#backlog -> watch later

[arcs-binted]

Some games just aren't for events. Here are my thoughts on Tales of Berseria:

Tales of Berseria was my second tango with the Tales series, after dropping Arise on account of "not really feeling it." On paper and even on screen, Tales of Berseria seems right up my alley: it's got a brooding anime protagonist, pretty environments, plenty of dramatic flair, and an impending found family trope.

But again, I'm finding that I'm just not really feeling it. This time, I'm better able to pinpoint what's putting me off, at least. Plot points are broken up by gameplay, as with most games, but getting from one place to another feels a bit sluggish. The combat is flashy and cool, but it gets old quickly, so progressing generally feels like a drag. I do think I'd be less critical if I were more attached to the cast—they have plenty of optional dialogues that are often informative and/or amusing, and a fondness for the characters would definitely make them more enjoyable. I don't feel too much of that fondness, though. It's regrettable.

I am interested enough to continue experiencing the game by watching someone else's playthrough, because I love a good story and I love character development. I just don't love unengaging dungeons and clicking through several screens every time I need to check what direction I should be moving in.

Tales of Berseria has plenty to offer: the story, the characters, minigames, the cooking and expedition features, visuals for days, et al. It's like a seafood platter, but in this scenario, I have a shellfish allergy.

But hey, at least it shortens my backlog a bit!

[mechazushi]

Kafka Hibino

Kafka Hibino.... with visible salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka HIbino.... in that black turtleneck and a dark brown leather jacket and also wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing that outfit and is an Animal Biology Professor in an College Au.

Kafka Hibino..... asking out Hoshina who is an Advanced Mathematics Professor working at the same college, to have an after-work drink with him.

Slightly DRUNK Kafka Hibino... becoming very forward with an also slightly drunk Hoshina

Slightly Drunk Hoshina... immediately matching Kafka's freak tenfold and Kafka is very much fine with this.

[moonlitlex]

me after watching the hbomberguy plagiarism video and realizing everything i liked about somerton's videos was plagiarised and everything i disliked about his videos was all him

[zeawesomebirdie]

So. I may or may not have discarded all of today's plans so that I could read fanfic instead

[ema-sahdmadhi]

Uh oh

I started working on a video thing and then I started watching SOJ playthroughs and now the brainworms are back

[persephiepaints]

Going to try to get through all the random dtiys and prompt lists I’ve saved 😂 gonna try to clear out my watch later too.

[mysticdragon3md3]

You DON'T Need a Backlog by Transparency Boo

[starlightbelle]

I can’t be the only one who feels overwhelmed by the amount of likes I have to go thru on here???

[spookyji]

fav place to cum. txt

nsfw, mdni. hmm, i’m in the mood to write hcs like these more than fics rn but also i have a big backlog of asks i need to catch up on eep

yeonjun = creampies, it’s not up for debate. it’s so possessive and addictive, the way he needs to fill you up with his cum and watch it seep out, mark you up inside and out so there’s no doubt you’re his. the corner of his lip pulled up into a smirk when your legs lock around his slender waist, never want him to pull out, hmm? not when he’s hitting that spot every time, rough and fast thrusts that leave you a whining mess, he’ll make you beg for him to cum inside. and there’s nothing better than being filled up to the brim with his cum, insides painted white with his cream. coos at you in a teasing way when your whimpering it’s too much, seed drooling from your cunt when he finally pulls out, dripping down on his sheets. slaps your sensitive folds, all marked up in his cum ‘cause you look so cute when you’re crying from overstim, feels so good to be fucked dumb, gonna let him fill you up again? one load’s not enough.

soobin… obviously inside, but genuinely, all over your boobs is his weakness if he can manage to pull out… maybe it’s better to give him a titjob as foreplay, he’ll cum in like 2 minutes flat. so obsessed with your tits, so soft n plush, the flushed, leaking tip of his cock protruding from the crevice between your boobs, on your knees, hold them in place for him while soobin thrusts messily into your breasts, moaning all over about how good it feels, his eyes can’t move from the sight of his throbbing cock fucking your tits, your pretty fingers squishing the plush of your chest together for him, oh, he’s so fucked, cums all over your tits in a creamy mess, so much milky white spurted on you,, soobin pushing you down on your back, need to clean you up, baby, tongue licking up his cum off your boobs, leaving a warm trail of saliva, face buried in your tits, have to make sure you’re all clean, hmm? tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple, a string of saliva hanging from his lip to the little nub… gonna let him have his way a little longer?

beomgyu’s so into doggy all because he gets to cum all over your ass, make a sticky mess when he pulls out as viscous cream drips down your curves to your thighs,, his favorite after completely ruining your pussy. careful when you beg beomgyu for harder, ‘cause he’s already such an addict for a hard, quick fuck, long bangs sticking to his skin with sweat, hands grabbing at your ass, his head tipped forwards as he pants through his parted lips, feels so good to release so much stress all at once, doesn’t it? the kind of sex that probably gets him complaints from neighbors for being so loud, lewd slaps of skin on skin and beomgyu’s just so big, stuffing you full with every thrust ‘til he’s about to burst,, and he’s so good at it, pulling out and jerking off himself off to finish all over your ass, warm, sticky cum coating your skin as you whine cause it’s such a mess to clean up later,, on another note, he’s still waiting for the day he gets to fuck your ass when it’s covered in his cum

taehyun’s guilty pleasure is covering your face in his cum, hot milky seed that drips down your glasses and on your tongue as you lick it off your lips. you’re so pretty when you’re on your knees in front of him, lips wrapped ‘round his cock, hand tangled in your hair pushing you deeper, a choked sound from your throat before he’ll relent. precum and drool all over your lips, his cock slick with spit, a hint of teeth briefly against the sensitive, prominent veins. the way taehyun adjusts your tilted glasses for you, just before he pushes your head down harder, god, he has so much self control, he could last for so long, your knees sore against the hard floor,, don’t you deserve a treat for doing so well? open up. hot cream spurted all over your face, dripping on your tongue, glasses, and skin, so pretty when milky ropes of cum coat your face. under taehyun’s relentless gaze as you lick it off your lips and swallow,, no, he won’t make you clean all of it up right away, you look too perfect like this.

huening kai’s stamina is too much for you? it’s more than just his favorite place, your stomach, his cum spilt in sloppy ropes all over your skin and on his sheets, oh, he’s so messy. legs thrown over his shoulders so he can thrust deeper, moans slipping from his throat at the sight of the little bulge he makes in your cum covered stomach when you’re full of his cock, your soft skin coated in his cum, another sticky sensation dripping down your thighs from how many loads ago? sex is so messy when it’s kai, he’s just so obsessed with you and your body, he can’t get enough, a white ring around his cock ‘cause he’s already filled you up, too. your legs sore and tired, whiny apologies because he’s still not had enough, just one more, please, you can take it, he knows you can. mhmm, one more load, cums right on your pussy. kai, ‘s messy, you mumble, can barely think straight, but he’s so sweet… and clumsy, using his discarded shirt to try to clean you up a little,,

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 6] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), some kissing, ex-boyfriend, Mrs. Kruger, some tears, an unpleasant situation, some romance, some nerves

A/N: I wish I could write better to show what I have in my head when I plan this story. I'm not completely happy with it, but I hope it's just my mood and being overwhelmed. Thank you for every heart and reblog and comment. I don't want to demand or put pressure on you, but if you wrote a few words, I would be glad that I could read what you think about it all. Thank you for being here!

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

When you woke up in the morning, you felt a strange anxiety in your chest. Even though the previous evening had been really pleasant, nothing more had happened between you and Harry except for that kiss, you had the impression that you had crossed a certain line that you shouldn't have crossed. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol or the influence of the stars, but you couldn't hide one thing - you really liked that kiss.

"But he's your boss..." you groaned, rinsing your face with cold water. You repeated the same words later while taking a shower and getting dressed, as well as in the elevator and on your way to the dining room for breakfast.

But as soon as you saw Harry sitting at a table covered with a snow-white tablecloth, the thought that had been occupying your head quickly disappeared.

He noticed you as you entered the room. Your simple, casual dress nicely emphasized your shapes as you headed to his table.

"Good morning." he greeted, rising slightly.

"Hi." you replied with a smile, sitting down next to him "Have you been waiting long?"

"I just got here." Harry nodded to the waiter and he immediately appeared next to you "Would you like some coffee?"

After a moment, coffee and your breakfast appeared on the table. All the worries you had were blurred in the casual and pleasant conversation, and Harry didn't once refer to yesterday evening, for which you were grateful. If Harry had different impressions than you, you didn't want it to cast a shadow over such a promising day.

"Do you have any meetings today?" you asked, putting a piece of croissant in your mouth and reaching for your phone "I could work in the meantime. I'm sure I have a backlog of emails and..."

The phone slipped out of your hand and Harry without hesitation pressed the side button, turning it off. The screen went black. "We're not working today." he said, a mischievous smile appearing on his face "Neither you nor I. Tomorrow we go back to New York, we should use this day."

"What do you mean?" you asked surprised "Harry, your clients won't be happy if..."

"They can handle it." he interrupted you, took a sip of coffee, and then smiled again "We can spend this day however we want. Do whatever we want, eat whatever we want."

You watched him carefully as if you wanted to catch him in some trick. Maybe he was joking and just checking your reaction? You guessed that there must have been a few unread emails in your inbox, not to mention other messages. But your switched off phone was still resting on the table next to Harry, and his brown eyes were staring at you with audacity.

"Are you serious?" you asked finally.

He nodded. “Of course. You haven’t seen much yet, but if you just want to go to the beach, that’s fine with me.”

He noticed right away how you frowned and looked at him suspiciously. However, when you spoke, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly. "You just want to see me in a swimsuit again."

Harry raised both hands. "Guilty. But can you blame me?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I feel like I'm going to regret this, but... Damn it. Let's do this."

When Harry said you could do whatever you wanted, he really meant it. In the rented car, you set off through the streets of the city, visiting all the most popular places. You couldn't take your eyes off what the city had to offer, you admired the beautiful people, buildings, iconic places. Even though Harry had been to LA many times, he never once let you feel that he was bored. On the contrary, he accompanied you everywhere and was present one hundred percent.

Hidden behind his black glasses, he watched the delight in your eyes and the smile that never left your lips. Those small details and gestures that he knew so well about you, now seemed even more expressive to him.

He was afraid that after what had happened between you, some tension would appear, but you were so free with him that Harry felt relief. He didn't want to ruin your friendship, but he didn't think that what had happened was bad either.

"Harry! Come, you have to see this."

"But you wanted coffee." he was surprised, but you had already grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of a shop window with some trinkets to show him something. His brain didn't even understand what you were saying to him, he was only focused on how your hand fit perfectly in his.

You ate lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then ice cream in some booth by the beach. When in the evening you found yourself in a crowd of people and Harry, so as not to lose you, grabbed your hand again, you didn't let go of it even when your steps headed towards the beach.

“I’m gonna miss this sun,” you said as the waves lazily lapped at your feet.

“It’s only a few hours of flying. We can fly back anytime you want.”

You looked at him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, his pants pulled up so the waves wouldn't get them wet, and his face was directed straight at the setting sun. He looked really handsome. The wind gently played with the strands of his curly hair, and his skin glowed as if Harry himself was the sun.

"You probably say that to all your assistants." you said, and he burst out laughing.

"Only to you, darling, I assure you." he replied.

"Such cheesy." you shook your head, but you couldn't hide your smile. "Oh, any woman would fall in love with you, Mr. Castillo."

He watched with interest as you lowered your head and lifted your foot slightly, playing with the waves that were steadily hitting the shore. This moment seemed to him cut out of life, where there was nothing more than you. Maybe that's why he decided to ask.

"And you?" you looked up at him. "Could you fall in love with someone like that?"

"Not with someone. That's not what you want to ask, is it?"

You were right. That wasn't what he was asking you. He wanted to know if you could fall in love with him. Was that even possible? You had crossed the line between boss and assistant a long time ago. The long evenings that you theoretically spent together at work, but in reality you just talked, the dinners, the occasional movie together, and many other things when you were just two friends.

“I think we make a good duo,” he finally said. “In and out of work. You know what I mean?”

You nodded.

“I would get first prize for Assistant Of The Year?”

“Definitely.” He frowned suddenly. “Does such a thing exist?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea. But I like working for you, Harry. I really do.”

“And I like spending time with you.” You smiled. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful…”

“Oh God, don’t do that…” you mumbled, feeling the heat rise to your neck.

Harry took a step toward you. “What shouldn’t I be doing?”

“That! You make me feel… embarrassed.”

One more step. “Is it bad? Tell me, when I kissed you last night, was it embarrassing?”

You took a deep breath, your chest heaving, and your eyes briefly darted away from the people walking in the distance. When you looked back at Harry, he had already taken off his glasses, his eyes looking at you softly, as if waiting for that one answer.

“No.” You answered quietly. “It was nice. Very nice, even.”

“I liked it too.” He replied. You didn’t even flinch as he gently brushed away a strand of hair that the playful wind had been playing with in your face. “And you know what? I still want more.”

His fingers gently trailed over your jaw, then down your neck to your shoulder. A warm shiver ran down your spine. You were almost certain Harry could hear your heart beating, he was so close. He waited for just one signal and he got it a moment later when a quiet, "So take what you want, Harry..." left your lips. And so he did.

His lips captured yours in a sweet and gentle kiss. Carefully, as if you were both exploring the area, testing how much you could allow yourself. His hand slid into your hair, pulling your face closer, the other rested on your hip, as if he was afraid you would run away. But you didn't have that in mind.

The scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of the sea, and you felt completely intoxicated by Harry. You gave yourself over to this moment completely, against all arguments of logic. Parted lips were an invitation to him. Without hesitation, Harry deepened the kiss, his soft tongue slipped in and you moaned quietly. The bastard smiled, you felt it.

"What?" you whispered. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, still smiling.

"Nothing." he rubbed his nose against yours, still smiling, until you finally patted his chest and pulled away.

"You're unbearable, you know that?"

Even though you stepped back, Harry's fingers slid down your arm and then tightened around your wrist. He tugged lightly, pulling you back to him. "And you're cute."

You rolled your eyes. This guy was taking you apart with childish ease.

"Tell me..." you looked at Harry with interest, "When we get back to New York, will you go out with me? On a real date?"

You watched him carefully, analyzing his words. There was nothing but sincerity in Harry's eyes.

"Do you really want this?" you asked.

He tilted his head, smiling. "Of course I do. I wanted to ask you out two weeks after you showed up at my office."

You shook your head in disbelief and giggled. “Okay. I can’t keep Harry Castillo waiting for me any longer.” He pulled you in again, kissing you lightly. You gladly let him.

Your suitcase was almost packed when you closed the door behind you and went to breakfast. You had a few hours before you were supposed to be at the airport, so you and Harry didn't have to rush. The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and you entered the lobby. You hadn't even taken a few steps when someone said your name.

"Daniel?" You frowned in surprise, not really knowing what was going on. "What... What are you doing here?"

The man smiled, walking up to you. It looked like he had to wait here. "We flew in at night. Nice to see you."

"Is Beth with you?" You looked around the lobby, but didn't see a familiar face.

"It's a business trip."

He didn't need to say anything more. A heavy stone fell into your stomach as you looked towards the dining room door. You already knew who you would meet there.

"And you?" he asked.

"W-what?"

Daniel smiled, then lightly placed his hand on your elbow and led you towards the dining room door. "I think you could use some coffee. Still drinking the same one?"

You noticed them immediately as you entered the sunlit hotel dining room. Many of the tables were occupied by guests, but where you usually sat, Mrs. Kruger-Waltz was now sitting with Harry. Her blonde hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and her lips stretched into a dazzling smile. She rested her chin on her hand, completely engrossed in her conversation with Harry.

A cup of coffee was pressed into your hand, and Daniel led you straight to the table you had been eyeing.

“Mrs. Kruger, Mr. Castillo.” Daniel greeted politely, and Diane looked at you.

“Oh! It’s good to see you.” She said. “I was just telling Harry how hard it is to find you here. Could you answer the phone or at least answer your emails, darling? I thought you were responsible for that.”

Harry cleared his throat. “We’ve been busy.” He replied. “Sorry, Diane. I’m to blame too.”

Yes, he was. The phone he had turned off was still at the bottom of your bag. You hadn’t had time to check your emails. Cold sweat ran down your back at the thought of what you would find when you turned those devices on.

“Harry…” Diane placed a tender hand on Castillo’s shoulder. “That’s what we have assistants for. I think she should face the consequences of her negligence. But never mind!” she smiled happily. “I have some really good friends in Los Angeles that you should meet. Working with them could really benefit you.”

You noticed the quick glance Harry gave you. You must have looked like an idiot, standing at the table with a cup of coffee in your hand and complete surprise in your eyes.

“I have to apologize again, Diane, but we’re leaving today. In a few hours…”

“That’s no problem. I have my own private jet.” The woman took a sip of her coffee and winked. “Your assistant can fly back to New York on her own, right? Will you be okay?”

"Y-yes." You stuttered in surprise. "Of course."

"You see! Brave girl." Diane beamed. "She'll have a lot of work to catch up on, and we'll have a nice time here."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't have the courage to look at Harry, because Diane was watching you carefully. Finally, someone gently squeezed your elbow, said goodbye to them for you, and led you out of the dining room.

"You look really good, you know that?"

Daniel's words tore you out of your stupor. You looked at him in surprise and carelessly tilted your mug, spilling coffee on yourself.

"Fuck!" you hissed louder than you intended. You put the mug down on the small table by the wall and saw a stain on your shirt. "Ugh! Not that."

Daniel watched you carefully, a smile never leaving his lips. "Hey, don't worry. It's just a shirt." he said. “You’ll have time to change before the flight.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled. “I just… didn’t expect you’d be here. If I checked my email or something…”

You felt a familiar touch on your shoulder, and Daniel placed a hand on it, trying to calm you down.

“Nothing happened. We all make mistakes sometimes, right? You’ll go home and make up for it.”

You quickly glanced at the door where you had left Harry and Diana. An unpleasant feeling of disappointment washed over you. You felt like you had let down not only Harry, but Kruger-Waltz as well, even though she wasn’t your boss. If you weren’t standing in the middle of the hall, you probably would have burst into tears.

“Listen…” Daniel caught your attention again. He pulled a white business card and a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “If you need any help or… want to talk.” He scribbled something on the back of the card and handed it to you. “Call anytime. You know, I always liked talking to you.”

You looked at the card and then at Daniel, completely confused by the whole situation. In the meantime, he led you to the elevator, pressed the button, and the doors opened.

The next few hours passed at an alarming rate. Checking out of the hotel, taking a taxi to the airport, checking in and heading to the terminal. Your brain was on autopilot and you weren't entirely sure what to think.

In the morning, when you woke up, you felt like you had touched the sky, and at this point you were already down. You hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry and honestly, you wouldn't even know what to say. You felt like you had let him down, that your resignation letter was already on his desk. You shouldn't have let him turn off your phone, or at least you should have done your chores when you weren't with him or kissing him.

When you got on the plane, you felt even worse, if that was even possible. You sank into your seat and stared out the window. You exploded. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you hastily pressed your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob.

You hadn't felt this humiliated in a long time.

"Is this seat free?"

Shit. You wiped your tears with your sleeve and nodded. "Y-yes, go ahead." You waved your hand, trying to hide your face from the passenger sitting next to you. From the quiet sounds, you guessed he had taken the seat that was supposed to be Harry's.

"Did you enjoy LA?" the voice next to you said again.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and not sound desperate. "I really had a good time here."

"I'm glad to hear that. Are you free this week?"

"You know, I'm really not..." you turned to the other person and froze. Harry sat down right next to you, a gentle smile on his lips. He was clearly pleased with the effect of surprise and your expression.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Diane... She's waiting for you, Harry."

"I had to decline her offer. I hope she takes it well, although she didn't seem thrilled." he replied.

You looked at him, completely speechless. A few moments passed before you spoke again.

"You shouldn't have done that. You were supposed to sign a contract... Your company could have lost a lot of money." You spoke so quickly that even if Harry wanted to interrupt you, he wouldn't have succeeded. "You should have stayed in Los Angeles. I've already caused so much trouble. Of course, I understand that my resignation is just a formality..."

"Hey! Stop it." Harry grabbed your hand and that made you fall silent. "I won't accept any resignation, not from you."

“But Kruger…”

“Mrs. Kruger-Waltz is not someone my company would want to work with. Her attitude towards people in lower positions goes against my principles. As my assistant, you should know that.”

Your eyes widened even more, but you didn’t say anything. You stared at Harry with a mixture of awe and fear. Had he really rejected Diane and appeared on that plane?

“You should stay.” You finally said quietly.

He looked at you, then smiled gently. “One woman promised me a date. She’s worth coming back for.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but you smiled back. This was crazy. But it was Harry.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[elysiality]

thinking about — beach day with newlywed wife! SHAUNA SHIPMAN [HCS] ꒱

꒱ cw — slight jealousy , kinda suggestive , buff shauna yipee !

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who’s so excited about going to a beach with her girl— well, her wife now ! it's the first outing you've had since your honeymoon— the wedding piled a lot of work-backlog onto you. she won't talk about it to you directly, she's always been so very reclusive like that, but you start noticing little things.

the bottle of sunscreen that appears in your cosmetics cabinet. your wedding calendar sits on the bedside table, marked with the specific weekend you're going down to the beach you've chosen— with a single heart. her camera has been pulled out of its special case and sits on her desk like a prized trophy.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who wakes up before the sun is fully up in the sky, raring to go. she's always been an early bird, in perfect contrast to you, but when you wake up because she accidentally banged her leg against the bedpost while scurrying around and loading your toiletries bag into a suitcase, you just groan and cover your ears with a pillow. she can prep all she wants, there's no way you're waking up before the clock strikes ten.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who does, in fact, wake you up before the clock strikes ten. she tries gentle methods first— peppering your face with kisses, mumbling, ‘wake up sweetie’s and ‘you need to get ready now, angel’s before she gives up and fully tugs the blanket off you.

you gasp and curl up like a dying shrimp as the cold air hits your 'delicate, paper-thin, satin-like skin'. she rolls her eyes affectionately as you claw on the bed for a blanket she's already folded. “Five more minutes !!” you whine pitifully, making grabby hands at her. she just shakes her head, smiling. she knows you can't go back to sleep now.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who cajoles you into taking a shower through her own special methods. she hauls you off your bed with a practically inhumane strength— those gym visits have been hitting off, you see, and shoves you in the direction of the bathroom.

you crawl dramatically into the bathtub like a kicked puppy, ready to make loud passive-aggressive comments for the walls to hear— but shut up immediately when you see Shauna step onto the bathroom mat, shucking off all her clothes. you're in a considerably better mood after that bath.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who insists on carrying all the bags to and from the car. she tells you to just hold onto a small purse with the essentials and loads them into the trunk of the car.

you sip your water bottle, hiding a smirk as you watch her toned stomach flex with each movement she makes, her flannel unbuttoned over her bikini top after she kept complaining about the sweltering heat.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who's first course of action upon reaching the beach villa you rented was to start unpacking. her plans are completely detoured when you jump on the meticulously made bed like a WWE professional and sprawl out like a starfish, groaning as your back gets the aching relief it needs from being hunched over in the car for four hours straight.

she pretends to be annoyed. you pretend you don't see her taking a secret photo with her Polaroid to put in her journal later.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who's so excited to get into the water, she nearly forgets to put on the sunscreen she badgered you about— something about not wanting to get sunburn. she pouts petulantly when you drag her back to the lounge chair you set up, and reprimand her irately as you rub the cream all over her unfairly sculpted body.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who feels bereft of your hands when you're done lathering her up, but is more than eager to return the favour. she sits you down on her lap and kisses your shoulder with warm, chapsticked lips, running her palms over your body sluggishly, fingers reverent as they rub the lotion into your soft skin.

she reaches your lower back and pauses— then coyly tries to move her hands a little lower. you slap her hands off immediately, shooting her suspiciously guileless face a dirty glare that could put the sun to shame. she sulks when you turn back around. not a modicum of control, even in public.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who spends all her time in the water. she likes sitting in the shallow end, water up to her chest, muscles stretching as she leans back and takes in the sun like she's solar-powered. she opens her eyes every now and then to glare at you with faux vitriol when you giggle a bit too loudly.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who finds out that they do shark cage diving and forces you onto the boat as you squeal your protests in a high pitched voice— only to be absolutely petrified when she's actually in the gilded cage. she backs up against the furthest corner, away from the sharks, shaking like a leaf.

she's stares at you in consternation as you giggle and approach the bars of the cage, watching in awe as the sharks nuzzle the bars almost affectionately. she actually yelps— yes, yelps, when you reach out and touch one on its head, rubbing gently like it's a puppy. a puppy with far too many sharp teeth for her liking.

she clambers onto the boat the second it's over, somehow standing still on trembling legs. she locks eyes with you and it's unspoken— you're never doing that again.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who lays out a meticulously packed picnic— little Tupperware containers and chilled sodas, complete with its own cooler. she doesn't let you touch anything before she takes the perfect photo— she doesn't wanna post it to social media or anything, it just satisfies something in her. she does pop a can for you first— she's not going to let her wife die of dehydration if she can help it.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who runs hot very easily. she's panting the first five minutes after she steps onto the abrading sand and before you can stop her, has guzzled three overly-priced ice creams in the span of two hours. she stops for about an hour after you remind her that she's cursed with a weak stomach, and then goes right back at it.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who makes her way back to the ice cream stand for the fifth time, only to immediately catch the mousy guy behind the stall eyeing you up, like a pervert. you're sprawled out on the lounge chair, looking utterly delectable as you sip your soda, so she can't blame him. but that doesn't stop her from wanting to jump over the counter and— she takes a deep breath.

just as she's about to order, the guy pipes up hopefully— “Hey. You're with her, right?” he nods to you. “Is she single?”

Shauna stares at him in disbelief. so he's one of those. she quietly takes two random ice creams, keeping her lips shut. only as she forks over the money does she go, “No. My wife isn't single. And I'd prefer if you kept your eyes to yourself.” she struts away, leaving the wimp speechless, and hopefully, blue-balled.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who comes back to you, ice creams in hand, looking like someone just pissed in her soda can. she hands one to you and turns her head around to glare at the ice cream guy (she didn't bother to read his dumb name tag), who's now breaking out in a cold sweat and determinedly avoiding eye contact.

he does not want to get into a fight with the girl built like a brick wall— an acute decision, coming from a clearly bird-brained man.

you, meanwhile, frown obliviously down at your ice cream. “Honey, this has walnuts sprinkled on it!” you complain, frowning down at your cone like it murdered your cat. without even looking away from the no-name guy, Shauna leans in and licks off the complete top half of your ice cream.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who insists on sitting on a blanket she spread out and waiting for the sun to set so that she can take a photo to put in her journal. it's one of the main reasons she suggested coming down here. she knows it's corny and a little pretentious but you're more than happy to oblige.

she pulls her camera out of her flannel pocket, shaking out the sand from the lens. you told her to keep it in your room until she needed it, lest it became unsalvageable, but Shauna has always liked keeping the things important to her close.

she wraps an arm around you and waits, taking in the salty sea air. the city does not have much to give when it comes to pure air, what with all the vehicles. when the sun is on the horizon, she pulls out her camera, ready to snap her perfect pic— only to see something better out of the corner of her eye.

she sees you, your eyes closed, plush mouth curved in a small smile. the sun lights up your face perfectly— a golden hue that makes your complexion glow. small strands of your hair whip about in the wind almost cinematically. her mouth goes dry. you look like you just stepped out of a painting— so ethereal, she has a hard time believing you're hers. besotted, she raises her camera to her eye and snaps a photo of the best view there is in the whole world— you.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who's reluctant to leave your cabin. she packs quietly, almost remorsefully, like she's leaving a child behind. you place a gentle hand on her shoulder as she puts your sandals into a plastic bag. she looks up at you, her expression unreadable. always a guessing game with her. “We'll be back, Shipman. We have all the time in the world.” she gives you a small smile.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who's grateful that you offered to drive on the way back— she's pooped. she curls up into a little ball on the passenger seat, like a cat, and is out like a light almost immediately. you look over at her with tired eyes and smile— you like seeing your normally stressed out wife so peaceful. with all her eye-bags and all, she's perfect.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who goes back to being cheery when you get home. she lifts up your mewling cat and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as you set down the car keys. she happily starts unpacking, rejuvenated from her long nap.

-> ꒱ newlywed wife! shauna . who gets up early the next day to leave for work. you find her journal open on her side of the table. she's arranged all your photos neatly, drawing trimmed borders around each one. you don't even know when she had time to do all of this.

in her scrawling handwriting, at the bottom of the page, she's written, “Let's do this again some other time, gorgeous :)” you chuckle as you close the notebook and put it away in her desk drawer.

a/n: just something quick that's been rotting in my drafts for a while :) something to tide you guys over !

taglist : @f4riedimples

[revelboo]

would you ever write for brainstorm or first aid 🫣🫣 they are my favs but i barely see anything written for them 😭😭.,. hope you have a great day/night and i love your writing so much !!

They’re both on the list, I’m just…. Very backlogged. 18+ l 🌶️

The boys

My Way

Brainstorm x Reader

• Venting in irritation as Drift and Rodimus both glower at him, he pulls his glass closer and salutes Swerve with it. That one at least isn’t angry with him. The rest of the crew? Angry is putting it lightly. And if they knew the first human had been intentional? A test run on his invention to see how living matter would handle being displaced? That it had been humans at all had been a surprise, but given how many of them there are, he supposes it was a toss up on what he’d get. Humans or say, mice. And it had worked. It just hadn’t stopped working.

• Still. Had heard through Tailgate that another human had popped into existence with Rung even though that residual effect shouldn’t still be ongoing. This makes no sense, but he’s not about to admit that he’s not sure what’s going on anymore than he’s going to admit he snatched that first organic on purpose. Because some of the crew are weirdly protective of the little things. He can’t get the fascination. Tiny, weak, and fragile, they’re just organics. There’s organic life on hundreds of worlds. What makes these squishies so special?

• Leaning his chin on a fist, he watches Swerve’s little human wander around the top of the bar. Too little to actually help out. Just getting in the way. As if feeling his stare, they turn to look at him and smile. Maybe that’s it. Those weirdly Cybertronian expressions of theirs. It’s unsettling for sure. Finishing his drink, he heads back to his habsuite and stretches out on his berth. Sooner or later, the effect has to stop. Until then, the chaos is its own entertainment.

• Between one breath and the next, you’re ripping apart at the seams. One minute you’re chopping carrots and the next, you cant breathe, can’t scream as the pain tears through you. And then you’re sprawled on something warm and hard, heart racing and vision graying at the edges. Mind just a confused tangle as you lie there hurting and it’s almost a relief when you pass out cold.

• Groaning, his head tips at the feel of something gently thumping against his chassis while recharging and he’s disoriented for a klik. Wondering if Rodimus or someone else snuck in on him still angry about the humans. But his habsuite is quiet. What had that been? Lifting a hand, he brushes something soft. No. Head dipping, he stares down at the little, limp human lying there on him. The human that had just blipped randomly into existence. And then he says every swear word he knows in every language he knows.

Next

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 1

Surprise!!! I have six chapters of this and really need to start getting it out, so I figured with Act 1 ending last week and my backlog on this and Of Butterflies and Backstrokes (Olympic Swimmer) being so low thanks to me trying to the Halloween themed sequel to Icarus (Metal Band) that I would put this out until I build that back up and lower the amount of backlog this one has.

Summary: Eddie Munson is a in bind, set to go on a three month reunion tour, he is in need of nanny for his twin girls Janice and Joan since his partner, Ethan blew up their lives a year ago. Enter nanny extraordinaire, Steve Harrington. Both men struggle with treading the line between boss/nanny and their strong attraction to each other. Will Eddie learn to trust again? Will Steve realize that he was always meant to be right there by Eddie's side?

~

Eddie hung up the phone with a sigh. He wanted to do the tour, because of course he did. But he also had two very rambunctious little girls now. Eddie was a good dad, but he wasn’t the nurturing kind the way Ethan was. But sometime in the last year, Ethan had changed.

He had grown distant and cold, going as far as yelling at the girls which he never used to do. So Eddie quit producing music to give Ethan some much needed time for himself. Fat lot of good that did.

Because apparently Ethan was banging...well, just about everyone but Eddie’s friends. The pool boy, the guy who delivered their food, the cleaning lady, their personal trainer, hell even the barely legal dog walker got more of his husband’s dick than Eddie did.

Which he didn’t find out, by the way. Ethan had told him after handing him divorce papers and legally renouncing parental rights to Joan and Janice. He threw it in Eddie’s face the numerous affairs he had. The one thing he wouldn’t tell him was why.

Why was Ethan so unhappy when Eddie had done everything right?

He buried his head in hands. Janice and Joan were only four and they had been adopted at birth. They never met the mother and were only told that she didn’t want them and never wanted to see them ever again.

So how could Ethan look at those two little angels and decide the same?

Eddie was heartbroken and not ready to move on. So he had agreed to the tour as a way to cope with the sudden explosion of his life. His friends knew Ethan had left, but they didn’t know the extent of his ex’s destruction.

He thought about taking the girls with him, but they were too little. They wouldn’t have fun and would be more terrified then thrilled. So live-in nanny it was.

Thankfully he had a month to find someone who would cook and clean and watch the girls. Especially after having to fire all of his help in the wake of Ethan’s destruction.

He had this.

~

Eddie did not in fact have this. He only had three more days until he left and he was at his wit’s end. He had rejected candidate after candidate for a myriad of reasons. One only wanted part-time despite the ad before a live in nanny. Another said she was strict disciplinarian and thought spanking was the only way to teach a child. And even another just gave off weird vibes.

So he called the agency one more time.

“You’ve gone through all of our female nannies,” the woman huffed on the other end of the line. “We only have male nannies left, surly you don’t–”

“Just send the best male nanny you’ve got!” Eddie barked. “I don’t care about gender for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sure–” the woman protested but Eddie hung up on her.

He didn’t have time to listen to whatever excuse she was going to come up with. He was running out of time before the tour and needed someone. Anyone.

He got a call back five minutes later from another woman telling him that they would be sending over their best male nanny at 2pm if that was acceptable.

He sighed with relief. “Yes, that will be perfect. The girls will be down for their nap then.”

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Munson,” she said cheerfully. “The gentleman we are sending over, his name is Steve Harrington, and I sincerely hope he will be a good fit for you.”

“You and me both,” Eddie sighed again. “You and me both.”

~

When Steve got to the house, he would have liked to have said that he wasn’t impressed because he had seen dozens of large houses and even larger sprawling mansions in his time as a full time nanny, but he was. Very much so.

It wasn’t a gaudy modern monstrosity for starters. It liked a Victorian era manor that had been modernized for living in today. It gave off a spooky vibe, but in a fun way and not a horror movie way. Like the Addams family or the Munsters kind of vibe.

He really dug it.

He went up and knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately to reveal a pretty, petite woman with sparkling green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She had a sweet smile.

He knew this wasn’t the mother, the file said that it was a single father of twin girls. A rockstar of some sort, though Steve didn’t recognize the name. This must be some kind of servant or PA or something.

“Hi, I’m Steven Harrington,” he greeted putting out his hand for her to shake. “I have a two o’clock appointment with Eddie Munson about the nanny position.”

Her smile widened, dimpling her cheeks. “Hi, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, I’m Corroded Coffin’s manager. Come on in, he’s waiting for you.”

Steve followed her through the house. It was just as impressive as the outside. It was beautifully decorated in dark browns, reds, and black. God, he hoped he got the job. He could really see himself living here.

She opened the door to the office allowed him to walk through, closing it behind him. Which normally wouldn’t have been a problem for Steve but now he was in a room with the hottest guy he had ever seen in his life and he really didn’t need an erection at a job interview.

Eddie looked up, and yup. Steve was done for. He had the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen outside of a Disney cartoon.

“Mr. Munson?” he said, reaching out for a handshake, mustering up every ounce of professionalism he had. “Steven Harrington, how do you do? You can call me Steve.”

Eddie grinned back. “Hey, Steve. Thanks for coming at such a short notice. I understand you’ve been brought up to speed on everything I’ll be needed you to do?”

Steve crossed his legs and put his hands on his lap. Shit, even his voice was sexy as fuck.

“Yes, I’ll be watching the children twenty-four/seven,” Steve recited dutifully, “with doing all of the cooking and some of the cleaning.”

“That’s right,” Eddie said. “That normally wouldn’t be the case, but I’ve had to recently fire all of my staff. In fact, if you are hired on, you’ll be working with Chrissy over the next couple of months to help bring staff back on. I would be putting a lot of trust in you not to fuck me over.”

Steve nodded. It was a bit like Robin’s period dramas. He would be running the household while Eddie was away.

“Wouldn’t Chrissy be needed on tour with you?” he asked, not sure what her role actually was.

Eddie shook his head. “She usually does, but I need her here to help to get this house running again. It was hard enough trying to explain to the girls why everyone had to leave. Especially their other dad. She just has her own place and a very demanding job. And the other people I trust with my kids are going on tour with me, so...”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve said huffing out a chuckle. “I’m willing and able to take the job. There is just one more thing we have to do first.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think I offered you the job yet.”

Steve burst out laughing. “No, I don’t suppose you did. But you really should. I’m really good with kids, I’m great cook, my references are impeccable, I have a degree in early child development, and you’re desperately out of time.”

“I noticed that all your previous families had older kids,” Eddie said picking up Steve’s resume. “Can you explain that?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, despite being practically perfect in every way,” Eddie huffed out a small laugh, “if I was a woman I would be the most sought after nanny in the whole god damned state. Even more so if I was older fifty. But because I’m a young man not even thirty yet and all they see is a predator.”

Eddie winced. He held up a finger. He picked up his phone and called the agency. “Hello? Hi Nancy, this is Eddie Munson. Yes, I will be taking Steve Harrington on as my nanny. Thank you so much for sending him over. Can you tell me who it was the first person I spoke to this morning? Yes, yes that’s the one. Kindly inform her that pushing harmful stereotypes only makes you look stupid. Mhmm. Yes. Yes. I want her fired. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Steve looked at him in awe. “Oh wow.”

Eddie grinned at him but before he could open his mouth to say something more, Chrissy poked her head in. “Sorry to disturb you but guess who woke up?”

“Janice?” Eddie replied with a fond smile.

“And guess who woke up her sister because she wanted someone to play with?” Chrissy said.

“Also Janice.” He sighed and turned to Steve. “You want to meet my little monsters?”

Steve smiled and stood up. “That was the one thing I was going to suggest we do before you hire me, is meet the girls. But having met their dad, I can already tell they’re going to be a handful.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. But Chrissy laughed.

“Come on,” he said grumpily, “let’s go see the munchkins.”

Chrissy opened the door all of the way and Eddie and Steve followed her out. They reached the kitchen and there seating at a table were two of the cutest kids Steve had ever worked for. They both had light, curly brown hair and deep brown eyes, but that was where their similarities ended.

The one of the right had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with a denim overalls over a pink shirt. The overalls had a cute pink kangaroo on the pocket on the front. The girl on the left had her hair carefully braided and wore light blue shirt and a black pleated skirt. They were both munching on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“Meet Janice and Joan,” Eddie said brightly. “Janice is the one on the right and the other is Joan. Janice is the oldest by seven minutes and she never lets Joan forget it.”

Joan stuck her tongue out at her dad around her sandwich and then went back to munching on it. Janice looked over at Steve and cocked her head to the side.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” she asked. And suddenly Steve was struck by how much the little girl acted like her dad.

“Girls,” Eddie said sternly, “do you remember when I said that Daddy was going to be gone for three months and you were going to be looked after by a new friend?”

Joan scrunched her nose and Steve was endeared. “Is he like one of those nannies that were so mean to us?”

“No, of course not, Joanie,” Eddie said, “not a nanny...” He looked to Steve for help.

“I’m what’s called an au pair,” he said brightly. “I’m here to watch over you and do a little of the cooking and cleaning, too. A nanny wouldn’t do that right?”

Joan and Janice shared a glance. And Steve was struck for the first time that they were really were twins. They acted so differently that he had already put them in separate boxes. But they moved in unison as they both shrugged.

“I guess not,” Janice huffed. “Are you going to be fun like Chrissy or strict like Daddy?”

The adults laughed as Steve walked over to the table. “My hope is to be somewhere in the middle. But I guess we’ll just have to see.”

He turned to Eddie and Chrissy. “If it’s all right, I’d like to get started now, give the girls time to get use to my presence while you’re still here, Eddie. That way we can smooth out any real problems before you go.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a glance.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “that’ll be fine. Great even. I’ll give you a couple of hours to get your things and come back here. Would you be okay making us dinner?”

Steve beamed at him. “Sure, give me an idea of what you guys like and I’ll find something to make you. Let’s consider it part of the interview.”

Eddie smiled back. “Well I think you have yourself a deal.”

Steve and Eddie shook hands.

This was either going to the best decision of Eddie’s life or his worst. Currently the jury and his brain were still out on that one.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[neurotica-tales]

Yandere Neuvillette Headcanon

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Up next: Yandere Kaeya Headcanon, Yandere Kaedehara Kazuha Headcanon

To find my masterlist, click HERE.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"The law exists to protect what is precious. And you, my dear, are Fontaine’s most sacred verdict."

Neuvillette has been alive for centuries. That means he's not someone who would fall for someone at a glance.

Throughout his time as the Chief of Justice, he has come cross many things, and the weight of five hundred years as a man of order and justice has settled on Neuvillette's shoulders like sediment at the bottom of the Fontainian sea.

He had seen the full, ugly spectrum of mortal nature laid bare in his courtroom – the philanthropist who embezzled orphans' funds behind a mask of benevolence, the grieving widow who poisoned her rival with tears still wet on her cheeks, the revolutionary who preached equality while hoarding power with ruthless precision.

He had witnessed countless souls fracture under the pressure of his gavel, revealing the snarling beast beneath the veil of civility, or the desperate, cowering child beneath the hardened criminal.

Throughout it all, the most important thing he's learned is that emotions were a liability, especially in the eyes of the law.

Attachment makes people blind, and that is why Neuvillette keeps his emotions under control, not to be indulged.

He's been successful so far with people hailing him as the best Chief of Justice Fontaine has ever had for his high standards of neutrality.

However, everything changes when he meets you.

At first, you were nothing but a name on a parchment. You were just a newly-appointed clerk at the Opera Epiclese, who was selected for your meticulous attention to detail and refined conduct.

You were punctual, intelligent, and best of all, he found you warm.

Most people treat him with distance, fear, or obsequious respect. He has long accepted that. As Chief Justice, he must embody the law, not act within its limits. Emotion cannot rule over him. He does not smile. He does not weep. (Yes, he does not 'weep' like annoyingly famous legend suggests.)

But you? You greet him as a person. It was just a simple “Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette.” But it resounded deeply within him you didn't put him on a pedestal, treating him like you would anyone else.

That single moment tears something inside him—a scar he never knew existed.

It begins innocently enough. He watches you as you carry tomes across the marble halls, a stack nearly toppling, and chuckles under his breath.

He ensures another aide is assigned to assist you later that day, justifying that he is just simply helping a fellow government worker who seems to really need the extra set of hands.

You see, he is someone who appreciates dedication, and you -- with your quiet excellence -- deserves to work in a calm and supportive environment. At least, that's what he says to himself anyway when he ordered everyone a cup of coffee to 'reward everyone for their hard work'.

But then he begins noticing details he has no reason to remember— how you avoid bitter teas (he files away that little detail to the back of his mind and orders you smoothies the next time around), how your voice softens when you read historical cases aloud to yourself, and how you tuck your pen behind your ear when you're focused.

Oh, who is he trying to fool? With the way he's been acting these days, it was quite obvious he's caught feelings for you.

The day he has this realization is the day he takes a sick leave for the first time in several decades.

It shocks the entirety of the Fontainian citizens because everyone knows Monsieur Neuvillette never takes a sick day. Ever. Even getting him to go on a short stroll is a hard task in and of itself because of how stubborn he is with his work.

"I have a lot of backlog of cases I still need to go through, so I will do it later," He would always tell the person when he is asked to take a break.

And so, the news about Neuvillette taking a sick day spreads like wildfire in society and speculations of what exactly is going on immediately surfaced.

"Have you heard the news? Monsieur Neuvillette took a sick leave!"

"I know! I heard it's because he's dying!"

"What?! I thought it was because of he overworked himself and needed to recuperate!"

Each rumor proved to be equally preposterous as the next. And despite the wide spectrum of the gossip from unlikely to utterly ludicrous, no one ever guessed that it might have been because Monsieur Neuvillette was having love problems.

Meanwhile, the person in question was cooped up at home having the worst internal conflict of his life.

For centuries, he had maintained a judicial detachment between him and the rest of Fontaine. It's not a stretch to say his entire existence revolved around it at this point.

But now your very presence threatens to break his emotional discipline that he has been perfecting for hundreds of years, and this takes him aback.

How could one mortal affect him so profoundly that it disrupts the neutrality he prides himself on as the Chief of Justice? This vexes him, to say the least.

However, during his inner war with himself, he comes to a startling realization.

Before he is the Chief Justice of the Court of Fontaine, he is first and foremost, a dragon.

Dragons are possessive by nature, and it is their instinct to hoard treasures because a dragon's hoard becomes their anchor. As creatures with incredibly long lifespans, their surroundings inevitably change as time passes, but not a dragon's hoard.

Gold doesn't die, and they don't betray you either so their treasure is the only thing that remains constant.

With this in mind, everything became crystal clear for Neuvillette.

All this time, he couldn't understand why you were so important to him. He hasn't even interacted with you much apart from the morning greetings, so it's perplexing as to why he is so deeply affected by you.

Now he knows. Whereas his ancestors hoarded gold and gems, his treasure is you. You are his gold and he will have you, one way or another.

And from that moment forward, you were no longer just an ordinary colleague. You became an anomaly.

You became an OBSESSION.

[meowingbackatcats]

21 may 2025

hey loves, it’s been long since this kind of a post :) it’s been such a cute day today <3 my lec’s normally start at 9 am but i skip my first lec cuz im not a morning person and my brain genuinely doesn’t work in the morning and i’m not tryna work against it so i just work later into the night but make sure to get shit done :)

anyways - i watched my physical chem lec 1 (recorded) and botany lec 2 (on cell - live) - this went on until 3 pm - then took a long ahh break until 6 ✋ and went on a really cozy 2 hour walk around the neighbourhood and got my mum some flowers 🌸 came home, washed my hair at around 9 and i do feel pretty sleepy rn so i made a small cup of instant coffee with extremely little coffee cus i need to do my zoology lec 1 (i have lec 2 tmr so i don’t want the backlog to pile up)

anyway- really cozy day since it’s been raining throughout the night and into the days so the evenings have gotten really cold and pleasant and i function a lot better and am more productive in general when it’s cold so yippieeeeee <3

i’m having so much fun studying all this now, makes me realise how much i truly do love the subjects, it was just the exam stress and repetitive schedule that made it seem so nauseous. anyway - i’m doing my best to take it slow and breathe a little more to avoid burn out <3

i hope you all had a lovely day too 🌸

💌

[forthebrokenheartedthings]

Keep Driving

You guys are now subjected to my backlog. Again most of these are from my Ash and After rejects, but figured they could stand alone. Thanks for reading, liking and sharing. I appreciate you all 💕

Pairing: Bucky Barnes and ex!avengers reader

TW: Sexual content (fully explicit), Bucky Barnes 🤤

Try to ignore my mistakes 😅

Summary: When Bucky asks you to the gala, you say yes—even if he says it like a joke. You spend hours getting ready, dress picked just for him.

Then he shows up with someone else.

Sam shows up at your door fifteen minutes later. You go anyway. And when Bucky sees you—he breaks.

You let someone else flirt, let someone else touch, and Bucky finally stops pretending.

What follows is a confrontation, a confession, and a limo ride that doesn’t end until you both admit exactly what you want.

————————————————————————————

You’re cleaning a rifle when he says it.

Leaning in the doorway like he always does—shoulder to the frame, arms crossed, that smirk on his face like he’s trying not to let anyone know he has feelings at all.

You’re in your tank top, oil on your fingers, and Yelena’s yelling something from the other room about why the fuck she can’t find her shoes.

“Hey,” Bucky says, “you wanna go to that ridiculous gala with me next week?”

You blink, mid-disassembly. “What?”

He shrugs. “I’ve gotta go. ‘Congressman Barnes’. Dress code. Shiny shoes. One of those things where they parade us around and pretend we’re not criminals with good cheekbones.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you want me to go?”

“Well.” His mouth quirks. “You clean up okay.”

You toss the oily rag at his chest. “Try that again, charm school.”

He grins.

But he doesn’t take it back.

And for some reason—your chest stutters a little.

You play it cool. You roll your eyes. You throw a sarcastic “Yeah, sure, sounds like a thrill” back at him and pretend like it doesn’t matter.

But when he pushes off the doorframe, walking away, he says:

“Cool. It’s a date.”

You don’t ask him what time. Or where. Or if he meant it.

Because if you ask—he might laugh.

And if he laughs, you’ll have to pretend it was funny, too.

————————————————————————————-

You don’t bring it up the rest of the week.

He doesn’t either.

You tell yourself it was a joke. You tell yourself you were joking.

But that doesn’t stop you from buying the dress.

And it sure as hell doesn’t stop you from sitting on Yelena’s sink the night of the gala, curling your hair and pretending it’s not for him.

“That’s a new one,” she says, watching you through the mirror.

You shrug. “Just a dress.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

You pull mascara through your lashes. Your heart’s in your throat.

You check your phone.

No message.

No call.

No confirmation.

You still keep getting ready.

For him.

Even when the part of you that knows better whispers: he didn’t mean it.

————————————————————————————

You’re nearly done when Yelena walks back into the bathroom.

She’s not carrying your heels. That’s how you know it’s bad.

She’s holding her phone.

Her face is different now—flat, unreadable, like she’s bracing.

She doesn’t say anything at first.

Just hands it to you.

On the screen: a blurry photo from some entertainment gossip account. That carpeted entrance to the gala. A long staircase. Bucky Barnes in a suit.

And a tall woman in a gold dress holding onto his arm.

They look good together.

You don’t breathe for a second.

Then you hand her the phone.

Then you sit down on the edge of the tub and try really, really hard not to let your eyes well up.

Yelena sits next to you.

“You wanna stay home?” she asks.

You laugh—one bitter sound. “I think I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because—” your voice catches. “Because if I go… he’ll know.”

She’s quiet for a second. Then: “He should know.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

And that’s when she pulls out her phone again.

“Yelena—what are you doing—”

“Calling Sam.”

“Why are you calling Sam?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Yelena.”

“I’m not letting you cry in glitter eyeliner. That shit is waterproof but I have limits.”

———————————————————————————-

She puts it on speaker.

“Yeah?” Sam answers, voice bright over the line.

“You’re going to the stupid gala, right?” Yelena says. No greeting.

“Uh, yeah—wait, what happened?”

“Bucky picked up some girl.”

A beat. Then: “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

There’s a pause. And then: “Put her on.”

Yelena shoves the phone into your hand like it’s a mission brief.

You sigh, wipe under your eye, and say, “Hi, Sam.”

His voice shifts—immediately softer. “Fix that makeup.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m picking you up in fifteen minutes. I don’t care if you’re barefoot. Fix that makeup, put on that dress, and let’s go show that guy the meaning of jealous.”

You laugh before you mean to.

It bubbles up, a little cracked, but real.

“Fifteen minutes?” you say.

“Fourteen now,” he says. “Clock’s ticking, gorgeous.”

You hang up.

And Yelena grins.

“Let’s burn this place down.”

————————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later Yelena practically shoves you down the stairs.

Sam is in a sleek tux, crisp white shirt open just enough to be cocky about it, sunglasses on despite the fact it’s past sunset. His mouth drops open the second you appear in the doorway.

Then he whistles.

Loud.

“Damn,” he says, hopping out of the car. “You look like vengeance had a makeover.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips anyway. “You’re not allowed to be hotter than me tonight.”

Sam grins and offers his arm. “I’ll tone it down.”

Yelena leans into the open window as you slide in. “You get into a fight, text me. You get arrested, call someone else.”

You laugh. Sam doesn’t.

“She’s not getting arrested.”

“I’m not ruling it out,” you say.

Sam snorts and climbs in after you. “Let’s make a scene.”

————————————————————————————-

The car smells like leather and money and tension.

You smooth your dress for the fifth time. It’s a deep cut—elegant, sharp, like something that could kill if you moved fast enough. Your makeup is flawless. Your hair looks expensive. You feel taller than you are.

Sam watches you out of the corner of his eye. “You good?”

You nod. “You gonna let me use you for petty revenge?”

“Why do you think I wore this watch?”

You squeeze his hand once. It’s steady.

———————————————————————————

The gala is exactly what you expected—loud, elegant, suffocating.

The building is all glass and chandeliers and cameras. Music drifts from a live quartet tucked into a corner. Waiters float past with champagne flutes. Everyone smells like money and social climbing.

But it’s the staircase that hits you.

The one in the picture.

Wide. Gold-trimmed. The entrance to the ballroom just below.

You pause at the top, Sam on your arm.

And then you see him.

Bucky.

In a tux that fits him like he was born in it. Hair slicked back. Jaw sharp.

And beside him—her.

That same tall woman in the gold dress. Laughing at something he’s not listening to.

Bucky sees you.

His entire posture changes.

He’s in the crowd, drink untouched in one hand, his date chattering quietly at his side. But the second his eyes land on you—

He forgets how to stand.

His jaw slackens. His hand drops an inch. He doesn’t blink.

You can feel the silence crawl into his chest.

He looks at you like you’re not real.

Like you stepped out of some impossible dream in a dress that was stitched from the part of his soul he forgot how to want.

And Sam, bless him, leans into your ear and says with a grin:

“You know, Cinderella was my favorite princess. Looks like it’s his too.”

You almost laugh.

Almost.

But you’re too busy watching Bucky watch you.

Because he’s still not breathing.

Still not listening to a word his date is saying.

And the second your heel hits the first step—he takes one slow, stunned step toward you, like he might not survive this if he stays still.

You don’t stop walking.

Not for him.

Not yet.

The moment your heel touches the ballroom floor, people start moving.

Like water parting around something hot.

Like they feel it—your energy, your silence, your arrival. Even if they don’t know why.

Sam walks with you, arm still loose beneath yours, easy smile in place.

But he knows.

You feel his fingers twitch once. Not for him. For you.

He’s steady because he knows Bucky’s not.

——————————————————————————-

You catch him in the corner of your eye.

Still watching.

His date trying, still, to tug his attention back to their little corner. Her voice lifts, laughter forced, but his head doesn’t turn.

Not even a degree.

It’s glued to you.

You smile.

And then you let someone else approach.

He’s tall. Blonde. A little too eager.

He’s not Bucky.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, eyes already scanning your waist, your neckline, your legs.

You shrug. “You can try.”

Sam smirks. “I’ll be over there. Don’t start a war.”

“No promises.”

———————————————————————————-

The man’s name is Travis.

Of course it is.

He walks you to the bar with his hand already hovering too close to your lower back. You let him. You don’t flinch.

Because you know who’s watching.

He orders for you without asking. The drink is too sweet, but you take a sip anyway.

He leans in close when he talks. Tries to act like he’s charming.

You nod. Let him think it’s working.

You look past his shoulder.

Bucky hasn’t moved.

He’s standing statue-still, shoulders squared, eyes on you like he’s studying. Memorizing. Melting down.

His jaw flexes once.

Then again.

Sam stands behind him, now leaning against a pillar, sipping from a champagne flute and watching Bucky like he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

Then Travis does it.

He puts his hand back on your waist.

Lets it slide.

Lower.

Lingering at the curve of your ass.

And that’s it.

Bucky moves.

Sharp. Controlled.

Not fast—but everyone feels it.

Like something clicked loose and now it’s coming straight toward you.

He walks through the crowd with the focus of a sniper. No one touches him. No one tries.

The air around him changes, and the people near the bar instinctively drift apart like a pressure system just shifted.

Travis doesn’t notice. Not until Bucky stops right behind him.

And takes your hand.

Not rough. Not yanking.

Just claiming.

Cool fingers curl around your wrist like he’s trying to remember if you’re real.

And then—

“We’re leaving.”

His voice is low. Even.

But lethal.

Travis blinks. “Sorry—what?”

Bucky doesn’t look at him. He’s staring at you.

Like nothing else in the room exists.

“We were just talking,” Travis says, more defensive now.

Bucky still doesn’t look.

But Travis looks at him—and that’s enough.

The second he sees Bucky’s expression—

The absolute ice in his face—

He backs up.

“Oh—I didn’t realize she was with someone.”

You pull your hand gently from Bucky’s grip.

“I’m not.”

You say it flat.

Bucky flinches.

Just slightly. Like a punch that lands soft, but still hits.

And then—

“Don’t look at me,” Sam says from a few feet away, raising his glass.

Bucky’s eyes flick that direction.

Sam shrugs. “You had your shot, Barnes.”

You look back at Bucky.

He’s breathing harder now.

Not from anger.

From regret.

You don’t wait.

You walk past him.

Let him follow.

Let him catch up.

Because whatever this is—it needs to end before it kills you.

————————————————————————

The gala doors swing shut behind you with a whisper of silk and pressure.

The air outside is cooler. Quieter. Everything muffled under the weight of what just happened.

Bucky stops a few feet from the valet circle. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t reach for you again.

Just stands there.

Like the whole damn world is caught in his throat.

You cross your arms.

You don’t look at him.

“Don’t do that,” you say softly.

He turns slightly, brows pulling in.

“Don’t come get me like that,” you go on, voice flat. “Don’t pull me away from someone—don’t touch me—if you didn’t mean it.”

“I did mean it,” he says. Fast. Too fast.

You look at him now. Hard.

“Then why didn’t you come with me?”

He blinks.

And there it is.

The sharp flash of guilt in his eyes.

“I asked you,” he says.

“You joked.” You shake your head. “You made it a joke, Bucky, and I still said yes. And you still didn’t show up. You showed up with someone else.”

His mouth opens. Closes.

You press your hands to your sides like you’re holding yourself together.

“I spent hours getting ready,” you whisper, voice cracking. “For you. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t even think I meant it, did you?”

“I—”

“I mean nothing to you,” you say, sharper now, louder. “That’s what it felt like. And I let it happen. I let you mean something to me, and you couldn’t even give me—”

“Is that why you think I did this?”

His voice stops you cold.

Quiet.

Wrecked.

He steps closer, slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Is that really what you think?” he says again. “That I didn’t come with you because you didn’t mean anything to me?”

You don’t answer.

He takes another step.

“I didn’t show up because I didn’t think I was allowed to,” he says. “Because I thought if I saw you like that—if I saw you looking like you, and I knew I wasn’t allowed to touch you—I’d fucking lose it.”

You swallow hard.

“And yeah, maybe I joked. Maybe I chickened out. Because how the hell am I supposed to think someone like you would say yes to me?”

Your throat tightens.

“I’ve been in love with you since I saw you,” Bucky says.

Voice low. Shaking.

“And I have tried so hard to stay out of the way. To stay good. To not take anything I’d ruin. But I saw you tonight and I—fuck, I couldn’t do it.”

You just stare.

“I never thought I could have peace without fucking it up,” he says. “But you were peace. You’ve always been peace.”

And in the silence that follows—

You break.

You cross the space between you like it costs you nothing.

You grab his face with both hands.

And you kiss him like you can’t stop.

——————————————————————————-

The kiss is messy

Desperate.

Too much and not enough, your hands in his hair, his mouth on yours like he’s trying to apologize and possess you at the same time.

You feel it—how long he’s wanted this. How long you have.

And then the limo rolls up, slow and sleek, headlights glowing in the dark.

Bucky breaks the kiss with a gasp against your lips, one hand still tangled in your hair.

He turns just enough to signal the driver, breath ragged.

“Keep driving,” he says. “Until I tell you to stop.”

The door opens.

He helps you in.

You don’t let go.

——————————————————————————

The second the door shuts, you’re in his lap.

Straddling him. Dress bunched at your thighs. His hands on your waist like he’s trying to figure out if this is a dream he’ll wake up from.

“Tell me this is okay,” he says, voice thick.

“It’s more than okay,” you whisper.

You kiss him again, deeper this time, and his hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. You shiver, grinding down once against the hard line of him beneath you.

He groans—low, broken—and pulls the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

His mouth follows.

Hot kisses down your collarbone. Your chest. His tongue teasing around your nipple, then taking it into his mouth while his hands slide down your back and under your thighs, gripping you tight.

You gasp, fingers fisting the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Off,” you breathe. “Take it off.”

He moves fast. Peels his jacket off, then the buttons—clumsy, too rushed. You help, dragging your hands across his chest, down his abs, nails scratching just enough to make him hiss.

You slide back just enough to push your panties down your thighs, moaning softly when his fingers trail up the inside of one.

He’s watching you now. Wide-eyed. Reverent.

“Christ,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.”

You stroke him through his slacks, then pull him free. Hard, flushed.

“Bucky,” you say, wrapping your hand around him, slow. “I’ve wanted this forever.”

He groans your name like a prayer.

You shift forward, guiding him to you, the stretch of him stealing your breath as you sink down—slow, inch by inch.

He chokes out a sound, grabbing your hips.

You roll yours once and he bucks up helplessly.

The car rocks.

You ride him like you’ve waited years for this—because you have. The windows fog, your skin sticks to his, and the only sounds are your moans and the sharp pant of his breath against your throat.

He kisses you between every thrust.

He says your name like he means it.

And when you fall apart around him—tight and clenching and shaking—he groans deep in his chest and spills into you with a muttered, “Mine.”

———————————————————————————

You don’t move for a minute.

You just breathe.

And he holds you like he’ll never stop.

The city rolls past in a blur of lights and motion.

The windows are still fogged.

Your dress is barely up on your thighs. His shirt’s unbuttoned, his hair a mess, one hand still gently trailing up and down your spine like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you.

You’re both quiet.

Not because there’s nothing to say.

But because everything that needed to break open already did.

Your head rests on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady against him like you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.

You shift a little.

His breath catches.

He kisses your temple.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he says quietly.

You look up at him.

He’s not looking at you yet—his eyes are on the ceiling of the car like he’s afraid if he looks right at you, he’ll ruin it.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “I just didn’t think I deserved to be seen the way you see me.”

“You do,” you whisper.

He finally meets your eyes.

“I see you,” you say, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “Not who you used to be. Not the arm. Not the mission. You.”

He leans in.

Not to kiss.

Just to touch his forehead to yours.

“I thought if I kept my distance, you’d be safer,” he says. “That wouldn’t lose you.”

“You were already losing me,” you murmur.

A beat.

He nods, almost painfully.

“Not anymore,” he says.

You cup his face in both hands.

“Promise?”

His voice is a whisper.

“You’re not just mine tonight. You’re mine.”

He kisses you again—soft this time. Sure. Not desperate.

Certain.

And outside, the lights pass by unnoticed.

Because here, in the slow hum of the backseat and the quiet of everything finally laid bare—

You stay.