#give her those old school slippers

[curiosity-killed]

In typical fashion, I have some complaints about the ballet scene

[receedingdawn]

Cookies And Acrylic

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: When anxiety keeps the art teacher awake at night, she comforts herself with late-night shenanigans and a surprise guest.

Warnings: OOC for Logan (Sorry he can be IMPOSSIBLE to write for but I love him dearly, fluff, pining

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I'm so sorry I wrote this at like 1 am because I could not sleep, very fitting for this one shot though... Also unedited because I didn't feel like it!

Read on AO3

Groaning as you twisted and turned in bed, you rolled over to check the time. It was one of those nights where no matter how hard you tried to lift into that blissful rest you so desperately craved, it never came. A pitiful sound escaped you as the clock read two in the morning, too late to have a good night's rest, yet too early to be up. Rolling back over, you contemplated your next actions for a few seconds. Sleep never came easy, especially during the nights that you were kept up with anxiety. 

When asked to help out at Charles’ school for the gifted, you instantly agreed. You knew how the rest treated mutants of the world, you practically leaped at the opportunity to help out. It was a harsh world they were born into, and you made it your goal to help as many out as you could. How much stress the job would give didn’t dawn on you when you started. Nights like this where you lay awake, your mind stuck on the endless probabilities of the children being hurt while in your care. You knew the rest of the team would be there to help if anything happened, but anxiety doesn’t always need a reason to happen. It just does.

Deciding to walk around the building to calm yourself, you got out of bed with a sigh. You changed your sleep shorts into flannel pajama pants in fear of a student discovering you wandering around the school in the middle of the night. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally traumatize a student with their half-naked teacher roaming the halls in the early hours of the morning. Sliding your feet into a pair of slippers, you made your way out of the room to begin your adventure around the perimeters.

It was incredibly calm with the habitants of the house fast asleep, keeping the building at an eerily quiet tone as you wandered the rooms. You padded to the kitchen, in search of a glass of water and maybe a late-night snack. At this point, would it be considered an early morning snack? You didn’t care enough, all you knew was that a secret tin of baked goods was calling your name. Ororo had been into town a few days before, stopping at a bakery on the way home. She had selflessly bought a pack of assorted goods for her fellow teachers on the way home, hiding them in the back of the pantry as to ward off sneaky students.

Taking a simple chocolate chip cookie out, you decided that instead of water, of course, you needed milk with it. Even though you were well into adulthood, no single person could be too old for the comforting taste. You grabbed a random mug from the cabinet, pouring yourself a glass before sitting down at the kitchen table in silence.

Holy shit.

Ororo wasn’t lying when she said the bakery was the best she had ever been too. It had been a few days since she brought them home, yet the taste could still bring tears to your eyes. You had no idea such a regular-looking cookie could be borderline orgasmic. 

“Am I interrupting something?” The rough voice awoke you from the temporary trance the heavenly treat had you in. Your eyes snapped to the dark doorway of the kitchen, noticing the gruff man. Logan was leaning on the side of the frame, his arms crossed while his eyebrow was cocked playfully. You chuckled to yourself for a moment, realizing the absurd position the man had caught you in.

“You might be, I was having some sweet alone time with the newfound love of my life,” you giggled, pointing to the half-eaten cookie. Logan rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen, making his way to the pantry. He opened up that tin you had just been in, grabbing himself a helping. Shooting a look in your direction, he held up the cookie as if wordlessly saying “It better be good” before taking a bite.

“Holy fuck, what the hell did they put in here?” The man let out in the middle of chewing, his voice muffled by the crumbs. You stared at him for a second before bursting out into laughter at his unusual response. Logan was always one for seriousness, you had never seen this side of him before. The severe nature of the man never bothered you, it drew you in. He fascinated you with his witty remarks and lack of social interaction with the others. Logan was an outcast in a place where no such thing existed, and you had always wanted to figure him out. Jean would call you out on those thoughts, saying it was a crush, but the word made you feel like a school girl following around her boy of the week.

“I think Ororo said there was a sign in the shop that said Made with EXTRA love, but I honestly think it might be drugs.” You said after finally getting a hold of your laughter, causing the man to crack a slight grin. God, if you could take a picture there and frame it, you would. He never smiled, he smirked, but never a true smile.

“Definitely drugs,” Logan remarked, finishing the last of his cookie. He wiped the excess crumbs off his hands and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. You did your best to not make it obvious you were staring at the veins in his arms as he lathered them up.

“What are you doing up?” You asked him, forcing yourself to think about something other than his well-built body. The man quickly dried his hands before facing you again, “Couldn’t sleep.” There was the Logan you knew best, the one who gave short answers with little to no context. You cocked a brow at him, telling him that answer wasn’t good enough.

“Nightmares,” He let up after a few moments, finally giving you an answer. Shooting him an understanding look, you got up to clean your mug and throw away the napkin your snack had been on.

“I get it, between my nightmares and anxiety I rarely ever sleep.” You responded, voice low with the admittance. The man nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what you meant. He was well acquainted with the nightly battles one who had been through the events either of you had been though fought every night. Logan was surprised to feel he felt bad for you, even though the admission wasn’t a surprise to him. Most who lived at the mansion had some sort of trauma to get through and lived with the reminders of it each day. He was more surprised that it didn’t cross his mind you struggled with it. You were a light in the mansion, both students and other teachers adoring you. It was completely understandable, in a world of chaos and unknowns you were a beacon to everyone. Your kindness and warmth radiated to all those who were in your vicinity, and they did not take it for granted.

“I’m in the same boat princess,” Logan said, moving himself away from the sink to give you room to clean the dirty dish. You both sat there while you scrubbed, the sound of the faucet filling up the silence. He just stood there, watching you as you worked. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it almost felt as if he was studying you.

“Are you going back to bed?” You asked after putting the now clean and dry mug back into the cabinet. Shaking his head no, Logan made his way to the hallway to go back to whatever he was doing before interrupting you. You called out after him before he left, causing him to turn around.

“Have you ever painted?”

In the over a millennium he had been alive, Logan Howlett never thought he would be caught dead with a paintbrush in his hand. He had no idea why he agreed to a painting lesson in the early hours of the morning. Logan knew everyone at the school was equally obsessed with you, which resulted in him usually keeping his distance. He knew you were a gorgeous and kind individual, but he never caved to his urge to get to know you.

“You’re psyching yourself out, it’s written all over your face, Lo.” His gaze snapped from the small tool to you in an instant. You had never called him by a nickname before, and the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like music to him. He gripped the paintbrush with such a force you had never seen before, causing you to almost let out a giggle. Sitting on your bed, cross-legged, with a brush in his hand, he looked extremely out of place. A man with hands the size of his had no business being even close to a paintbrush, let alone using one. The jeans and white tank top he practically had glued onto his body at all times had no business being on your bed, but he had no complaints if it meant he got to spend a few moments with you.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” How could he follow your lead when you worked so meticulously? The man just stared at you as you worked, your talented hand shaping out a small tree on the canvas. He stared for a few moments, coming to the realization he could watch you for hours and not get bored. Didn’t people say watching paint dry was excruciatingly dull?

“You’re worse than my students,” you joked, noticing the lack of paint on his canvas.

“None of your students have metal for bones, it makes it harder,” You both knew Logan was just coming up with excuses to get away with his little creative talent.

“I have a boy in one of my classes who had feet for hands, you’re pulling things out of your ass Logan.” He was caught there.

“Enough, just help me.” His hazel eyes shined playfully, holding out his hand to help him again. You rolled yours back in response, leaning over to help him. Taking a hold of his hand, you guided his movements on the canvas. Your breath caught as you felt how strong Logan felt under you, despite him letting you be in control.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was almost domestic, the two of you sitting on your bed in silence while participating in your favorite activity. No answer as to why he would agree to this came into your head, but you weren’t mad.

“Alright Edward Scissorhands, your turn to try by yourself. You can be a big boy and do it yourself, can’t you?” Teasing him, you went back to your work. It was a simple scene of the courtyard out back, showing off the gorgeous greens of the trees. Logan couldn’t help himself but watch you, continuously messing up his own work in the meantime. After finishing yours, you looked up, noticing the mess left on the man's canvas.

“I tried,” He shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

“I know you did,” Your genuine response took him by surprise. Logan assumed you were going to have some cute quip to respond with, but this one was different. Not everyone was cut out for making art, but he had tried. Never in a million years would anyone who knew Logan would think he would even think about partaking in a hobby. Yet here he was, getting out of his comfort zone (while multitasking and checking you out).

You helped him finish his painting to the best of your ability, yet it came out comparable to Charlie Brown’s old Christmas Tree. Logan knew he had no creative bone in his body, but boy did he try his best. You joked that his finished product was similar to Charles’ old burnt tree in the courtyard, and he chuckled in response. He signed his initials at the bottom and dated it as well. You started to pack up the supplies while Logan helped clean off brushes.

“I’m keeping this,” You held up his work while grinning, He groaned in embarrassment at the thought of others coming into your room and wondering what the abomination was.

“Jesus Christ,” Running his hand through his hair, Logan gave you a pointed look. There was no way in hell you wanted to keep his god-awful creation to yourself.

“Listen, in fifty or so years I can sell this for crazy money. A painting made by The Wolverine himself, you could make me rich Lo!” There was that nickname again, and it suddenly made him okay with you taking it.

“So you’re just using me,” He muttered sarcastically, causing you to giggle in response. You handed him your painting as a consolation for your gold digger behavior. Logan would not admit how taken away he was by the action, instead he just stared at you again. You looked back at him curiously, wondering where his words went. He genuinely had no words, it had been a while since someone gave him a gift, even if you wouldn’t consider it.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” you had just given Logan a masterpiece and that was all you had to say about it? It annoyed him how sweet you were, and he knew this was going to become a problem for him. 

“Despite the looks of it, I did have fun. Thanks for making the night bearable, princess.” You both got up, giving each other one last look. In a moment of courage, you stood up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, I needed this,” you responded after lowering yourself back down. Logan noticed you blushing at the peck, which almost made him chuckle. Closing the door behind him, you made your way back to bed, hoping you could get at least a few hours before the next day came.

Logan made his way back to his room, studying every paint stroke of yours as he did so. He had never been interested in the arts before and was now obsessing over what he thought to be the second most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. The man concluded that you were the first. He decided to place it on the small table next to his bed, the piece standing out in his sparsely decorated room. Before setting it down, Logan looked at the back of the painting to see the words To: Lo written on it. 

~

Let me know if you guys liked this or not, I don't know how I feel about the ending tbh... To my friend that I admitted to in a Canes that I was writing fanfic again, I love you.

[tokkiwrites]

┈─ 𖧷 Dirty Diana 🍷⏜ ◌

ㅡㅡㅡ in which you want to surprise your dad with his favorite band tickets. you're really lucky when you stumble upon the lead guitarist, Joel Miller, at your local grocery store. things escalate- but you do get those tickets.

★ ͘rockstar!joel miller, fem!reader, dom joel, sub reader, afab reader, p in v sex unprotected, rough joel, age gap, dumbification of reader, hair pulling, slapping, head m and f receiving, creampie, kind of size kink if u tilt your head, joel has tattoos and a piercings (yummy), sir kink, almost pet play, lots of pet names. drinking, mentions of cheating. lmk if i missed any!!!! (pic in the banner doesn't describe readers body!! there for the aesthetics) not proofread

you've never been a rock fan. sure, you'd enjoy listening to the songs your dad played on your 3 hour long car rides, the ones he always sets as his ring-tone...

but you were in a dilemma nowㅡ there's a giveaway of sorts with tickets to your dad's most favorite band from the early 90's, and to even have a chance at those tickets you need to submit a video of yourself singing one of their songs.

now you would ask your dad, but the first thing that made you this set on getting those tickets was surprising him with them on his upcoming birthday. you'd buy them, but they're either sold out or 200 bucks on shady sitesㅡ and you're a broke college student on winter break.

you sigh, closing your laptop and throwing it on the other side of the bed. you stare up at the ceiling, counting the little neon stars you've had there since you were 10. they always calmed youㅡ made your brain less foggy, even for just a few seconds.

groaning, you throw your legs around, frustrated and disappointed in yourself. this would've really made his worries slip away, for a bit, after what happened with your mom. you still can't wrap your head around why your mom chose her exceeding in nothing, 2 palms of receding hairline co-worker. i mean, he was richㅡ super fucking rich, but was it worth it? your dad didn't deserve it.

you wipe the tears you've just now realized were dripping down your face. "i need something to drink." sniffling, you put on your plush jacket, get some slippers , and spray on some perfume. "at least need to smell presentable if i look likeㅡ" you stare into the mirror, laughing to yourself, "that."

you stroll out of your house and down the street. you were lucky for the grocery store just about 7 minutes away, give or take. it wasn't that small but it wasn't big either, at least not big enough so that you learned form a young age where all of your favorite iles were.

"Hi, Miss Sammy!" you greet the cashier, an old friend of the family and sort of an aunt to youㅡ you remember when she'd let you stay after school in the back of the store up until 5 pm, when your dad came to pick you up. "Hi, honey! How's winter break treating you?"

"Rough day?" you jump, taking one step back before you turn around to see who it was.

"'s fine... I'm glad to be back home with dad." you smile and her gaze softened. "Well if you ever need anythin', you let me know sugar, mkay?" you nod, walking to the furthest part of the store, where all of the drinks were. you look around, trying to find the cheapest thing that can get you dizzy the fastest. really deep in your mind you failed to notice someone coming up to your side, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, you could say thaㅡ wait." you pause. holy shit. you couldn't believe your eyes. "I know you! You're thㅡ" he presses his fingers agains your lips, and oh, it sends a shiver down your back. "quiet down, darlin'."

you nod, whispers-yelling, "You're Joel Miller, right?" he sighs, smiling at your question, and your eyes light up. this is perfect, so, so perfect. "My dad loves you guysㅡ you and your band."

"that so?" your arms flare up, smiling so big. "you've no idea! 's why i was so excited to hear about you coming to town. Wanted to surprise him."

"wanted?" Joel quirks his eyebrows up, his voice dropping an octave. "Yeah, well, i found out pretty late about it and - well, tickets, they're super expensive now, as you'd imagine.." You sigh, turning back to look at the bottles catching the white light of the room. "jus' wanted to give him something to be happy about, you know?" You reach out to grab a 16$ bottle of wine you know is too sweet, but it'll do. trying to lift the mood, you try your hand at a joke. "guess my only option is to fuck somebody who has those tickets." you look at him and his brows are furrowed. stupid, stupid, stupid joke, stupid you.

"so-rry, didn't mean toㅡ"

"that so, pretty girl?" Those words go straight to your core, causing you to nip at your bottom lip, stiff like a stone. "Now, you can't just say somethin' like thatㅡ" Joel leans in closer "'n not answer me."

you look up at him, and you finally get a better look. there aren't many pictures of him close up on the internet, mostly grainy ones where you can barely make out his tattoos. you gulp, eyes traveling across his face: a brow piercing, a full beard with patches of gray, a neck tattoo with a ravenㅡ he looked surreal.

"y'gonna answer me, angel-face? or do i need to pull out those words myself?" god, you were practically dripping on the linoleum of the store, cheeks ablaze and words tangled in your throat.

"I'm ㅡ" he traces his inked fingers across the exposed part of your neck, chuckling at your demeanor. "I live 5 minutes away." you blurt out, causing his eyes to widen. "maybeㅡ come over?" god, what were you doing? you sure hope not to regret your words later. but right now, two things you knew for certain: you were way too turned on, and he was way too hot for his age.

Joel smirks, his fingers lingering on your skin. "Well, darlin', seems like fate's on your side today." He grabs the bottle of wine you were holding, examining it. "I ain't lettin' you drink that, girl." he scoffs, picking up a bottle of Giulio Ferrari from 1992, not even looking at the price. "Let me spoil you a bit, yeah." you can't even say a word, you pathetically whine, as your knees wobble like jelly.

Joel puts the hoodie over his head and looks down at you, his firey stare making your cheeks burn up all over again. "y'know the lady?" he asks, motioning his head towards Sammy who was busy playing Rummy on her phone. "I do, old familyㅡ well, like family." He nods, patting your shoulder, "you go ahead, wait f'me in front of the store by that coffee machine. I'mma pay real quick, yeah?" you nod so fast, way too excited with those butterflies tying knots in your stomach, you head to the door.

"Bye, Miss Sammy!" you wave, and she just hums and gives half of a wave back "buh-bye, sugar." too fixed on her phone. As Joel pays for the bottle of wine, he glances back at you exiting the store.

"Lead the way, darlin'. Let's see if we can work something out." and oh, the way those words make you drip in anticipation. the way you were so eager to have his hands all over your body- those tickets were the last thing on your mind right now. You both head towards your house, the cold air adding a sense of urgency to the situation. You couldn't believe how needy he made you with just a few words. Small talk fills the short journey, with Joel sharing stories from the road and you nervously responding.

Once inside your home, Joel looks around appreciatively. "Cozy place you got here." you nod, leading him to the kitchen. "your daddy home?"

"no.." you fumble your steps as you hurriedly put two glasses on the counter for Joel to fill up with wine. Joel smirks, sensing the tension in the air. "Just us, then," he says, pouring the wine into the glasses. The rich aroma of the aged wine fills the room as he hands you a glass. "Cheers to unexpected encounters," he toasts, clinking glasses with you. The wine is exquisite, but the real intoxication is the electrifying presence of Joel. Tattoos adorned his body, his fluffy hair laid perfectly, strands of gray standing out; the way his muscles bulged through his shirtㅡ you could see it all better now.

"feels like you're about to eat me, baby. way you're starin' me down." joel chuckles. "sorry I'mㅡ sorry." you nervously sip from you glass trying to put out the fire in your core, his voice making it ten times harder for you. "now, how you gonna get what you want if you get so shy on me, hm?"

joel steps closer to you, and your chest burns, heaving up and down as his arms snake around your waist and settle onto your tummy. "ain't you a big girl? thought you were- how you so eagerly invited a stranger ㅡsuch an old man into your home when your daddy ain't around." he rubs through you, a squeaky whimper slipping past your lips as you felt his bulge against you. "oh, she likes that, don't she?" you breathe out "god.."

"please..." you plead, palms now on top of his as you slowly turn your head to expose your neck further. "please what, babygirl?"

"not god, baby..jus' me." he chuckles murkily.

"please, sir..t-touch me." you back your body further, prompting joel to groan and tighten his grasp on you. "jesus, girl." he laughs "dirty little thing." his rough hands make their way under your lace trimmed long-sleeve, grasping at you breasts.

"no bra, baby?" he asks, swirling his thumbs across your sprung up nipples, and you moan a quiet 'no'. "what if your daddy walks through that door right now, huh?"

"dont care..." you lean more into his touch, intoxicated from it and his scent, a hint of smoky wood, and a touch of muskㅡ he smelled delicious. you couldn't wait to have him on your tongue.

"'course you don't. needy little whore wants an old man to fuck her senselessㅡ need me to fill ya up with this cock til you're dumb and can't think no more." you moan, so eagerly shaking your head as you press your ass onto his hard-on, getting joel to wrap his thick fingers around your throat and spin you around to face him. "not so fast, girl. wanna see ya beg, can you do that f'me angel?" his graps grow rougher, and you mewl out a string of yes, yes, yes, whilst dropping to your knees, as he instructs

"eyes up, babyㅡ there she is." joel strokes your face before delivering a harsh slap onto your already red cheek. moaning, you rub your thighs together as to evade just a bit of pressure in your cunt. "pretty little slut. so pretty like this." he growls, taking a handful of your hair "go on now. beg. tell sir how bad you need his cock."

and you do. you beg and plead, press your face against his thigh like a little puppy. you don't take you eyes off of his, prompting yourself with his boot under your clothed cunt. "please, sir.. v'been so good..." and you start moving slowly, cheek now flush against his crotch. you moan and rut against him, heat washing over your whole body. you wanted to make him proud, you dont know what came over youㅡ you were so drunken and you didn't know if it was because of the wine or because of joel.

the way he stared down at you, his pupils almost like an eclipse to his hazel eyes, lips half hidden behind his mustache. The way his piercing gaze holds yours, unwavering and commanding; he was rough and enticing, mean in just the right wayㅡ his voice dripped like honey and you couldn't hold but lick it up and let it poison you through and through.

"atta girl." you looked so vulnerable. so innocent. so raw and ready for him to taint and infect you with his all. he unbuckled his pants, leaving them a bit open at the top, perfectly for you to see the strain his thick cock put onto his briefs. "c'mon. don't make me wait, baby..." you didn't need to hear more, eagerly pulling out his erect length, letting it slap onto his clothed belly. you could drool at the sight, all though you're pretty sure you already were. he was bigㅡ huge even, the biggest you've ever seen. it was girthy and had veins running down it, tip red, dripping with precum. "too b-big-" you manage to let out. "you'll make it fit, puppy. for me, yeah? c'mon, let me fuck that pretty mouth." and you softly reply with 'yes, sir' before he yanks at your hair and directs his dick right between your lips. "open. widee openㅡ there you go." he encourages you as you try your best to fit that monster into your mouth. it hurts and your chin stings as joel slowly stars to thrust his length into you mouth- or at list what fits of it.

"pretty slut. look so good with her mouth full of cock." joel hums as you whine around him. "like this cock, baby?" he knows you can't answer, mouth too full and brain to fuzzy. "so cock stupid, can't even speak." he laughs. you've never felt like this, god, not even imagined something like this. yet there you were with someone who's twice your age fucking your mouth. "what would your daddy say?" you whine and squeeze around nothing, nails digging into the back of his knees. joel can only laugh as he puls out, rubbing his tip over your lips to collect the drool that mixed with his precum, and smear it all over your rosy cheeks.

you felt so dirty. but it felt rightㅡ for a good cause, right?

he slaps your face with his length before pulling you up by your hair, bending you over the kitchen counter. "gonna let me fuck you, babygirl?"

"yes-" you wriggle into his hold. "yes, what?" hes prying "yes, sir." you obediently reply. "good fuckin' pup." he doesn't even haltㅡ joel pulls down your pants at once with your panties. he delivers a harsh slap before trailing his digits right between your legs. "poor lil' cunt. look at 'er." he coos. "crying for this cock."

"please, sirㅡ mmhg.." whining, you try to rub yourself onto his fingers, but he quickly slaps you again, this time on the side of your thigh. "don't be a greedy bitch. you take what i give you, understand?"

"y-yes, sir, pleaseㅡ" he clicks his tongue before kneeling, spreading your pussy lips as he does, leaning in and blowing onto your sensitive clit. you jump and moan in frustration. "i know, baby, i know." he spreads your legs further, finally landing a soft and teasing lick between your folds. it doesn't take long for joel to go at it, sucking and licking at your cunt like theres no tomorrow, your desperate pleads to come only fueling him. "not yet, angel-baby." he gorans, picking himself up. "want you to come 'round my cock. want you to come while i stuff you up nice 'n good." you nod, not even half sure what you heard, you were too dizzy and the sudden lack of stimulation drove you mad.

joel positions himself behind you, lifting your leg up so one of your knees rests onto the counter. he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, wanting to pull more from you, to get you even needful. you couldn't barely muster to hold yourself up, letting all of your weight on Joel, deprived pleads rolling of your tongue.

when he's content with the teasing, he starts to ease into you. it's like you're awakened from a trance, fully aware of everything, and every fiber of your body. it all vibrates as a sting spreads through your body, and you squeeze around Joel. "fuckkㅡ so fuckin' tight, baby- I'd think were a virgin if i didn't know what a cock slut you actually are." he laughs somberly before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent blathers. "shitㅡ ! squeezing me so good, baby"

and he goes at you, diving deeper and deeper with each hit of his hips, one palm holding your leg up and one pressing you face flush on the cold surface of the counter. "like that? like it when an old man has his way with ya, huh?" you can't hear him, you barely make out his words; your eyes roll back and spine arched as he plummets into your cunt. "fucked you stupid, huh? dirty girl." joel snickers, feeling your walls squeeze around him as he takes one of your palms and places it right on top of your belly. "feel." and, fuck, you feel. his cock reaches so far into you it bulges through your pelvis; you feel it and you're jelly all over again.

he takes both his arms and hold you by your shoulders, hit after hit after hit sending you deeper into oblivionㅡ and you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock, sending joel into a frenzy. "wanna come, pup? tell me." he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how desperately you need to come.

"come then, make me proud, baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking under joel whilst it hits you like a wave of warmth and frost at once. it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit, digging his nails through your thighs, gritting his teeth as he leaves bruises onto you, you wish would never go away.

"need'a come babyㅡ shit! where, tell me where baby." you feel him so deep, you're drunk on him, vision blurry and mind fogged up. you usually don't say this. "in-side- inside, sir, please.." you beg, and you don't wait more than two more seconds as joel spills his warm seed into you, causing you to lick your lips as if you could taste it. Joel holds himself over you, panting as he trails soft kisses onto your back. "did so good, babygirl." you smile stupidly, rolling your hips against his.

"soㅡ" he makes a pause. "you still want those tickets?"

⏜⃞♡⠀⠀🐰 hoohououiuoooio hi guys im kind of pretty obsessed with joel rn so i gotta quench my thirst. this has 3.1k words. hope u like it!! muahhhh thank u again for 150!!!! if u see any grammatical errors no u didn't.

[no1heyyyyyyyy]

Sevika's tastes

Sevika is an old lady and she just wants to be left alone. She likes to look good but when it comes to clothes, Miss thing just doesn’t care that much. She always has practicality in mind. So, no dresses, nothing flowy, has to have natural fabrics so that her skin can breathe, and she requires that things are comfortable. Her shoes are always made for hardware with a strong sole and often reinforced. In the modern world, I see her working in metal working (specifically welding), so she has to have clothes that are multipurpose. Though, if she was forced to wear anything really nice, it would be a simple well-cut blazer and a button down with jeans or slacks that conform to her legs nicely. She prefers earthy colors, nothing too flashy. I think she’d really appreciate a nice dark green, or perhaps brown. I also feel that she would enjoy a nice flannel regularly.

With food, I’m afraid her palette is as unrefined as her clothing choices. She genuinely does not care what she eats, though she really likes chicken- loves hot wings, spicy food is her love. But, her comfort food will always be the food native to what part of India her family is from. I don’t think she’s the best cook, but she has a few family recipes that she knows so well (aloo gobi, chai, samosa, tikka masala, saag paneer). And, I think that on nights where she’s feeling really sad or lonely she always craves those foods. She’d love to cook with or for her partner, it’d be the best way to get to know her honestly. Because it allows for her to show vulnerability through actions and without words. She loves to take care of people and I think in modern times she’d mother her friends just a bit, always making sure they’re eating well, drinking their water, and sleeping right (if not she’ll give them some chai). She doesn’t eat beef or dark meats in general, and she isn’t the biggest fan of seafood or turkey. So, she sticks with her chicken and her paneer. She’ll eat tofu but it needs to be in curry or something similar.

This woman would love 80s hair metal, music is something that I genuinely believe she’d love so much. She’d play drums as a teenager, dead set on becoming the drummer of the next Metallica. She’d also love the old school heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Pantera. She’d love them all. I think she’d like some old school 90s rap too, but none of the new-age mumble rap that’s going on. She wouldn’t really like Taylor Swift’s music, just because it didn’t vibe with her, but she respected Taylor’s ability to get a bag. She has had a huge crush on Adele ever since she heard the album 25 when it came out. She liked some of her music, but thought Adele was drop dead gorgeous and all mature and soulful and shit, hit her in the feels and made her whipped for this woman she didn’t even know.

For movies she loves shitty 80s slasher horror, nothing that makes her think. She’d sit back in her old recliner in her pajamas and house slippers whilst watching Slumber Party Massacre for the third time, and then put on Golden Girls because she feels that Dorothy Zbornak is her spirit animal. She likes a good sitcom too and a ridiculous drama (she loves Desperate Housewives), she likes the camp, the over the top acting and dumb plots, it makes her laugh and feel care free in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She just wants to curl up with her pets (she would have many) and watch teen-based tv shows that revolve around crime or secrets (Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, Vampire Diaries, even Buffy etc.). She likes how bad they are, but she gets so invested it’s ridiculous.

For personal scents she’d like more woody, alluring scents that are also kind of sweet. Think Amber by Rag n’ Bone (it smells so good), she doesn’t spray much, just a spritz, it wafts around her just slightly, just enough for women to fall at her feet. Her individual smell wouldn't be overpowering but it would definitely be clear. It’s grounding and soothing. Her sweat stinks though, every time she comes back from the gym, she goes straight to the showers because her own dogs don’t want to come near her b.o.

In general, Sevika is an old woman who couldn’t give less of a shit. She wants to be left alone with her life and her people and chill. Which is why, I feel like she isn’t that opinionated on much unless it’s boundaries or causes she cares about. She just doesn’t have the energy to be bothered with trivial things like which movie to choose for the night, or which restaurant to go to. She is tired and all she wants to do is eat good food with her partner and her pets in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t like neighbors and she doesn’t like people in her business. She doesn’t need a perfect life, just one that’s hers.

for whatever reason the letters are being weird, it is killing me. Please ignore it.

[lvrcpid]

headcannons ii - modern!au

neteyam

— he was the type of kid who did the lemonade stands as a kid, backwards e and all.

— his led lights are always set to white. he doesn’t even use the light in his room

— he definitely goes trick or treating still. no matter the fact he’s almost 6 foot. he’s gonna get him some free candy

— speaking of candy, his favorite candy is..TWIZZLERS 🤢

— if there’s one thing neteyam will do, he gonna take a deep sigh like he a stressed father of 5

— he has his caps lock on 😟

— such a mommas boy

— ‘you need help ma?’ ‘i can pick her up for you ma’

— idc what y’all say him and jake ARENT THAT CLOSE

— nete def strays away from jakes old veteran ass but the first one to use his military discount anywhere they go 💀 he’s so me

— that boy loves him some the weeknd

— die for you is his favorite song

— the type to literally hit you while laughing

lo’ak

— he’s always in some sort of pain

— ‘my back hurt’ ‘my ankle hurts’

— he was the type of kid who got caught with kik at age 12

— when he finally got his car, he got a dent in it not even an hour later

— he thinks those a.i president videos are top tier comedy

— his closet is where he records his raps 💀

— neytiri has to FIGHT with him to make him wash his favorite hoodie

— ‘MA I CAN GO ONE MORE DAY’ ‘ITS BEEN TWO MONTHS’

— under his bed is literally comparable to a landfill. ITS SO DIRTY UNDER THERE

— when he was a kid, he ran into a wall and knocked his two front teeth out

— something tells me lo’ak is a fast eater like you could blink and his plate is CLEAR

— jake made him join jrotc 💀

kiri

— she’s def a morning person

— you can find her in her room mediating or doing yoga

— very in touch with her higher self

— she’s given herself a lot of stick and poke tattoos

— her favorite one is a heart on her finger

— shoes? hell no. crocs and slippers.

— funniest person in the family hands down

— she actually enjoys cleaning, it’s therapeutic

— the type to make twitter stans mad on purpose

— has way too much blackmail on everyone in the family

— she probably can’t dance tbh shed rather watch

— gives the MEANEST side eye to people

ao’nung

— he has facial hair (teehee)

— he probably was the type to go “boi 🫱🏽” in middle school

— he smells like irish spring ¿

— big big big sneaker head

— ‘where my hug at’ AONUNG GO TO HELL

— got that stiff athletes walk to him

— something tells me he has a letterman jacket with ‘A’ on it

— he definitely needs his license taken away. he has three tickets already

— speaking of license, his picture is his rizz. he looks so pretty in his picture

— poor baby hates eye contact, it makes him nervous

— he’s so fruity. talking bout some “POOKIE 😆”

— he’s a beast at mini golf

— da hood is his favorite roblox game. he definitely gets annoying and tells people to mic up

tsireya

— she actually believes in the tarot readings on her fyp

— she’s confident. not cocky.

— she can whoop ass. PRAY WITH HER DONT PLAY W HER

— she wants to dye her hair but she’s so scared

— she got a tattoo of a heart behind her ear behind her parents backs

— my girl loves her some astrology

— ‘WHATS YOUR RISING??’ ‘tsireya get the hell out of my room’

— she has a pet kitten named wiggles

— her lock screen is of her , lo’ak and wiggles

— she loves oreos

— her and the sims locked IN

— she’s spent at least 500 dollars on packages for the game

— she wears glasses but never wears them so she’s always squinting

— she’s a concert junkie. she’s been to almost every single nct concert she could attend

— ‘lo’ak let’s get matching silk presses’

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 30 - Fame & Fortune

Summary: Fame and fortune mean nothing when you can't do things for the people who matter the most.

Word Count: 943

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Not FOI compliant (Eddie's mom dies when he's 10 or 11), angst, hurt/comfort-ish, minor grief, fluffy, Eddie has a big heart

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! There's only one day left after today, but you can still participate.

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Eddie Munson was used to going without.

Shit, he’d gone without for most of his life.

When he was younger and his mom was still alive, he didn’t necessarily know that he was missing out on anything.

She did the best she could. Cooked hearty meals the way a real midwesterner knew how to do—the kinds that stuck to your bones on those cold winter nights—and made sure every dollar stretched as far as it could. That way they could have anything they needed.

And even some of the things they wanted.

Wayne upheld those practices once Mom had passed, and by the time Eddie was old enough to understand the things he might have missed out on, or the things his mom and uncle sacrificed, well…he did his best to make it up to Wayne on both of their behalfs.

Admittedly, he'd been a little selfish when the first real check came in, the first big one. Souped up the van, got it a new paintjob, a little airbrushed mural on the side that matched the cover of the first album. Replaced some ratty old t-shirts, bought some new expensive boots.

He wasn't sure what Italian leather was and if it was different to American leather but the price sure was higher so that had to mean it was better, right?

But the second check, the whole thing, went to Wayne. Despite many protests and complaints on the phone.

"You said you were sending me a little something. To help make ends meet," Wayne scolded him. "That's all I agreed to."

"La la la, I can't hear you." He and Wayne shared a laugh. "Do whatever you want with it. Cash it and put it in that coffee can under the sink. Get a new car. At least get the radiator fixed on that old clunker."

"Eddie--"

"Wayne, please. Let me do this."

The next few checks were for him again. The thing about growing up without everything you want is that when you got older and you had the ability to have them...well, suddenly you had all of it.

And Eddie had all of it.

Before long his apartment was full of too much shit that his inner child desired--action figures and that really nice minifig set for DnD and all the books he could ever dream of and several really nice guitars. It wasn't until he came home with some obnoxious model of the Death Star and that he realized he might have gone too far.

That's when he tried to go back to Wayne again.

"Oh no. No more. Why don't you do something nice for yourself?" his uncle suggested.

"I've already done enough nice stuff for myself."

"Put the money in the bank. Save it for a rainy day."

"I'm already doing that too!" Eddie threw a hand in the air and then mashed it on the top of his head. "You know if mom was still around, she would let me do something nice for her. A house. New clothes. Slippers! You remember how she always wanted new slippers for her birthday?"

"You'd ask for all the change from the cupholder in the car every time I picked you up from school so you could get them for her," Wayne reminisced.

Both of the Munson men sighed over the phone, thousands of miles apart but still sharing their forlorn thoughts.

Then Eddie had an idea.

He didn't even give Wayne a chance to tell him whether or not he thought it was good. To Eddie, it was brilliant.

And it was.

He said a quick goodbye and started making phone call after phone call to see if it could happen. The band's manager, Phil, might have been curious about the request, but was still happy to help.

It was not as wild as some other things he'd been asked to do for clients throughout his career. And for that he was grateful.

A few weeks later and everything was set.

Eddie got a flight home, just a quick visit. Crashed on the couch at the trailer--but not after a bickering match with Wayne about moving into a double wide at the very least--and then went about the business that he needed to.

He drove his rental car across town to the old graveyard, and then started his trek.

Elizabeth Munson was laid to rest in 1975; her funeral had been unremarkable but attended by many friends. Neighbors, the regulars at Benny's, people she'd gone to high school with.

Eddie remembered the way a few people had passed some cash off to his uncle.

"Get her a better headstone," they murmured, over and over, glancing at the roughly hewn stone marker set into the ground. "She was a real angel."

He'd asked Wayne about it years later, and Wayne just scratched his head trying to remember. Sure, some of the money had been used for the funeral, but the rest probably went to things that Eddie needed.

School shoes and a new winter jacket.

His mom had gone without once more, so that he could have things he needed.

He hadn't thought about it until the other night on the phone.

And now, instead of that headstone in his memory, there on her grave sat a monument of red granite with an angel embracing the epitaph in its arms.

It was big and maybe a little gaudy compared to some of the adjacent graves, but it was an emotional sight to see.

He ran his hand over it reverently, tracing his finger over his mother's name with a soft, "Hey ma."

And nothing less than what she deserved.

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Fluff: LUV U, from Morgan💗

For @starksvinyls in @starkerfestivals Starker Valentine's Day Exchange 💗💗

I chose this prompt!

Prompt: Their kid’s first valentine’s day in grade school and them helping prepare

I hope you like it and that my fluff was sufficient 🥺 I don't write fluff much but I had fun writing this!! And of course, the hardest bit was finding a title and I finally went with this 😱 the LUV U, from Morgan💗 is supposed to be towards the entire starker fandom cause I love you guys 💗

Rating: G

Notes: Omegaverse, married starker, mpreg (Peter is currently pregnant in the fic), domestic fluff

WC: 2662

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

Tony Stark, perusing down the aisle of a local Walgreens? More likely than you think. Especially when he's being led by the hand by his 6 year old daughter, Morgan.

The little alpha girl was determined because she had seen the softest, prettiest blankets and had wanted to get them for her best friends.

“There! There!” She did a kind of hop skip, jerking impatiently in place because of her grip on Tony’s hand.

For such a little girl, her grip was strong but even then Tony just grinned and hurried along. Once they were close enough, Morgan let him go and eagerly reached up on her tippy toes to get the large throw blanket.

Tony could've easily gotten it for her but she was at that age where she wanted to do everything by herself so Tony let her when it was possible.

The blanket was almost bigger than her, a cute turquoise blue that was decorated with cute candy hearts. Once Morgan had it in her hands, she rubbed her face against a candy heart that said “LUV U.”

“It's so soft,” Morgan marveled, “just like Mama’s nest blankets.”

She ran her little hand over the blanket’s surface and looked up at Tony with those honey brown eyes she inherited from her mama and Tony’s mate, Peter.

“Do you think they’ll like it?” she asked with all the seriousness a 6 year old was capable of.

Tony knew a simple yes wouldn't do it so he bent down on a knee and held out a hand.

Morgan offered it to him and Tony took it. He ran a critical eye over it and let out some serious sounding hmm’s and ahh’s.

The blanket was soft and warm, the fabric especially tailored to omegas and meant for their nests. There was even a little pouch area where an alpha could insert an included heart candy shaped pillow. An alpha could scent the pillow and it could be inserted into the pouch so that the alpha’s scent could soothe the omega it was given to.

It was a popular gift given by alphas for good reason.

Of course, the price for it reflected that but money had never been an issue. He could easily get something of much better quality but this was the one Morgan wanted to give. And so, it was the one they were getting.

It really was a cute gift and even though Morgan and her besties were far from the ages where such gifts were really intended for, blankets were common gifts given between friends. Besides, just because it was tailored to omegas didn't mean alphas couldn't receive it as gifts too. Sharing scents between friends was a common gesture of affection, after all.

Overall, Tony thought it was a thoughtful gift for Morgan’s best friends.

“They’re gonna love it, Morguna,” Tony announced, showing his approval.

Morgan gave a large smile and proudly said, “I like it too! And look! There's a few different colors!”

Morgan took back the blanket with a happy smile and Tony smiled too, infected by her enthusiasm.

This time, Morgan watched as Tony pulled a few more blankets, each color getting the young alpha’s approval.

Once their main objective was secured, they checked out the rest of the aisle. Besides getting her besties their gifts, Morgan was also handing out Valentine's Day cards along with a small little gift baggie.

The Valentine's Day aisle was full of gifts. Fuzzy blankets, slippers, and of course, lots and lots of chocolate and candy. Across from the gifts was an aisle completely full of plushies of various sizes.

Tony had the pleasure of helping her load their little basket with goodies to make for goodie bags for the rest of her classmates. For the most part, he indulged Morgan’s choices, especially since she mostly went for cute pencils, stickers, erases, and mini notebooks. They were sold as sets, all intended for the little goodie bags that the Stark family would be setting up.

The little Valentine’s Day cards that sported the Avenger’s faces were ignored. Morgan had seen so much Avengers merchandise that she was mostly immune to it. Plus, for some reason they always made Iron Man’s face a little funky.

Instead, Morgan’s eye was caught by cute little animal themed Valentine’s Day cards which she happily put into the basket.

Tony did turn a blind eye to the little Spider-Man and Iron-man pair of plushies she snuck into the basket. It wasn't exactly easy to ignore when they were as big as her arm.

“For Mama and Daddy,” Morgan told him anyway. Then she held up a squishmallow of Spider-Man that was the size of her hand and asked, “For Morgan?”

Tony was supposed to be the stern parent but he quickly melted to Morgan’s puppy eyes. “How can we have a Spider-Man and Iron-man without a little baby Spider-Man?”

At Tony’s comment, her eyes lit up and she quickly went back to where she found the baby Spidey, only to come back with another little Iron-man of the same size.

Tony should've known and yet, when she looked up at him, offering the toy with the question, “For baby Benny?” Tony could only melt at her request.

Even mentioning the baby that Peter was carrying had Tony turning into a pile of mush. The baby in Peter’s belly was, according to Google, the size of a papaya at week 21. Their second pup, Morgan’s little brother that she was already spoiling.

Peter often blamed Tony for it, but they both knew that their little Morgan was just a thoughtful and excited Big Sister to Be.

“Of course, baby girl,” Tony smiled wide, lowering the basket so she could put the toy in. “We can't forget baby Benny.”

“Course not!” Morgan nodded oh so seriously, a satisfied smile on her face.

While they waited in line, Tony took a quick picture of their haul and sent it to his mate. Peter’s exasperated but fond response had Tony grinning.

My Love, My Mate, Hubby ❤️

We’re going to have a whole room dedicated to plushies of us and the team, aren't we? 🧐

Received

Tony Stark

Guess I shouldn't spoil what Pepp and Rhodey got the kids.

Sent

The conversation ended there as Tony and Morgan were next in line. A few minutes later, the two left and returned home.

There were plans. Plans which involve Morgan going to bed at 8 PM, the latest, but of course, things never panned out the way they wanted.

Morgan was too excited for Valentine's Day and even more so when they returned to find cupcakes waiting for them. Tony and Morgan had gotten the goodies while Peter had gotten the bags and cupcakes.

What followed was a night of chaos, as Peter, Tony, and Morgan worked together to put the goodie bags together.

Between the two of them, Peter was the genius as he set up the empty goodie bags on the table. Tony was regulated to organizing the packs of stickers, pencils, and erasers.

Their Morgan was fairly popular but she only called maybe two other kids her besties. For these, she personally picked out their stuff, but for the rest, Tony took over.

It was messy. It was a little chaotic.

Tony could've easily just gotten some grunts to do this or even easier, just bought some standard goodie bags. But as he was dropping pieces of candy, one by one, into each bag, he couldn't help but watch his two favorite people.

Morgan and Peter were across from him, working on the cards.

“This one for Parker?” Peter held up a card with some cute little frogs and read the front, “I hop we stay friends forever!”

“Oh!” Morgan giggled at the words and nodded. “Yeah, they’ll like that! They like frogs!”

Morgan took the card and focused on writing her classmate’s name with Peter’s supervision.

“P-A-R-K-E-R,” Peter instructed gently.

Morgan’s pencil was steady as she wrote and she echoed back each letter.

“...K… E…R!” She cheered as she finished. “Like this?”

A sweet smile crossed Peter’s face and kissed the top of Morgan’s head.

“Good job, baby.” he said then smiling down at the name, he added, “Did you know Mama's last name used to be Parker?”

Morgan looked up at Peter with a surprised look.

“Your last name’s Stark though! Like mine,” she said, 100% confident.

Peter just laughed and smiled. “Yeah, it's Stark now but before I met your Daddy, my name used to be Peter Parker.”

Morgan’s mouth formed a little O as she thought about it.

“I like it,” she decided, “But I like mama as Peter Stark too.”

Peter laughed again before agreeing wholeheartedly. “I like it too.”

Their laughter and soft giggles had Tony looking up, pausing in his own task. He had caught the tail end of the conversation and couldn't help the warmth that spread throughout his body as he looked at them. His pup. His mate. This moment… It was just part of their daily lives. It wasn't even Valentines Day and all they were doing was preparing for a little kid party.

A moment in time, something normal, and just every day. And yet… Tony felt like he could capture this moment, have it become one of his core memories. Morgan and Peter, their heads bent low as they worked together. Morgan’s little fingers curled around a pencil while Peter watched her, one hand on his pregnant belly, and the other fiddling with another Valentine's Day card.

“Love… M… o… r… g… a… n…!” their daughter cheerfully completed the card.

Morgan then looked up, as did Peter.

“Tony?” Peter asked curiously. He arched a brow even as Morgan reached over to hand the card to the alpha. “Anything wrong?”

He took a second to reply, just taking in the sight of Morgan looking at him curiously and Peter’s familiar and much loved face.

“Absolutely nothing, sweetheart,” Tony replied.

He took the card and continued putting the goodies in the bag. This time, he focused so they could get everything done in time. Even then, he had one ear listening to his mate and pup and occasionally, if he looked up and watched them joke around and write the cards, no one would blame him.

Truly, there was absolutely nothing wrong in his world.

His heart was full and he was not lacking anything in the world when he had these two– his family, his loves. His smile only grew wider when he thought of baby Benny.

There was absolutely nothing wrong and everything right.

After they finished, they were left with several neat rows of goodie bags, each one tucked by hand written cards by their sweet alpha girl. They made sure to praise her. Morgan had inherited Tony’s busy mind so being able to sit down for the hour was an accomplishment. It helped that Peter coached her and kept her attention by engaging her about her classmates.

Once dinner passed and then bedtime, Tony carried their kid to get washed up and from there, Peter took over.

Tony caught a glimpse of them, Morgan squealing as she ran into her room. Her arms were full of the plushies that were bought earlier, as well as the little heart shaped scent pillows for her best friends.

Peter tucked Morgan into her own big girl bed. There were a few blankets from their nest because even though Morgan was a big girl now (her words, not Tony's), she still couldn't fall asleep without the scent of her mama and papa. Tony hadn't protested the loss of their stolen blankets. He may even shed a tear when the day comes that she no longer needed or wanted to be scented by her parents but that day was somewhere far in the future.

By the time Tony came by, Morgan’s eyes were sleep heavy. They only fully close once Tony and Peter each give her a kiss on the forehead, exchanging “I love you”s and sleepy good nights.

Tony left the door open a crack and led his mate to their own comfy little nest with an arm around his waist.

When the lights turned on, Peter let out a soft little gasp when he was met by a huge bouquet of roses set by the bedside table.

“Oh…” He turned a pleased little smile towards Tony. “You know I don't need roses, Tony.”

Since Morgan was born, it felt like sometimes there was a fast forward button pressed on their days. There was just so much to do and so much to plan for. With the arrival of baby Benny, it would only get busier. And yet, Tony was determined to do his best to show how much he loved his mate and to do even these little things like get his roses whether it was Valentine's Day or not.

Tony hummed and wrapped his arms around his mate’s waist.

“I know, darling, but you deserve them,” Tony said. His hands slid towards Peter’s belly and he gently caressed the small bump there. “You're my partner in crime, the omega to my alpha, the mother to my kids– I love you, Pete. You've given me so much, let me give you flowers once in a while?”

“You give me so much more than just flowers, alpha,” Pete said in return. He cupped Tony's face in his palms, and the kiss they shared was as sweet as chocolate.

Tony sighed in contentment and breathed in the scent of his mate, his home.

“Wait– wait, don't distract me,” Tony huffed, pulling away to Peter’s surprise. “I have another gift for you.”

“Oh?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, sit down,” Tony told him and Peter, with a healthy amount of curiosity, did as he was asked.

He only understood when Tony knelt down and took a hold of his foot, one hand cupping the sole whole the other rested on top.

“Oh!” Peter gasped, almost melting back into their nest of pillows and blankets.

“I learned a new thing,” Tony said as he massaged his mate’s aching foot. “I know it was around this time that it got particularly hard when you had Morgan and I felt bad that I couldn't help before… So just lay back and relax, babe.”

Peter had no complaints and by the time Tony was done, he had a fully relaxed mate cuddling into the pillows.

Inside him, Tony’s alpha was very pleased at being able to relieve some of Peter’s pain. He was even more pleased when he came into the nest and spent some time with the baby.

He caressed his mate’s pregnant belly, talking to baby Benny and peppering kisses on Peter’s belly. His soft words were mixed in with soft hmm’s from Peter and those words turned into a wordless pur when the omega started running his hand through Tony’s hair.

“Goodnight, baby Benny,” Tony whispered and pressed one more kiss to Peter’s belly. “Be good and let your mama rest, okay? You can go nuts when you come out, Papa will take care of you.

Peter chuckled, the soft laugher making his belly quiver beneath Tony’s touch.

“You say that now, but remember when Morgan came? You were a mess,” Peter teased him gently.

Tony kindly didn't mention that they had both been a mess as new parents but they had eventually found their way, hadn't they?

Morgan, being a great kid, was evidence of that.

Tony settled behind his mate, spooning against him so he could continue petting the soft skin of Peter's belly.

“I’m a pro now,” Tony protested quietly. “And I'm sure Benny will be a little angel.”

“Mhmm…” Peter murmured, already slipping into sleep. Tony nuzzled in close, kissing the spot right behind his mate’s ear.

He fell asleep to the sound of his mate’s purring, feeling content with his lot in life.

[ladylooch]

One of my favorite blurbs you made was Timo and Liv’s daddy daughter date (the cutest ever 😭) But what happens when Nico takes his girls out on daddy-daughter dates? 🤣🤣🤣

A/N: AH! THANK YOU! I love that one too. Livy is so sassy... and mama's #1 fan hehe.

“Hischier babies! Look at mama!” Lexi calls to her girls. All three of them are dressed in matching red dresses. Nico is in one of his game day suits in the middle with a daughter on each knee and the littles on her butt between his feet. It’s Galentine’s Day! Which means all the Hischer women are taken out by their main man. Except this year, Lexi is staying home to enjoy some much needed alone and quiet time. Lexi grins as she clicks her phone to take a burst of photos. Wow, her and Nico made gorgeous babies.

“Daddy, do you like my dress?” Lucie asks. She sets her black ballet slipper against the opposite knee she is sitting on, right into Mack’s lap. Mack scowls, pushing it off her. 

“Very pretty, Luc. Just like you. But please keep your hands and feet to yourself tho."

Lucie and Mack lock eyes, clearly annoyed with one another. 

Nico sighs. This is why Lexi needed a break. 

Two year old Sophie excitedly runs to Lexi. 

“See!” She yells. Lexi turns the camera to show her daughter the pictures. Soph claps her little hands together and stomps her feet. She loves her daddy. She bounces back over to him, holding her arms in the air. “Up.” Her 'p' pops dramatically. Nico swings her up. 

“Okay, girls, jackets, hats, and mittens on.”

“I hate these shoes!” Mack yells. She punts them both off, running to the mudroom to get her big puffy yellow boots. 

“Well, at least we got a nice picture before.” Lexi smiles at Nico.

“I am in for it tonight?”

“Big time. Good luck with those two.” She motions between Mack and Lucie who are back to glaring at each other. 

But Lexi should have learned by now to never underestimate her perfect husband. 

“How was it?” She whispers to Nico as she helps him bring their sleepy girls back into the house after their busy night. They had burgers and fries and milkshakes and saw a 3D movie at the nice theater with heated seats. Nico let them each bring blanket too. They got to pick out a drink and a snack. He even let them all get the blue icee AND candy.

“Good. Lucie and Mack snuggled up together in their seats. It was cute. I'll show you the picture when we get them to bed.

“No way.” Lexi stops at Mack’s doorway with her, gaping at Nico.

“Yeah.” He says, disappearing into Lucie's room.

“How in the…” She mutters, shaking her head. Lexi and Mack struggle through getting her little pajamas on. She resists the whole time, saying she is too tired to change. “I know you’re sleepy, but we can’t wear this to bed.”

“I hate this dress. Next year I get to pick the outfit.” 

“Next year, Sophie does.” Mack whines. “It is only fair.”

“But she is littler than me.”

“Yeah, now you know how LuLu feels when you get to pick.” Lexi puts her long sleeved pajama shirt over her head. Nico walks in, pulling back Mack’s covers so she can snuggle into her pillow.

“I had so much fun with you today. Thank you for spending time with me.” Mack’s demeanor softens into gooey compliance at her daddy’s sweet words. “I love you.” He kisses her forehead. After Lexi gives a smooch too, her and Nico leave their middle child. Sophie is next followed by Lucie. They find their oldest sitting up on her propped pillows, crying quietly. 

“What’s up, baby?” Nico asks worriedly. 

“I don’t want our day to be over.” She mewls. 

“Oh sweets.” Nico pouts sitting next to her. “I had the best day with you. Thank you for helping me with your sisters. You’re getting so big.” He smooths her hair down. Lucie and Nico talk for a bit longer about their exciting night and how Lucie can't wait for him to take her to school on Monday since he will be in town. Eventually, Lucie’s brown eyes begin to close. Nico slides out from under her limp body, settling her back into her pillows. Him and Lexi tip toe out. 

She grins, wrapping her arms around him from behind as they walk together to their room.

“Our girls love you so much, Neeks.” She puts her nose into his spine, dropping a kiss there.

“I am not gonna lie, I don’t know how you do it by yourself. I am so tired after a few hours with them. You amaze me, baby. If I haven’t said it recently, thank you.”

“You literally said thank you this morning.” She reminds him, running her hand down his chest, resting it on his hip. Her green eyes meet his brown ones, reliving their morning connection. 

“Wanna do that again?” 

“Mhm. Really bad.”

Nico chuckles, leaning down to kiss her.

Now it’s time to take care of his favorite Hischier girl.

[roxineedstosleep]

Am I projecting a little by wanting fem bruce to be Harvey's spoiled little wife who puts the fear of God in old suits who mess with her husband and who Can be CEO of WE but. Who'd play with these adorable kids if both she and Harvey were to work? Yeah a little bit but she's having fun sjsjsj

@bruciemilf, Bryce is completely terrifying, no matter if she's wearing those Jimmy Chu heels with her secret fancy outfit that can worth all of those CEOs' properties together, or if she's wearing one of Harvey's old varsity T-shirts along with some slippers from Tim's birthday Paw Patrol.

The detail is that she knows it. And she cares very little about using it in her total favor and benefit.

Does she feel that her children see very little of her father?

Well, she will simply enter in the middle of the meeting, tell them that the results and answers they are expecting will be in their emails first thing in the morning, and she will take her husband to the nearest pizza and children's play franchise so that he Harvey can spend time with his beautiful children.

She asks the scared young waiter to bring as many pizzas as her children ask for (and stop when the underpaid young teenager notices when one of her children can't have any more) and gives him Harvey's platinum card. ; charge the entire account there. And yes, she is one of those who would give a 20% tip for the boy.

(She knows that the poor scared creature does not receive the pay he deserves, that child is really a love and then he will take care of giving him a position as a messenger intern within his company; but the juicy tip of all his stay and consumption in the place should suffice for now, right?)

All while she, with a couple of minutes and messages on her phone (which has a Roblox casing), has managed to end the business of that meeting, and figuratively cut off the heads of the idiots who take up her time. family to her loving husband. All while Damian is on her lap drawing with cheap markers on his pristine white imported silk skirt.

To complete the look, she's wearing a macaroni necklace that Dick made her a couple of days ago and refuses to take off of her, plus the recycled paper crown that she came with the pizza menu.

She'd make the cover of '50s white housewife magazines, trust me. She'd be wearing an adorable apron, holding Damian on her hip and Tim on her legs, helping Dick make cupcakes for school and asking Jason to be sweetheart and help Grandpa Alfred spread the chocolate chips. over the finished Cupcakes.

She doesn't care if her husband is exhausted, with her beautiful smile and a couple of kisses she manages to convince Harvey to take them all on vacation to Disney Japan… just because she feels sad that she can't dress up her children together inside of the parks.

If she wishes, she buys Harvey's company, which she has threatened to do every time Harvey stays longer than she is allowed in the office.

And, well, her husband doesn't care.

After all, she herself says that her fortune is going into education and children's trusts. And he knows that she loves spending time with her precious babies.

She really loves children and she wants to take advantage of all the time she has with them.

Who is he to refuse such a request?

(I an really see Bryce using this during a gala)

[separatist-apologist]

Love Is A Lie

Summary: After her mothers death, Arina goes from the well-loved daughter of a nobleman to a servant in his home. She dreams of escaping to the coast and making her own way, and when she learns of a ball the King of Avalon is hosting to pick a wife, Arina sees her chance. With a little help from a fairy godmother, Arina agrees to exchange a favor for one night with the King.

But Eris Vanserra has other plans when they meet, and Arina isn't sure she's ready for the consequences of one night dancing at a ball.

Part Two of OUAT series

Read on AO3

Every morning started with a bell ringing. It was the one modification to Arina’s bedroom she loathed more than any other. Attached to a wire in the wall, her stepmother could ring for her anywhere in the house rather than call for her. Why treat Arina like a person when she could treat her like an animal?

Groaning, Arina pushed herself out of bed. Still exhausted from a night spent up way too late sewing another dress so when she met the King of Avalon a second time, she didn’t look so terrible. His sneering countenance was burned in her mind, his clipped words as he acknowledged her branded like an iron just behind her eyes. He’d been…well…he’d been everything, though she didn’t dare admit that. Even if her father hadn’t given in to her step-mothers ugliest impulses and Arina could have met him on even ground, he wouldn’t have treated her any better.

Why was she thinking about him at all? Maybe because his court was warm and open and the new king was making a name for himself as someone who took in those that had nowhere to go. Arina doubted she’d be welcomed into his home, but perhaps she could beg him for sanctuary so when her father came looking, he couldn’t just drag her right back.

All the girls she’d grown up with were married now, and her family kept her indoors to work off debts Arina had never seen. The dress was necessary to prove she was more than the flea bitten dog her father had paraded her around as. If the king could see her humanity, surely he’d shield her, right?

There was no reprieve for Arina in the mornings. Her step-mother ran her ragged, inventing chores when there was nothing left until night had fallen and Arina ought to sleep. Working by candle light for the last month, she’d begun stitching an intricate pink and gold dress for the upcoming ball. They said the king intended to pick his wife that night, which made it the perfect place for Arina to slip in, convince him or someone close to him to intervene on her behalf before she took off for a coastal city. 

She’d take up work—ideally in a library if she could convince someone of her merit. She’d had to give up schooling almost ten years ago when her father remarried, and Arina, who’d once been a promising scholar, was likely lagging so far behind that no one would want her. She could always try sewing, she reminded herself. 

In truth, Arina would do anything if it meant she never had to step foot in the musty attic she now lived in. No longer a lady, no longer a person. Arina was given no time to think about herself, braiding her thick, blonde hair quickly as she made her way down the stairs in old slippers so worn there were holes where her toes ought to have been, and a dress that desperately needed to be washed.

It would be another midnight bath in the river just behind the house, quickly washing her skin and hair before carefully soaping her dress so it didn’t unspool into thread. Arina shuddered at the thought of the cold, spring water. It was safer out there than in the house, where someone might report back that she’d been wasting water, which was another mark in her impossible ledger. 

Food, too, though that couldn’t be helped. There had been a time where she attempted to forage in the woods for food and all she’d gotten for her trouble was miserably sick—a doctor cost money, too.

Besides, Arina never wanted to hear her step-mother breathlessly praying to the gods that Arina would die. All over Arina’s face—too pretty, too young. As if Arina could help any of those things. She had her fathers blonde hair and his green eyes, but everything else belonged to her mother. Unblemished, golden brown skin, and features arranged so pleasantly that even covered in soot, men still made marriage offers in the street when they saw her.

Arina knew the truth of it all, though. 

Love is a lie, her mother had whispered on her deathbed, clutching Arina’s hand as fever ravaged her frail body. Her parents had been a famous love match according to the society papers—but behind closed doors, her father was cold and cruel. Indifferent at the best of times, vicious at the worst. 

Marriage had done her mother no favors and Arina didn’t believe it would do her any, either. She could have escaped had she taken any of those men up on what they were offering, only to end up exactly as she was. A maid in someone's household, slaving away until she turned to dust. 

No. Her plan was far better. She just needed one dance with the king. Surely she could manage that—it was rumored he would dance with every single lady who attended, and Arina had managed to secure an invitation on her way out of the palace, courtesy of the princess of Ellesmere. That piece of embossed paper was Arina’s most prized possession—if she lost it, her future was ruined. 

“Good morning, mother,” Arina said, stepping into her mothers bed chamber with a silver tray filled with breakfast foods. None of which she’d eat, of course—the woman was constantly worrying about her appearance and fitting into her laced up gowns. It was all for show, a massive, monumental waste that made Arina sick to her stomach.

“You’re late. Lazing in bed again?” she demanded, pushing strands of brunette hair off a still pretty, yet aging face. There was no joy in those brown eyes, no light or warmth that could elevate her into the incandescent beauty she hoped for. Arina didn’t react, hoping to keep bruised from her face this week. Eyes down, Arina murmured a soft apology.

“Make sure you scrub the back flagstones well today. The king is sending one of his most trusted advisors to meet with your father and I will not be embarrassed by your incompetence.”

“Of course,” Arina agreed, heart thudding in her chest. The king wanted to work with her father? That didn’t bode well. Arina betrayed none of her fears, bowing out after breakfast was declared pitiful and unfit for consumption. The day was spent much as it always was. Arina did her regular chores before hauling soapy water outside to scrub the back patio. There was no chance the kings diplomat came out here, and yet Arina didn’t finish until the sun began setting.

Only then did she race to the kitchen to scarf down dinner while the rest of the gossiping staff fell silent. She couldn’t be one of them—she’d been born high above their station, even if now she was made to work among them.

And her father punished them if they tried to help her in any way. She was a liability, and she couldn’t even be angry about it. Arina merely ate over the sink before dashing out the door to bathe herself.

Just as she’d predicted, the water was frigidly cold. Her hair was half frozen by the time she trudged back to the house, draped in a thin sheet for a towel, her dress hung over her arm.

She needed a new one and didn’t want to ask. It would be more money she owed for something just as poor. It also meant she’d have to go to the local dressmaker who looked at her with such pity it made Arina’s stomach burn with humiliation. Once, her mother had taken there to be fitted for fine things.

Now Arina merely asked for the cheapest material possible and sewed it herself. She’d have to sleep by the fire, negating the bath and earning her nickname—Cinders. She smelled like ashes and was too often covered in them, too. She didn’t care. Carefully combing the knots from her hair, Arina dried it the best she could by the fire before turning to her dress. It was so nearly finished—Arina was merely sewing beads she’d been given by a rather nice boy hoping to earn her affection onto her bodice. She wanted to seem presentable, and wanted the dress to look expensive. 

Nice enough to catch the king's eye and make him think she was a nobleman's daughter. Which she was, technically. She’d have four minutes to convince him of her plight before he moved on, and that was the part that held Arina up. She didn’t know what to say to him because part of her—the part that wasn’t so struck by how young and good looking he was—wanted to hit him across the face and ask him how he could let something like this happen in his own kingdom.

Afterall, Arina had heard the rumors about his own abusive, cruel father. Surely he must know how it felt. 

But by the time Arina fell asleep, needle in hand, she wasn’t even sure that was true, either. 

And her plan seemed more foolish than ever. 

Days passed much in the same vein. Arina kept her head down and worked without complaint right up until the diplomat arrived. She’d been instructed not to be seen, to stay out of the common areas and generally not be a nuisance which suited Arina perfectly fine. She had a few coins, and was hoping to haggle a decent deal on a new pair of slippers for her gown. Her dress was long enough to hide her current pair, and something about it seemed wrong. A bad omen, to come in destroyed shoes and nothing to offer the king when she begged him for his assistance. 

“Hello, lady Arina.”

Arina choked down her laugh when the butcher's son stepped onto the cobblestone street. He was filthy, too—bloody, rather than sooty, but the effect was remarkably similar. As far as men went, he wasn’t awful to look at, and he could be terribly kind. He always offered her something to eat when he saw her, and had never made a demand of her.

Though Arina knew what he hoped. 

She smiled at him, heart fluttering when he blinked in response. He really was terribly good looking beneath the grime, with eyes so brown they were nearly black, and the curliest flop of chocolate brown hair.

He had a reputation for being kind, too—she’d heard others talk of how he fed the village beggar, and had once helped a widow and her children obtain room and board for a few nights. There weren’t many people in the world so kind. But Cyrus was. 

“Hi, Cyrus,” she replied, pleased when he fell into step beside her. His hands were in his leather apron, likely trying to hide how messy they were, but Arina didn’t mind. The square was bustling, filled with people buying and selling or just milling about and enjoying the first cool day of Autumn. 

“Are you busy? There’s a new shop just a few blocks up. We could get lunch?”

Arina’s stomach growled before she could say no, and judging from the warm smile on Cyrus’s face, he’d heard it. She ate once a day to minimize what she owed, but Arina was starving—and desperate enough to agree, knowing she was giving him the wrong idea.

He paid, like he always did, offering her a chair just out of the bright sunlight. “I heard the king sent one of his advisors out to meet with your father,” Cyrus began, watching Arina shovel rice in her mouth as quickly as she could. She still needed shoes, and if she was gone too long, someone would tell, and she’d get caught and her shoes taken from her. 

Arina nodded. “Good for business, I suppose.”

Cyrus considered that, eating slower. “My own father is getting sick. He means to give me his business.”

Oh, no. Arina looked up at him, heart thudding for an entirely different reason.

“I ah…I know you probably expect better offers, but…but I was thinking that when my father gives it to me, I might like a wife. You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t need to work so hard. And I have money, so you could run the household. It wouldn’t be anything grand, but there would be food. And you would be safe.”

It was such a generous offer. The sort her mother had wanted her to consider when she died. Love is a lie. Cyrus wasn’t offering love, but security and safety, and it was tempting.

“Cyrus—”

“It’s probably a year off, so there’s time for you to think about it,” he added hastily, clearly not wanting to hear her reject him like she’d done so many others. “We could get to know each other? I don’t expect you to agree, but I think you could like me if you got to know me.”

What did it hurt to tell him yes, she rationalized? Of every offer of marriage Arina had ever been offered, this was certainly the best. Cyrus did have money, and he treated people well. There was no reason to think that wouldn’t extend to his wife, and whatever children they might produce. And sure, she’d be in the same town her father lived in, but she wouldn’t be subjected to his cruelty.

“I think I could agree to that,” she murmured, swallowing the rest of her food. After all—if the king told her no, having a backup plan still ensured her survival. Arina was likely to drown herself if she had to face an uncertain future in her fathers household.

Cyrus’s expression lit up, his smile brilliant. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I…I’m not well versed in courting, but I will do my best by you.”

“I believe that,” she said, offering him her own smile. It was nice, and perhaps that had to be enough. There was no knight in shining armor coming to save her, after all. No prince to sweep her off her feet, no fairy godmother that was going to rescue her. If Arina wanted out, she’d need to do it herself.

Which meant leaving Cyrus to get her shoes—a soft pair of silver slippers with little beaded flowers on the toes—and rushing back home.

Just in time to find the diplomat on a shining, black horse with a glossy mane. He paused when he saw her, swinging his leg over the saddle to hop in front of her.

Auburn hair, russet brown eyes—he was part of the royal family, she realized. His fine clothes cut of white and red fabric, with that distinctive cape hanging casually over one shoulder betrayed him as such, even if he didn’t wear a crown.

“Lady Arina?” he asked, a smile touching his face. 

What was a Prince of Avalon doing in her home? And how did he know her name?”

“Just Arina,” she blurted, offering a deep curtsey. There was no way her step-mother wasn’t seeing this. Arina’s stomach dropped. She was going to lose her shoes. 

“I’m Connal, Prince of this territory,” he said, offering her his own bow before reaching with a gold ringed finger into his jacket to procure a stunning invitation she’d seen before. “This is for you. The king has instructed all eligible ladies receive an invitation to the ball in two days' time.”

“Oh…I don’t think—”

“That includes you,” Connall said firmly, pushing the invitation into her hands. Arina didn’t dare admit she already had one. “I’ve told your father, but he had no idea where you were.”

“I was…out…” she admitted lamely. Connall smiled, handsome in an elegant kind of way. Almost as good looking as his older brother, even. 

“I expect to see you there,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hand like she was some great lady. Arina’s heart banged against her ribs as he straddled his steed. Connall offered her one last look, winking even, before he took off down the road. 

Arina watched, dumbstruck for a moment. He’d just…openly defied her father and was going to get away with it because he was a prince. Arina scurried around the house, hiding her shoes in a tree to keep them from being snatched before she made her way up the back lawn and into the home.

And as predicted, she was immediately accosted by her step-mother, who ripped the invitation from her hands. “This is ridiculous,” he breathed, hands all but trembling as she stared at the heavy, embossed paper. “You! At a ball! What will you do, serve the king drinks?”

“The prince said my presence was expected,” Arina replied defensively, fisting her dress in her hands to keep from trying to grab the invitation back. 

“And what, pray tell, will you wear? That dress isn’t fit for the kitchens, let alone the great Forest Palace.”

“I could find a dress,” Arina said, jutting her chin in the air. “And if I did, would you let me go?”

“And if you finish all your chores,” her step-mother conceded, thrusting the invitation back into her hands. It was slightly rumpled, but good enough. 

“I will,” Arina said, determined she would, all the while knowing her parents were going to try and make it utterly impossible. But she would, and she’d wear her dress and her shoes and march up to King Eris Vanserra and convince him that it made more sense to free her of her parents than it did to work with her father. Surely, their family name was old, but there was little money left to back it up.

All her family really had was tradition. 

Arina worked harder those next two days than she’d ever worked in her life. Every waking minute was plagued by that awful bell and the most absurd chores—Arina was made to wash gutters and windows, to get on the roof and into the crawl space. She dusted and mopped and scrubbed until her nails bled. 

And at night, she put the finishing touches on her dress, staying awake until she was so exhausted she passed out with a needle in her hand. Arina even risked owing more by bathing in the house so she wouldn’t have to worry about mud beneath her toes or smelling like river water. She was practically vibrating when everything was done and she could dress herself with a mere twenty minutes to spare. She wouldn’t be the most elegant woman, of course, nor the most fashionable but she was passably decent and most importantly, pretty.

Too pretty, she realized when she made her way down the stairs. Her father paused, eyes wide when he took her in. “You look like your mother,” he blurted out.

It was the wrong thing to say. Her step-mother, clad in rather pretty yellow, strode forward and ripped at Arina’s sleeve. “Where did you get these beads? Are these mine?”

“Don’t—no!” Arina cried, but the damage was done. Her sleeve hung pathetically and the shimmering, clay beads clattered to the stone floor loudly, bouncing in every direction. It would take her forever to find them. 

“You’re a little thief,” her step mother continued, ripping the fabric of her skirt again. The sound of tearing sliced through the air, filling Arina with dread. She jerked back, but another rip saw the rest of the pretty satin shred to the floor like an awful train. Too late, she realized, that she was never going to be permitted to go. 

Her step-mother smiled. “You’re a disgrace. Clean yourself up…and clean up this mess.”

Arina looked at her father foolishly, wishing he’d say something. His expression was hard and unforgiving and when he turned his back to her, boots crunching her beads into the grout, Arina couldn’t take it.

This was misery. A sob escaped her throat as she turned and fled out of the house, ignoring her step-mothers peal of laughter or the looks of pity on their faces. Arina couldn’t stop, racing over the grounds into the cool air, though half the time she stepped on the tatters of her dress which only served to ruin it more.

Months of work, ruined. And for what? Jealousy?

“It’s not fair!” she sobbed into the night, falling to her knees in the little wooded area that separated her home from the river. “I did everything she asked me to…it’s not fair.”

Pulling her knees to her chin, Arina buried her face to sob. She was never going to escape. The king probably would have said no anyway, but maybe something else would have opened up for her. Or maybe he would have said no, but he would have been kind and she would have found strength in that. She could have gone home and waited for Cyrus—another thing her family was sure to ruin.

And she’d die here, because Arina couldn’t take it. 

“I’ll do anything–”

“Anything?” A melodic voice murmured. Arina looked up, surprised to see a rather lovely, older woman standing in front of her. Her blue dress skimmed the ground while beetle black eyes watched her gulp down air in a pathetic attempt to catch her breath. She crouched, grazing sharp, blood-red nails over Arina’s cheek. “You’re a beautiful little thing, aren’t you, sweetheart? Why are you crying?”

Sniffling, and feeling quite pathetic, Arina said, “I was supposed to go to a ball.”

“Of course you were,” this stranger replied, picking up one of the pink, tattered pieces of Arina’s dress. “Where else would a girl like you be headed?”

“I can’t anymore,” Arina whispered, swallowing hard. “Not like this.”

“No,” the stranger agreed, dropping her dress distastefully. “How about a deal, sweet girl? In exchange for my assistance…you’d owe me a favor.”

Arina blinked, wiping her eyes on her elbow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

The woman waved her hand. “Oh, nothing of consequence. Something small and easily accomplished…perhaps I’ll ask you to help me cross the street one day…or maybe I’ll need a bed to sleep in.”

That seemed reasonable enough. Swallowing, her heart racing, Arina asked, “And…and you’d help me get to the palace?”

She smiled. “I would do so much more than that. Stand up, sweetheart. Let me take a look at you.”

Rising to her feet, Arina let this woman circle her. She touched Arina’s shoulder, her hair, and her dress before standing before her again. “Do we have a deal? One night at the palace, where you’ll dance your heart out in exchange for a favor of my choosing in the future?”

What did Arina have to lose? This was her only shot out. Arina accepted the strangers hand, thinking she would feel something binding them together. Some string, some touch of magic. There was nothing but a rather sharp breeze, rustling the treetops over head and cooling her overheated skin.

The woman smiled. “Excellent.”

That was the only warning Arina was given before the woman snapped her fingers. She felt it, though, that time. Something warm touching her skin, drying the mud and salt from her face and transforming her once ruined dress into something beautiful. Arina could see, even in the dark, the gown was a soft, silvery blue color, beaded through the bodice and over the full skirts so it sparkled like stars. Cape sleeves fluttered in the breeze while her hair pulled itself off her face of its own accord. When she went to touch the heavy weight sitting atop her head, she found herself touching a jeweled headband. Her ruined, muddied shoes had been replaced, too, and when Arina lifted her skirts, she found pure, glass slippers conforming against her feet.  

Arina looked at the woman, head cocked as she examined her handiwork. Another snap saw a choker at her throat and earring dangling from her lobes.

“Perfect,” she murmured, smiling broadly. “One night—that ends at midnight. That’s all you get.”

“What happens at midnight?” Arina asked, her heart thundering in her chest. 

“You go back to the girl you were when I found you. What you do after that is up to you. But magic can’t last forever, beautiful as it looks on you. Be mindful of the time.”

“I will,” Arina promised. She only needed five minutes of the king's time. 

Arina intended to be long gone by the time midnight struck.

ERIS:

Drumming his fingers against the table, Eris considered for the millionth time calling the whole absurd ball off. Beside him, Elain Archeron watched with narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce. This whole ball had been borne in her overactive imagination.

I want to see you settled, Eris. Happy. 

Power made him happy. His father, six feet in the ground, made him happy. Hell, having her and his brother around made him happy. A wife wasn’t going to give him anything he didn’t have except for an heir. Which, he supposed, would be a useful thing to secure. One son from one of the many society women hardly seemed like a big ask. And it wasn’t as if there wasn’t interest. Every lady Elain had sent invitations to had responded yes.

Well—all but one.

“You’re going,” Elain interrupted, unaware of the slant of his thoughts. “You’re going to dance and you’ll be charming and then at the end of the week you’ll announce your new wife…assuming, of course, you don’t pick one on the spot.”

“Do I look like Lucien?” he snapped. He’d heard the tale of Elain and Lucien—and how his ridiculous, overly romantic brother had fallen in love with Elain on the spot. Rather than carve out her heart, he’d protected her and was rewarded in the end with the only good wife in the world. 

“No, you certainly don’t,” Elain replied crisply. She put a hand on her stomach, an obnoxious gesture meant to remind him that she was doing what was expected of a royal woman married to a prince. Even if that bump was so tiny it was easily concealed in her skirts, it was still there. Mocking him for not doing the same. “If you wait too long, perhaps I might begin harassing

Lucien into challenging you for the throne.”

Eris sighed, exasperated. “I’m dressed, aren’t I? Why don’t you select my wife, since you’re so determined to have a friend at court.”

Elain’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t tease me, Eris. You know I would love nothing more.”

A servant slipped into the little alcove Elain and Eris were hiding in to inform him guests had begun to arrive. Eris still had time. He wasn’t expected for another forty five minutes, which meant he could sulk privately in his absurd white get up Elain had foisted upon him, insisting he looked like the prince of every ladies dreams. His red cape hung lazily over one shoulder, threaded by a gold chain across his chest while his medals of valor were pinned so everyone knew he could slay whoever crossed him with ease.

It was all ridiculous. How was he supposed to pick a wife in the five minutes it took to dance? With each passing second, Eris felt his anxiety spike until his temper threatened to spill all over himself and Elain. It was only her, reaching across the table for his hand, that settled Eris.

“If you hate every lady at the ball, you don’t need to force yourself to choose one. We can reach out to other kingdoms, even across the sea. There is someone who will interest you, this I promise.”

“Yes, true love, I have heard this all before,” he grumbled, but still Eris squeezed back. “Let's get this over with, shall we?”

“Let's find you a wife,” Elain agreed. 

Only, Elain didn’t stick around to help him. Eris was announced to ridiculous applause in a room filled with women and their mothers and fathers, all hoping to secure a match for their children. Eris couldn’t recall the last time the ballroom had been so filled. A quartet played while hanging chandeliers threw twinkling lights over the white and black checkered floors. Everyone looked more lovely, and somehow exactly the same. Had they all conspired to order the exact same style of dress in varying colors? The same hairstyle piled atop their heads, and lips rouged to death. 

The first dance was a misery. “Sire,” the girl breathed, lowering her eyes and thrusting her breasts forward. A passing servant was handing out champagne and Eris was tempted to down a crystal flute before continuing any further. 

He took her hand, unable to care about her nice breasts or her mostly pleasing face. In his head, he could hear Elain urging him to at least feign interest. Ask her about her interests.

“Tell me, lady. How do you occupy yourself?” he asked, sweeping into the first steps of the evening. The woman in question, who had probably told her his name though Eris wasn’t listening, immediately began rattling off a list of the most boring hobbies he’d ever heard. Strolling through gardens? Was that an actual hobby?

As it turned out, it was the hobby of every woman he danced with in that first hour. Along with needle point and piano playing, which was also highly popular. Every woman who brought it up offered to play something for him privately. Eris wasn’t tempted, though he knew if he took them up on it, he was likely to at least get his cock wet. 

Sullying a lords daughter seemed the surest way to get stuck in a marriage he didn’t want with a lady he didn’t even get to choose. 

Elain was polite enough to at least rescue him after his eighth dance. “You look like you’re at a funeral, Eris.”

“Forgive me for being bored. How come you don’t play piano?”

Elain snorted. “Oh, I do, Eris. All well-bred ladies do.”

“And do you play for my brother?” he demanded.

A wicked smile spread over her beautiful face. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. What if we…”

Eris turned his head to see what had caught Elain’s attention. The room itself was hushing to whispers, all looking toward the steps leading down to the ballroom. A last minute arrival stood at the very top, surveying the room like a queen. 

“It’s her,” he murmured, drinking in the pale, blue dress cut against her body and all that thick, blonde hair half pulled off her face while the rest was left to cascade down her shoulders. She didn’t look like the other women, in their comfortable, safe gowns and their matching hairstyles. She looked like an individual person—though, in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had come looking exactly like everyone else.

Connall’s invitation had arrived, then. 

Ignoring everyone else, Eris strode across the room to wait for her to make her way down the stairs. Eris extended one gloved hand which she accepted with a blink of hesitation. But she was here—and just as beautiful as he remembered.

It was those green eyes, he decided. Still gazing upon him with familiar derision, as though she found him and everything about his ball, beneath her.

“Lady,” Eris murmured, bowing ever so slightly. “You made it.”

She curtseyed. “I—were you expecting me?”

“Hoping,” he admitted, leading her toward the dance floor. “You never sent word that you would come.”

“I…wasn’t sure I would,” she said, eyes darting around the room. Was she looking for her father? He had been chatting with other lords while his wife flitted about, gossiping over this and that while speculating who the prince might choose. Eris didn’t understand them—their daughter was beautiful and Eris had requested her attendance personally. Any other parents would have leapt at that kind of attention.

But what did he expect from a man who’d made his daughter little more than his personal servant? 

“You’re here now…”

“Arina,” she said, finally looking up at him. 

Arina. Eris could practically feel Elain’s smug gaze burning the back of his neck and he couldn’t bring himself to care. So what if Elain was right? Stupidly, Eris replied, “I’m Eris.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “I know. Everyone knows that.”

Right. Eris’s feet moved of their own accord, forgetting he had an audience. She swallowed, fingers digging against his shoulder as though she needed strength. “I came to ask you for a favor.”

Eris’s heart leapt into his throat. “A favor?” he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. Was it wrong he half hoped her favor was marriage? That she’d come to ask for his hand, of which he might very well give her on the spot? That was insane—Elain had said he had a week to decide. He could spend the night dancing with her and perhaps in the morning try and lure her into his bed and see if they were compatible in the way that mattered most to him. Maybe give her a tour of the fucking garden everyone was so desperate to stroll around.

Hell, he’d even listen to her play piano if she offered. 

“My father,” she began with a heavy breath, dashing all his hops just as quickly as they’d emerged. “I…I still live with him.”

“Most unmarried ladies do, to my knowledge,” Eris replied. Arina bit her bottom lip while Eris fought the urge to trace it with his tongue. Instead, he pulled her a little closer, the hand on her waist too tight to be considered polite. 

“I don’t want to anymore. I’ve come to beg for your permission to leave his household.” Her eyes held such defiance in them, as if to dare him to say no. 

“You’d ask me to defy one of the nobles in my court so you can…?” Eris prayed it wasn’t to marry another man. He’d have to kill him, which was unlikely to engender the sort of warm, romantic feelings he was hoping for. 

“Live freely,” she all but whispered, eyes glazing over. “On my own terms.”

There was absolutely no way Eris intended to grant her this. At least, not how she imagined. He was decided, in that moment, that he’d make her his wife. Arina could have his whole country to roam as she pleased, his household to boss around, and maybe even expel her father from court, if it pleased her. 

“And here I was, thinking you came for a husband.”

Arina’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t—I mean—I don’t presume to think—”

“Why not?” he murmured, lowering his mouth so his lips brushed her ear. “Everyone else does.”

The song was ending, which meant his time with her was, too. Already she was pulling back, eyes pleading for him to make a choice. 

“Walk with me,” he said, reluctantly releasing his hold on her body to offer her his arm. “Tell me more about this plan of yours so I can make an informed decision.” It was a flimsy excuse to spend more time with her. Eris ignored the sounds of someone shrieking loudly from somewhere in the room, hushed into silence by another guest he didn’t care about. Arina watched, though, trying to pull away.

“You should—”

“Walk with me,” he said again, this time with more authority. She couldn’t deny him, though her spine straightened ever so slightly.

“Of course, my lord.”

Gods, he wanted her. Eris didn’t bother to hide his smile, leading her back through the crowd toward the open veranda that led into the garden. He’d have privacy here, thanks to Elain and her green thumb and determination to remake the palace in her own image. Paved pathways were illuminated by pretty string lights hung overhead, making it easy to see Arina even in the dark. Eris couldn’t drag his eyes off her—she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Arina's gown sparkled like stars, making it seem as though her warm, golden skin was glowing. Maybe it was. Eris would have believed there was some kind of magic clinging to her, creating some kind of spell between them. 

And she was trying to leave him.

“What would it take to convince you?” she asked just as soon as the music from the ballroom faded and only the sound of noisy crickets remained.

“A great deal, I’m afraid,” Eris replied, surprised that she didn’t immediately understand what he was after. 

“I’ll do anything,” she said, desperation coating her words.

“A dangerous thing to offer a man you don’t know. We’re alone,” he reminded her. Arina didn’t flinch back, nor did she seem surprised.

“Surely you can have that anytime you like. Snap your fingers and half the ladies in that ballroom would unlace their underthings for you.”

“Would you?”

“If you snapped your fingers? No, I don’t think I would. But I will if that’s what you want in exchange for freedom,” she said, that pretty defiance returning to her features. The sight made Eris feel breathless, made him practically mad with desire. He wanted to kiss her and see what she tasted like.

He wanted to feel her fingers dig against his shoulder as he moved against her, chest to chest, burning with pleasure. 

“If you’re going to disrobe for me, I’d prefer you did it of your own accord,” he admitted. 

Arina sighed. “Do you mean to tease me, then? Tell me what you want—”

“I want a wife,” he lied. He didn’t, not truly. But he wanted her, and with the clock ticking in his head, he knew he’d either secure her or she’d slip through his fingers and he’d never see her again. “What if I promised you freedom, in exchange—”

“For a crown?” Arina asked, halting just in front of Elain’s swaying sunflowers. They were at least as tall as Arina, though not half as beautiful. It was tempting to push past the pretty rock border and take her in the grass where no one would see them. Eris resisted the urge to adjust his cock, half hard at the mere thought. 

“That sounds like a shackle, to me.”

Eris blinked. “It is, sometimes.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Everyone wants it,” he replied, genuinely unsure what else to say. 

“Then pick someone else,” she said, stepping toward him. She didn’t hesitate to press her palm against his chest, eyes pleading as she added, “Let me leave. Tonight.”

“Kiss me.” Eris curled his fingers around her wrist, pulling her closer. “Kiss me, first. I just…I need to know.”

“And you’ll let me go?” she asked. Eris shook his head no, even as he began lowering his face toward hers. 

“I’m not promising that,” he replied. “I could give you anything you asked for.”

Arina was staring at his mouth. “I don’t want it. Please, your majesty—”

“Eris,” he interrupted, lips ghosting her own. “Call me Eris.”

“Eris,” she whispered. That was enough. He kissed her, one hand on her waist, the other holding her jaw. The soft, sweetness of her skin slammed into him, filling his senses with the scent of vanilla and lime. Her hand on his jacket fisted against her lapel, drawing him closer still so Eris could deepen the kiss.

He was greedy, tongue sliding against the seam of her mouth. Gasping, Arina yielded and Eris swept inside with a groan. He was decided, right then and there. Nothing else mattered, nor did he care about what she’d come for. Eris was going to make her his wife and would prove she could have the freedom she craved while he got the woman he wanted. 

“Arina,” he whispered, arm snaking around her body. “Trust me.”

“I—” The chiming of the clock nearby drew a frightened cry from Arina’s lips. Ashen with fear, she slipped from his grasp. “Say you’ll help me,” she demanded, gathering her skirts in her hands. “Say it.” “I’m not letting you go,” he replied, taking a step toward him. Behind them, the bell tolled again.

Arina let out a quiet scream of frustration. “Take what I’m offering.” “I—” A third ring saw her bolt, running from the garden so quickly one of her slippers came off her foot. She didn’t stop, leaving Eris to snatch it from the ground. Still warm, and made of glass.

“Wait!” he yelled, chasing after her. “Stop her!” 

His guards were too slow, letting Arina slip back into the ballroom before she could be apprehended. If he lost her here, Eris knew he’d never see her again. She wouldn’t risk going home, and though he could scour his kingdom in search of her, it was vast, and he couldn’t risk his seat by picking through every nook and cranny. 

She’d made it up the steps and through the doors by the time Eris caught sight of her again. “Stop that woman!” he yelled a second time, his voice cutting through the chatter and music. Everyone went quiet as Eris added, “That’s my wife.”

He didn’t stop, though some part of him thought he was making a rather big fool of himself. Of course he’d want the only woman in the world who didn’t want him back. Elain was going to have such a laugh when he explained all this later.

Eris caught Arina in the drive, her pretty dress gone—replaced, strangely, with a ripped pink gown that likely had been beautiful once. Tears streamed down that pretty face of hers, her hair tumbling like a halo of gold. He'd worry about the strangeness of her appearance later. All that mattered was she was still here.

“Please,” she whispered, whipping around when his fingers curled around her arm. Eris didn’t respond, bending on one knee not so he could propose, but to put her shoe back on her foot. Arina shuddered when he pushed the hem of her dress up over her ankle, noting she’d cut her sole and was bleeding. 

He stood, sweeping her into his arms with ease. 

“I’m sorry, princess,” he murmured as she wept miserably against his chest.

But Eris wasn’t sorry at all. 

Only relieved he still had her.

[crescent-nyx]

BLACKPINK members as moms

Just a random ass post to “late” celebrate mother’s day :)

Jennie:

-Jennie would be that ‘cool mom’. All the other moms on the block would be green with envy because their kids be preferring Jennie. She’d be the type of mom that’s always up to date with the new trends. She’d be giving fashion advice to both the boys and girls in the house. I think she’d be very classy, teaching her kids how to cook and clean. She’d be giving them dating advice and shit. Her kids would feel safe to come to her with anything. She’d be a very hands on type of mom too. I don’t see her hiring nannies. She’d be doing it all herself. She would definitely be very affectionate. Constantly reading to her babies, cuddling them, kissing them etc.

-Absolute momma bear. She’d kill anyone before they could even think about harming her children. She’d be the type of mom to start screaming at a 5-year-old because they pushed her toddler. Would also definitely be on the PTA because she wants to know what the teachers are planning on doing to her kids. She watches the news a little too much to trust adults blindly with her kids. She’d also have that app download on her phone to see what kind of people are moving into the neighbourhood. She’d also hire tutors if she notices that her children are falling behind or their performance has been flunking.

-I think Jennie would be a boy mom (not the toxic kind though)… Maybe 1 daughter for her first. I don’t know. I go back and forth on this one. I think she always wanted a girl - going shopping with them, doing their hair, having her own mini-me. But then she had a son, and she wouldn’t change it for anything. She wouldn’t prefer her son over her daughter though. She’d love all her children equally, I just see her having boys more than girls, but I can also see her having a daughter. She’d definitely be a soccer mom, all fond and protective over her babies… Until they fuck up, then she will definitely lose her ‘cool mom’ status. Jennie wouldn’t think twice about throwing a slipper at her children if she catches them cussing, bullying a classmate etc. She’d be that mom to make her kids write a whole ass apology letter and make them read it in front of the entire school. Jennie deals with so much shit everyday from horrible people on the internet too - the slut-shaming, rumors, lazy accusations etc. The last thing she’d want would be for her children to be like them as well. She’d definitely want to raise respectful young men and women. I think she’d also be one of the strictest ones. Her kids would have limited screen time, early bedtimes and there’d be no walking to school or hanging out with friends when it’s dark out. Realistically speaking I think she’d have two children - probably one boy and one girl or two boys.

-As for cooking… Jennie would be a whole chef. I don’t see her as the type of mom to take her children to McDonald’s or give them a glass of coke before the age of like 7. She would want her children to be healthy, and she’d cook for them every night. No matter if she’s tired or just worked for 48 hours straight. First thing she’d do is cook something healthy and delicious for her and her children, and then she’d take care of herself. I also see her making her children’s cakes on special occasions and try her best to decorate it the way they would want her to. She’d definitely spoil her kids rotten, but remind them of how blessed they are constantly, and would never raise bratty children.

Jisoo:

-I see Jisoo as the most relatable mom. She’d be that typical suburban mom with about three kids (two girls, one boy or the opposite), living in a nice big house with a white picket fence around it. She would definitely have her children do extracurricular activities - one or more for each child. They’d be doing sports, playing instruments and be in at least one school club - preferably music or drama because those were the ones she liked and she wants to share her hobbies with her little ones. Jisoo would also definitely be on the PTA, organising bake-sales, sporting events… You get the gist.

-Jisoo would also be a very logical mom. She��d be supportive, but definitely be a little hard on her kids. If her children want to become artists, Jisoo would be the first one to fire it down. She’d urge her children to focus on finishing high-school and college first. She’d ask her kids things like ‘What if you don’t finish school, and the acting career doesn’t work out the way you wanted it to? And I’m no longer around because something happened? What then? You have no degree, everything is getting unaffordable… You’ll end up homeless, begging for water, food and shelter. That’s not what you want.’. Her kids would often think she’s a little emotionless, while in reality - she’ll be crying herself to sleep every night because having children while managing everything else she’s doing is exhausting. I feel like she’d often hide how she really feels from her kids, not wanting them to see her as weak. Honestly, her kids will have seen their dad cry more than their mom.

-On the lighter side of it all, she’d be a total boss mom. Her kid would be challenging her to a game of this new video game that they’re into and Jisoo would beat them within a minute. She’d be that type of mom that’s just better. The kids challenge her to a game of tekken, we both know who’s winning that. She’d take her kids to the arcade to ‘spEnD tiME wiTH tHeM’, while in reality, she just wants to beat them and show what a badass mom and how young she still is.

-All the other dads and moms would be secretly crushing on her. Like, she’d be waiting to pick her child up from school and Jimmy’s dad would be flirting with her. Of course Jisoo is still a queen and would definitely rat him out to his wife because… moms supporting moms obviously.

Rosé:

-Girl mom 100%. Honestly, do you see Rosé as a boy mom? Because I definitely don’t. I see Rosie as the type of mom to be wearing these mommy and me outfits 24/7. Doing her little girls’ hair would definitely be one of her favourite pastimes. I also think she’d be the most grandma-y one of the group. Like, her kids would be coming home from school on a cold day and Rosé would be welcoming them with a plate of freshly baked, hot chocolate chip cookies - prepared just the way her kids like them along with a glass of milk.

-Music would definitely be a recurring thing in the house. The kids would wake up to Rosie cooking with a nice indie playlist setting the theme in the background. She’d definitely want her children to play an instrument - preferably the piano or guitar. She’d be singing her kids to sleep, take them to work when she’s working on a new song to get insight from them to see what ideas they could have for her records.

-She’d definitely be into that gentle parenting. Unlike Jennie, Lisa and Jisoo, I don’t see Rosie yelling at her kid - ever. I think she’d be all about that positive reinforcement and time-out corners only to just talk about their wrongdoings afterwards. She wouldn’t really ever lose her cool with her children, no matter how much they push her buttons, annoy her or act up. She’d just stay calm and patient with them, wait for them to calm down and then punish them accordingly without ever turning to hitting or yelling. I also see her homeschooling her children more than the other girls. I think she’d be the only one patient enough to handle it.

-I think Rosé would have like two or three daughters, definitely no more than that because she’d want to evenly distribute her attention to all her children and wouldn’t want them to feel left out. She’d also teach independence from an early age and teach them that if they want something, they’re gonna have to achieve that themselves. They want to go study in another country? ‘Fine, go ahead - get yourself a nice job on the side so you can help pay for the tuition.’ Kids are ashamed of their mom dropping them off at school? ‘Okay, walk then. I won’t be dropping you off anymore.’ They don’t like the food she cooks? ‘That’s fine, then make your own dinner. You’re old enough.’

Lisa:

-Oh boy… Lisa as a mom… Saved the best for last. Where do I even start? Lisa would be the weirdest mom ever. Like, it’d be 12AM, and her children would be having a sleepover, watching a scary movie. And Lisa would start turning the power on and off, flickering the lights and shit. Barge in with the ugliest face mask ever on her face. She’d hide under their beds and pull their legs when they dangle their feet off the bed just for the lols. She’d be telling her kids not to drink alcohol, and then get wasted in some bushes with her older kids. Whenever the kid’s friends come over she’d be the type of embarrassing parent that’d be all like ‘This is so dope!’, ‘I’m not like a regular mom, I’m a cool mom.’ and ‘What are you kids doing? Playing Fork Knife?’ or whatever else game they’re into.

-On the flip side, she could be very serious too. She’d be the typical ‘I ain’t one of your little friends’ mom. Her kids would honestly piss their pants when she’s angry at them. She wouldn’t take shit from her children. She could never be a parent to rude, ungrateful brats and she’d make sure that her kids don’t disrespect her or anybody else. She wouldn’t allow them too. Though, she could definitely be the strict parent, she would be very loving too. She’d constantly give them hugs and cuddles and be at every single one of their sports events yelling at the referee because her kid was tackled. She’d definitely embarrass her children, but when they grow up, they will learn to appreciate the fact that Lisa was always there for them no matter what.

-Unlike Jennie and Rosé, Lisa would have no problem with sending her kids to go eat at Pizza Hut or Taco Bell every once in a while. She’d cook for her kids, but wouldn’t have the time and patience to do it every single day. That might also be because I think she’d have the most kids, which means, more mouths to feed. I think Lisa would have about four children - two boys and two girls.

-Lisa would also definitely get along with all the other moms in the neighbourhood. She’d be that mom that buys flowers for new families that movie in and tells her children to go ‘play with the neighbour’s kid’.

Some more (AI) photos just because…

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 1A, MATCH 11 OUT OF 16!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Queen Cinderella Charming:

She's kind, she's funny, she learns to use a sword, and she's related to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Red Riding Hood. She helps the protagonists any chance she gets and even hosts their mother and step-father's wedding. She never gives up and  never lets her fear stop her. Absolute queen (literally) <3

While she isn't hugely relevant in the story itself, she is always down to help out the protagonists where she can. When they need one of her slippers, she sneaks it into their bag without them noticing. She calls them family. She loves her daughter too, and is a badass mom.

When the main characters need her glass slipper for a spell, she snuggled it into their bag, and she has a daughter named Hope <3

I think she’s a minor character in the first book, but she’d really nice and stuff!

Because I LOVE HER!! also she has a daughter called Hope who got kidnapped by rumplestiltskin at one point but that is besides the point. She is a strong independent woman and we love those she was NOT about to sit around doing nothing and i love her for that

Ella of Maidenvale:

She was old and crotchety but she gave really good advice and she died :(

[lumiereswig]

Next movie recommendation: "The Wizard of Oz."

The castle is dead and dark in the middle of the night, even Lumiere and Plumette long gone to bed, but Cogsworth cannot sleep.

He patters downstairs, his brown slippers dragging down low at the heel, the dark windows staring at him as he slips from hall to hall to hall. Each long mirror feels like an eye: he seems himself resting in the center, a small and moving pupil, walking into the gaze and out of it. His brown robe is knotted tight around him. He descends into the palace, each step darker than the last, losing the moon as he goes deeper inside.

The fight with Lumiere is still plaguing on his mind. He hasn’t felt right, since the curse. He still feels himself ticking away, and he’s infuriated by the idea that now that everything is normal again, he should just let time move on, not say, wait, hold on, there were ten years of grief and sadness there. Lumiere is dancing and laughing and it drives him mad, to see him human again, to remember all those years waiting stuck in metal and brass, to think that all the color has come rushing back when he just feels old, and old, and old. This palace doesn’t belong to him anymore. Lumiere doesn’t belong to him anymore. The curse is broken, and everything is new—too new for an old man, who always wanted everything to stay the same; who always wanted to keep to a certain beat, never too strange, never too colorful.

There is a small den, in the lower South wing, that no one really frequents much, beyond Lumiere in one of his recumbent moods. (Wild man, maniac, too colorful to be endured, thinks Cogsworth, soaked in the dark of the palace.) There’s a small white screen of canvas, here, and an odd contraption Lumiere calls a cinématographe. There’s a stack of old tapes, little ratty boxes, stacked high next to the machine. Cogsworth’s eyes take in titles: Rebecca, The Lady Vanishes, The 39 Steps.

He isn’t ready for those kind of movies tonight. He picks up an old favorite, The Wizard of Oz, and puts it in.

Nobody knows he watches this.

But he knows every beat, every refrain. Watching Dorothy run down the road, brown and grey and windblown, he thinks I know that feeling. That feeling of having to run away and toward every single problem that comes his way. You try to escape and you run into your problems anew, just in different forms: a witch is a witch, a fool a fool. The three farmhands go tumbling and Cogsworth shakes his head.

It isn’t fair an old dusty movie, brown and grey for its first ten minutes, should have so much meaning in it. For god’s sake, he thinks, as Dorothy touches down in Wonderland and has Munchkins coming out of every corner, you can practically see the glitter being dusted down on those children before they’re shoved out in front of camera. It’s all just Hollywood glitz and glitter. A little vaudeville shenanigans and some aging jokesters; this thing is a relic.

Cogsworth, tucked tight in his brown bathrobe, holding the popcorn he heated up in the dusty brown corner microwave, feels a bit like a relic.

But to laugh at how old the movie is to forget how enchanting Oz remains, despite of it all—no, because of it all. It is a joy to watch the Scarecrow’s dancing, old-school soft-shoe nonsense, and the gags that wore out before Lincoln was born, and to melt before Dorothy as she trembles and stumbles and remains oh, so brave—well, to laugh at the old would be to laugh at the joy, and Cogsworth will not have that. He will not give up on something he loves.

So he eats his popcorn, and mumbles along with the songs (“…if I only had a heart…”), and tells himself he isn’t tearing up when Dorothy breaks down, I’m frightened, Auntie Em, I’m frightened, and Auntie Em doesn’t hear her through the glass. An old man has no right to still feel so childish, so sad, so frightened. An old movie sits with him, in the dark, and glows ruby red and cornfield yellow and a green more green than emeralds.  

I want to go home.

This is a movie all about home, though we spend precious little time in the version Dorothy speaks of. She speaks of it, often, and her voice is never far from the cry I want to go back home—but vivid under that sincere wish to run back to dust, and brown, and the old broken things that were loved so much, is a clear and obvious counterpoint: Dorothy is already home. She’s home the second she finds her friends again, never mind their enchanted forms, never mind they don’t look quite the same or remember her exactly. Dorothy makes a home in Oz without even realizing it, because home doesn’t have a shred to do with the old brown chicken coop or the broken iron bed—the home she wants to go back to, the home she already has, is the one she made with her friends, those weird and wild characters, who love her as she is, whether in dusty brown or glorious Technicolor. Home was waiting for her all along, and though Glinda thinks it’s the shoes that take her there, he can’t help feeling it’s her feet—her feet that carry her out of one home into another, into one bright and honest and oh, I think I’ll miss you most of all.  

“I missed you most of all,” says Lumiere, over his shoulder, and Cogsworth would be furious if he wasn’t reaching up to hold his hand.

"You know I missed you most of all," says Lumiere, sliding over the couch and into his lap, "you know that didn't change when we were back to our old selves, didn't you?"

"I thought..." I don't know what I thought, thinks Cogsworth. "I thought maybe the ten years didn't matter. All the things we...we thought in those ten years. That maybe...maybe now that we're human again, we can't..can't feel the things we...."

"You are an old fool," says Lumiere, kissing him softly on the head.

"I guess some things never change," Cogsworth chuckles, and Dorothy is home again, home again free.

[crypticspacecat]

Prisoner Chapter IV (Yan!Dr.KujoxBlack!Femreader)

Hey, it's been a while! I do apologize for taking so long, besides being busy with work, I've been dealing with mental health stuff. I also apologize for the short chapter. Also, lmk if you want part of the taglist!

Enjoy!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

TW: Mental health, suicide mention, and ableist language

@chaichaiiskai

You lay in bed, feeling like you just left an acupuncture appointment. The only bright side to dealing with needles was that you got to eat lunch right after. Despite being in your room most of the day, you were brought some books to curb boredom. Your personal favorite out of the collection is, “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. You hear another knock at the door. Nurse Lynn walks in with a bag full of clothing and a pair of shoes.

“They just finished checking everything. They only kept your other pair of shoes because they have laces.” She mentions while placing the bag on your bed. You thank her as she leaves to tend to another patient. You sort out the clothes, wondering which one to wear today. You find your favorite simple blue shirt with Sonic the Hedgehog printed in the middle. Alongside, you pick out some plain black sweatpants and some slippers. Something about having your own clothes makes you a little more comfortable. You quickly grab your toiletries to hop in the shower.

10 Years Ago…

As a graduate student, one of the requirements for Jotaro’s degree was to shadow more experienced psychiatrists. For one of the psychiatrists, he had to observe an appointment involving a 13-year-old girl. Walking into the office, he couldn’t help but notice the cramped space. The room felt incredibly tiny but the girl in front of him looked even smaller. Well, at least compared to the 6’5 30-year-old. 

“Ok, Ms. (L/N), right? I am Dr. Lewenski and I have a medical student observing us today if that’s alright with you.” He says, not even looking into the young girl’s eyes. Something that Jotaro definitely noticed and it annoyed him. The young girl only nodded, afraid to make eye contact with either man. The doctor proceeds to log into his laptop to prepare for the interview.

“What brings you in today?”

“I was referred to you by the local hospital.”

“Ah yes, I see the file they sent over. You were admitted to St. Mary’s for a suicide attempt via overdose. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir.” The young girl mumbles with her arms crossed. The silent giant can’t help but notice the doctor’s lack of life when talking. He doesn’t want to be there.

“Well, how have things been so far?”

“I don’t think the medicine is helping, I still feel bad and I’ve been crying a lot. Even going to school has been hard because of my classmates calling me a ‘psycho’” She confesses, on the verge of tears. Unfortunately, the doctor couldn’t care less and wanted this appointment over with.

“Since you were only put on the medication a week ago, I would give it more time. With those kinds of medications, it gets worse before it gets better. I’ll see you again in a month.” The doctor deadpans before giving her a paper with her information printed out. Despite her dejected appearance, she slowly nods and abruptly leaves the room.

Jotaro finds himself extremely irritated. Despite her records being right in front of him, the neglectful doctor couldn’t be bothered to actually check on her current state.

“He didn’t even make eye contact…” He whispers to himself in disgust. He honestly felt for the young girl, being so young with a disease you can’t easily get rid of like the common cold. The fact that the doctor was so unengaged was baffling and almost infuriating.

When Dr. Lewenski left for lunch, Jotaro used his laptop that he conveniently left behind to find out more information about the young girl. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t certainly such crass statements from her mother.

‘So you’re telling me she’s crazy?’

‘That girl has always been troublesome…’

‘Can she be fixed?’

Jotaro almost slammed the laptop shut in fury but he knows he has to keep going. If no one is going to help this girl, he will…

You leave the shower, feeling refreshed and not as sluggish. While changing into your clothes, you notice the sun going down. Despite the window bars, you can still appreciate its beauty. You hear a soft knock before seeing one of the nurses walk in.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Kujo wants to see you before dinnertime. When you’re finished I’ll be waiting outside.” The nurse explains. You nod in understanding and put on your slippers. You hope to God you won’t be here for very long.

[squeakyfir]

A small hostage (A night at the museum 2 X Child! Reader Fanfiction)

Description:

You, an eight year old child who was left behind on a school field trip gets locked inside the Smithsonian and are held hostage by wax figures of historical figures. Though one was cruel, the other's were a bit mean but they showed a bit of care. So much for being evil. There were questions that needed answers.

Will you live?

Will you die?

Will you see your family again?

Will you even remember this night?

Enjoy!

*I do not own the night at the museum movies. All rights to the characters and storylines belong to 20th Century Studios ™*

Chapter 2

Previous ~ Next

"GO! GO! ALL OF YOU! GET THAT BRAT! BRING HER HERE"! You ran as fast as possible and heard the running steps of the men coming after you. You made quick turns round corners and saw many other strange things. Animals. Animals that were either still alive to this day, some that were extinct and some that were skeleton's. But there was no time to observe them. You had to keep running and running to escape the men.

You then found yourself at a dead end and turned around to see them still coming towards you. Capone took a hold of you and slung you over his shoulder. "I have to admit kid, you run fast". They all started to head back to wherever Kahmunrah was. You looked and saw that the other men still followed but only a couple looked back at you. Wait, was one of them giving the look of pity? "What are you going to do"?

"Take you back to dress boy, he'll decide".

After what felt like a couple minutes, you were back at that large cathedral room only to see it had a ton of gold and treasures. Kahmunrah sat in a cushioned chair admiring the treasure but when he noticed all of you come back, he got down to speak to you all. "Ahh, gentleman. You have succeeded in bringing... bringing, uhh... I'm sorry, what's your name? You haven't told us yet".

You were finally put down and you said, "My name's (y/n). (Y/n) (l/n)".

"Well miss (l/n), my leg is sore from your kick". There was a huge bruise forming and you felt proud of yourself so you grinned, which was the reaction he wasn't hoping to receive. "I should kill you, but you could also prove to help us in our efforts of world domination. But for now, Mr. Bonaparte, take your men and find Mr. Daley and bring him back here. I'm sure you won't have any problems finding him".

"Oui". Napoleon then left with his men and Capone took you by the hand and made you sit down on a box beside him. "Sit here and don't move or do anything. I mean it. You understand"? You nodded and he took his gun in his lap to polish it. You sat silently and then heard Kahmunrah say, "Why these aren't real rubies at all. Ruby slippers indeed". He then tossed the slippers off to the side and then said, "But, whoever you were Archie Bunker, you had one comfortable throne".

"Are those the slippers from the Wizard of oz" you asked. The men looked at you, wondering what you were talking about. "The what"?

"It's a movie and it's a cool movie too".

"If you enjoy it, it must be an awful thing" said Kahmunrah. You rolled your eyes but decided to ask Capone a question. "Hey, what was life like for people where you were at"? Capone looked at you with a sudden bit of interest and then said, "It wasn't exactly easy, kid. Things were complicated for us. We had a ton of things to... to take care of and... *sighs*, well, let's just say that it was amazing then but it would be probably more difficult to pull off now".

You didn't know what he was talking about but you decided to change subject and say, "Is there anything you want to know about me"? Capone was silent for a moment but then said, "Well, yes. Why were you left behind"?

"I don't know. My teacher is dumb". A couple of the men snickered but as much as you started to realx a little bit, you couldn't ignore the obvious. They were holding you hostage. It was confusing since Kahmunrah was the only one giving off a bad vibe. The others just seemed to be following orders and just went along with this. "What kind of gun is that"?

"My trusty tommy gun. This is my pride and joy" he said with a grin.

"Are you going to kill me" you whispered.

Capones grin vanished and looked at you and was about to say something but was brought out of his thoughts when one of his men came into the room and said, "Hey boss. We caught this one trying to escape through the rust hole in the crate. One of his little friends got away".

"Oh please, what damage could they possibly do? Why there no bigger than a grin of kooth kooth, aren't you" said Kahmunrah. You peered forward to see a small man in a bird cage in western attire and he said, "You know there's two words that come to mind when I hear you talk. Delusional and weirdo. And if I had to add a third... goofy, just goofy". You giggled at the little man since he proved to have a sense of humor. "Now, you let old Jedediah out of here or he's gonna get angry".

Kahmunrah laughed and said, "I'm sorry, I just can't can't take you seriously. You're just adorable. Even when your threating me, it's hilarious. Now is it just me, or are these guy's unbelievably cute"?

"No hold it a second. Now you have a right to keep me as your captive and torture me, but don't call me cute, I ain't cute".

"Nous lui avons capture".

We all looked towards the entrance and saw Napoleon and his men and Ivan's men with a man in a dark blue uniform and some gold object in his hand. It must've been the tablet that Kahmunrah wants. Kahmunrah got up from his chair and went over to the man and Capone stood up and took a hold of your hand firmly so you wouldn't run off. "Hello Mr. Daley. Nice to see you again. Now, if you don't mind, I shall take that from you", Kahmunrah then snatched the tablet form Mr. Daley and said, "Thank you".

Kahmunrah then walked to the black sarcophagus and said, "Finally! FINALLY! After three thousand years, my evil army of the damned. My beautiful, beautiful army, shall, be, UNLEASHED"! He stepped back, a bit dramatically in fact and we all awaited for something to happen. But nothing happened. Kahmunrah sighed and said, "I'm afraid that, mother and father may have, slightly, changed the combination on me".

Mr. Daley shrugged and said, "Wow, I guess this whole, unleashing the underworld thing, isn't really working out for you. It must be so frustrating cause you waited, thousands of years to come back from the dead, and now you can't, get it open".

"Fear not, for I shall wait a thousand more if I must".

"Good! Cause in a few hours you'll just be standing here in a frustrated position, frozen, and I'll walk out of here with my buddies, so, I got all night".

"Really, all night. Well... they don't" Kahmunrah said pointing at the man in the cage and at you. Mr. Daley first noticed the cage and he looked nervous and mad. As soon as he saw you, he looked even more angry. "A kid!? Your holding some kid hostage"!?

"Open that cage" said Kahmunrah. Mr. Daley tried to stop him but Ivan and his men blocked him so he wouldn't get near them. "No touching! No touching! Don't you manhandle me"!

"Oh look, he's having a tiny little tantrum" said Kahmunrah with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Na-ah, don't you squirm, don't squirm. It'll only be worse".

"Put him down" said Mr. Daley.

Kahmunrah then picked up an hourglass and took the bottom lid off. "Don't be afraid, I shan't hurt you", he then dropped the man inside and said, "Oops, I lied. Uh oh". He turned it over and now the sand was slowly pouring down on his small form. "Oh, I don't think he has all night at all Mr. Daley. From the looks of things, I'd say he has, a little over an hour".

He started walking back to the tablet and took it. "You were the guardian. You know all about this tablet. Your obviously much more clever than the rest of us". He gave the tablet to Mr. Daley and said, "You may or may not know the combination, but I'm going to give you exactly one hour to figure it out. If you do not, I shall kill your friends and miss (y/n) (l/n). And please don't think about escaping, for I shall be watching you".

"Look, I don't even know where to begin to decipher this thing, alright. Really".

"Oh, what a pity. And your little cowboy friend seemed like such a charming little fellow, and I could care less about that brat but ah well, tick tock Mr. Daley, your hour has begun".

The man in the hour glass then said, "Hey! You got this partner, I know you do". Mr. Daley was then shooed away and as he ran off the man in the hour glass then shouted with his arms out,

"YOU GOT THIS"!

[marciabrady]

i was tagged by @maureenoharra to list seven of my comfort films (which i'll be presenting in alphabetical order)! thank you for including me! 💕💕💕

CINDERELLA

i literally don't have words to explain how much this film means to me, how relatable it is on a personal level, how many times i've had no one and nowhere to turn to, only to be guided through every rough patch and hardship by and with this movie. ilene woods was such a gift to this word and i think her legacy is this movie. the energy and complexities she fills cinderella with, the subtle nuance to lady tremaine and all the innerworkings on her mind, the romance with the prince and the love and light the fairy godmother fills cinderella's world with after so many years of abuse and neglect and tragedy. it really does make you feel like dreams can come true and, even if you're an orphan with no one and nothing in the world, you're still capable of being seen as a person, of having nice things- of experiencing joy. i could go on for so much longer but i really do want to try to be somewhat brief with all of these entries

FATHER'S LITTLE DIVIDEND

this might be an unexpected one on my list, but just go with it. i love elizabeth taylor and spencer tracy is top of the top and of course old hollywood is an interest of mine so how could i not love this? it feels like a breath of fresh air and the way it's shot allows me to experience this family and story as though i were a resident in the neighborhood. i love how simple, yet complex it is, and how it allows me to breath and all the contributions it has to the worldbuilding. it has enough greatness to it to really be marked by old hollywood but it's also simple and hidden enough to be like an old friend you only hang out with one on one. hard to further explain its vibe, but it's like the last week of school where the future of summer is right before you- almost tangible- and the late spring air is caressing and you still have enough work where you're not overwhelmed, but have a sense of purpose and the peace is almost greater than it will be when you're actually on vacation

THE GLASS SLIPPER

while leslie isn't my cinderella, i think she plays a great character but she isn't the main draw of this film for me. i love how thoughtful the writing is and how the universe is one that's so real- no one person is all good and no one person is all bad. there's themes to it and lines that i've literally been thinking about for over ten years and still have new takeaways from every day. i think the stepsisters, particularly, have such a charm to them and i love how society functions in this film. this is one of the few cinderella adaptions where i feel like the costuming was done INCREDIBLY well and i love all the interiors and, again, i just love living in this universe and there's something about it that's just easily inhabitable to me

THE LITTLE MERMAID

this movie helps me so much when i feel like an outsider and no one will ever understand me and when i'm just alienated and think i don't have any resources or people around me that will ever be able to accept me. it makes me feel validated and allows me the ability to connect to who i truly am, despite whether or not others like those parts of me, and to not feel shame or be bad- or, concurrently, to allow myself to be that person and be seen in spite of that shame. it's also so much fun and so heartwarming and so energetic and deep and, again, really not enough good things i can say

SLEEPING BEAUTY

the connection i feel to aurora is something that could never be understated. i feel represented in a way i can't explain watching the film, seeing all of her actions and the decisions she makes and how she feels about life and the people around her and the animals and of love. the central theme of love and romance is such a fulcrum of my nature and aurora gives hope to us all who've craved for a human longing and connection that's real and warm and intimate and i love how it's given weight, instead of being mocked and sneered at the way contemporary disney movies do. the score of this movie is so many things and kindles so many beautiful feelings and thoughts and colors in me and there isn't a part of this movie i think is weak or doesn't fail to endlessly captivate me. also- the idea of your true love never being lost to you, even when you put your duty and family before them, and how the truest of partners would battle a dragon for you...life changing. but also the bond with the fairies and how they literally gave her supernatural gifts from birth and how even this captivating, endlessly fascinating princess still pined for companionship but in a mature way and was able to respect her elders and love them and appreciate them but also be intuitive enough and so tied into herself to know she wanted more and i PROMISED i wouldn't make this too long but let me take this moment to say MARY COSTA. i mean, humanity really peaked with her

SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS

this film speaks to me on a fundamental level and i think is capable of reaching anyone who has a modicum of humanity left in them. i think it's beyond brilliant and will never be surpassed as a triumph of filmmaking, regardless of the medium. the character of snow white and everything adriana caselotti contributed to her is one of the greatest credits to mankind and the artistry that we fill this earth with. from her singing to the way she moves to how she speaks and reasons, literally everything about this character is so unique and intriguing and grimhilde has such an energy and a power to her voice and her backstory to the point where even thinking about her feels interactive. the prince provides one of the most heartwarming romances and i love how much the animals and dwarfs love snow white and this film to me is my grandmother distilled i just love the music and the plotline and the characters and it really does drive straight to your heart the way that's so effective and strong and powerful

THE WOMEN

what is a better safe space than a project that has only women? even the dogs weren't men and something about that makes me feel sooo much better instantly. i love how it scratches the itch all humans have for gossip and tea and whatnot, but without doing it in an anxiety inducing way or ever creating something that truly feels mean spirited. joan crawford is SO great as crystal, i mean her acting isn't wooden or dated at all and it's so natural, especially when compared to the film's lead (who ngl is lowkey fun to side against). i think rosalind was THE character actress and is so funny in every way you can possibly think of, the character of flora is such a charming hidden gem, and i think lucille watson has great lines. i love how chockfull the script is of clever one-liners and the acting pulls it off SO PERFECTLY, giving zingers and shading is literally as effortless to them as breathing and it's even more refreshing in the over curated era of tiktokers and late night shows where everyone's trying to be a comedian. i love the slice of life characters, like the house staff, and it's just perfect