#i will draw something better for this but i had to get it out before my brain hated it

[gtgbabie0]

{Werewolf!Girlfriend!Vi who gets extra needy when a full moon is approaching}

I indeed got freaky with it again. !!-18//MDNI-!!

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Fuck the moon and its stupid ass phases. Vi hates it, the way it messes up with her hormones and emotions— her body clock all wonky. It’s a grasp that she can’t escape from no matter what she takes from those crazy quack doctors who have huddled themselves up in the nooks and crannies of Zaun, it always costs a pretty penny too. Money she didn’t have to be quite frank.

It leaves her with this dull throb at the base of her spine, an ache that slowly snakes around her body threatening to eat her whole. You're the only one who can subdue her better than those ointments and tea herbs- that honestly do more harm than good.

That’s why she’s staggering into your room through ragged breaths, using the pale moonlight that peaks through your curtains as guidance, the same taunting light that drips over your pretty face like some sort of beacon, calling her to you. Vi stumbles onto your bed— her face pressed into the soft fabric of your pillows that was absolutely drenched with the scent of you, which only fuels the fire in her.

Vi hated to wake you up, really she did, but she needed you, more than she had ever before… and okay maybe she says that every time but can you really blame her?

Either way, There’s no hesitation in how she shuffles closer to you, smushing her face into the crook of your neck with a low and desperate groan— big, rough hands pawing at your hips from above the blanket. “Please wake up baby, please, please.” Whispered from your neck until your pretty eyes are fluttering open.

The ticklish feeling of her ears twitching against your face keeps you from slipping back into dreamland, that and the way her hands had now disappeared beneath the covers to touch you— bandaged palms exploring the soft curves and dips of your body, slipping under your sleep shirt.

“Vi?— what time is it?” You huff groggily, turning your head to the side to try and look at your clock through bleary. She cups your jaw, turning your head back to her with a small, sheepish smile.“Don’t worry bout that,” her tone is draped in a heady whine of pure need.

Your brain was foggy and the situation wasn’t quite hitting you yet— you just kinda stare up at her in confusion. She lets out a low groan when you don’t immediately start giving her the attention she so clearly wants. Dropping her body on top of yours, looking down at you with glossy blue eyes— plump lips pursed out in a small pout as a whimper builds up in the back of her throat. “Do something, anything, please.” She sniffles, letting her head fall against your chest. “Need you.”

“What do you need hmm, puppy?” Oh god, ‘puppy?’… now you were just being mean weren’t you?

Her ears pin back, tail thwipping against your shin as she presses her face back into your neck— nosing at your jaw, inhaling you deeply. “Mmf, you. Your hands… can you, please?” She’s almost incoherent, drunk on desperation.

A shiver runs down her body, prickling at her skin as you drag your fingertips through her hair, gently scratching against her scalp and behind her ears that twitch against your palm happily. You’re hitting all the sensitive spots, the spots that draw pitiful sounds from her lips— oh the way she whines your name, nudging her head into your hand.

“Hngg, right there— there.” She huffs, breaths coming out in sharp, ragged pants when you hit that spot— the one that has her melting into your body, a dead weight draped over you, with her cheek smushed against your chest.

Vi, not so subtly, shifts her hips against your own— trying to grind against you all clumsily as you continue to pet over her head and ears. Then her fingers are curling around the waistband of your shorts, “Vi?… what’re you—” your hand stops as she fists the flimsy fabric, tugging them off with a huff.

“M’sorry baby… sorry, I just— I can smell you, s’not fair.” she pleads, taking a fistful of your thighs and pushing them down against the mattress— sharp canines on show as her hungry eyes drink in the sight of you, spread out, wet cunt glistening all for her. “Oh, ffffuck— pretty girl. S'all mine, yeah?” The words are drawled out in a groan.

“Mhm, yours Vi.” you agree, caving in as she presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth as if that'll make up for waking you up at this ungodly hour. You're positive you won't care in a couple of minutes.

Vi nips at the curve of your jaw as she crawls over you to grind her cunt onto yours. The fabric of her boxers are slick with a mixture of her and you— she’s completely lost in the feeling of your clits rubbing together, the way she can feel the throb of your pussy through her underwear and the breathy sounds you're making, it was so dizzying. The hot feeling of desperation so tightly coiled around her that she didn’t care about anything else except for her release, rutting against your cunt carelessly to chase after what she needed.

“Oh, Vi— mfm, take it easy puppy.” You gasp, hands grasping at her hips in a pointless attempt to slow her down— her movements borderline erratic.

She shakes her head, shoving her face into the crook of your neck with a broken cry of pleasure as she continues to rock her clothed cunt against yours, hands pawing at your thighs. “Can’t— I can’t, fuck— I can’t. I’m sorry, ahh!” She pants into the underside of your jaw, words muffled hotly into your skin as her orgasm washes over her, hips stuttering against yours before she goes boneless over the top of you in relief.

“S’okay pup… you’re okay—” you coo, slightly breathless, as you reach to pet the back of her head weakly. Vi doesn’t even give you a minute to catch your breath before she’s pushing herself back, shuffling her boxers off to reveal that damn trail of dark red hair before climbing back over you with a wolfish grin, whispering a lazy, “You’re so good to me pretty girl.” — and oh god, you were in for a long night.

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[ylangelegy]

a birthday drabble for @totomoshi 🤎🥨☕ sara, my love, i wish for you everything good and sweet! xo

five-star (seungcheol x reader) ┆ word count: 686.

Your go-to coffee order is on the edge of your usual table. 

Wryly, you pick up the paper cup to inspect it. There’s nothing to indicate who the drink might be from.

A part of you wants to not look a gift horse in the mouth. A free drink is a free drink, after all. You’ve frequented this café enough to qualify as a regular, so any of the other frequent patrons are prime suspects. 

When you turn to the barista to ask, he’s already shaking his head. 

“No clue,” he says. 

“You make the drinks,” you respond accusingly. 

He flashes you a dimpled smile but offers nothing more. “I can at least assure you there’s no poison in it,” he says, drawing a light huff from you. 

“I’d give you a one-star rating if it did.”

“Oh, how ever will I live.” 

The bell over the entrance dings. Your good-natured bickering is cut short. When you take a sip, it’s just as he said. No poison, and exactly how you like it. 

This becomes a thing. At least twice a week, your drink is already waiting for you. Sometimes, it comes with a croissant. A chocolate chip cookie. A slice of cake, even. 

You let this drag on for about three months before deciding enough is enough. 

“I know it’s you, you know.” 

He looks up at you, one eyebrow arched upward. 

“Me?” he asks innocently. 

There’s no one else around. You had timed this, waited for the last of the customers to filter out before striking. 

“I know it’s you,” you repeat, gesturing vaguely. 

He gives a noncommittal hum in response. He’s already wrapping up for the day, folding his apron and packing away his name tag. 

Seungcheol, it says. 

“And yet you only decided to bring it up now?” he teases. 

You raise your shoulders in a shrug. There’s a small smile tugging at your face— the confirmation of his identity, sweeter than any of the pastries you’ve been gifted so far. 

“I liked getting free stuff,” you answer cheekily. 

Seungcheol’s eyes turn into crescents as he laughs. He’s obviously amused at your feigned ignorance. Perhaps even endeared by it. You can tell in the way he leans across the counter, trying to get a little closer to you; the way the corners of his lips tilt upward as he speaks. 

“And I like you,” he finally, finally confesses. “In case that hasn’t been made clear yet.” 

Something akin to a snort of laughter slides past your lips. “Could’ve told me earlier.” 

“I thought you liked the free stuff.” 

“Yeah, well, I would’ve liked a date much more.” 

And, oh, the way his smile breaks, then. It lights up his whole face. 

“Are you only saying that because I make good coffee?” he asks as he packs away his things, seemingly readying to leave with you. 

You realize that you wouldn’t mind.

“The coffee could be better—” you’re saying, but Seungcheol’s smile drops into a pout. 

“Yah!”

“Let me finish!” You clear your throat. “But the barista’s kind of cute.” 

Seungcheol’s lip is still jut out, though it twitches ever so slightly. When the two of you step out of his café, he hurriedly locks up before glancing down at you. 

“What’s it going to take to get a five-star rating from you?” His tone is half-joking, but you have some idea that he’s not referring only to his café. 

The two of you fall into step. Seungcheol’s shoulder brushes against yours, like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Let’s start with that date,” you say, trying to maintain some semblance of coolness as Seungcheol seems to lead you to your destination for the night. “And then we can talk about your rating.” 

You’re playing it coy, playing it safe, but it’s hard to act nonchalant when Seungcheol is practically vibrating with excitement at your side. 

He grins down at you, all bright and warm and fond, and to hell with it. You smile back at him.

(He swears it’s better than any five-star rating in the world.) 

[moonyswritinq]

black swan — killian jones x male reader

❝ BLACK SWAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Killian Jones was no stranger to using his charms in order to woo beautiful women, Emma Swan being no exception. You couldn’t stand the sight of him flirting shamelessly with your sister, purely for brotherly reasons, so you decide to tell him off. What you didn’t know, was that his eye had been drawn to you the moment he saw you.

PAIRING ➢ killian jones x brother!Swan male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ season 2 & 3 spoilers, sort of one-sided rivals to lovers, tension, kissing, making out, harsh language, guys flirting, insults as flirting, threats

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.4 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I wrote this because I read another similar fic and, no hate to that author, but I wanted to write it better and so that it would be more to my satisfaction. Also, I am well aware of all the requests I still have yet to do, but I fell into a OUAT hole and now I’m here.

MASTERLIST, TAGLIST

Killian Jones finding a woman attractive was nothing special. He’s had his fair share of dalliances over the years. Ever since what happened to Milah, Killian was in no hurry to find the so-called “true love” and settle down. His never-ending adventures at sea kept him plenty occupied—and so did his hunt for his Crocodile.

It was no surprise then that the woman named Emma Swan would draw his eye. She was just his type: bold, determined, and a natural leader. His interactions with her in the Enchanted Forest left him intrigued, and his curiosity of her only grew when they returned to Storybrooke and defeated Cora together. He expected his infatuation with Emma to grow the more time he spent with her, but what he was not expecting, was you to catch his eye instead.

The son of Prince Charming and Snow White, brought to a world without magic together with Emma as babies, put into a foster home. Despite all your bad luck as children, your inability in finding a place to call home, at least you managed to stay together. And as Henry brought her back to Storybrooke to break the curse, you followed with. You weren’t a Saviour like her, not by a long shot. But you did have your own skills and abilities, something that came with being a devilishly cunning detective. However much she hated to admit it, Emma would oftentimes turn to you for help in hunting down a bounty. A difficult bounty for her meant an afternoon of idle searching for you.

You never turned down an opportunity to tease her about it and she never hesitated to roll her eyes at you. Nonetheless, you felt incredible protective of her. You may just have been a few minutes older than her, but that didn’t stop you from putting on the big brother act—something she didn’t always appreciate.

Which is why, when you saw a certain pirate unashamedly flirting with her, those brotherly instincts kicked in immediately. You knew Hook was helping your family in getting Henry back from Neverland, providing passage on his ship, the Jolly Roger, and offering his being a guide on the island. But those facts did not give him the right to flirt with your sister.

You had already been at odds with the man when, at your arrival to the island, the ship was attacked by  a school of mermaids. Hook had stumbled in your direction and taken hold of the most stable thing closest to him—which happened to be you. His hand had gripped your waist, his hook coming to your chest as he fell against you. The closeness of his breath stirred something within you, something not entirely uncomfortable. Of course, it was not his fault that the ship veered to the side and that you had been closest to him when he stumbled, but that didn’t stop you from pushing him away from you the moment the ship steadied.

“My apologies,” he said, quite out of breath. His blue eyes were remarkably clear in the moonlight. “I usually offer a drink before getting so close to someone.”

Your glare was your only answer.

“I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” He extended his hand for you to shake. You looked at it uncertainly.

“I’m Emma’s brother,” you said simply.

His eyebrow raised. “So you must be the infamous town sheriff y/n Swan. I s’pose good looks do run in the family.”

You began to scoff, but then your brain was able to fully comprehend his words. “I never told you my name.”

Hook glanced away, his confident smirk faltering. He cleared his throat. “I may have, er, asked someone for it.”

You shifted your head to meet his eye. “Someone?”

He let out a sigh. “I wanted to know who the handsome man that was traveling with us is, so yeah, I asked around. Really, you should be flattered.”

You scoffed at the grin that flashed across his face and turned on your heel. Like you’d said—shameless flirt.

Later, while searching Neal’s hideout, you watched him flash that same grin when talking to Emma. He stepped much closer, leaning towards her. You couldn’t stomach watching it. And you told yourself it was because she deserved better than a good-for-nothing scoundrel like him. No other reason.

So you watched from afar, leaned against the cave walls, as Hook winked at your sister. Emma glared at him, unimpressed. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about her falling for his charms. She was much too clever for that. You saw her walk away from him, away from the hand that he had reached forward to her and you smiled with grim satisfaction. But before you could step forwards, out of the shadows, David had approached Hook.

“Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook,” he said. “She’s never gonna like you.”

Hooks eyebrows shot into the air. “Is that so?”

“How could she?” David’s voice was laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a pirate.”

He seemed to want to reply, but nothing came out, and David walked away. Hook’s gaze followed him, his hand running down his face.

“He’s right, y’know,” you said, stepping forward.

A low growl slipped from his throat, Hook turning to face you. He looked almost crestfallen. “Can I not get enough of your bloody family?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking you’d be glad to see me.”

Hook let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, I am very glad, love.”

“There’s that charm of yours,” you remarked humourlessly.

He smiled cheekily. “Doesn’t seem to be working on your sister, though.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. Step after step brought you closer to the pirate. You watched him closely, noting the way his eyes jumped over your figure. “Speaking of, we need to have a chat.”

He nodded absentmindedly, raising his finger to rub against his lips. The movement drew your eye to them. You knew he had noticed your gaze before you managed to tear it away when his lips curled into a smirk. You rolled your eyes. Goddamned pirate.

“If you’re going to stare at me like that, I’m going to get some mixed signals, love.” His voice was as smug and sweet as honey, only managing in irritating you more.

You were not known to be calm and level-headed. Anyone who was close to you knew to keep away when your anger threatened to burst, like an erupting volcano. Emma had once stolen one of your favourite pencils as a child and you had gotten back at her by spilling ink all over her favourite stuffed animal. But Hook did not know you well enough. He smiled sweetly.

Two steps forward and you were stood right in front of him, pressing against his chest. Rum and leather and sea salt filled your nose. The smell of him was overpowering and intoxicating all at once. You pressed one arm against his throat, pushing him back against the cave wall, the other bracing yourself against it. He grunted at the impact, groaning in displeasure, before meeting your gaze steadily.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

The words growled out of your throat, through your gritted teeth. “Stay away from Emma, got it?”

“You may have gotten the good looks of your family. Not the manners, though,” he said lazily.

You cocked your head. “No, that is more my parents’ style.”

“You do have more of a bite than them,” he said. Then he tilted his head, as if in thought. “Huh, well, aren’t you a dark Swan, love? Or do you prefer Black Swan?”

Your brows knit together but you chose to ignore his words. Instead, you said, “I do agree with David that Emma will never fall for you, so you might as well give up now.”

Hook’s eyebrow raised. “If you’re so sure she won’t fall for me, why even bother threatening me? Surely, my flirting must be harmless.”

Your brows knitted together in suspicion. His eyes were annoyingly blue, piercing straight into yours. “Just leave her alone, Hook.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“My flirting with her.” He leant forward a bit, throat straining against your arm. “Swan, are you jealous?”

You opened your mouth to protest. You? Jealous? Ridiculous. Then you noticed that his lips had curled into a cheeky smirk. “No,” you bit out.

Hook blinked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Heard you were quite the detective out in the Land of No Magic.”

Your head cocked to the side. “Yeah, so?”

He simply hummed, head falling back against the stone walls. His eyes traveled across your figure before jumping up to meet your gaze through his lidded eyes, something unintelligible in those swirls of blue. You ignored the warmth that pooled in your stomach at the sight of him like that.

“I will leave her alone,” he said calmly. “You have my word.”

You tried to detect the mischievous thoughts that were surely lying behind his eyes, but came up empty. You had no idea if he was telling the truth or not, but you let him go and stepped back in one swift moment. He cleared his throat, rubbing one hand across his collarbone.

“Fine,” you said, glancing away from his steely gaze. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself then, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, gesturing to where the others had gone.

“Yeah,” you said simply, walking past him briskly.

You didn’t know what had suddenly overcome you or why you were now so uncomfortable in Hook’s presence. For the rest of that day, every time you glanced in his direction to make sure he was heeding your words of staying away from Emma—to which he did—you felt as if your nerves were standing on end. And on occasion, when he happened to be glancing your way as well and your eyes met, you felt shivers travel down your body, forcing you to break his eye contact. You thought you could see a smirk playing across his lips in those moments, but you chose to ignore him.

That same evening, you had found out David and Hook been ambushed by the Lost Boys. Apparently, Captain Hook had risked his life saving David from a poisonous arrow with Nightshade on it. You almost wanted to laugh at the idea of Hook doing something so heroic, but at the sight of David’s serious face you merely took a swig of the offered flask, like the others. You caught his eye right before he turned and stepped away from the others. You followed him behind a tree.

“I heard what you did for David,” you said. He stopped and turned to face you. “Thank you, Killian.”

His smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t leave your father to perish on this island.”

You nodded, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eye. “I must ask, did you do it to get in my sister’s good graces?”

“I thought you weren’t jealous.” His eyebrow raised.

“Answer the question,” you bit out.

His smile dropped as he met your gaze. “No, I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you. And because it was the right thing to do.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you. “So now you’re all righteous, huh?”

Hook cocked his head. “I’ve always been chivalrous,” he said. “And, well, it doesn’t take a genius to know that getting your father killed would not help my courting you.”

You chose to ignore those last few words, your smile holding no warmth. “You’re right. You are no genius,” you said.

 “This doesn’t sound like a thank you,” Hook remarked, raising his eyebrows.

You let out a sigh, looking down at the ground beneath your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “Perhaps you could show me some gratitude to make it up to me.”

His gaze was dark underneath his eyelashes, his lips curling into a smirk. You thought you knew what he was implying. You wouldn’t let him get off that easily, though.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “That was what the ’thank you’ was for.”

“Mmm,” Hook hummed. He took a step closer, so close now you could count his eyelashes. “Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps,” he whispered, face leaning much closer to you. You could feel his breath against your skin. “It’s you who couldn’t handle it.”

Your eyes jumped between his, then to his lips. Those damned lips, curled into that damned smile. Oh Gods, why did you have to be attractive to a pirate. Without leaving any time for you to think your actions through, you took ahold of his jacket and pulled his face towards yours.

Hook let out a surprised gasp, which you swallowed into the kiss. He dragged himself closer, hand clinging to your waist. You felt his chest press hard against you as his lips moved against yours. It was harsh, quick, and angry—just like your feelings for him.

The warmth in your stomach deepened as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him. One hand made its way into his dark hair, pulling lightly against it. He let out a deep moan at the movement, his eyes shooting open and lips pulling away for a moment.

You smiled at the sight of him, red-lipped, cheeks flushed and eyes full of desire. “Too harsh for you, captain?”

He groaned at your words, capturing your lips once more. His hook was pressing your waist against his as his hand grabbed your neck, bringing you into him. He was truly and well intoxicating.

Hook pulled away again, breath coming out in short bursts. “So I’m not good enough for your sister, but I’m good enough for you.”

You cocked your head and shrugged. “I’m not as good as she is.”

He smiled into the kiss when you pulled him closer again. His teeth captured your bottom lip lightly, but the feeling made a smile of your own erupt across your face.

“I don’t know,” Hook said. “I think you’re pretty good.”

“Killian.”

“My name has never sounded sweeter.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, smile still playing across your lips.

“With pleasure,” he murmured while pulling you close again.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @scriblezz

[jjscrybaby]

the birthday boy

daryl dixon x fem!reader | fluff | (cringe, cringe, cringe! i can’t help who i am😖basic gift ideas bc i couldn’t think of anything, kissing.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing you were you would never get back was knowing the date. You’d spent the last couple years in the dark, you had a brief idea of how many years had gone by but dates? Absolutely no clue. It was when you and your group got to Alexandria that you learnt they knew the date, they’d kept track; it wasn’t like they were out killing walkers and fighting for survival, so they had the time to do such a mundane thing.

You’d asked Daryl when his birthday was a long time ago, just after the farm fell and before you reached the prison. The two of you were on watch whilst everyone else slept — or at least tried to — and you wanted to know his zodiac sign. It was silly, but you wanted to talk about something that wasn’t the hell your lives had become. He’d muttered out ‘January 6th’, and then gone silent once again. You kept that information stored in the little Daryl section in your mind, and you hadn’t forgotten it.

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl muttered sleepily, waking up to you sitting on him with a wide grin on your face. He opened one eye, looking from you to the window. “The sun ain’t even fully risen. Better ‘ave a good reason to wake me up.”

“I do,” you murmured, leaning down to catch his lips with yours. He didn’t argue, his arms loosely wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back.

“You alrigh’?” He checked quietly. You definitely weren’t the early riser out of the pair of you, in the morning’s that he had to go on an early supply run and tried to wake you to say goodbye he’d usually be cursed at.

“Yeah,” you reassured softly, running your hand through his growing locks. “Happy birthday, handsome.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he let out a soft huh. “Is that today?”

“Yes, it’s today you idiot,” you giggled, pecking his cheek. “Do you want your presents now or at the party?”

“What…” he muttered, eyes widening.

You snorted, swatting at his chest. “I’m kidding. There’s no party. But me and Carol are baking a cake and you can’t say no, I already had to talk them out of finding a birthday banner.”

“Mhm, appreciate it,” he smirked lazily, drawing circles into your thigh. “Can we go back to sleep now, darlin’? I appreciate the birthday wake up, but ‘m exhausted.”

“You don’t want your presents,” you pouted.

“Thought you were kiddin’?” He questioned, leaning on his elbows to sit up slightly.

“About the party, yeah. You really think that I wouldn’t get you presents? Have you met me?” You teased. He smiled softly at you, a quirk of a lip that you were sure no one else was ever on the receiving end of.

“Didn’t even kno’ it was my birthday, so I wasn’t expectin’ presents,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes fondly, switching the bedside table lamp on before getting off of him to rush over to the closet. You pulled out a paper bag, handing it over to him. “I couldn’t find any wrapping paper,” you sheepishly explained.

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, reaching out for your hand. You sat down next to him as he sat up, looking between you and the bag. “You know you didn’t ‘ave to get me anythin’.”

“I wanted to,” you argued. “Now, open it, please. I’m getting impatient.”

He let out a quiet laugh, opening up the bag. First he pulled out a knife; it wasn’t new, or even very sharp — although he’d be able to sort that out — but there was something on the side of it. Both yours and his initials carved into the side. You knew that wasn’t really his thing, something so cheesy, but you wanted his gift to have meaning. It was difficult to find things for anyone’s birthday in an apocalypse, but Daryl? Well, that’s pretty much impossible.

“Thankyou, darlin’.” He ran his fingers over the messy carving you’d done, a fond look in his eyes. “I love it.” He leant in and pressed a peck to your lips, making your eyes twinkle.

“Really? I know it’s not much…” you said, about to go on a classic ramble.

“Stop. I love it, seriously. I ain’t ever— I’ve never gotten a birthday present before, ‘least not one that I can remember,” he admitted, squeezing your hand.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, but you kept the smile on your face. You hadn’t expected that Daryl had many fun birthday’s growing up, not with the family he had. Maybe Merle took him to a bar on his 21st to have his first legal drink, but that was probably it. You kissed the corner of his mouth, stroking his hair.

“Well, now that we’re not fighting for our lives constantly anymore, expect presents every year. Christmas, too,” you said softly.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you,” he responded, caressing your cheek lovingly. He placed the knife on the bedside table, moving to switch the light off.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“Goin’ back to sleep?” He answered, looking back at you over his shoulder. “That alright with you?” He teased.

“But… you haven’t opened your other present,” you explained. There was something in your tone, nervousness, shyness, he wasn’t sure.

“Another one?” He looked at you in confusion.

“Don’t be dramatic, Dar. It’s not like I spent any money,” you giggled. You went behind you, opening the drawer and pulling out something. You held it in your hand, not letting him see. “It’s a bit stupid, but I wanted to give you this for awhile. Since you gave me mine, at least.”

You opened your palm and revealed the silver band, a shy smile on your face. Six months ago, Daryl had gone on a week long supply run and he’d returned home with a ring. It wasn’t like you could have a proper wedding, not like the one you used to dream about when you were younger, but you wanted to marry Daryl. You wanted to tell people he was your husband. So, of course, you’d cried your eyes out and said yes. Ever since you’d wanted him to have a ring, too. Your engagement ring would probably be your wedding one as well, it wasn’t like you could go shopping. If you were going to get married, both of you needed proof of the wedding.

It was silent, you stared at him waiting for some sort of reaction. Slowly, a smile made its way onto his face. “You ain’t gonna ask me?”

“What?”

“I ain’t acceptin’ a ring without a proposal,” he joked.

You giggled, moving to straddle his waist once again. ���Daryl Dixon, will you marry me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, cradling your cheek in his hand as he brought your face down to his. “‘Course I will, baby.”

His lips moved against yours, arms wrapping around your waist to tug you to lie down on top of him. You pulled away first, grabbing his hand to slip the ring onto his fingers.

“Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday’s with no one else.”

[onebadassunicorn]

All I Want Is You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: argument/fighting, implied affair/cheating, angst

word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @firefly-forest @salvatoresister1 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @batboyslutt @tiredsleepyhead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

******

Chapter 7

Azriel POV

Azriel stepped into their home just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the rooms in dim, golden light. His leathers were torn, his knuckles bloodied, and his body a tapestry of fresh bruises and aching muscles. His shadows clung to him tightly, darker and heavier than usual, mirroring the storm inside him.

Y/n looked up from where she had been tidying the living room, her heart stopping at the sight of him. She was used to seeing Azriel bloodied and worn after missions, but something about his posture tonight—the tension in his shoulders, the way his wings drooped—told her this was worse than usual.

“Azriel,” she said softly, setting aside the book she had been holding and crossing the room to him.

He didn’t speak, his golden-hazel eyes meeting hers briefly before flicking away. His shadows flickered as if unsure whether to draw her closer or keep her at a distance. She reached for him anyway, her hand gently cupping his jaw.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over the stubble on his cheek.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice rough and low. But his eyes betrayed him, the weight of the mission, the memories it had stirred, etched into their depths.

She didn’t press him. She knew better than anyone how Azriel dealt with his demons. He would tell her when he was ready. For now, he just needed her presence, her grounding touch.

“Come with me,” she said softly, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathroom.

******

Azriel POV

She filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to soothe his frayed nerves. Azriel stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor as she moved around him, her movements calm and steady. She helped him remove his leathers, her hands gentle as she peeled the bloodied fabric from his bruised skin.

When the tub was ready, she turned to him. “Get in,” she said softly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Azriel obeyed, sinking into the water with a soft sigh. He rested his head against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes as the warmth seeped into his aching body. She moved to leave, intending to give him some space, but as she turned, his hand shot out, wrapping gently around her wrist.

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. “Sit with me.”

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. She climbed into the tub in front of him, settling herself between his legs. Azriel immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

He exhaled deeply, his breath warm against her neck. “You’re all I need right now,” he whispered, his voice rough but soft.

Y/n relaxed into him, her hands resting over his arms as his shadows curled around them protectively. She could feel the tension in his body begin to ease as he breathed her in, his nose brushing against her hair.

For a long while, they sat in silence, the warmth of the water and the closeness of their bodies washing away the edges of his pain. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t push for explanations. She simply was—a steady, grounding presence in the storm of his mind.

********

Azriel POV

When the water began to cool, she helped him out of the tub, grabbing a towel to gently dry him off. Her touch was soft and unhurried, her fingers lingering on the bruises and cuts as if she could heal them with her care alone. Azriel stood still, letting her tend to him, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with more emotion than those two words should carry.

She looked up at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Always.”

Once he was dry, she led him to their bedroom. Azriel climbed into bed, pulling her down with him. As soon as she settled under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. He curled his body around hers, his wings draping protectively over them both.

Burying his face in her hair and shoulder, he breathed her in deeply, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room. “I love you, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. “More than anything. More than the stars, the shadows, or anything else in this world. You’re my anchor. My light.”

Tears stung her eyes at the raw sincerity in his words, and she reached up to rest her hand over his. “I love you too,” she whispered.

Azriel tightened his hold on her, his breath steadying as the storm inside him finally began to settle as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in the quiet sanctuary of their love.

********

Y/n POV

The tension had been building for days, simmering just beneath the surface of every interaction between Azriel and you. It was in the way he lingered longer on missions, the way his shadows seemed more restless than usual, and the way your patience was wearing thin under the weight of his silence.

That evening, the storm finally broke.

Azriel stepped into your cottage, his leathers dusty and his expression tight. His shadows coiled around him, alive with the tension he carried. You stood by the window, your arms crossed and your face set in a storm of your own.

“You’re late again,” you said, your voice steady but laced with frustration.

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I told you I’d be back when I could. I didn’t realize we were keeping score now.”

“That’s not fair,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “This isn’t about keeping score. It’s about you constantly shutting me out. You’re always late these days. Do you even realize how hard this is? For me? For the children?”

His shadows flickered in response to your rising tone, swirling defensively. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m doing my job, Y/n. You knew what you were getting into when we started this.”

Your eyes flashed with hurt. “I knew you had responsibilities. I knew you’d be busy. But I didn’t sign up to be left in the dark while you bury yourself in missions and avoid your family.”

Azriel’s golden-hazel eyes burned as he turned to face you. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m protecting you—protecting all of you—from things you don’t need to know.”

“Protecting me?” You scoffed, your voice breaking. “From what? From you? I don’t need protection, Azriel—I need a partner. Someone who lets me in, who doesn’t leave me in the dark while he carries everything alone.”

Azriel took a step back, his shadows retreating slightly. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I’ve spent centuries keeping people safe by keeping them away from the darkness. It’s what I am, Y/n.”

“Then you need to figure out who you are with me,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “Because this—this distance—it’s breaking us.”

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his shadows swirling wildly now. He opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped himself, his expression hardening.

“I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

“Azriel, don’t you dare—” You started, your voice trembling with both anger and desperation.

But he was already moving toward the door, his wings flaring slightly as he turned back to you. “I need air,” he said, his tone clipped. “Before I say something I’ll regret.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a moment, the weight of his absence crushing you. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you sank onto the couch, your arms wrapping around yourself. The silence of the room was deafening, your heart aching with the space he’d left behind.

You curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest and cried yourself to sleep.

*******

Y/n POV

The change in Azriel had been gradual at first—small things you had tried to brush aside. He began staying out later, his shadows more restless than usual, his answers clipped and evasive when you asked where he had been. He smiled less, touched you less, and the loving warmth that had always existed between you both began to cool.

At first, you told yourself it was the pressure of his work. Azriel had always carried his burdens quietly, and you had learned to give him space when he needed it. But as the days turned into weeks, you couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

He was pulling away.

And then there was Elain.

The soft-spoken woman had always been around, a friend to the Inner Circle and a beacon of warmth in her own way. You had never felt threatened by her—until now. You began to notice how Azriel’s shadows seemed calmer when Elain was near, how he lingered in her presence, how his eyes softened in a way they hadn’t for you in months.

The final straw came when Rhysand pulled Azriel aside during a meeting at the River House. You hadn’t been there, but Cassian had told you what Rhysand had said.

“You’re about to screw up the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Rhys had warned, his voice low and filled with uncharacteristic anger. “Y/n is your mate, Azriel. Not Elain. The Cauldron doesn’t make mistakes. You’re letting your doubts poison everything you’ve built, and I won’t stand by and watch you destroy your family.”

But Azriel hadn’t listened.

When Azriel didn’t return home that night, your worst fears were confirmed. You stayed up all night, pacing the floors of your shared home, your thoughts spiraling into dark places. Azriella and Eryan had fallen asleep in your bed, their tiny bodies curled up around you as if sensing your distress.

By dawn, you couldn’t take it anymore. You dressed quickly, gathered the children, and winnowed to the House of Wind.

********

Y/n POV

The House of Wind was quiet, the usual bustling energy of the Inner Circle absent. You moved through the halls with determination, your heart pounding in her chest. You carried Eryan on your hip, while Azriella walked beside you, clutching your hand.

“Where’s Daddy?” Azriella asked, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

“We’re going to find him, sweetheart,” You said, your voice trembling but steady.

It didn’t take you long to find Elain’s room. The faint sound of muffled voices—and something else—came from behind the closed door.

Your heart stopped.

You pushed the door open without knocking, the sight before you hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel and Elain were tangled together in the bed, their bodies bare and entwined. Elain was on top of Azriel, riding him while he gazed up at her, caressing her breasts. Elain’s soft gasps filled the air, and Azriel’s shadows flickered faintly around them. It was clear they had been at this all night.

You felt the world tilt beneath your feet. “Azriel,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Both Azriel and Elain froze, their eyes snapping to the doorway. Azriel’s golden-hazel eyes widened in shock and horror as he saw you standing there, Eryan in your arms and Azriella clutching your leg.

“Baby, I—” Azriel began, his voice hoarse.

But you didn’t let him finish. “Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “Don’t you dare try to explain this.”

Rhysand and Cassian appeared moments later, clearly having sensed the commotion. When they saw what was happening, both men froze.

“Mother above,” Rhysand muttered, his voice low and deadly.

Cassian’s face twisted in rage. “What the hell, Azriel?” he snarled, stepping into the room.

Azriel scrambled off the bed, reaching for you. “I can explain—”

“Explain?” Your voice rose, your tears spilling over as you backed away. “You spent all night with her, Azriel! While your children were asking where you were, you were here.”

Rhysand’s expression darkened, and his power radiated through the room. “Azriel,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Get dressed. Now.”

Cassian looked as though he was moments away from punching Azriel. His hands clenched into fists as he turned to you. “Do you want me to take you and the kids somewhere else?”

You shook your head, your legs trembling beneath you. “I’ll take care of it,” you said, your voice cracking. You turned to Azriel, your eyes blazing with fury and pain. “You’ve made your choice. Don’t come home.”

With that, you winnowed away, your heart shattering into pieces as you clutched your children tightly.

********

Azriel POV

The silence that followed her departure was deafening. Azriel stood there, his face pale, his shadows writhing around him in chaos.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rhysand demanded, his voice sharp and filled with disappointment.

“I…” Azriel’s voice faltered, his eyes darting to Elain, who looked stricken. “I thought… I thought the Cauldron got it wrong.”

“Got it wrong?” Cassian roared, stepping closer. “Y/n is your mate! Your mate, Azriel. And you just threw her and your children away for—her?” He stopped himself, his gaze cutting to Elain.

Rhysand’s power rippled dangerously through the room. “You’d better hope she forgives you,” he said coldly. “Because if she doesn’t, you’ve lost everything.”

Azriel sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, the weight of his actions crashing down on him.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel stepped into their home, his shadows unusually subdued, curling tightly around him as if sensing the storm brewing in his chest. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the walls, but the house was eerily silent.

Too silent.

The usual sounds of laughter, tiny feet running through the halls, or Y/n humming softly in the kitchen were gone. The warmth he had always associated with this space felt drained, leaving behind a cold, hollow shell.

“Baby?” he called out, his voice echoing through the empty rooms.

No answer.

Azriel moved through the house, his heart beginning to pound. The living room was untouched, but something was missing—the toys that usually cluttered the space were gone. He opened the door to Azriella and Eryan’s shared room and felt his chest constrict. The beds were made, but the shelves that once held their favorite books and toys were empty.

His shadows darted anxiously around the room, reflecting the panic rising in him.

“Y/n!” he shouted again, his voice breaking this time.

He rushed into their bedroom, but it, too, was empty. Her clothes were gone, the small trinkets she kept on her nightstand missing. The sight of the barren space made his knees buckle, and he sank to the floor, his hands clutching his hair.

She was gone.

They were gone.

Azriel’s shadows swirled wildly around him, a chaotic reflection of the turmoil inside him. He had done this. He had driven her away.

His eyes fell on a piece of paper folded neatly on the table. With shaking hands, he picked it up, unfolding it to reveal her handwriting.

Azriel,

You told me everything I needed to know this morning. I won’t let myself—or our children—be second to anyone. You’ve made your choice, and I’ve made mine.

Don’t look for us. Don’t contact us.

I hope you enjoyed your time fucking Elain. I hope it was worth losing everything.

Y/n

The paper slipped from his hands as he stared blankly at it, her words cutting into him like the sharpest blade.

His mate.

His family.

Gone.

Azriel stumbled to his feet, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. The weight of his actions crashed down on him fully for the first time. He had pushed her away, thinking he was following some misguided truth, and in doing so, he had lost everything that mattered.

He stood in the center of the empty house, the silence deafening. His shadows swirled sluggishly around him, as if even they had lost their strength. He clenched his fists, his golden-hazel eyes burning with tears he refused to shed.

He thought of Azriella’s laugh, the way her wings fluttered excitedly whenever she saw him. He thought of Eryan’s quiet, thoughtful questions, the way he always reached for his hand. He thought of his mate—her fiery spirit, her unwavering love, and the way she had always been his light in the darkness.

And he had destroyed it all.

Azriel sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as the enormity of his loss consumed him. For centuries, he had lived in shadows, and for the first time, he realized he had let those shadows blind him to the light he had been given.

“Mother above,” he whispered, his voice broken. “What have I done?”

But the house remained silent, offering no answers, no solace.

Just the crushing weight of his own regret.

********

Y/n POV

You jolted awake, your chest heaving as you sat upright in the couch. Your heart pounded like a war drum, the echoes of your nightmare clinging to you like a second skin. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for him—for Azriel—but the cottage was empty.

The dream had felt so real. The look in Azriel’s eyes as he held Elain in his arms, her straddling him as he fucked her, the moans she made, the look he gave her as she rode him, the devastation of coming home to an empty house, the note that cut your soul to ribbons—it all replayed in your mind, sharp and vivid. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your knees to your chest.

“Azriel,” you whispered into the empty room, your voice trembling.

The front door creaked open. You heard the soft rustle of boots on the floor, the faint hum of his shadows reaching out to you as if sensing your distress.

“Y/n?” Azriel called softly, his voice carrying through the quiet house.

You couldn’t stop the sob that escaped your lips. A moment later, Azriel was in the living room, his golden-hazel eyes filled with concern as he took in the sight of you, trembling and tear-streaked. His shadows curled around you protectively, like they, too, were trying to soothe you.

“Baby,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “What’s wrong?”

You launched yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from whatever had hurt you.

“I had a dream,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his shirt. “It was awful, Azriel. You left, and—and you were with Elain. I walked into her room, and you were fucking her. The way you looked at her...You… you chose her over me and the kids. And then we were gone, and you came back to an empty house, and I—”

Your words broke into another sob, your body trembling in his embrace.

Azriel’s heart shattered at the pain in your voice. He tilted your face up, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady and warm, “look at me.”

Your tear-filled eyes met his, and he cupped your face with both hands, his shadows still swirling around them like a cocoon.

“Baby,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “that was just a dream. A terrible, awful dream. But it’s not real. It will never be real.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “It felt so real, Azriel. I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you."

He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’ll never lose me,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of his words. “Do you hear me, baby? Never. You are the love of my life. My mate. The one thing I waited for, longed for, prayed for, for centuries.”

Your lips quivered as you listened, your hands clutching his tunic tightly.

“I have spent my life in shadows, baby,” Azriel continued, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “And then you came along, and you were my light. You gave me a family, a home, a reason to believe I could be something more. There is no one else for me. Not Elain. Not anyone. Only you. Always you.”

Your tears began to slow as his words sank in, your chest heaving as you clung to him. “You mean it?” you whispered, your voice small and vulnerable.

Azriel leaned in, his lips brushing over yours in a kiss so tender it made your heart ache. “I mean it,” he murmured. “I would never sacrifice what we have, what we’ve built, for anyone else. You are my everything, baby. You, Azriella, and Eryan—you’re my world. Nothing else matters.”

You nodded, her fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I love you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I doubted—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve been through so much, and I haven’t made it easy. And then me leaving earlier when we were arguing didn't help. But we’ll get through this together. I’ll never let anything come between us, baby. I swear it.”

Your lips trembled as he leaned in, capturing them with his own. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, a bridge between the hurt and the healing. But it deepened, your emotions spilling over as you both clung to each other.

Azriel scooped you into his arms, carrying you to your shared bed. His hands traced your skin as if committing you to memory all over again, his lips murmuring apologies and promises against your neck. You responded in kind, your touch reassuring him that you were still there, still his.

Your lovemaking was slow, deliberate, and full of emotion—a reaffirmation of your bond, your love, and your commitment to each other. When it was over, Azriel held you tightly, his face buried in your hair.

“I’ll do better,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I’ll let you in, baby. No more walls, no more running away from arguments.”

“I trust you,” you replied, your hand resting over his heart. “We’ll figure this out together.”

He held you close as you finally began to relax, your breathing evening out as the nightmare faded into memory. Azriel kissed your hair, whispering soft reassurances until your tears were completely gone.

As you both laid in your bed, your head resting on his chest, Azriel’s arms remained tight around you. His shadows danced gently around you both, their protective embrace a silent promise that the light you both shared would never be extinguished.

And as you drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, the shadows and light found harmony once more.

Chapter 8

[cinnablu3]

RECKLESS - ALL I WANTED WAS YOU

Masterlist

Ch 18, i lied about 20 chapters we might have 21.

After Utahime leaves, you find yourself alone, your heart racing. The time for Choso's arrival is drawing near. "I have to be honest with him, no matter the consequences," you remind yourself. Just then, there's a knock on the door.

Immediately opened the door and pulled Choso inside. "Easy, I know I said I couldn’t be spotted, but you were quick with it, doll," he teased.

"Cho." He immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you. He presses his lips against your forehead.

"Glad to know you miss me."

"I'm sorry about--" "Don't even finish that sentence. It wasn't your fault." He said, hiding his face inside your neck. "Give me a minute, I miss you, Doll."

It was a peaceful silence as he pulled away slowly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even in jail for that long, but even then." He laughed. "I did miss you."

You couldn't hold back your smile, feeling the ache in your heart, knowing he wouldn't have the same feelings for what you were going to tell him.

"Choso take a seat please I need to get something off my ch--" "That you agreed to the kiss?" He interrupts, you can feel your heart drop. "He told me." He gives you a bitter smile.

"I'm not angry, I shouldn't be upset since we aren't even together," he says as he takes a seat on your couch. "Though, you wouldn't believe how frustrated I was when we had to share a cop car and a cell." He crosses his arms.

"He complains a lot, it really did makes me wonder what you saw in him."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his statement.

"I'm serious, I can't find anything attractive that could have caught your attention."

"That's a little harsh even for you."

"I told him, got in a fight in the cell." He grins, "I was supposed to get out much earlier but someone got offended and took another beating."

"I'm trying my best to be serious with you, I can't with you telling me all this information." You sighs holding back a smile.

He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just know I forgive you, even though I was hurt about it, I just want to know." He turns serious. "Did you feel sparks?"

"I didn't, that's when I realized he wasn't someone I wanted my name to be attached to."

"Good, because being attached to mine is way better. Sounds better as well."

"I want to be with you, Choso. I do," You paused. "I want to talk to Satoru, can I? Just to clear everything and end things completely."

"That's a terrible idea, Name. He doesn't need an explanation. You don't have to acknowledge him anymore."

"Choso.."

"I'm serious. Write a letter if you have to.. that sounds terrible I'm sorry.." He puts his hands on his face embarrassed of his words. "I just don't want to feel like my feelings are being played with."

"You're valid for how you feel, I'll write a letter and that's it no more." Giving him a serious look.

"Promise?"

"Promise Cho."

"That's a promise. Just don't give me false hope that's all I ask." He intertwines his pinkies with yours.

"Since you kissed him, it's only fair that I finally do." He leans in and gently cuffs your face before pressing his lips against yours.

You couldn't hold back a smile.

"Glad to know you're out of jail, in good piece" Shoko teases pointing at Satoru eye as he sticks his tongue out.

"Don't remind me. That emo said I whine too much."

"He's not wrong."

"Shoko, don't you think it's rude to bully a friend?" Suguru speaks up.

"Thank you Sugu-"

"Especially when he has two ugly blackeyes by his nemesis." He smirks.

"My manager is going to kill me." He throws himself on the couch pouting. "Maybe don't respond so quickly especially when you can't fight Satoru," Shoko replied.

"I can fight, I was just drunk." He groans, "Speaking of drunk does Name know you're here?" Shoko looks off to the side and is silent.

"Utahime and her are currently not speaking to her after the whole party." Suguru chimed in putting a hand on her shoulder.

"That sounds like Utahime doing, not Name. She is not someone that often cuts people off."

"Look, can we not talk about this guys? I cannot have another reason why I need a cigarette again." She rubs her head.

"Why don't you storm for Utahime and ask to take you back?" Satoru looks up at her while she raises a brow.

"What?"

"For once, I'm desperate. I want my friends back, tell me. You guys can't be my only friends."

"So.. I was thinking.."

Taglist is now closed and full 💞 @miiiturix @superdonkeypatroleggs @inthedarkshadows000 @kumori-suwan @chilichopsticks @prized-jules 1ndee @lov3vivian @yuuuumii @chiiinglebells @sakurayashiro @ghostlyfanenemy @cisseadven @totallygyomeiswife bemebiu @chckn-pi @for-hearthand-home @sh0ot1ngst4r @muthic @lukaerith-morningstar meowforluv @uniquenicefangirl @4rmins @corvid007 @beautifulwitchcandy @iluv-ace @tartartagliaboo @genxnarumi lafrone @coffee-addicted-demigod @cupidsblonde depressedemosantaclaus @drownedbytears @s777athv @linaaeatsfamilies @lun4rchive @moonlitwitchdaisy @kooksbunnnn @shoma-nom @reagan707 @kaged-kitty b0nez9 btsinthesoop @shokosbunny @sleepykittyenergy @sad-darksoul @ghostswhoretbh @raquel12 @missthatgirl @explosivelywuisa @bunviixo @rifran @therealanxiety @harryzcherry

[twig-tea]

The Fragrance You Inherit Remained Gentle and Kind

The Fragrance You Inherit was such a gentle and kind show. I loved so many things about it: The performances, the music, the colouring, the pining, and above all, the kindness. I've said before and I will repeat: this is a show about good people who love each other doing their best to be kind to one another, and it was a pleasure to watch. Run don't walk to Siiri's blog @isaksbestpillow to download the show with her subs. Spoilers for the finale to follow.

The interpersonal relationships were the star of this show: The mother/son relationship between Toki and Sakura, Sakura's friendship with On-chan, Toki and Kanae's budding romance and learning what it means to be in a relationship together, Sakura and Mone as reunited old friends and how they immediately regress into giggle-fits in each other's presence, Kanae and her father and how Hoshii-sempai remained a lovable and supportive dork through the whole series, Sakura and her own mother, and even Toki and On-chan and the loving uncle/nephew-like relationship they build...all of them were perfect, loving, and sweet. And the relationship parallels were used well to move things forward--Mone sees the parallel between herself and Sakura in the past with Toki and Kanae in the present; Mone draws from her relationship with Toki to understand her relationship with her own mother better; and Toki draws from his experience with Kanae to understand his mother better (and vice versa, he draws from his mother's relationship to understand his own better too).

I said after ep 1 that my expectations for this show were that we would get closure for Sakura and we did, in a series of beautiful scenes. I love how the series is bookended by two very different weddings that Sakura attends with very different emotions, and how much support Sakura has around moving on and seeking happiness for herself. Though we didn't see the scene, we got enough of Toki and Kanae's relationship that I believe that Kanae also knows about Sakura by the end of ep8, and her giving Sakura the flowers is tacit approval for Sakura to go out and date (a woman).

In addition to the confession scene, I absolutely loved Sakura's coming out scene with her mother; the way this was done to underscore the importance of a child's happiness to their parent was well done and was a good message to send. Generally the message about coming out in this show was that it is not something you owe anyone but is a gift you give the people you love so that they know you better and as a benefit, by knowing more about you, their world expands. I liked this message.

I had also said in the same post-ep1 post that this show seemed gearing up for a teenage boy meltdown, but I did not predict how sweet and loving this meltdown would be. Toki is the most thoughtful and caring teenage boy of all time. The scene with him and his mother on the phone in episode 7 made me cry so much! I really appreciated that the show was clear that Toki had absolutely no reason to ever doubt that he was loved by his mother, but that the evidence of his life and their history was not enough to break through the teenage melodrama when it hit, and he needed to hear it from her directly. I have to stop and give kudos to Sakura's actor Hoshino Mari, who did a phenomenal job. I felt her desperation and concern for her child so strongly, as well as her relief.

While I'm giving shout-outs, I also need to shout out Takeda Kouhei, who was perfect as the sardonic and empathetic gay bestie On-chan. I was so happy to see him every time he appeared, he always gave excellent advice, and his presence was so soothing.

And while Toki and Sakura were the core of the show, I really appreciated that all of the characters felt like they had their own motivations and drivers. It would have been easy to have made Kanae one-dimensional or without agency, or to have made Hoshii-sempai a distant or unsupportive father, or Mone the passive recipient of Sakura's feelings. But the show balanced all of these characters as distinct people who each had their own perspective.

Thank you again to Siiri for subbing this series and making it available for all of us to watch; this was another gift of a show. And thanks to the giffers who giffed this show, especially @easterndelights !

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[valkyrieromanoff]

SLIM PICKINS: LEO CAMPOLI X YOU

synopsis: you didn’t expect to fall for Leo Campoli’s cheeky and relentless flirting, but one thing’s for sure, hormones and a devilishly handsome pizza chef are a combination too hard to resist.

words: 1.7k

warnings: MDNI, +18, porn without a plot, unprotected sex, drinking.

a/n: hello there, I rewatched Little Italy this afternoon, and I couldn’t resist writing something about Leo. He’s got that irresistible flirtatious charm, but let’s be real—deep down, he’s just a hopeless romantic. 🥰

I hope you enjoy it! As always, comments, reblogs, and likes mean the world to me. 💕 My inbox is wide open for requests, so don’t be shy!

Jesus, what's a girl to do? This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are Yet he's naked in my room

You hadn’t planned on ending up in bed with the most notorious flirt in Little Italy. Leo Campoli was exactly the kind of guy your friends warned you about—too cocky for his own good, with that smug grin and a knack for cheesy pick-up lines. 

He was always draping himself around women at the pool table, his hands resting a little too low on their waists, his chest pressed firmly against their backs as he “taught” them how to shoot. His smooth, easy laughter filled the room, drawing attention like a magnet.  

You told yourself you were better than that. You weren’t about to fall for his charm, no matter how persistent he was or how annoyingly attractive he looked under the dim bar lights. But damn it, you’d been horny ever since you got off the plane, and no amount of cocktails or beers had dulled the fire simmering inside you.  

So when Leo swaggered up to you, his dark blue eyes full of mischief and his grin downright sinful, you didn’t resist. He flirted shamelessly, his words dripping with confidence, and his hands strayed just enough to make your heart race. 

All those warnings and self-promises melted away with every heated kiss and teasing laugh. Leo Campoli might have been trouble, but for now, you didn’t care.  

Leo flashed that infamous grin as he stepped closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of your back to pull your hips flush against his own. "What you say we get out of here and have our own little party, huh?" he purred, dark blue eyes glinting with lust and promise under the dim lights of the bar.

His other hand tipped your chin up, thumb brushing across your plump bottom lip as he leaned in, breath hot against your ear. "I promise I'll make it a night you won't forget, bellissima," Leo murmured, voice low and smooth like honey. "Whaddya say?"

Leo's eyes fluttered closed as your soft lips met his, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His hand slid from your back to tangle in your silky curls, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The other hand your hip, pulling your body tighter against him as he claimed your mouth with renewed hunger.

He nipped at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, tasting the whiskey and desire on your breath. Leo's tongue delved past your parted lips to stroke along yours, coaxing you to dance with him, to give in to the fire building between you two.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," Leo murmured against your mouth, voice husky with want. His hands roamed your lush curves greedily, relishing the feel of your breasts pressed against him, the flare of your hips, the firm globes of your ass. "Let's get out of here, bellissima. My place is just upstairs..."

"Yes, please." You nodded, letting him guide you.

Leo's grin widened, triumph and lust burning in his eyes as he took your hand, leading you swiftly towards the back staircase. His palm was warm and slightly calloused, enveloping yours smaller one completely. The bulge in his jeans pressed against your hip as you climbed the stairs, promising pleasures to come.

Reaching the top, he fished a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to his apartment. Leo ushered you inside, the door clicking shut behind them. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with tension and the scent of alcoholic drinks and desire. 

A couch sat against one wall, a coffee table strewn with empty beer bottles and takeout containers. A door led to what you assumed was the bedroom, and beyond it, the city lights twinkled through a large window.

But Leo didn't give you much time to take in your surroundings before he was on you again, strong hands gripping your waist and spinning you to face him. He captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, the heat of his body enveloping you, his hardness evident through the fabric of his jeans.

"Fuck, I want you," Leo groaned against your lips, hands sliding down to squeeze the firm globes of your ass. He rocked his hips into yours, letting you feel exactly what you did to him. "Want to touch every inch of this pretty body"

"So stop wasting time talking and do it." You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

A wicked grin split Leo's face at your bold words, eyes glinting with unchecked desire. "As you wish, bellezza," he purred, hands already working at the buttons of your top.

Buttons popped open one by one until the material fell away, revealing the creamy swell of your breasts, clad in a lacy bra that did little to hide your hardened nipples.

Leo's breath caught, eyes hungry as they roamed your newly exposed flesh. "Dio mio, you're stunning," he breathed, before ducking his head to press open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your breast. 

His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with ease before tossing it aside. Cool air kissed your heated skin a moment before his mouth closed around one straining peak, tongue swirling and suckling greedily.

One hand slid down to the hem of your skirt, pushing it up around your thighs as he caressed the smooth skin there. His fingertips danced along the edge of your panties, teasing, before slipping beneath the fabric to cup your cunt. He groaned around your nipple as he felt your slick folds, fingers stroking through your wetness.

"Already so wet for me, huh bellissima? Can't wait to sink my cock deep in this tight little cunt," Leo murmured, voice muffled against your breast. Two fingers pushed inside you, pumping slowly, as his thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub.

"Too much talk and not enough action." You replied breathlessly, trying to maintain a semblance of composure even as your legs began to wobble for him.

"Mmm, you want action, bellezza? I'll give you action," Leo growled, a wicked glint in his eye. In one swift motion, he swept the remaining clothes off the couch and laid you down on the worn leather, his hard body covering yours a second later.

His hands made quick work of your skirt and panties, nearly tearing them in his haste to get you naked. Then he was settling between your spread thighs, the thick length of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. 

Leo's eyes locked with your, dark and intense blue orbs, as he gripped your hips and thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt inside your tight heat with one powerful stroke.

A guttural moan tore from his throat at the wonderful feel of you, your walls clenching like a chiffon around his throbbing flesh. "Fuck, bellezza, you feel incredible," Leo rasped, hips starting to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a hard, driving rhythm.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he took you with deep, forceful thrusts, each one hitting that magical spot deep inside you that made fireworks fly behind your eyelids. 

One hand slid beneath your ass, tilting your hips to take him even deeper as the other snaked between your sweat-slicked bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"fuck" You moaned, your head hitting the arm of the couch with Leo's thrusts, your arm around his shoulder. "faster"

"Fuck, you like that, bellezza? You want it faster?" Leo snarled, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow as he doubled his efforts. 

His hips slammed into yours with brutal force, the couch creaked and groaned beneath you, threatening to give way under the intensity of his thrusts.

His fingers flew over your clit, rubbing mercilessly, pushing you towards that peak you so desperately craved. The thick head of his cock kissed your cervix with each powerful lunge, stoking the fire burning low in your belly. Leo's muscles rippled beneath your touch, his skin slick with endeavour as he rutted into you wildly.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, urging him on as he split you open on his thick shaft. Your untouched breasts bounced with each thrust, hardened nipples grazing his chest. The sensation of his hard length driving into you, his fingers on your clit, pushed you closer and closer to the cliff.

"Come on, bellezza, come on my cock. I want to feel this sweet cunt squeezing me tight when you let go," Leo demanded, his voice a low, lustful growl. He could feel his own release fast approaching, balls drawing up tight as he chased your shared end.

"Dio mio, yes, fuck!" Leo roared, eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerked erratically. 

With a last powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you spasming depths, hot seed erupting from his throbbing cock in thick spurts. His body shuddered and twitched as he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his essence. 

Panting harshly, Leo collapsed against you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He peppered your face and neck with soft kisses as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed. 

"Mmm, that was... incredible, bellezza," he murmured against your skin, still buried deep inside your warmth. Leo made no move to pull out, enjoying the feel of your fluttering walls around his spent cock. 

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "You okay, sweetheart? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked softly, pushing himself up to look at you.

You smiled lazily, the post-orgasmic glow shining on your sweaty skin. “No, I enjoyed every moment.”

Leo flashed a satisfied grin at your words, still nestled snugly inside your warm, silky walls. "Good, because that was just the beginning, bellissima," he purred, one hand reaching up to caress your cheek tenderly. "Wait until you see what I have planned next."

He rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were spooning on the couch, his softening cock still buried deep in your heat. Leo's hand drifted down to your hip, thumb stroking the curve gently as he nuzzled into your neck with a contented sigh. 

"You know, I have to confess, I didn't expect tonight to go quite like this," Leo murmured, lips brushing your skin. "But I'm sure as hell glad it did." 

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, arms tightening around your waist. "Stay the night with me, bellezza?’

[nightsandrewrites]

Banter with the Bat Boys

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Cassian doesn't think you know a single good pick up line, but maybe you've got something up your sleeve?

Word count: 923

Warnings: None, Flirting

a/n: Just a little blurb, we love seeing the bat boys get a little flustered.

------------------------------------------------------------------- The fire pops in the hearth as it adjusts to the fresh logs that Cassian threw in. The drawing room grows cozier and as he moves back to his armchair a swirl of warmth meets you. This room is your sanctuary tonight as a strong blizzard billows through Velaris. You’d come to dinner at the High Lord’s home to provide an update on your latest findings on a cursed object that had found its way onto the marketplace. You were joined of course by Azriel and Cassian. Azriel was eager to hear of your results given he was the one to undercover the artifact and Cassian, well he just had a strong case of fear of missing out.

When the meal wrapped no one was too eager to get out into the chill so your small party quickly moved on to evening drinks.

“So, you had no better offers tonight Cassian?” Rhysand questioned leaning back in his armchair and bringing his drink to his lips.

“Oh plenty of offers, I just like to do some charity work you know. What would guys do without me?” Cassian’s face pulled into a wide grin.

“Yes, I can’t imagine how we’d get along?” Rhysand rolled his eyes.

“Please there were no offers, you had no where else to be.” Azriel chimed in. He tipped his glass in Cassians direction before taking a deep drink.

“And how would you know?” Cassian lent forward, elbows resting on the corners of his armchair.

“Spymaster.” Azriel simply pointed at himself.

You couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up at their interaction. They truly acted as brothers and your heart felt so light seeing them be so content on evenings such as these.

“What are you giggling at over there? Did you have any better offers tonight?” Cassian challenged from across your little circle of chairs.

“No she didn’t.” Azriel quickly said before sipping his drink again.

“Hey!” You whipped out a hand from your blanket and slapped it playfully across Azriel’s arm. He grinned at you apologetically. “I happened to have business here tonight and I could have plans if I wanted to.”

“Oh really, cause I don’t recall the last time I saw you with a male?” Cassian’s wings fluffed behind him as he settled back in his chair.

“Some of us don’t feel the need to advertise our every conquest.” You wave your hand in his direction.

“Now, now, you two. There’s no competition.” Rhysand places his drink down on the low table between you all.

“Oh we know that already, I don’t think Y/N has a single good pick up line.” He smirks at you.

“I have plenty of good pickup lines thank you.” You take a small sip from your glass.

“Well do share.” Cassian gestures to the room.

“I don’t need to waste them on you.” You retort and resist the urge to stick your tongue out like a child.

“Well tell Azriel, his ravishing good looks mean he’s heard every pickup line from here to Spring.” He nods like it's settled. “He will judge.”

Your eyes dart across the faces in the room looking for a way out but both Azriel and Rhysand are watching you expectantly. Bastards. Of course they would side with Cassian.

“Fine.” You place your glass down a little harder than necessary as you swing your legs off your chair where they had been curled.

You stand and move towards Azriel, he watches you carefully as you step around his armchair. Rhysand picks up his glass again like he’s ready for a show and when you glance over to Cassian he only raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. His cockiness only fuels you and you know what you need to do.

You lay a hand across the back of Azriel’s chair and lean forward so that your lips almost brush the hollow of his ear. Behind a cupped hand you keep your voice low so that the others won't hear.

“I can’t decide whether I want to scream your name” You whisper to him “or feel you down the back of my throat.”

You straighten with a small smile. Rhysand seems shocked and Cassian now has both his eyebrows raised. When you glance down at Azriel a soft pink dusts the top of his cheeks.

“Ye- uh-, I mean, um she’s got it covered Cassian.” Azriel throws his head back and downs the remainder of his drink.

“Oh now I have to know what you just said.” Cassian is grinning again “I haven’t seen anyone have that effect on Azriel in a long time.”

“Rhysand” Azriel’s growl rumbles through the room “Don’t try and get in my head.”

“Hey just thought I’d see if you’d like to share that’s all.” Rhysand raises his hands in innocence.

“Well it’s been fun boys, but it looks like the weathers clearing and I should get home.” You turn and grab your long coat from the back of your chair triumphantly.

“I’ll take you, it’s still snowing and you can avoid the cold if we winnow.” Azriel quickly stands.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You give him a warm smile in reply. You bid the others goodnight and make your way to the door.

“It’s still snowing.” You hear Cassian mimic as he brings his glass up to finish his drink. As you make it to the hall you just catch sight of one of Azriel’s shadows tipping Cassian’s glass forward and its contents emptying into his lap.

[kingdomhate]

Painting Your Nails with Them Scenarios!

Anakin Skywalker:

It was an unusual request, he would give you that. There wasn't many times where you had requested Ani to do something you usually engaged in by yourself, but you figured what harm could come from asking him to paint your nails for you?

"Is that what you want me to do?" He asked, the cocky grin on his face. "Yes! It'll be cute, Ani, pleaseeeee." He sighed, feigning irritation. "Ughhhhhhh, fine." He said, teasingly rolling his eyes. You threw a pillow at him, aimed directly for his face. It hit him and he let out a mockingly pained grunt, falling to the floor overdramatically. "Oh, please. It won't even take long! Plus, you can pick out any color from my collection." Anakin perked up at that, getting up and moving over to the colors you had purchased and liked over the years.

Once Ani had picked one that he liked, he went over to you, grabbing all of the supplies you had gathered for your nails. He sat in front of you, taking your hand into his. His skin was warm and soft. His thumb brushed over your knuckles as he lightly stroked the brush onto your nail, over and over, recoating as many times as he needed or felt was needed. When he was finished, he brought the hand he was working on to rest on any nearby surfaces, letting it dry. "There ya go. Not bad, huh?" Anakin said, leaning back and crossing his arms. He was pretty sure he had done amazingly.

You looked at your now dried nails and took a moment to take them in. It was not bad. Better than you thought. "Color goes well with your skin." He said, smiling at you. You smiled back. "I love them." Before leaning in to a sweet, passionate kiss.

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

Once Obi had returned from one of his journeys, reported back to the Council with his findings, he returned to you. He pulled you into a hug, and kissed you deeply, you both prepared dinner together and ate together before you ran him a bath as you always did.

"Hey, Obi?" You had asked, sitting beside the tub, absentmindedly drawing playing with his dirty, golden blonde hair. He had his eyes closed as he allowed the warm water to soak into his skin and wash away the dirt from his mission. "Hm?" He hummed in acknowledgement to your question. "Would you let me paint your nails, or something?" You proposed to him, and he opened his eyes, his vividly blue eyes trained on you with curiosity. "Yes, I would. But why? I'm not sure the council would allow it, per se."

You had expected this; it was an iffy subject. "I thought it would be fun, something you might like. What if I did it when you were away from the council, on one of your missions?" Obi-Wan's eyes unfocused, as he was in thought. "Yes, that might work."

And so, you began your work when he had gotten dressed and freshened up in the bathroom. He picked a simple neutral color, as this was the first time you'd painted his nails, so he picked the safe option. You worked diligently for roughly around 30 minutes, and when you finished you stretched and encouraged him to take a look. Obi-Wan was stunned when he had seen how there were virtually no mistakes, and the color needed only 2 coats to really pop.

"It's lovely." He beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, glad he liked it.

Luke Skywalker:

Luke had seen how his aunt and uncle were so affectionate with each other, as if their love had just begun and maybe it had, but when he saw his uncle painting his aunt's fingernails with some color she had adored, he knew he had to do it with you.

"Y\N! Y\N!" He called, running with the idea fresh in his brain to you, who was currently fixing one of the haul's of droids. "What is it, Luke?" You asked, not taking your eyes off of what you were doing. "I saw my uncle painting my aunt's nails, and I thought of you. Is that something you like?" You were interested by what he said, so you stopped what you were doing and turned to him "Of course it is!"

A goofy grin plastered itself on Luke's face and he immediately scrambled back to ask his aunt for any nail polish colors she had, when she asked why he said it was something he wanted to recreate with you. She smiled fondly at him and handed her all of the colors she had. Luke thanked her and skipped off to present them to you. "Oh, wow, these are beautiful-" You begin before Luke cuts you off. "I was thinking we could do all of them on each finger!"

You nod, surprised but liking the idea and Luke immediately got to work. He was diligent as he put the brush to your nail and when he was done you were speechless at the job he had done. He smiled that goofy ass smile that he always had around you, and you suddenly gripped his hands and the brush, working to return the favor with a smile.

.

.

.

[cosmic-giraffe]

PLEASE make that post about reducing hasemura and hirojima down to just their ships im desperate to see people complain about this please i hate it so much

Ask anon, and you shall receive

First of all, I touched on this issue a few weeks ago, as you can read here, so I'll try and explain my thought process better! Secondly, this less of a complaint, and more of a study in fandom etiquette and the like.

I think people narrowing down the characters of Ken, Kazutoshi, Ojima and Hiroaki to their respective ships isn't an issue solely in the Tetro fandom, or Danganronpa as a whole. It's an issue in any media that includes queer ships, or ships in general (which is literally any media ever). As a gay person, I'll be speaking from my experience with this problem in fandom.

First of all, Hasemura. Both Ken and Kazutoshi are very interesting characters on their own, and their chemistry is undeniable. I'm a sucker for these two; for somebody as shy and socially awkward as Ken to befriend a brooding, jaded guy like Kazutoshi makes for some very fun and insightful interactions. Their contrasting lives and personalities are one of the draws for their dynamic. There was obviously something going on between the two of them, even if they never got the chance to vocalize or even understand the feelings they had. But this will-they-won't-they aspect of their dynamic isn't all that's to them.

Kazutoshi was a very depressed individual. He'd faced many hardships in his life, from losing his family at a young age to his myriad of health issues, to his mental illnesses resulting in multiple failed suicide attempts. But outside of his trauma, Kazutoshi was a very smart person. He was a forensic crime scene cleaner for God's sake, which definitely isn't an easy profession, mentally or physically. He wanted to study, he wanted to move past his hardships and flourish, he wanted to live. Just like everybody else in the killing game. But Kazutoshi was a total asshole, which I love. He didn't hold his tongue and kept people at arm's length out of fear of being hurt again.

Ken is the inverse of that. He has a supportive family, he has wealth, he has a support system in place. He might not be the loudest personality in the room, and he might stumble over his words more often than he can get a full sentence out, but Ken is a very kind and considerate individual.

For people to reduce all the intricacies and nuance of their characters and writing to their ship is doing them both a huge disservice. There's so much more to them than that. It's so much more interesting to view Kazutoshi and Ken's potential for a relationship as a small piece in the puzzle of their lives, instead of it being all-encompassing.

Going back to Kazutoshi, it is very sad to see the main takeaway from his death being "He never got to tell Ken that he loved him!" Which, yes, is undeniably tragic. In media, there's a sad trope called "Bury your gays", in which gay characters are killed off before they can ever have a happy ending.

I'm definitely not accusing Von of this, as Danganronpa has plenty of queer characters that die off (Chihiro, Mondo, Taka, Ibuki, Nagito, Tenko, etc.). But for people to look over all the missed opportunities Kazutoshi will never get the chance to experience because of his brutal death in favour of making his loss about Ken again is not the best look.

Now, onto Ojima and Hiroaki, because BOY do I have thoughts about these two, mainly Hiroaki (the little shit he is, I love him so much lmao).

These two suffer the same issue as Hasemura, that being all their characterization being boiled down to their shipping potential. Which isn't unsurprising, as they're two skinny pale twinks in an anime art style, which is like crack for teenage fujoshis lmao

But on a serious note, Ojima and Nakamigawa are more similar to each other than Ken and Kazutoshi are. Both have tense relationships with their families and their reputation, both have unresolved trauma, and both of them have an interest and career in the arts.

But that's where they differ. Ojima is an illustrator, and has a very intense crunchtime to navigate under in his profession. The stress of having to create art for countless projects definitely has its toll on him, but he still retains the passion that got him into this sector in the first place. Ojima doesn't have a bombastic personality, but he is stern when he needs to be, and is definitely one of the more mature students in the killing game. His bouts of disassociation are also an integral aspect of his character, and they are intermittent and uncomfortable.

And Hiroaki is one of the most annoying students ever and I love him. He's crass, pompous, has an irritating holier-than-thou attitude to anybody he deems to be beneath him, and can't take what he dishes out. He constantly picks fights and insults people, and then acts surprised when nobody wants to be around him. But underneath all that veneer of flashy designer clothes and bad boy image, Hiroaki is a very insecure boy that needs somebody to reel him in and let him know that being open, honest, and in touch with his feelings isn't at all a bad thing to be. He's shown his more sensitive side when he thinks Ojima is dissociating, when Tsuno was upset and she sought comfort from him out of all the other students in the school, and when he helped Hama and Wada grieve the loss of Isono, Chiba and Harada.

Hiroaki has the capability to grow and become a better person, and due to recent events, he is starting to do so. I hope he stays on this path and doesn't backtrack when things get tough.

Now, onto their dynamic. Ojima and Hiroaki obviously contrast and compliment each other well. This is all thanks to Von's writing. When Hiroaki shoots his mouth off, it's almost always Ojima that reels him in. When Ojima is in one of his lapses, it's usually Hiroaki who keeps him company by simply staying in the room, drawing, while he patiently waits for him to come back. They share dorm rooms to the point they're basically one room, they share clothes, they even share beds sometimes. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and that's why they're such a good pairing.

But what irks me is when people make their personalities completely revolve around the other. Hiroaki this, Ojima that, Hiroaki this, Ojima that. No mention of their interesting dynamics with other students, like how Ojima and Wada bonded over their respective histories with trauma, nor how Hiroaki and Tsuno confide their problems in each other so as to not burden anybody else with them (I'll take any opportunity to bring up Tsuno lmao).

And this is never more prevalent with Hiroaki's coming out scene.

It doesn't take a genius to know that being closeted is a very stressful time in a queer person's life. It's hiding a huge aspect of your life for fear of being judged by outsiders, or from being judged by yourself. That's why some people never come out of their closet, and are unable to accept and be their true selves. Which happens all too often.

Hiroaki's internalized homophobia kept him closeted for years of his life, which definitely wouldn't have helped his self-image issues. Being thrust into the public eye as the Ultimate Fashion Designer definitely wouldn't have helped, either, as now he had thousands of eyes on him. Due to this pressure, he played up his bad boy image by dating and sleeping with girls he had no attachment to, just to cover up for his own crippling insecurities and inability to accept himself.

When Hiroaki does come out of the closet for the very first time, when he finally accepts an aspect of his life he'd been repressing for years, he says it to Yanagi. Not Ojima. Yanagi. Yanagi, the guy who almost sold them all down the river during the first trial when he covered up for Sasaki (who they also both had very differing views on). Yanagi, the guy who beat the shit out of him and broke his nose, dislodged his tooth, and bruised up the face that he'd kept in immaculate condition for the public constantly watching his every move.

Out of all the people in the killing game, Hiroaki told Yanagi, and it was excellent writing for that to be the case. There was no judgement, no criticism, just acceptance, which is what Hiroaki has been seeking his entire life. But was forced to wear a costume that wasn't really him, just to avoid the pain of rejection or judgement.

And for some people to take this monumental step in Hiroaki's journey of self-acceptance and make it all about Ojima is INSANELY insulting. It's obvious that Hiroaki has feelings for Ojima, which definitely added to the mounting pressure of him being closeted, but in that moment, it was about Hiroaki and loving himself.

Now, in summary, I'm not saying shippers can't ship Hasemura or Hirojima. Quite the opposite. Be unapologetically gay!! But also keep in mind the harm they're doing when they reduce the participants down to their attraction to the other, as it is a disservice to Tetro's excellent character writing, and also perpetuates the issue that has been prevalent in fandom spaces for way too long now.

This was a very long post and I didn't realize just how much I had to say about this subject, but here we are!! Tetro has definitely wormed its way into my heart, and its characters are constantly rotating in my brain like a microwave lmaooo

[ablogofloveandtrash]

Why was Diana so Reluctant to Open Up and Tell the Truth?

Returning from a previous post I had sent on this blog, I had theorized that Diana may have potentially gone through some experience in the past that has prevented her from being able to properly open up. I was rewatching the trial from chapter 1 and from what I could find on rewatch, is that Diana seemed to be particularly concerned about how others around her would react. And from three different lines of dialogue that I could find, is that Diana seems to be afraid of not being heard out or invalidated. Considering her bio states that she was in the popular crowds before the events of the game, it seems like Diana's fear came from the draw backs of being in the popular crowd. And in being part of the crowd, she would become much of the subject of conversation. She got so much attention on her, which may have caused her to become alienated or isolated in an emotional manner. In the screenshots I have provided, Diana has mentioned things like how others could twist her words around. Suggesting that she may have attempted to dispel or disprove untrue rumours about her. Which resulted in the aftermath not going her way and ultimately nothing was solved. The first screenshot details this aspect of her.

And because Diana must have failed to stop these rumours, this may explain why she often blames herself for not doing the 'right' thing or perceives herself as powerless. Because, Diana was caught up in an unfair situation. The rumours may have gotten so out of hand that Diana may have been cornered and forced herself to remain quiet. Complicit that these misconstrued words were true. She has likely accepted that at the time she couldn't change what others thought about her, and as much as Diana didn't like these rumours, she must have chosen to stop saying anything.

And this may have resulted in potential self isolation or some emotional blockage. As a means to avoid getting hurt by the people she cared about. For her own reasons, Diana seems to feel like telling the truth things would 'just get worse' in the following screen shot, the next sentence may allude to the case. But it does seem to be telling of what she feels about her self worth. She doesn't seem like her input is anything good. And that she would be better off staying quiet. Because she may have blamed herself for the rumours that occurred or worsened, because of her attempts to intervene.

It is possible that Diana could tell Damon about this particular issue in the story in Daily Life or from the Free Time Events, since Damon still needed to persuade Diana to explain her case. With some empathy, Damon may have used the right words to help Diana feel at ease to tell the truth. Assuring that he would listen and hear her out. Which may have not been something, Diana herself couldn't have had before the free time events or the trial. It's a stark contrast compared to the second free time event. Where he made his accusation of her being suspicious and making Diana uncomfortable with opening up. Though between the free time events and in the story, no one really truly knows why Diana is so afraid to open up, and be fully honest with others around her. In relation to a character like Damon, he is someone who is used to biting his tongue when others don't trust him or have something that would antagonize him. He doesn't open up to anyone because he percieves his vulnerabilities as an exploit. Yet in a similar vein, Diana too, cannot be vulnerable around others, out of fear that she would not be listened to. Potentially invalidated, unwanted or even abandoned. Possibly out of these fears she can't bring it in herself to lose her 'friends' again, and validates her helplessness by the end of the trial. The way Diana and Damon seem to handle their experiences past and present couldn't be anymore different from one another, yet they share an underlying similarity that sets up an interesting character dynamic. Damon acts more empathetic in response to her emotional distress. And in response to Damon's empathy, Diana was able to properly open up and have her voice heard in the court room. From this interaction it maybe possible that while tension between Diana and Damon will persist, ie: "I will follow in Wolfgang's Footsteps" (this maybe the source of Damon's anger in the end, not Diana's speech, exactly as many cut him out to be), it may fall on them growing closer that may allow them to become the better versions of each other. By helping each other out and setting their differences aside, for a greater common goal.

[septembersung]

Gonna keep live-blogging my homeschool day because I can and it’s motivating.

Day 2.

On the docket for today is another partial day because we have an Event. On the other hand, we’ve been living like cave gremlins so we may not make it. We need to go, or at least the kids do I’m a hermit, but we may not. But at least we’re only an hour behind schedule today, not three.

The ideal order of operations today goes like this:

I quit typing this, get ready to go, wake up children, and make breakfast and snack. We eat breakfast and pack the snack.

Morning time (prayers, sing hymn, introduce a new folk song, briefly review the Greek and German vocab introduced yesterday, learn 1 new Greek word and 1 new German phrase [ask me about TalkBox.mom! They should pay me for all the free advertising I do for them], math facts if time, skip other elements except possibly wiggle busters

Form 2 does their independent work - reading and narrations, math, and typing lesson - while I work with Form 1 and shadows (the littles.) I have to pause between elements with Form 1 to hear the narrations which are oral. Somehow I bilocate to also answer math questions. Form 1 will finish their Latin lesson and read to me from their reader with accompanying handwriting. Littles may listen in while coloring or doing other quiet table time activities. If they’re wiggling and playing well together I’ll send them to the playroom. This entire block of time is cut short because we have to drive, who knows how much will actually get done, maybe none.

We leave for group event. I do not forget our materials or the snack. This event is for girls so I may make my son bring his readings to finish before he has recess with the other brothers (a tried and true method, and he’s not the only one.)

Afterwards I pick up my library books and possibly run an errand.

Come home, eat something most likely.

Finish the daily work we left unfinished to go out.

Some kind of break. Attempt to squeeze in Form 2 lessons and family poetry/teatime (since we didn’t manage family poetry yesterday after all.) I want this to happen because today Form 2 has poetry, Latin, grammar, Shakespeare, and art, which I’m excited about. Honestly this 60-90 minutes is my favorite part.

I used to cram in poetry and other fine arts into morning time but it works better at teatime/afternoon snack with everything else I’m prioritizing and needs of the kids. This requires I have meals on time. Ugh. Meals. Who needs ‘em. We will continue to pretend the laundry is caught up and the house is clean. I’m definitely leaning on the fact that husband is still working from home right now and can help with meals. (Watching children while working doesn’t work well, but meal prep is manageable.) When he’s in person again I’ll have to get my food prep act together.

Yesterday because we were off schedule during Form 2 lessons the others had already maxed out their capacity for free play time and so ended up doing a bunch of drawing videos, which I’m perfectly happy with. Something similar may happen today.

Now taking bets with myself on if the next few hours resemble this outline at all. And go.

[bobasbn]

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

1k words | rafayelxfem!reader | Rafayel gets a new lip piercing, cutesy, brat Raf

-

When your boyfriend, Rafayel, sent you an overly thrilled message about some surprise he had, you weren’t really expecting much. Perhaps he was going to showcase a new painting in the works for his next exhibit or maybe a new trick that he taught Reddie the fish. 

What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be met with a foreign sight of metal that adorned the corner of the bottom lip. A small, silver labret that sticks from his skin, glimmering every time he spoke or smiled. You stared at him with your mouth agape for a few seconds longer than intended and almost made him sob when he believed you didn’t like the new feature on his face. 

“I wanted to try something new. I’ve seen countless humans with these tattoos and piercings and I thought it wouldn’t look so bad on me,” Rafayel tried to explain when you asked why he had impulsively gone to pierce his lip. Not that you didn’t like it, in fact, you found it to be an immensely attractive sight. The piercing moved so hypnotically with every motion when he spoke. 

The only downside was that you couldn’t really express your affection with a peck or a kiss due to his healing process. Rafayel’s been going insane without your kisses and everyday he wished the piercing would heal at lightspeed. 

Today you decided to be a thoughtful girlfriend and encourage Rafayel to take care of his health by exercising. His lips were a bit swollen after getting the piercing but now that it’s been a few months it’s been gradually getting better. You’ve become increasingly enticed by the sight. The way it glimmers when he talks, when he plays around with the piercing using his tongue or teeth. It seamlessly fits on his face somehow like a puzzle piece you didn’t even realise was ever missing. Despite that, he’s been flopping around his studio like a fish out of water whining and groaning about the pain in his lips and the lack of kisses he’s receiving. 

“Come on Raf. You need some exercise,” you say, trying to convince him to step outside and go to the gym with you. Rafayel, albeit dressed in workout attire, stands with his arms crossed and a petulant frown on his face. That new lip ring he put on catches your eye, the metal hugging the pliable pink flesh of his lips.

“Exercise is not what I need right now to rejuvenate me,” he protests, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. You feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his black tank top. He leans his head down a bit but all you see is that lip ring drawing closer. 

“How long has it been since you’ve stepped outside?” You ask. His hand trails lower, resting on the small of your back. His mind seems to be wandering somewhere that’s not this conversation you’re having. You decide to negotiate with him. Instead of a strenuous workout at the gym maybe he’ll settle for a walk for some fresh air. Rafayel can read your thoughts through your eyes and it deepens his frown to know that you want to drag him outside his studio.

“Does it matter?” He questions. “Can’t we just stay inside, watch the sea from the comfort of my studio?” He tries to steer you away from wanting to go exercise. 

“I’ll give you a kiss if you come walk-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Rafayel is fixing a black cap on his head and practically skipping out the door. He looks back at you and gestures for you to follow him. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” He says impatiently. 

You roll your eyes at his sudden change in attitude. Taking his hand in yours, you two stroll out, the breeze brushing against Rafayel’s face for the first time in who knows how long. He keeps a tight grasp on your hand and leads you to the pristine beach of Whitesand Beach. The sun’s rays are a welcoming warmth against your skin, the light coruscating off the ocean across from you. 

You turn around to admire Rafayel. His soft purple locks wavering in the breeze, pink-blue eyes lovingly staring back at you… and that lip ring. It throws off the entire ‘soft boyfriend’ look he was previously presenting as. Such a small piece of jewellery somehow shifted his entire facade. 

“Are you sure you don’t secretly hate it?” Rafayel asks, giving a small squeeze to your hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I like it,” you reassure him for the umpteenth time. 

Rafayel looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are narrowed and eyebrows curved down as he turns his body to face you. He steps closer, his intention clear as day when he starts to lean down a bit. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” Rafayel asks. You can’t deny him, you would never. Especially not when he looks like a kicked puppy begging for a kiss. 

You give him a simple nod. He immediately jumps at the chance, arms encircling your body and his lips smash against yours. 

It’s different. It’s exhilarating. The way the cool steel poking at your lips contrasts with his warm, supple lips is dizzying. When you reciprocate a second after, you can feel the small tug of a smirk on his lips as he indulges in you. 

“Rafayel-” You mumble between the kiss, “we’re in- public-” 

“And?” He inquires. He pulls away only a fraction, your lips still about a centimetre apart. 

“And? It’s not empty,” you whisper. Your eyes dart about around Rafayel, spotting a few other people casually lazing around on the beach. Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to really care about anything else but he straightens his back again. 

“Okay. Then let’s take a nice, relaxing walk back to my studio and spend more time together,” Rafayel suggests, a brazen smile plastered on his face. He sensed you were just about to protest so he acted quickly. His arm secured itself around the back of your knees, hoisting you up over his shoulder.

“Wha- Hey! Rafayel!” You almost screech when you find yourself slumped over his shoulder like you’re a bag of potatoes. This was the last thing you were expecting from him.

“Relax, cutie. We’re just going to… make sure my lip piercing is fully healed.” 

-

inspired by the random thought I had that what if Rafayel got a lip piercing bc he already has so many ear piercings. ♡⃕ first post of 2025. hope you enjoy!!!

[lovelizards]

"Well well, if it isn't the beggar baron's little flower..."

Lord Daniel's body pressed against her back, pinning her against the wall and leaning so close to the shell of her ear that she could feel his breath.

His hand brushed against her arm, cajoling her, and though his voice was honey sweet she knew better than to trust any man who came by her father's invitation.

"Good afternoon, my lord," she murmured, every inch of her going ice cold and dead, like something left by the tide on a rocky shore.

"Lady Iris, you look absolutely ravishing today. If I had more time, I would have asked for the honour of taking a walk through your lush gardens."

She felt him press in further, and braced her hands against the wall to steady herself, her head bowed, and vacant eyes on the floor.

"What a shame," she said, "I am also terribly busy. Perhaps another time."

"A shame indeed..."

The son of the Count who lorded over their territory, a rampant deviant, a rake, with a sharp and unpredictable temper. Why did her father have to borrow so much money from him? What was she supposed to do against such a powerful -

"Hey shithead-!"

Lord Daniel made a choking sound in anger, and his looming shadow moved away - finally allowing her to breathe. Iris recognized the voice very well, and glanced down the hall to see her rescuer stomping towards them.

Mabel - the daughter of her father's falconer, and a close friend since childhood. Her fiery hair was wild around a pale face smudged with dirt and entirely covered in freckles, like a starry night sky.

"Wh - what the devil did you just -?!" Lord Daniel could barely get the words out, before Mabel pushed herself in between him and Iris, puffing herself up - despite only reaching to his shoulders - and putting her fists on her hips.

"What are you doing here again?!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the halls and drawing the attention of some servant on the far end, "How many times do I need to tell you fuck off?!"

"You dirty little brat, how dare you speak to me like -!"

"Don't you take your anger out on me! It's not my fault the gods gave you the curse of incompetence and blond hair!"

Lord Daniel's face was mottled with heated embarrassment. The sound of stifled laughter came whispering down the hall. With an exhale of outrage - the feathers in his cap drooping into his face - he furiously turned from the two and rushed out of the annex.

Once he was gone, Mabel turned to Iris, her anger melting into worry; "My Lady - why do you let that bastard near you? You only need to scream once, and the guards would -"

"But my father owes him so much money..." Iris interjected. It was an argument they often had, "I can't afford to send him away myself, what if...what if father decides..."

"That would never happen!" Mabel insisted, taking her hands up and holding them tightly, "I would never let you be traded to pay any debt. Didn't you already say you'd marry me one day?"

Iris gave her a weary smile.

She remembered that day well, when the two of them were no more than seven and eight years old. Hiding from Iris' tutors in the rose bushes, the thorns tearing up their clothes.

"And didn't I already tell you that you're no more beholden to a child's whims than I am?"

Mabel huffed a sigh, but Iris could tell she wasn't really annoyed, because her ears always flushed pink when she was happy.

"Come on, then. Let's go visit Lady Ribbons, she'll cheer you up."

Mabel took her hand, and started leading her down the hall.

"That's so embarrassing! Please stop calling her that!"

'Lady Ribbons' was what Iris had named her silver falcon when she was a child, but as an adult she called the bird Rimona. Mabel would never let her forget it, though.

Sometimes Iris wondered if her friend was stuck in the past, somewhere far away, in her own little world. It seemed like such a nice place, a past full of the smell of flowers and feeling of warm sun on her face.

"It's a cute name! Just like you! Come on!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."