintage sepia photographs of street scenes from around the US - not famous landmarks but pictures of everyday life, and they take up an entire wall in her and Rory's living room.

Rory more or less goes along with what Noa likes, lol. Their condo is mostly one level but they've got a bonus room that open onto their roof deck and he's turned it into something of a man cave - it's got a big comfortable chair that he reads in or sits in to work on his computer when he needs some quiet. The two of them are also avid readers and have three floor to ceiling book shelves that are chock full. Their sofa is very deep so they can lie on it together.

Gabe's style used to be "fraternity house milk crate" and now is "former fraternity boy who has money but not a lot of style" lol. When Rory moved out Gabe got a big black leather sofa and a couple of comfy coordinating swivel chairs. He owns three different gaming systems and after he started dating Logan they went out and he bought a nice wooden cabinet to hold them in. He has almost no art and it drives Noa crazy. Logan wants to help him shop for stuff for his walls but he needs to figure out what he likes first, beyond the entire wall of baseball hats in his guest bedroom.

Logan likes to thrift. Vintage, eclectic, quirky, that's her. Think old suitcases stacked up as side tables and an old-fashioned "fainting chaise" to sit on - things like that. She especially likes antiques and is learning how to restore pieces - she's currently working on a small bookshelf. She loves color - especially warm autumn colors because they are the opposite of the sterile blues and greens she always saw in the hospital.

Jeremiah, not surprisingly, was attracted to anything that looked "wealthy" in his mind - matching furniture sets, rich fabrics, knick knacks made of gold. But he's more recently come to realize that he doesn't like any of that, lol. He actually likes authentic mid-century modern furniture - lots of light wood - and also loves to thrift (he and Logan go out together some weekends) for decor. He collects vintage menus and has a bunch of them framed in their kitchen and cannot resist buying kitchen gadgets. He loves old cut glass vases and glasses and bowls.

Drew, like Noa, is into the industrial look because it reminds him of being back stage. He's okay having his and Jeremiah's home be more traditional, but he has certain industrial pieces he really likes - like an oversized velvet chair with a black steel frame and concrete counters in their bathroom. He also loves plants - loves the way they contrast with the industrial look - and has a green thumb. So Jeremiah does the cooking and Drew grows the herbs for him to use.

Adam likes his home to be a bit of a showplace, lol. He used a decorator and everything is well thought out and subtle and beautiful, but a little sterile - lots of black and white and gray. He's also a big reader though, and has books and magazines all over the place. And a huge, hidden sound system for t.v. and music.

Avery is more like how Gabe was before he got money, lol. He absolutely only cares about being comfortable at the moment. If pressed, he might say he likes the modern farmhouse look but that's mostly because his grandparents' house was an actual farmhouse.

[nonsensical-pixels]

yes, i know, this has been done already, in a much more 'advanced' way by @lindasims2. but i saw this post by @littlelittlesimmies and just felt very irritated by paywallers, y'know? so have @hydrangeachainsaw's kawaii neko gaming station converted from ts4 to ts2. it doesn't have flashing lights, but it's free for all😉

there are 5 items in this set (technically 7, if you count all of the extra versions!). everything is recolourable; the desktop and chair have repo'd addons. yippee, my first try furniture-meshing! both computers act as monique's hacked computers, too. check the readme or peek below for more info!

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF 😽

credits go to @hydrangeachainsaw for the original ts4 meshes and textures! plus to monique and @hugelunatic for the original hacked computer and one-tile desk, respectively 💖

ITEMS INCLUDED

Chair - 7832 polys Chair V2 - 7832 polys, repo'd to Chair Desktop - 10796 polys Desktop Standing - 10833 polys, repo'd to Desktop Gaming Station - 4982 polys Keyboard - 7466 polys TV - 126 polys

COLLECTION FILE ICON

it was generated by zoviz so credits to them!

THINGS TO NOTE

In order to get the chair to slot in with the gaming station, don't put it on a diagonal. Turn off quarter-tile placement and place it directly behind the desk part, as you would with a normal desk and table. Go to live mode and unpause; it will slot right in!

The desktop will most likely only match with the gaming station. Use the standing version if you want to pair it with something else.

Yes, I'm aware lindasims2 has also done this set, with lots of neon animations and stuff. That's cool, go ahead and buy hers if you want. But mine… is free 😁

i have a lot more lindasims2 stuff made 'free' that i've been working on over the years. just need to finish it up... i hope. if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,

Love, ~ Ky 🥰