#it's the only model that can accommodate his ears

[soapkaars]

Of course Alastor talks on an old candlestick telephone

[itsabouttimex2]

Stuffie Reactions Two:

Tang, Macaque, Red Son

(Part One: Sun Wukong, MK, Azure Lion)

(Ok, all yandere stuff aside? This man has plushies. No way he doesn’t have a finished Journey to The West set. I refuse to believe otherwise.)

As with most of your quirks or interests, Mr. Tang maintains a consistently supportive attitude. He’s not always the best role-model, what with being both somewhat lazy and a little bit of a mooch… but he’s got a good heart.

Even with a plague of obsession to cloud his mind and heart, Tang is still rather rational. He understands the sentimental value your plush has to you, and also knows very well that he’d massively be on your bad side for interfering with it. So there’s no threats of destruction, no forced removal-

Unless you’ve done something that seriously “warrants” one of his very rare punishments. Things like: putting yourself in serious danger, underage drinking, any type of drug use, starting fights, etc.

(He shares most of these rules with Pigsy, though the demon is quite a bit more strict.)

He’s more of a “lock it away in a cupboard for a few days” guy than anything, and gives it back after he’s worn you down into writing a full-length essay about what you did wrong how you’ll do better next time.

Could be worse, frankly.

Alright, let’s get this out of the way- Macaque is a pretty awful person. He’s often cruel for the sake of being cruel. He enjoys hurting people and brags about doing it. We also see that he’s not exactly sentimental about the past- not like Wukong is, not how MK misses the simplicity of his early adventures. I can’t imagine he’d care much about one little toy, especially if it’s particularly worn out or well-loved.

Our Six-Eared Simian is pretty high on the list of character who would outright destroy your plush. (Alongside Demon Bull King, Red Son, Huntsman, Spider Queen, and Lady Bone Demon.)

But usually; aside from mild teasing, he pays it no mind. He’s on the move with you frequently, and at least ensures that the little thing never gets left behind. Hell, when he’s (very, very rarely) feeling soft? Macaque might come around while you’re asleep and tuck the plush into your arms.

So, what could prompt him to destroy your toy? Here’s a few- running away, calling him out for his crimes, helping Wukong or MK, trying to fight him, repeated refusal to obey his orders, frequently “hard” swearing at him, substance use, etc.

(Interestingly, he won’t tear it all at once- swearing at him causes him to puncture a small hole in the fabric, running away causes him to tear off a limb… after, why throw away a useful tool of punishment when he can stretch it out for all it’s worth?)

Lots of landmines to avoid, basically.

Out of all characters, Red Son may well be the one who cares the least- he doesn’t see much value in any of your possessions, except those that he himself gifted to you.

Other characters like the Mayor or Azure might understand the plush’s importance, but choose to use it as a tool of punishment. Someone like Syntax (or Mei, but we’ll get there) would modify it to accommodate a camera. The Spider Queen would probably destroy it to sever connections to your past life- and then tsk and half-heartedly try to patch it up with her silk when she sees how distraught you are.

Some like Sandy would spoil you with plushes and stitch up any rips by hand. Iron Fan might use it to belittle you when she sees fit to lay down some “discipline”, hoping to make you feel insecure and childish.

But Red Son? He simply… doesn’t care.

It’s a possession. An item like any other. No dearer to one than a shirt or chair should be. (Unless he/his parents gave it to you. Then, and only then, will Red Son muster some genuine sympathy and understanding for how precious the object is to you.)

I’ve spoken about this several time, but I’ll say it again here- in most cases, Red Son starts off viewing Y/N as a pet. As the seasons progress they move upwards in Red’s personal hierarchy, from worthless peasant to funny pet to dear friend to cherished family.

So not only does Red not really respect your possessions- but he doesn’t really respect you, either. You’re a silly little human, meandering and small.

So, if you do ever act up, or try to escape…

He really doesn’t see in harm in torching the thing to ashes.

Nor will he understand why you’re crying.

But at least you’ve learned your lesson.

[starwarsmum]

Day 9 of Daminette December and we're carrying on with the Discovering the Paris Issue story. Today's prompt is "You Call That Art?"

Part 1 Part 2

@maribat-calendar-events

“Excited for your first fashion show?” Adrien asked, holding still as Marinette pinned the suit jacket in place.

“I mean, it's not really a fashion show,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “It's just the exhibit for the senior art students that they do every year. It's not like we're going to have anyone super important in attendance.”

“Mari, I will be there, how can you say I'm not important?” Adrien gasped, putting on a wounded voice. She jabbed another pin into the fabric, making sure to point it just slightly into his arm. “Ow, Jesus, that was uncalled for.”

“It was totally called for,” she retorted, leaning back as she checked that the outfit hung correctly. Happy with the fit, she motioned for him to take it off and packed up the pincushion.

“No, it wasn't,” he insisted, pouting. “Don't tell me you're still in a bad mood over the whole Damian thing.”

“Of course I'm not,” she shrilled, shoving him rather more forcefully than she normally would. “Why would I still care about that? It's not like I'm worried that he worked out my secret identity and that he's planning to come and try to take the Miraculous away from me, and that's why he was so insistent that I forgive him and try again, or that-”

“Okay, breathe please,” Adrien said, grabbing her up in a tight hug. “I think if he'd been planning to take over the world with the Miraculous and he'd worked you out, we would have seen him again by now. He was wealthy, so it's not like a little trip across the world would deter him.”

“You're right, I know you're right. I guess I'm just nervous about the exhibit and it's making me catastrophise a little,” she muttered, fiddling with an earring as she gazed at her sketchbook. She was only three days away from the exhibit and she had yet to meet one of her models, because the woman had volunteered and been accepted before admitting that she had other commitments until the day before.

She had been sent the measurements and worked as hard as she could to get them precise, but she knew there would be minor adjustments at least when the woman finally arrived. She hadn't told Adrien about the other model yet because she didn't want him to talk her out of using Kor’i. But as a safety she had made an identical set of clothes to fit Chloé, who was her back up model.

“Okay, this suit is the last thing to stitch, final fittings the day before the event,” she said, smiling nervously. “When this is all over, I'm going into a coma for a week.”

_ _ _

On the day before the exhibit Marinette was pacing nervously in the theatre. Kor'i had arrived punctually and she was gorgeous. A little taller than Adrien, muscular, and with striking looks that she humbly put down to her Tamaranean heritage. 

At first sight, Marinette was fairly certain the clothes she had made would be mostly on target, but she was relieved she had left a little extra room to accommodate any last minute changes. Because those arms? Marinette could have died of envy. And blushing. 

“Marinette, these clothes are fantastic,” Kor'i cooed as she stepped out of the changing room. 

“Hmm.” Marinette eyed the woman critically, mentally making note of where the fit wasn't quite tight enough. A couple of quick pins and she was satisfied. “Okay great, while I make a note of the changes on this one go change into the next, please.”

It took practically no time at all to get through the other nine outfits, and Marinette was confident that she would have the changes finished in plenty of time to get at least four hours of sleep. 

She also really liked Kor’i. The woman asked intelligent questions about the designs and had a sunny disposition that reminded Marinette of Adrien. Speaking of which…

“I'm so sorry I'm late!” The boy shouted as he flew into the room. He immediately latched onto Marinette, groveling into her hair as he gave his excuses. She rolled her eyes and assured him it was fine, she had managed to finish the other model's fitting and he was just in time to start his own.

He looked over to Kor’i at that point and screeched out loud. After that he was gibbering and pointing too much for her to work out what his problem was. Finally he managed to calm down enough to explain himself, sort of.

“Ohmygodyou’reKor’iAnders!” He shrieked, tripping over himself to throw his arms around her. The woman smiled broadly and accepted his embrace with incredible grace considering he was technically a full grown adult.

“Adrien, what the heck are you doing?”

“Marinette, I cannot believe you got Kor’i Anders to come and do your show,” he said, turning to her with betrayal written clearly on his face. At her nonplussed look he gave an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh. “Maribug, M'lady, you are a fashion designer, how do you not know one of the most famous international models?”

“Adrien, I didn't know you on sight and there were literal billboards with your face on them all over Paris,” Marinette said uncomfortably. “Can you please go put on your first outfit so I can check the fit?”

“I apologise, I didn't realise that you were unaware of my career history when you accepted me as a volunteer,” Kor'i offered after a moment’s silence. 

“No, there's nothing to apologise for, I should have recognised you,” she replied sheepishly. “I tend to focus on the clothes more than the models, and it didn't occur to me that you would have that kind of experience. I just thought you were a crazily gorgeous woman who wanted to make a start in the world of fashion.”

“Well you are much more proficient at making clothes than I thought you would be when I volunteered,” Kor'i admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But now we are both more aware of each other so it's fine, correct?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Marinette laughed. They were interrupted by Adrien stepping out in the first outfit. Immediately she fluttered around him, eyeing each part critically and nodding happily at the result. “How does it feel? Not too tight? And nowhere feels too baggy?”

“Bugaboo, it's perfect, as always,” Adrien assured her, striking a silly pose as she giggled. He saluted and went back to try on a different one.

“You two are very close, is he your boyfriend?” Kor'i asked, head tilted slightly. Marinette snorted and shook her head.

“Uh, no, he's more like an annoying older brother,” she said after a moment. Adrien gave an affronted noise as he turned slowly for Marinette's appraisal. “Oh, like you don't work to be the most annoying person in the room at any given time.”

“Well, will your boyfriend - or girlfriend - be at the show tomorrow? I would like to meet the one chosen by the most talented designer I have ever met,” Kor'i said innocently. 

“Given that any significant other I have is imaginary, I can introduce you right now,” Marinette grumped. Kor'i looked puzzled so she sighed and made a vague gesture with one hand. “I don't exactly inspire people to date me. And the last guy to show an interest turned out to be more interested in what I know than anything romantic.”

“Aw, don't be hard on yourself, Mari,” Adrien said as he stepped back out. “He could've been interested in more than one thing. And he did try to apologise, right?”

“After two days! And actions speak way louder than words and everything before that made it very obvious. Now go try on the next one, please.”

“It sounds as though you've been through a trying time,” Kor'i said when Adrien stepped away again. “But if he was sincere, how could he prove it to you?”

“It's irrelevant anyway, he lives in a different country and has hopefully forgotten all about me by now,” Marinette said, a note of finality in her voice. It still hurt to think about Damian and she was sure it showed.

“I would be very surprised if this boy was not interested in you. You are a talented, beautiful young lady, I am sure that even a blind man would be interested.”

“That's what I'm always telling her! And Damian looked pretty sorry when he came to apologise before we left,” Adrien said, stepping out in the last outfit. Marinette harrumphed and ignored him in favour of checking the fit.

“Adrien, we've been over this. It's a moot point and I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'll be right back, okay? Just hang the outfit back up and then we can all go get lunch if you want.”

Adrien watched as Marinette left the room, her back straight and shoulders tense. She hadn't been the same since Gotham, always on edge and sad. He came out of the changing room to find that she still wasn't back and he sighed.

“I didn't mean to upset her,” Kor'i said worriedly. “I did not realise she was so affected by what had happened.”

“She's a pretty anxious person in general, this guy just happened to touch a sore point for her. There's a couple of other reasons, she thinks she's protecting something which I can't really fault her for. And she has this totally dumb idea that guys don't see her like that.”

“I wonder where she got that idea, mister ‘very good friend’.”

“Chloé,” Adrien whined, turning to his other best friend as she entered. “I was fifteen and stupid, okay?”

“Yeah, at least you're not fifteen anymore,” she grinned. “You must be the model Marinette booked. I'm Chloé Bourgeois, Marinette's other close friend and the woman who would have done the show if you hadn't shown.”

“We are very different sizes,” Kor'i said, blinking in surprise. “She must have been very confident that I would show.”

“Oh, no, she just made two sets,” Chloé said casually. “I'm going to bully her into giving me one of the outfits she made because it is literally the best thing I have ever worn.”

“You don't have to bully me into it Chlo, I was planning on giving it to you anyway,” came Marinette's amused voice. She looked a lot calmer, though there was a redness to her eyes that told Adrien that she had definitely been crying. “Ready for lunch?”

_ _ _

On the morning of the exhibit, things were running on a tight schedule. She was due to be the last showing of the day, due to the nature of her work, and she was nervous. She had invited Jagged and Penny, as well as Luka and Kagami and Kor'i had asked if her family could attend. 

Marinette's luck had been running high for several days and she was worried that it was going to lead to a string of luck so bad that her designing career would be over before it began. Adrien had to talk her down from several spirals as she walked through the other, more traditional, art exhibits.

“Oh, Marinette,” came a falsely sweet voice, and she had to push her temper down as she turned to face Lila. “Don't you just adore all of these art pieces? It's such a shame that yours has to be done on its own, since it's so different to everyone else's. And don't listen to anyone who says that it can't be called art, even if they have a point.”

“Wow Lila, and did you submit your work for the exhibit? Oh, wait, I must be forgetting some illness, or injury that prevented you from finishing what must have been a true masterpiece,” she retorted with fake concern dripping from her words.

“Sorry to intrude, but may I speak with you before the show, Marinette?” Kor'i interrupted, flashing a dazzling smile at Lila before pulling Marinette away. “I know we are due to start in twenty-five minutes, but I feel I must be honest with you before my family arrives.”

“Oh no, please tell me you're not dropping out,” Marinette groaned, rubbing her temples as she tried to figure out how to get Chloé dressed and on the stage in less than half an hour. Maybe if she switched a few things around…

“No, no, I wish to continue in the show,” the Tamaranean reassured her quickly. She looked guilty, however and that made Marinette nervous. “You have been wonderfully kind to me since I arrived, Marinette, and I have not been fully honest with you. 

“I mostly asked to model for you because my daughter wanted to see you again. She was fairly distressed that she upset you and I thought that, as you have met both my husband and her, I was best placed to help bridge the gap.”

“I don't-”

“I am Mar'i’s mother,” Kor'i said softly, wincing when Marinette blanched. “Dick is my husband and Damian is my brother-in-law. I understand if you do not wish to see them, I did not realise you were so affected by your disagreement, nor that you felt so betrayed by Damian's behaviour.”

“I- I don't have time for any of this,” Marinette wailed, fingers spreading into her hair. She came to a decision fairly quickly, but she was not a happy bug. “Okay, okay, I can do this. If you're still willing to do the catwalk then we can work with that. Everything else can wait until it's over.”

When Kor'i gave her a relieved smile Marinette felt like screaming. Forget bad luck, this was a catastrophe. She sent Chloé a quick message, begging her not to be late to the show, and put on her game face. She could get through this evening and then she could vanish into the anonymity of being the mysterious designer for Jagged Stone for the rest of her natural life.

The show went spectacularly and she relaxed when she saw Chloé in the audience. Adrien did a double take when he spotted her as well, but managed to play it off as part of one of his walks.

Already planning to ditch the afterparty as soon as humanly possible, Marinette resolved to show her face to Jagged and Penny before faking a stomach problem. Armed with this resolve she stepped out of the back area and made a beeline for the eccentric musician.

“Lil M! That was a totally rocking show, can I order one of those dresses for Penny?” Jagged shouted as she closed in. He was standing with a dark haired man with a solid build and a bright smile that didn't fully reach his eyes. 

“Sure thing, Jagged,” she said, reaching up to give him une bise as a greeting. “Where is Pen? I was hoping to catch her before-”

“Oh, she's off making a phone call, you know how she is with work. You're lucky she stopped working for long enough to watch the show. But forget that, let me introduce you to my old mate, Bruce! Brucie, this is Marinette, my own personal designer and an absolutely hardcore little rocker.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Marinette. I've heard great things about you, and your show was spectacular,” Bruce said, a more genuine smile on his face as he took her hand in greeting. 

“Oh, um, thank you!” Marinette glanced around to see if she could spot Penny, who would not forgive her if she snuck away without saying hello. “Jagged, I'm not feeling-”

She was going to say ‘I’m not feeling well’, but was cut off when a small ball of energy leapt onto her. Only years of training and battle stopped her from falling as she absorbed the impact by stepping back. She blinked as she was confronted by dark curly hair and a pair of vivid green eyes.

“Marinette! I missed you soooo much! Will you dance with me? And play with me? I have more pictures to show you, of Alfred the Cat, and Batcow, and-”

“Mar'i, you can't just jump on people,” Bruce said with gentle exasperation. “I'm so sorry for my granddaughter, she's very excitable and has been excited for this event for weeks.”

“I- that means that you're-” Marinette couldn't find the words, but a cold feeling was centered in her chest. She looked around wildly, feeling cornered. It didn't take long for her to spot Dick dragging someone along, and as much as she hated it her heart gave a squeeze.

Damian was dressed in a black blazer over a green shirt and blue jeans. His hair was more tousled than she had ever seen it before and it made her stomach flutter. He looked just as angry and brooding as she remembered as he argued with his brother.

“I- excuse me,” she squeaked, before fleeing towards the last place she had seen Chloé and Adrien. She had to get out of here before she was trapped.

“You're squishing me,” Mar'i said, almost causing Marinette to drop her. She'd forgotten she was holding her and cursed her inattention. If she had remembered, she could have handed her off to Bruce before running, but now she needed to find one of her adults so that she could leave for good.

Muttering apologies, she glanced around the room and almost collapsed with relief when she saw Kor'i stepping out of the back, dressed in her own clothes. Immediately she darted towards the woman.

“I see Mar’i found you!” Kor'i beamed, placing a hand on her heart. “Oh, you look wonderful together! I hope you have been behaving, my little bumgorf.”

“Mama, Marinette was running with me, it was so much fun! And look, she's not even out of breath, so that means she would be able to play properly, right?”

And what did that mean? Marinette was glad they were in a corner of the room, mostly hidden from the crowd enjoying the party. Kor'i was laughing and assuring the child that she was sure Marinette would be able to play some games.

“Look, I'm sorry to do this but I have to go,” she blurted out, interrupting whatever Kor'i was saying. Panic was the only thing on her mind and she wanted to get somewhere safe now. She only realised she was hyperventilating when warm strong hands gripped her shoulders.

She whirled, instinctively trying to hit whoever had grabbed her but hampered by holding Mar'i. Whoever it was dodged her attempt and spoke in a low, soothing voice. She hadn't realised but tears had blurred her eyes completely, so she only realised it was Damian when they spilled over.

He instructed her to take deep breaths, breathing along with her until hers leveled out. As soon as she could gulp the breaths down properly, he stepped back, expertly extracting Mar’i from her grip as he did so. She looked up at him, confused and still hurt, but he was instructing Dick to fetch ‘one of her blond friends’.

She couldn't stop staring at him, even as Chloé appeared to whisk her out of the way. She hesitated, her heart aching and her mind bursting with questions, but ultimately allowed Chloé to pull her away.

Part 4

[pettypiastri]

alone together

quinn hughes x fem reader

requested: "Would you mind doing a Quinn x Female Reader? Kinda sad but happy at the end? It’s one of Quinn’s days off before a long road trip, and he’s been in and out of the reader’s at-home office all day asking if they can watch a movie or spend some time together. And she continuously says no and at one point she sees how upset he is. So later she slips out to the living room with a few blankets and sweeps him away to the couch just to dote on him and apologize for wasting their day? If not it’s totally fine! Just felt in a sappy mood :)"

wc: 1k

warnings: self deprecation, angst, two sad people who don't know how sad the other is

a/n: OKAY SORRY it got kinda angsty but i promise it ends fluffy to make up for it!! just a short lil quinn blurby. the incorrect spanish is intentional :)

Your shoulders jump toward your ears when the third knock in the past two hours sounds at your office door. The work in front of you is a pile that doesn’t seem to dwindle no matter how long you spend in front of it. Every time you refresh your email, more grievances come to light. And yet Quinn can’t seem to leave you alone. 

A part of you feels ruffled by his blooming persistence. This semi long distance relationship you find yourself in would almost be less painful if he hadn’t stopped in for a day at home; he’s been away for a few days and is leaving again for another week and a half tomorrow. It feels a bit like a cruel joke, giving you a taste of the quality time you crave and then finding your partner whisked away again, the Vancouver snow he trekked in on his shoes still melted in a puddle by the door. It’s not that you want to make him suffer, you just can’t find the heart sometimes to intentionally hurt yourself more by being in his loving presence. Especially when all he wants to do is cuddle and hold you. Childishly, you do want him to know you can’t always accommodate your work schedule to his wishes since his work schedule can never do the same for you. 

You’re hurt and you’re frustrated by a situation neither of you would choose if given the opportunity and annoyed by your meticulous work still to complete. Yet since you know, not even that deep down, that none of this is his fault, you suck back in the sigh beginning to escape your lips.

“Quinny babe I really can’t right now. I told you this project would take a few hours.” 

“How about just an episode or two of The Office? They’re only 20 minutes each…” Just 20 minutes with you is all he’s asking for. The reminder that this is longer than you’ve spent with him in the past four days hurts you all over again, now feeling like the villain in a situation you really had no responsibility in creating. Your short reply is more so to protect yourself from being too vulnerable than it is tailored toward reassuring Quinn.

“I can’t Quinn.” 

And he knows that. He does. But a small part of him hoped he’d receive even a tiny ‘sorry’ and maybe a few words of affirmation from you, just to know that he’s not hurting alone. That this is as tough on you as it is on him. With his attempted affections left hanging for the third time and now just feeling like a burden, he slumps back to the couch and buries himself in a blanket fort he built himself. 

Quinn’s silence followed by his receding footsteps is the soundtrack to your heartbreak. Resuming the clicking of your mouse makes the perfect accompaniment. 

—

It’s nearly nine by the time you emerge sheepishly from your work cave. After trying to work through eyes blurry with tears one time too many you decided you missed Quinn too much for this to go on any longer.

The house is dark, modeling the moonless night outside, save for the living room. A few paces allows you to see Quinn’s mousey brown hair peeking out from under a pile of blankets. SportsCenter plays the Devils game softly. Your heart clenches at the irony that this is how Quinn finds you most nights when he gets home. Tentative footsteps move your body magnetically toward him. 

Lowering to be eye level with his sleeping form, you run your fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. He stirs after a few passes.

“Can I join you?” He grunts and readjusts his head before opening his eyes.

His stormy eyes regard you with their usual fondness. It’s the look that first clued you in to Quinn’s feelings. When you realized, you couldn’t unsee it. And Quinn’s never once stopped looking at you that way.

“What’s the password?” 

Traitorous tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you huff a soft laugh. He’s not mad at you.

“Quinn is the best boyfriend in the world?” You try, voice an accordingly affectionate hum.

Quinn thinks. “It’s a three part-er.” He settles on.

“I’m sorry for working so long?” You try. Quinn nods and gestures for you to continue. Two for three. Your fingers haven’t stilled in his hair once but now they slip to caress his slightly stubbly cheek. 

“I’m the worst girlfriend in the world?” Quinn quickly shakes his head ‘no.’ Selfishly you tried that just to seek his reassurance; it works a little bit. “Ummm Quinn Hughes is the best Hughes??” Quinn laughs, your favorite sound in the world bouncing off the walls of the quiet Vancouver condo, making your house a home.

“Yes but no.”

A smile disguises the fact you find yourself genuinely a bit stumped. “What am I forgetting then?”

He gives you the same eye roll you’re accustomed to seeing during his media and rolls from his side to his back dramatically. Your hand slips from his face. Silence persists until,

“OH!” Giggling gently you move to bully your way under the tangle of blankets.

“Umm excuse me missy you haven’t finished the password.” Quinn protests but his hands are already grabbing at your waist to hold you against him. Once you settle enough against his chest you meet his eyes and say with full conviction,

“I love you Quinny.” 

Your words tickle a smile out of him, a blush darkening his cheeks, still not used to hearing those words from you after all these years.

“I love you too baby. Welcome to Casa a la Quinn. But I get to pick the movie.”

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I am so down bad for Risotto to the point I would let him do whatever he wants with me

I cannot resist big titty goth men who can break my spine with ease (I have a type 😭)

If he was genderbent I would fold SO fast it’s not even funny, especially if Risotto looks identical to how he is as a man in height, mass and build (But slightly leaner and her breasts are just huge) she could suffocate me between them and I would tell her ‘Thank You’ 😂

Yandere Vampire Countess or Count Risotto haunts me in my dreams

Darling is a foreigner looking for work and takes up working for the Villages’ Count of this land as a his newest servant (Gaining Risotto’s obsession as the scent of her blood told him all he needed to know, she’s his Soulmate)

Risotto stalks Darling while she sleeps, visiting her in her sleep, groping, touching and leaving bites all over Darling’s body, whispering all the dirty things he plans to do to his ‘Little Bride’ in her ear and plans to keep her locked away within his castle for eternity (No one dares go against Count Nero, the villagers are too fearful of the evil and cruel Count who’s rumored to devour young virgin women and dabbles in the dark arts in magic) he’s not against keeping Darling dizzy and delirious drinking her blood on a basis (Not enough to kill, but enough to give Darling a hard time to move around)

Risotto keeps Darling within his bed chambers, and used his hypnotism to make Darling believe she’s engaged to him as his wife and that she’s very frail, sickly and needs his help to move around as her legs don’t work properly (Risotto broke Darling’s legs after she tried to run, but altered her memory into thinking she had an accident falling down stairs and broke her legs)

I'm going feral please, you have no idea of the primal scream that left my mouth reading this. Why must you make me choose.

Doing fem because I need more to write more wlw (I'm starving for more).

Made me think of this meme btw

Vampire fem!Risotto

Darling is an aspiring novelist and has been going to mysterious places in hopes of finding the inspiration for a page turning tale, so she goes hitch hiking around Europe and ends up in a strange small town only to find her purse has been stolen. She's stuck in this town where she can barely communicate with the locals. So when she finds an advertisement written in English She's hopeful. It's a maid position at the castle just out of town with accommodation. It's like everything has worked out for darling.

When darling arrives she's met by a tall woman, practically chiseled by angels. Short white hair, jet black sclera and ruby eyes. All dress elegantly in a low cut white blouse and black dress pants. She could have been a model if she wanted to.

"sei qui per la posizione?" She asks.

"I'm here for the position" you tell her.

"Forgive me, it's not often I get people around" she apologizes in a stern tone.

"Come inside, then we shall discuss the job" she told you as she held the door open for you. Little did darling know her fate was sealed. Countess Nero had her fair share of prey, only a few months ago did she have a group of hitch hikers working for her, fun to mess with but eventually they had served they're purposes.

Darling however was different, she could tell there was something more too her. So of course she'd give her the position (even if she was not good at cooking and cleaning).

Risotto always has her eyes on darling while she works. Even offering darling to eat with her. Eventually she decides to check in on her sleeping. Sleeping so serene in a pretty little nightgown. All too tantalizing to the countess.

Her hands graze upon her, then they squeeze. She doesn't care if darling woke up as she'd just use her powers to make her forget or believe it was a dream. Soon she's got darling held in her arms biting into her upper breast. Such a rich, full bodied flavor, comparably to a vintage cabernet sauvignon. She's hooked.

Darling starts noticing strange things, not enough to concern her but enough that she notes it down. Strange redish marks, weird sounds at night. In town when she goes shopping people try to avoid her. Darling hasn't turned yet.

One night she does wake up.

"My little bride, when the blood moon comes you shall finally be mine for eternity" she hears a muttered voice speak as a hand strokes her face.

Darling tries to get up but is pushed back into the bed by Risotto.

"You don't need to go anywhere" she tells darling before trying to influence her to back to sleep but it somehow doesn't work (maybe a heirloom in the form of a pendant that is able to stop her influence).

Daring is able to catch Risotto off guard and run out of the room. She attempts to escape but loses her footing down the stairs and hurts herself horribly.

"You shouldn't have run, I just want you here with me for eternity" the countess says as she walks towards darling.

"Why?!" Darling asks.

"Because I love you, surely you feel the same too" she told her. In truth darling had a crush but believed she was far out of the countess's league.

She eventually figures out the pendant is what is affecting her influence and tears it off before putting darling to sleep. Something this traumatic can't just be played of as a dream or forgotten, so she decides to reframe that memory as a horrible accident as well as altering a few more to make darling a little more affectionate. Heals her up too.

When darling wakes up she's there to explain what happened. White the memory changes darling believes they're engaged. Risotto even managed to find a pretty platinum and sapphire ring to slip on her finger before she woke up.

Everything is good but something feels of to darling. Risotto is making arrangements as the blood moon approaches. Darling ends up discovering her notebook and starts questioning what's going on before remembering. She turns to immediately be confronted by Risotto who snatches the notebook, it crumbles to cinders in her grasp.

"If I had known about that I would have destroyed that sooner" she scowls. Darling tries to escape again. Risotto now pissed goes for the initiative and is able to capture her.

"I give you two options, you can agree to marry me or I shall force you" she hisses.

"If I can remember now then I can do it again! I refuse to marry you!"

"Then you shall face the consequences of your decision" she says before breaking her legs.

"All I need is to bide my time til the blood moon, then you shall be bound to me forever" she continued before putting her asleep and tampering with her memories again.

Once again darling wakes up and Risotto explains that darling was in a horrible accident and that their wedding is in a few days now.

[natelawtism]

i lovveee the rain post!! I am currently once again overwhelming my brain with a lot of different stuff at once so!:

Talk more about Rowan and his autism! (I Don't know which questions i have asked before and which i have not. But he's super relatable so 😔)

What accomodations does he get? DOES he get accomodations, and when? Who knows of his diagnosis? How are people able to help him? How easily does he get overwhelmed by stuff? What situations/experiences are the ones that make him distressed the most?

(i hope all those questions were worded right. As you may know, i have NOT slept all night, haha)

YIPPEEE OKOK

So, he gets very minimal accommodations because he's considered "high functioning" (which is a bs term). He's very good in class, gets good grades, lowkey model student so that's why it took him so long to get diagnosed! He also doesn't ask for accomodations lol- his parents were the ones to tell the school and work that stuff out. He's allowed to take breaks in class if he's overwhelmed/overstimulated, which is something all of his teachers know. He's also allowed to get extensions on assignments and talk stuff out with a teacher, along with being allowed to have his phone on him. Does this mean he uses these accomodations? HAHA. He uses his breaks, but he always feels awkward using anything else.

Pretty much all his friends know about his diagnosis because he makes jokes AALLLL the time. He loves saying shit like "is it because I'm autistic???" Or "sorry it's because I'm autistic" in response to things. He finds it to be peak comedy because of the fact either they are like "no no wait-" or "yes. Yes it is." (For the bit)

Nate helps him very often. He can normally see the tells of when he's overwhelmed/needs to get out of a situation and he's there whenever he can be! Sometimes Ro is so overwhelmed that he feels like he can't move or do anything, so the biggest thing people can do to help (and mostly Nate does) is take action for him. And thankfully! The school trusts Nate so much that teachers often let him stay with Ro during moments like this, knowing that he knows what to do. A lot of the time Rowan acts like he can tough through something that sucks when he very much shouldn't, so just being there for him is what he needs. Sometimes his friends fill him in on social cues (like Alicia and Missy), but Nate is ALSO autistic so he isn't much help with that.

(I will also add! Lynn helps him often and understands him quite well. He's always there to lend an ear and be helpful- Ro loves Lynn to death. He also takes a lot of his breaks in the nurses office because it's quiet and not overstimulating)

Situations that are loud or crowded make him the most distressed. Many people and no way out can make him panic completely, and loud noises can make him super overwhelmed. It's mostly continuous noise, but a lot of the time if something is loud enough he'll stay overwhelmed for a long time. He doesn't lash out or anything, he mostly just shuts down.

I'd say it really depends on how easily he gets overwhelmed! If he's in a good mood, normally he'll be only a bit uncomfortable but be able to live with it. If he's in a bad mood? Everything is upped by 40%. Every feeling, sound, touch. It can become WAY too much. It really differs from situation to situation.

[canarymemories]

trio

rating: general audiences archive warning: no archive warnings apply relationship: sena izumi/tsukinaga leo additional tags: domestic fluff, cat acquisition, established relationship, fluff, i just think that izumi who canonically baby talks to cats, would take one home if there was an opportunity, vague speculation that the cat was previously abandoned, it's only implied but i wanted to mention it anyway words: 2,604 published: 2023-01-17

summary: contrary to popular belief, izumi is the one who brings a cat home. here on ao3

as much as leo loves the sound, the last thing he expects to hear when he walks into the apartment is izumi’s laughter from somewhere inside. rather than announcing himself at the door like he normally would, he simply follows the sound of izumi’s voice until it leads him to the kitchen. there, the model sits on the floor, accompanied by a small furry companion that had not been in the apartment when leo left that morning.

“i’m home,” leo says, standing in the doorway.

to his amusement, he gets two wide eyed stares at his entrance, one from izumi and the other from the small, mostly white cat izumi had been playing with. there’s a beat or two of silence until the cat quietly mews and bumps against izumi’s hand to get his attention.

“welcome back,” izumi replies, looking away to pet their little visitor.

seeing as izumi isn't going to introduce them, leo takes to sitting on the floor next to him. “so… who’s this?” he asks, holding out his hand towards the cat.

“she doesn’t have a name,” izumi says. the cat stares at leo’s hand, then moves to sniffing his fingers apprehensively. she bumps her head into his hand a few seconds later. “not yet at least.”

leo hums, running his fingers down her back while she turns to rub herself along izumi’s knee. now that he’s closer, he can see the faint orangish color on the tips of her ears and nose, even up her tail. “i thought you said we weren’t gonna have a cat ‘cause we go back to japan all the time.”

“i know,” izumi says, sighing. “but i wasn’t going to just leave her. besides, i’ve dealt with you, so what’s another stray?”

leo bumps their shoulders together, not wanting to disturb the cat who’d taken to playing by herself on the floor. leo notices then hat her toy is a piece of izumi’s fancy yarn, the exact kind he himself isn’t even allowed to touch. “hey!” he objects, though his smile takes any heat out of it.

izumi only laughs, eyes fond as he bumps leo’s shoulder in return. “what? i’m not wrong.”

rather than answering, leo scooches closer to izumi’s side, loosely linking their fingers as he places his hand atop izumi’s resting on the floor. “where’d you find her anyway?”

izumi fidgets slightly, his hand twitching under leo’s. “well… she’s been hanging around the shoot the past few days. she was a little skittish at first but look how friendly and cute she is,” he trails off. “so i took her home with me.”

leo nods, thinking that’s more than enough of a reason to bring a cat home, and then it hits him. “wait. does that mean you snuck her on the bus?”

izumi pointedly doesn’t answer, instead slowly pulling the piece of yarn around on the floor as the cat watches, clearly interested, before launching herself at it. leo starts to snicker. it turns to actual laughter as he throws his arms around izumi.

having shifted to accommodate leo’s weight on him, izumi drops the piece yarn. even so, the cat pays no mind to the two of them nor the lack of a hand pulling her toy around as she rolls onto her back, yarn between her paws. 

“could you not laugh right in my ear,” izumi mutters, though he doesn’t try to push leo off. if anything, leo is pretty sure izumi leaned into him.

“sorry, sena,” leo says, laughter shifting to softer snickers once more. “it’s just that you’re so funny sometimes.”

izumi turns his head to face leo. “what’s that supposed to mean? it’s not like i would just leave her there. and you were busy, so it’s not like i could’ve called you to pick me up.”

“i know.” he rests his chin on izumi’s shoulder. “i think it’s cute that you snuck her on the bus.”

he watches, delighted, as the tips of izumi’s ears go red. izumi turns his attention back to the cat, who is still happily batting at the yarn, her tail flicking behind her. “whatever. you’re weird.”

leo only hums in response and somewhat reluctantly pulls himself away from the other. with having teased izumi enough for being the one to bring a cat home — really, leo would’ve thought he’d be the one to do that, not izumi — leo turns his sights towards the said creature.

he reaches over and scoops the cat up easily. she squirms a little, back legs not having any support, but other than that, she stays in his hold even with how loose it is. used to the heft of little john, leo is almost surprised by how light the cat is, but then again, it makes sense with how small she is. she’s definitely out of the kitten stage, not fully grown, but still, she seems rather small. 

“would you hold her like you’re supposed to?” izumi cuts in.

“i was going to,” leo mumbles, bringing her closer to cradle her to his chest. she moves in his arms, putting her little paws against his chest to look up at him, sniffing curiously. for being a stray, she’s oddly calm at being held.

izumi must be reading his mind or something because he says, “i think she was someone’s pet at some point.” when leo looks over, izumi is looking down at the cat before his eyes flick up to him. “there’s a few other strays around there, but none of them come close to people, but she came right up to me the other day. she’s so small i don’t want her stuck out there.”

leo stares down at her. he supposes she doesn’t have to worry about where she came from when she already found herself a new home. he rubs his thumb against her back. “now she just needs a name, right?” 

there’s a strange but brief expression on izumi’s face that leo can’t exactly name, though it quickly shifts into something closer to… relief? had izumi been worried that he’d say no?

“mmhm. we aren’t naming her after little john before you even say anything.”

a laugh bubbles out of leo. “of course not. there’s only one little john and she’s back in japan.” the cat wiggles in his arms, having grown bored. she reaches up to pull at one of his hoodie strings, gnawing on the ends of it once its close enough to herself. “what to name you,” he muses.

“while you’re thinking about that, i’m going to the pet store to get some things for her.”

“you didn’t stop on the way home?”

“no,” he says, then adds a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know how she would do on the bus, so i didn’t want to stay out with her for too long.”

leo giggles, trying to suppress his smile when izumi narrows his eyes at him. “i’ll keep an eye on her, i promise.”

in the midst of trying to think of a name, leo hardly notices when izumi gently nudges his head up, fingers curled under his chin. he does notice, however, when izumi bridges the short distance between them to kiss him quick and sweet. izumi’s lips are soft against leo's somewhat chapped ones, but there's no surprise there; it's the way most of their kisses go. though this time, it feels a bit like a thank you, a kiss of gratitude and other things left unsaid. 

blinking his eyes open once izumi pulls back — leos’s not even sure when he’d closed his eyes in the first place — the only think leo sees is the warm look izumi is giving him. it makes him feel tingly in a good way; it makes his fingers twitch for a pen and some paper.

“i’ll be back,” izumi says, hand moving to once again find the cat’s head.

“okay,” leo replies, still catching up on the fact that izumi had kissed him on the middle of their kitchen floor. luckily, it doesn’t take long for it to click. not wanting to move seeing as the cat has made herself comfortable in his hold, leo tilts his head towards izumi, hoping he gets the message.

with a quiet sigh that seems more embarrassed than irritated, izumi leans back in and kisses him again, just as soft and careful as the first time. when izumi goes to shift away this time, leo follows to press a quick peck against his lips, a proud little smile on his face as he shifts back.

“love you,” leo says, amused by the light pink high on izumi’s cheeks. he knows he probably looks the same if the faint heat at the back of his neck means anything.

izumi glances away, first down to the floor at the forgotten piece of yarn, then to the cat quietly purring in leo’s arms before finally looking back up at him. “love you too.”

leo’s smile only grows as does the urge to compose. “don’t take too long or she’ll end up with a weird name.” it's far more of a promise than a threat.

with a huff and fond eye roll, izumi gets up off the floor and makes sure to dust off his clothes. leo knows from experience how clean their floors are, so there’s definitely nothing on him aside from some cat hair, but he doesn’t say that. “believe me, i know how you name things, so she’s bound to get a weird name,” izumi says, loosely ruffling leo’s hair on the way out of the kitchen.

listening to the distant noise of izumi putting his shoes and jacket on, leo lays back on the floor. with the movement, the cat shifts out of his arms. she briefly stretches, sharp little nails digging into his hoodie, before curling up on him, apparently content. 

now all he has to do is think of a name. which shouldn’t be that hard, right?

leo stares up at the ceiling long after the door closes when izumi leaves as he waits for inspiration to strike. thankfully it doesn’t evade him for much longer as the perfect name comes to mind.

“ah! i got it!”

--------------

"leo-kun. we are not calling her that," izumi sighs out, stepping around leo still laying on the floor and setting the bags he'd brought in on the counter. 

"why not?" leo whines. “i think meowzart’s a wonderful name.”

izumi simply blankly stares down at him before shaking his head. “i thought you hate mozart,” he points out while going through what he’d bought.

“oh, i do,” leo replies easily. he sits up, meowzart having ditched him to circle izumi’s ankles as soon as he’d walked back into the kitchen. “but i don’t hate meowzart and she likes the name too, sena.”

“is that so?” izumi muses, tone disbelieving as he looks over the canned food in his hand.

taking that as a challenge, leo stands and picks meowzart up. holding her in front of his face, he says, “tell him, meowzart.” it takes a few seconds, but she does meow and then squirms, so he sets her back on the floor. “see, i told you she likes it.”

he can see the corners of izumi’s mouth twitch as he attempts to force down a smile. leo internally cheers, knowing he’s won.

“i guess she does,” izumi belatedly agrees despite sounding like he still has some reservations about the name. “i won’t tell her it’s a dumb name if she likes it so much.”

leo gasps and grabs onto izumi’s shoulders, lightly shaking him. “it’s not a dumb name, sena. take it back.”

“leo-kun, stop shaking me,” izumi says, though he’s smiling and his voice is teetering on a laugh. “and fine, it’s not a dumb name. i guess it’s kind of cute.”

leo nods, his own smile starting to grow. “good ‘cause that’s the only one that she liked.” he steps closer and looks into the bags. “what’d you get her? it looks like a lot.”

“well, i got her some wet food since i don’t know when she ate last,” he starts, gesturing towards the small stack of cans on the counter. “i got her some toys too. oh, by the way, i scheduled her with the vet tomorrow. you’ll come with me, right?”

looking over the sheer amount of little toys stowed away in the bottom of one of the bags, leo says, “yeah, i’ll come so you don’t have to sneak her on the bus again.”

izumi clicks his tongue and bumps his hip against leo’s. “so annoying.” reaching into the toy bag, he pulls out two small bowls. “put some water in this. not too much, though,” he says, handing it to leo.

careful to not step on meowzart, leo takes care to avoid her on the way to the sink. as soon as the water starts running, though, she gains interest and trots over to him. she puts her paws up on the cabinet door, standing on her hind legs as she meows and reaches towards the noise.

rather than walk the bowl away from the sink since leo thinks he might actually trip over the cat, he sets it on the floor next to her. meowzart sits in front of the bowl and sniffs at the water, faintly purring as she starts to drink. leo pets her once before standing.

izumi, having gotten meowzart’s food ready in the meantime, sets the second bowl next to her. it doesn’t take her long to realize that it’s food as she eagerly switches to that bowl. izumi stays crouched next to her, gentle fingers petting down her spine as he watches her. “it looks like you really were hungry, huh?” izumi says, voice lilting up as he speaks to her. “sorry i didn’t have anything to give you earlier.”

leo leans back against the counter where izumi had been standing, content to watch the two of them on the floor. as izumi continues to talk to her, leo looks over what’s left for meowzart only to see a litter box and a little collar. “you didn’t get her a bed?”

“no, why would i? she’s sleeping with us,” izumi says, glancing over his shoulder. “and all the ones there were too big to try and carry with everything else anyway.”

leo’s not surprised by his insistence that meowzart will be sleeping with them. in all honesty, that had been what he was expecting. “even if she has fleas?”

izumi turns towards him, clearly offended. “she doesn’t have fleas.” he pauses, looking down at her. “at least i don’t think she does.”

“i guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” leo says with a shrug. he doesn’t really want to leave meowzart on her own to sleep in the apartment. what if she gets lonely during the night? they’ll just have to figure something out he guesses. he pulls a litter box out, setting the small bag of litter next to it.

“i can do that,” izumi says, standing. “i wanted to make sure she would eat first. i’ve been giving her whatever i have on me the past few days.”

knowing he’s teased izumi enough about the cat for today, leo keeps quiet on the thought of how sweet it is that he was feeding this little alley cat. “it seems like she’s settling in well,” he says instead.

izumi’s smile is soft as he gazes down at meowzart and then back over to leo. “i’m glad.”

the smile seems to be contagious as leo finds himself smiling too. “so am i.”

end notes: can you tell this was originally for izuleo week (and then vastly expanded on once I was enabled lmao) i have so many thoughts with meowzart in them so like. expect to see more of her eventually lol also she's a cream point cat btw

[double-hoe-seven]

Conjugal Visit

Summary: Its time to visit your husband at good old Belle Reve Pairing: Robert DuBois/Bloodsport x Reader Word Count: 1,830 Warning(s): Smut, prison sex(?), allusion to violence and murder. 18+ MINORS DNI (DO NOT INTERACT)

"DuBois, you have a visitor!" One of the guards shouted while he scrubbed the floor. "I'm not in the mood to fight with my daughter and I under no circumstances want to see Waller," he growled. "Well then you're in luck, it's the only other person in your life from the outside," the guard said bored. "What? I'm not ready for a visitor." "Too bad. Let's go." The guard was getting impatient. Reluctantly, Robert got up and followed the man; at least he'd showered that morning. He followed them to one of the private visitation rooms; there you sat, wearing black boots, jeans, and t-shirt, and a midnight blue leather jacket with the black rings on your left hand. "You're a sight for sore eyes, love," he smiled as the guards uncuffed him and repeated their usual warnings before leaving the room, locking the door behind them.

"If I'd known you were coming I might have shaved," he commented as he approached you, pulling you into his embrace with he was close enough. "I don't know, babe, I quite like the beard. It makes you look distinguished," you said with a hum as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely. "That's just a polite way of sayin' it makes me look old, innit?" He asked with a stifled chuckle. "Older and handsome, love," you corrected. "Did you come here to just take the piss at me or do you have a better reason?" He teased before leaning down and capturing your lips in a hungry, impassioned kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

A deep groan left him when you gently bit and tugged his bottom lip, smirking up at him. "Needy little thing, ain't ya, love?" He hummed as he tossed your jacket aside, hastily doing the same with your shirt before scooping you up and laying you on the cheap bed in the room. His lips dropped from yours to your neck, leaving a trail of light bite marks in the wake as he trailed his lips down to your chest. "I don't know why you bother wearing bras when you visit me, love, they only get in my way," he chuckled as he unclasped the black lace of your bra, discarding it with a grin. "Because I'd rather not be led through a prison with-" your words were quickly cut off by a surprised moan when he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue circled the bud as he suckled gently, rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Robert alternated between the hardened peaks until you were a moaning, squirming mess beneath him. Your hips rocked against his needily as a whine escaped you "Robert..." "Use your words, love," he teased with a wicked grin. He chuckled to himself when you only shot him a glare. He unzipped your jeans and pulled them and your underwear down teasingly slowly; he pulled you to the edge of the bed and kneeled down throwing your legs over his shoulders. "I think this might be one of the things I miss most while I'm here, being able to just go down on you whenever the fuck I want," he said in a soft mutter as he ran his thumb along your wet slit. "Trust me, hon, you aren't the only one who misses it," you mumbled. Your back arched with the first swipe of his tongue. Two of his fingers teased your entrance before slowly pushing in as his tongue circled your clit slowly. What started out as slow drags of his fingers and tongue turned into him fucking you with his tongue and fingers, stretching you to prepare for him. He didn't stop until he felt your walls tensing around his digits, when he did he quickly pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, a small pleased groan leaving him as he watched you pant softly, a needy hunger in your eyes. He always did love bringing you right to the edge.

He quickly shed himself of his orange prisoner's uniform, taking his member into his hand as he climbed in bed over you. "I'll be outta here soon enough, love, then I'll take you somewhere proper and romantic," he promised before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, followed by a slow sensual kiss to your lips as he slowly pushed his length into you. His hand stroked your cheek when he felt you tense up, your tight warmth stretching to its limits to accommodate him "that's a good pet, takin' my cock so well." You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly while your nails dug into his shoulders.

Each slow drag and push of his hips pulled gentle moans from you. His pace quickly built up and he tightened your legs around him. "Is that the best you can give me, love?" You teased when he settled into a series of long, deep, slow thrusts. "Aw, does my needy little princess want it rough?" He almost cooed in false sympathy while slowing his hips. When you started trying to move your hips against him for any more friction than what he was giving, a small whine escaped you when his hand moved to hold your hips down "use your words, pet. Tell daddy exactly what you want or I'll just keep going slowly until I'm ready to finish." "Want you to fuck me until I leave here with a limp," you managed to say after a minute of trying to steel yourself.

The squeak that left your lips when he suddenly pulled out turned into a loud moan when he slammed back into you, setting a new brutal pace. You angled your hips up some so each thrust brought the head of his member harshly against your g-spot. "Fuck, Robert!" You moaned out louder when his thumb started rubbing fast tight circles on your clit. "That's it, little bird, sing for daddy so this entire fucking shithole can hear," he husked before nibbling and tugging on your ear lobe. "Say my name, Pet. Tell everyone who's you are," he growled, pinching your clit when your only answer was a moan that escaped your slightly parted lips. "Yours, Robert! All yours!" You moaned out, eagerly trying to match his thrusts but finding it harder to keep up with his roughness and brute force.

Soon, Robert sat back on his knees and pulled your hips flush against his with each more forceful thrust managing to hit even deeper places, places that were quickly bringing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, your warm walls are squeezing me so tightly. Play with your clit for me, yeah? I want to see all of you come undone but don't you dare cum until I say," he muttered lazily. He sat up fully and spread your legs a little further apart, transfixed on the sight of his length disappearing into you and coming out with your sweet nectar. You nodded and bit your lip as you traced shapes over your little button. "Good girl," he mumbled, his thrusts getting shorter but quicker, more of a rapid rutting. He smirked when he saw how hard you were trying to hold off "alright, Pet, you can let go." He might've whispered the words but they were clear to you.

As you came, you moaned out a series of curses and his name, your entire being quaking. Groaning as your walls tightened even more, he fell forward over you as he joined you in climax. His body covered yours while his forearms kept his weight off of you, his hips slowly rutting into you as you both came down. He planted a series of soft, languid kisses up your neck and along your jawline before finally kissing you softly, one of his hands coming up to gently brush some loose strands out of your face. Robert carefully maneuvered your bodies so he was laying on his back with you on his chest, his arms around your waist while his index finger absentmindedly traced shapes along your spine. You both laid there in comfortable silence, your rapid breaths slowing down were the only sounds in the room.

"Do you really think you'll be out of here soon, love?" You asked him hopefully, looking up at him with a small frown. "I do, darling. It won't be long before Waller comes with another suicide mission for me to lead," he grumbled before pecking your lips softly "I'll be home with you before you know it though, yeah?" "You promise? I miss waking up to your face between my legs," you joked. "Believe me, love, I miss that too. You always have been my favorite breakfast, or meal in general," a sly smirk crossed his face and he chuckled when you slapped his chest. "You're awful," you joked. "Baby, I'm an assassin, I'm not exactly a role model for anyone. I mean, for fucks sake, I almost killed Superman and if given the job again I'd take it," he said casually. "I know you would baby, maybe this time you'll succeed," you teased with a grin. "Watch it love or I'll have to bend you over my knee," he warned, squeezing your ass with a wicked smirk. "Oh no, please don't sp-" you started saying sarcastically before his hand quickly came down with a loud smack. "Wanna try that attitude again, princess?" He cocked his brow while he waited for your answer, giving you a quick kiss when you didn't say anything else.

Before either of you could react, the buzzer of the door unlocking and opening sounded and a woman walked in. "DuBois, Mrs. DuBois," she greeted flatly, unfazed by your nudity as you tried to cover your bodies with the sheet. "Fuck are you doing here, Waller?" Robert growled. "You have a new mission. And this time your wife's coming along. Isn't that right, Tracker?" She said. "Excuse me?" You and Robert said simultaneously. "That's right. We know about your side gig hunting down people the law let off. If either of you refuses to come on the mission or tries to abandon it, I'll hand over our evidence to the proper authorities. You, my dear, with not only be put in jail but you'll lose your license to practice law. Even if you managed to get it reinstated, nobody will hire a lawyer who knowingly married an assassin, the same one who put Superman in the ICU," Waller explained calmly. "You're threatening my fucking wife?!" Robert shouted as he sprung out of bed and pulled his boxers on. "I'm doing it for the safety of our country and the world," her voice was so eerily calm. "Robert, calm down. If it gets you home sooner, I'll do it," you told him as you sat up, using the bedsheet to cover your modesty. He looked at you like you'd just grown another head, in complete disbelief.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

[the-lonelybarricade]

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

[qyllenhaal]

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

-

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

-

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (2.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life

✿ genre : hybrid au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, wolf!namjoon, great dane!hoseok, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, abuse, angst, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff (let me know if i’ve missed anything)

✿ word count : 3.0K

✿ taglist : @gee-nee @narcissism-iskey​ @anongirl007​ 

✿ series masterlist! | 3.0

you had spent all night examining each pack member’s file, each hybrid had vastly different personalities, likes, dislikes, etc. - and you had to admit it was a lot to take in. you had also taken the time to search online and purchase all that you thought would be necessary in helping assimilate the hybrids into your home, new beds, dressers, food, utensils, etc. even scheduling reconstruction of your estate, updating the model and calculating up floor plans to change the biggest common room in the home in order to accommodate all seven of the hybrids, incase they wished to stay together in a bedroom where they could all fit comfortably. perhaps you were way too ahead of yourself, but that inheritance money needed to go somewhere.

it was now 3 hours before your scheduled time to meet the hybrids, and possibly sign their adoption papers. that is, if all parties want to be adopted by you. you scanned their files again.

name: kim seokjin (진)

birthdate: december 4, 1992

sign: sagittarius

age: 28 years

type: white-tailed dear

class: prey

role: care giver, protector

(tends to be subordinate, dominant traits)

as the oldest, kim seokjin falls into role of protector and caregiver naturally within the dynamics of his pack - trusting that there is no imminent danger. but outside of pack dynamics, he can fall into prey instincts quite quickly. this explains his dependance on wolf hybrid, kim namjoon. he shows more care- giving nature, resorting to protection in that case of the younger members more than the older predators.

seokjin enjoys spring, cooking, and familiarity. though he is quite outspoken and quick to defend, he is not the natural leader of the pack. he can be skeptical of humans, as in the wild, humans can be the deer populations top predator. he is respectful, intelligent, trustworthy, and resourceful. he is family orientated and selfless, as expected.

name: min yoongi (민윤기)

birthdate: march 9, 1993

sign: pisces

age: 27 years

type: black panther

class: apex predator

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

as the second in age, and an apex predator, min yoongi is a fierce protector. maybe even sometimes to a fault. he doesnt shy away from threats, especially those directed toward his pack.

he is quiet, and quite reserved. he enjoys the piano, writing, and sleep. his harsh exterior is hard to break through as those within his pack are the only ones who have managed. he is quick to action. he, along with the instinctual pattern of his panther tendencies, sports an “act first, ask later” attitude. his counterpart, great dane hybrid, jung hoseok, helps balance this.

name: jung hoseok (정호석)

birthdate: february 18, 1994

sign: aquarius

age: 26 years

type: great dane

class: predator

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

jung hoseok is the level headed protector, along with that of his successor in age, kim namjoon. as a domestic predator, he still sometimes falls into that category of protectee, but not inherently. in terms of owner, this is where his loyalty lies. where his instincts decide protection is needed most, as his pack members know how to protect themselves.

his personality is very bright, and quite bubbly. he is easy to talk to and offers sensible advice. his is found to be a bit goofy, and tends to lift the packs spirits when needed. hobbies include primarily dancing, and writing. he enjoys deep thinking.

name: kim namjoon (김남준)

birthdate: september 12, 1994

sign: virgo

age: 26 years

type: black timber wolf

class: apex predator

role: protector

(predominantly dominant traits)

kim namjoon is the packs natural leader. though he isn’t the oldest, he seems to be the one they look to for answers. in terms of owners, it seems he will display what’s best for his pack while keeping his own desires hidden. but much like his descendant, the domesticated hybrid, he will still put owner first when accepted as part of said pack. he is exceptionally intelligent and wise, violence isn’t his first instinct - but it is still a prominent trait.

though he is the leader, and can sport a hard and critical exterior, he has been observed to show a quite fun and loving side. as ancestor to the domesticated hybrid, he shows immense loyalty. sporting a bond for an owner that cannot be broken once trust is established. he can be very playful, he loves to read, and write music. he enjoys stimulating conversation.

name: park jimin (박지민)

birthdate: october 13, 1995

sign: libra

age: 25 years

type: calico cat

class: predator

role: protectee

(both dominant and subordinate traits)

though a predator, he is domestic, and when his instincts don’t call for action - park jimin knows he is protected by his elder counterparts. with this knowledge, he falls into the role of protectee quite effortlessly. though, he does show protector qualities when it comes to their youngest, jeon jungkook.

he is feisty and argumentative, but exceptionally loving. as a domesticated hybrid, he can be quite lazy and enjoys lots of rest but displays many burst of energy that seem to stimulate the rest of the pack. he enjoys singing, and is extremely affectionate - unafraid to show his affection for those he trusts.

name: kim taehyung (김태형)

sign: capricorn

birthdate: december 30, 1995

age: 25 years

type: bengal tiger

class: apex predator

role: inconclusive

(both dominant and subordinate traits)

as an apex predator, kim taehyung should fall into category of protector. over years of observation, the hybrid is willing protect but doesn’t display it prominently. as he is just as easily protected by his elders as that of counterpart, park jimin. and much like him, he will fall to defense of youngest, jeon jungkook, quickly. but his position remains inconclusive as he displays traits of both equally. the dynamic still works with the pack seamlessly.

he can seem quiet upon first meetings, but the hybrid is quite playful and excitable - especially with his agemate and younger counterpart. he likes to protect and be protected. he is an art connoisseur and seems to always be collecting new knowledge where he can find it.

name: jeon jungkook (전정국)

sign: virgo

birthdate: september 1, 1997

age: 23 years

type: rabbit

class: prey

role: protectee

(predominantly subordinate traits, does occasionally show dominant qualities)

youngest, jeon jungkook, falls into category of protectee quite easily. as prey, and categorically falling so low on the tree, it makes sense that his predator pack members would shield him. but he also shows fervent attachment to prey, kim seokjin.

the youngest can be rather shy when it comes to those who may or may not pose a threat, the ambiguity alone is enough to trigger is prey instincts. though, within his pack, those he trusts, he is extremely impulsive and affectionate. he also enjoys music, and singing, along with drawing and creating art. he is very lovable and fun.

* all pack members have experienced past neglect, abuse, and trauma.

each file was as meticulous as you could expect it to be, giving you the rundown of their diets, habits, personalities, etc. you heart stung at the last sentence and the realization that they had been observed for years, meaning they had been in the shelter for years.

though the idea was a bit overwhelming, you had to admit reading about them felt like a little glimpse into who they were - and you were suddenly very hopeful you’d be able to adopt them all.

though that didn’t come without nerves, you skimmed over each file, realizing then that even the youngest was a year older than you. you hoped your age wouldn’t pose a problem to seeing you in the light of owner, as someone they could look to for help or protection. you wiped away the thought, saving it for when it happened instead of creating a problem that didn’t exist yet.

looking up at the clock, you decided you should get ready. putting the files away into your bag neatly, you climbed up the stairs to the room you had made you own. wearing your hair down and applying a light layer of make up, you decided you should look somewhat presentable.

you didn’t know why you were so nervous suddenly, discarding outfit after outfit before realizing you were about to be late and finally deciding on a pair of loose jeans and a fitted sage green top. you hoped you looked as friendly as possible.

finally, you made it to the shelter, letting out a heavy breath and turning your car off - you tried to ease your nerves. you greeted yeosang at the front desk once again, along with dr. park as they directed you to the “interview deck.” there you found mingi, waiting for you with a stack of papers.

“y/n!” he called happily as he wrapped you in a firm embrace and you paid him a sweet smile. seven sets of ears perked up on the other side of the door, growing anxious as the seven boys paid each other glances. their skin buzzing wildly. “they’re all inside now. knowing you, i’m sure you did extensive research... i’m confident they’ll love you.” mingi reassured, as you stayed quiet. “whenever you’re ready.” he finally spoke, moving out of the way as you finally let out the breath you were holding.

you gripped the handle before thinking fuck it, and twisting it completely, stepping inside almost silently.

you can’t say you had expected the hybrids to look the way they did as you started at them wide-eyed, the moment seeming to move in slow motion as the tingling feeling you felt the day before returned, except it was incredibly more intense.

“hi -” you tried to speak before a large body came crashing into yours, almost knocking the wind of out you as you stumbled slightly. the tall boy wrapped his long arms over you shoulders, burying his face into your neck. you could feel him smiling against you skin.

“i’m so glad you came back for us.” the small voice rang out muffled against your hot skin. heartbeat thumping rapidly, and you know they could all hear it with their heightened senses. as you scanned the group, six set of eyes watching you intently, you noticed the only pair of ears missing were those of the bunny you met the day prior

“of course i came back.” you muttered softly, returning his embrace as he exhaled into you at the contact of your arms joining around his toned waist. you can’t say you figured the bunny would be so tall and broad, he clearly worked out to maintain his figure, perhaps to make up for being prey.

“jungkookie, let her breathe.” a deep voice echoed. the tone so deep and domineering you almost shook.

“right.” the younger boy laughed, pulling away with a deep blush that matched your own. “sorry.” he breathed out.

“that’s okay...” you whispered softly. “it’s nice to finally meet you properly, jungkook.” you finish, genuinely, giving him a happy smile and watching the tension fall out of his broad shoulders.

the owner of the deeper voice had now stood and was approaching confidently. gaze trained and focused on your much smaller frame, as you looked up at him towering about you, tall and strong.

his eyes raked your figure, petite and short, even shorter than jimin - and his instincts were screaming at him to protect you and usher you even further into the room, away from any possible danger. he ignored it, for now.

you observed his ashy black ears and tail, the traits matching his shaggy hair perfectly. “you must be, namjoon.” you concurred, as he tilted his head, just like a wolf would. his gaze made you squirm a bit.

“yes, that’s me.” he nodded, gesturing toward the chair sat directly in front of the couch that seven of them were sat on. “please.” he said firmly, as you nodded. finally, taking a seat and feeling a bit more at ease. “this is seokjin, our oldest” he spoke for the group, gesturing to the broad shouldered man on the far side of the couch, closest to the door. there was an empty spot next to him from where namjoon had just stood.

his skin was fair and spotless, and his clean cut dark hair was adorned with a pair of clean antlers. his plump lips formed in a small u-shaped smile as he bid you a polite nod that you returned.

“hoseok,” he introduced next. referring now to the honey-skinned great dane hybrid. he seemed to be bursting at the seems with energy but hid it well, despite his tail wagging quickly - grey/brown ears perking upward.

“hello!” he cheered happily, taking all of his energy and focussing it on not wrapping you in a tight embrace, much like jungkook had. he could smell you so vividly, they all could.

“hi!” you giggled a bit, his ears turning toward the noise. “it’s nice to meet you.” you both beam. you think maybe he was made by the sun itself, at how much warmth and happiness he radiates.

“yoongi.” he spoke next, just as the man next to hobi swatted the great dane’s wagging tail with a small snarl. he barely tilted his head back at you, seemingly uninterested in the whole encounter.

“jimin.” he said next, sending yoongi a death glare that the panther pointedly ignored. you smiled genuinely at the panther, before looking to jimin.

“ah, yes! we met yesterday as well.” you cheer softly as jimin cracked a proud smile at your acknowledgement, leaning forward to shake your free hand and place a quick kiss to it.

“i’m glad you’re here.” jimin spoke hushed, before letting your hand go and smirking at your blush, only nodding your head to him.

“and you’ve met jungkook,” he spoke next as the bunny waved at you again, one ear flopping down, long hair falling into his eyes. you waved back and he smiled brightly.

“and then finally, taehyung.” namjoon introduced last, as you face the last hybrid. his skin was tanned and soft, and his dark hair parted down the middle in soft waves. you could see his bengal features in his eyes. he paid you a respectful smile, reaching forward to shake your hand formally.

“it’s lovely to meet you.” he said, voice just as deep as namjoon’s, laced with a low purr. you gave another small smile, face tense.

“and you, taehyung.” you replied, as his soft hand let go of your own. namjoon let out a breath and sat down in his previous place as you met all of their gaze once more, only yoongi’s was trained on the floor. they looked expectant.

“i take it mingi has told you most of it, but my name’s y/n. i own an estate off the countryside, it’s quiet there. and, to be entirely honest with you, i never saw myself adopting a hybrid in general.. let alone seven but... i want to give you a proper home, and the freedom you deserve. if you’ll let me.” you spoke softly, but loud enough for each hybrid to hear. they studied your features, and the growing heat of their skin, staring quizzically.

“if you -“ you started speaking just as namjoon did. you chuckled lightly. “go ahead.” you gesture.

“would it be alright if we asked you some questions?” namjoon asked respectful, as you immediately nod your head in approval.

“of course. anything at all.” you encourage as you met seokjin’s trained gaze.

“not to be.. abrupt or rude, but, how old are you, y/n?” seokjin asked, voice melodic and pretty.

“oh, i-i’m 22... i know i’m younger than you all, but i can confidently say i can provide for you. i had to grow up pretty quickly.” you admit, and the boy take note of that last thought. namjoon wonder’s why but chooses not to pry. fore now.

“i trust you.” seokjin spoke, ceasing your explanation as the two of you held a piercing gaze until you nodded to him - silently thanking him.

“what do you do?” hoseok asked next, leaning forward a bit and smiling. they watch your expression beam a bit at the question.

“i’m an artist! i - i work from home so i’ll be able to devote as much time to each of you as possible, if that’s what you want, of course.” you tell him happily, reflecting on your work as he takes note of every expression you make.

“an artist? kookie likes to draw a lot, too!” jimin explained, wrapping an arm around jungkook’s shoulders and ruffling his hair as the boys laughed.

“i’d love to see your work sometime.” you admit sweetly as jungkook blushes. the rest of the boys ask you basic questions abbot your life, why you’re here, all except yoongi.

the conversation dwindles quite naturally before yoongi finally speaks up, “so why would a 22 year old girl want to adopt seven hybrids? what are your intentions?” yoongi’s voice is laced with venom, his question makes you sit straight as your gazes finally meet.

the two of you stare at one another, studying the other’s gaze, trying to read them. both parties becoming inwardly frustrated when they fail.

though hoseok gives yoongi’s thigh a squeeze in quiet warning, he also looks at you expectantly. along with the five other boys. you take in a deep breath.

“just like you, i have to gain your trust just as much as you have to gain mine. if you give me a chance, let me get to know you and in turn get to know me - i think i can give you what the seven of you need. a home... a safe haven... i want to be that for you, if you’ll let me. i’ve been blessed with the resources to do so. my heart aches at the thought of the seven of you being here for so long, and there is no string of words that i can say to even begin to ease the burden of what you’ve been through, but i want to try. i want to understand. and i want the seven of you... if you want me, too.” you answered honestly, voice lower as you start at the floor, rolling your hands together.

you finally look back up at yoongi whose dark gaze has now softened. previous potentials who had even considered meeting all seven of the hybrids would give up on them at yoongi’s harsh tone and hot attitude - using it as an excuse to decline their adoption. but you didn’t. you met his words with sincerity and kindness, and it’s not something any of them had experienced. and the fact that you hadn’t given up yet, spoke wonders to the seven of them.

they all shared a knowing glance, “okay... we want you, too.” namjoon finally spoke, as you broke into a happy smile.

✿ author’s note : thank you so much for all the love on the first part so far, I really wasn’t expecting it. i’m posting part one and two tonight as to get the story rolling and will hopefully have part three out tomorrow night! i can’t have a set schedule as my work and school schedules fluctuate but i’ll be as consistent as possible as i’m just as invested! thank you! 

[heartfullofpony]

REFLECTIONS ON SUNNY'S ACTIVISM

{CAUTION SPOILERS BELOW}

When I was younger, I used to think that speeches were what changed the world - that appeals to people's better (or worse) nature were ultimately what pushed the gears of history into motion. At the beginning of the film, Sunny Starscout thinks the same. After years of failed attempts, she finally succeeds in breaking into the Canterlogic Expo. The entirety of her plan? To give a speech.

A few automated robotic hijinks later, Sunny actually *has* everypony's attention. She tries her speech, but fails on the spot. She does not sway hearts or minds, (aside from a few moments of hope from some fillies in the audience).

In her moment of heartbreak and disappointment, Hitch asks, "did you think you could just get up there, say a few words, and everything would change?" And, frankly, he's right to criticize her naivete.

This film does an excellent job of illustrating to a younger generation what every successful activist already knows - that action is what changes the world. In order to embrace Sunny's ideas, earth ponies of Maretime Bay would have to unlearn their entire history, and change their entire way of life to accommodate this new way of thinking. Nopony embraces that kind of radical social change based on a mere intellectual construct.

The speeches that do move the world are successful because they galvanize folks around issues already affecting them.

Izzy Moonbow's arrival forces the issue. A. Real. Live. Unicorn.

This is not a drill.

Their society is not set up to casually embrace that. From the moment Izzy set hoof in Maretime Bay, the town was destined for drastic change.

Sunny had no real base of allies, or an existing movement to mobilize, so Sprout's speeches are successful in mobilizing the town in the opposite direction. His speeches play to ponies' existing fears, and radicalize their existing ideas about how the world works. It's all driven by the urgency that the "unicorn invasion" creates.

Elsewhere, the Mane 5 create a mixture of chaos, upheaval, panic, and hope wherever they go. Hatred and division appear to be foundational mythologies in every pony race. Sunny and Izzy are a destabilizing force. They make an ally out of Zipp because her existing discontent with the status quo, and her existing hope for pony unity.

What I'm getting at is: if your words are going to change the world, ponies, (like people), need to be ready to hear them. They need to offer a practical solution to an existing problem.

When cornered in Bridlewood, both the unicorns who live there, and the royal guard of Zephyr Heights, are willing to let Sunny try unifying the crystals. They may be skeptical, but you can still see the hope in everypony's eyes - even Alphabittle's.

Ponies want their magic back. They want change.

Ultimately, it's the destruction of Sunny's lighthouse that gives urgency to that change. It is basic, common decency that bring the races together, which is in and of itself a reaction to the horrors of Emperor Sprout's reign.

Sunny, who has suffered more loss than any of them because of this hate, has an ear now - ponies willing to listen not only to her words, but her ideas.

Her message of unity - of love - has tangible meaning to them now. A sort of real world urgency.

"It's up to us."

I think the lesson to be taken here - at least politically - is that every movement is a reaction to existing conditions. That the speeches that change the world are successful precisely because they address people's existing problems. To make the world a better place - to effectively challenge the status quo - you need to make your cause relevant, and you need to mobilize with real alternatives.

I have hope for the children who grow up with role models like Sunny and worlds like Equestria to foster their dreams for the future.

-Sprocket

If you enjoy essays like these, please consider supporting my work on Patreon. You can also follow me on FimFic

[soulmate-game]

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

[rocorambles]

Beauty and the Beast

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Life isn’t a fairytale and Iwaizumi is perfectly fine with that. 

Author’s Note: Gifting this to @aonesteddybear as part of the SFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event. Hope you enjoy~

Oikawa had always used to joke that whenever Iwaizumi got a girlfriend, it would be like the live reenactment of Beauty and the Beast (which always earned him a well-aimed volleyball to the head). But the ex-ace secretly wonders if the brunette is right. 

High school had been full of shy giggling girls who had nervously confessed to him or asked him out, entranced by the idea of dating the ace and vice-captain of Aoba Johsai’s renowned volleyball team, the best friend of Oikawa Tooru himself, the boy the entire Seijoh team and the rest of his peers highly respected and spoke well of. Even second-year Kyoutani Kentarou seemed to be on his best behavior whenever the spiky haired third-year was around and that was saying something. 

Encouraged and urged on by Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki to test out the waters, Iwaizumi had gone on a few dates. But he always felt like a bumbling inarticulate caveman no matter how sweet, how kind, how accommodating the girls were. 

He cringes when he remembers how accidentally callous he had been with his words, making girls cry and left when he lectured them about eating less sweets and exercising more when they insisted on going to desert shops, things he would tell his own teammates out of a responsibility to keep them healthy, not because he cared about what they looked like. And he groans when he remembers the countless times his highschool dates had screamed in his face when he just shrugged his shoulders and said they looked fine, the same as usual, when they showed off a new outfit, new haircut, new makeup look. 

Boys still flocked to him, younger students looking up to him as a role model, his male classmates fist bumping and slapping a hand on his back in friendly greeting. But gossip travels fast among highschool girls and as oblivious as Iwaizumi usually is to the rumors circulating around, even he notices the wary looks and whispers every time he walks past a group of girls. 

"Iwaizumi is polite, but I heard he has no social skills. Did you hear how he made the last girl he dated cry?"

"Iwaizumi and Oikawa are best friends, but Iwaizumi isn't anywhere near as charming as Oikawa." 

"Iwaizumi is kind of cute, but I heard he's kind of a brute when you get to know him." 

Rough around the edges. Gruff. Lacks tact. 

The descriptions never seem to end and although it stings a bit, Iwaizumi can't deny that there's some truth to all of the above. 

So he swears off dating throughout the rest of high school, dedicating himself to volleyball, making it to Nationals, passing the college entrance exam, leaving highschool with no regrets as he spends as much time laughing and fooling around with Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki as he can before hopping onboard a flight to California. 

America is different. College is different. And suddenly he feels like he's the beauty and the girls around him are beasts. 

Iwaizumi knows that even by Japan’s more conservative standards, he still falls on the quieter and introverted side of the spectrum, so acclimating to a place like California is a cultural shock to say the least. He feels as skittish as a mouse as girls blatantly flutter their eyelashes and casually lay their hands on his shoulders in class. He almost drops his drink in surprise when drunk college girls walk right up to him and attempt to lock lips at parties. And on the few dates that he does go on, he feels like a wide-eyed blushing maiden when he’s practically dragged into apartments after a date has ended under the guise of just watching a TV show together, only to realize that his date has much less innocent intentions. 

He tries to convince himself that it’s not just him, that it’s just a clash of cultures and that he’ll get used to it. But he throws his phone across the room when he sees pictures of Oikawa looking perfectly at home in Argentina’s arguably more sensuous and passionate culture. Even Matsukawa and Hanamaki handle themselves just fine the few times they come to visit Iwaizumi and he groans when he sees the two men soak up the attention and physical touches without even batting an eye. 

Fine, so maybe it is just him. 

Tired of being siloed into the roles of beauty and beast, he once again pushes dating aside, opting instead to dive headfirst into his studies, join the university’s volleyball club, explore the west coast. He gets good grades. He makes new friends. He gets to continue playing the sport he loves. All in all, it’s a great life and he really can’t complain. But every time he walks past a couple on campus holding hands, every time he sees a couple sitting together in the college coffee shop, every time he video chats with his old highschool friends and they go on and on about the girls they’re currently seeing, he feels a sharp pang of longing deep inside of him. 

Years pass and he busies himself with acing his exams and landing a solid career and now that he has his dream job as an athletic trainer for Japan’s National team, he hardly has time to think about anything outside of his rowdy team, let alone dating or women. And it certainly helps that the males he’s surrounded with on a daily basis all have one track minds, too focused on volleyball, on the court, on always excelling to care about romance or relationships. It’s a mindset he’s more than well acquainted with and he feels like he’s finally in his element as he barks orders and drills at the sweaty athletes, grinning when Bokuto’s spikes get stronger, giving a thumbs up when Hinata jumps even higher than before. 

Who needs a ring on their finger or a woman on their arm when victory tastes even sweeter than any love story? 

Or so he thinks until he meets you. 

The team is celebrating another victory at their favorite bar and although Iwaizumi is happy for them, he keeps a close eye on how many drinks they’re chugging, knowing that the role of babysitter will always fall on Ushijima and him. But all seems well so far. Atsumu and Sakusa aren’t at each other’s throats. Hinata and Bokuto are speaking in relatively coherent sentences. So he decides to reward himself with another drink, making his way over to the counter and waiting for the bartender to notice him. 

It’s a busy night and he sighs when minutes pass by, but he tenses up when a teasing voice reaches his ears. 

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep on frowning like that.” 

It’s instinctive, the way he scowls and snaps back at the stranger without even looking at them, telling them that’s just his face and if they don’t like it, they can take a hike. But he pales when he registers his harsh words and an apology is already forming in his mouth when he whips his head around to look at you, only to stare in surprise when you just cackle at him, eyes glimmering with mischief and curiosity as you introduce yourself, so different from the usual disappointed or judgemental looks he receives from women. 

And he wonders if this is a prank or a dream, disbelief coursing through him at how easily the two of you converse after years of believing that he would never find someone he was compatible with. There’s no need to sugarcoat his words, to filter his thoughts and he watches in awe as you take it all in stride, never flinching at his frank words, rolling your eyes with an amused smile on your face before sending a quip of your own right back at him, filling in the gaps when words don’t easily flow from his mouth. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like a beauty or a beast. He’s just himself. Iwaizumi Hajime. 27. Athletic trainer. A man quickly falling head over heels for the woman besides him.

Dating you is a breath of fresh air. It’s comfortable. It’s natural. It just feels...right. There’s no pressure on him to be prince charming (although he tries his best and ends up grumbling when you just laugh at his stiff attempts of eloquent conversation and polite mannerism). There’s no tears or vague confusing anger directed his way when he misses subtle cues or phrases something horribly (both of which he is often guilty of) and he just nods and listens, jotting down mental notes when you tell him directly and clearly why you’re upset with him. 

And in return you see his more nuanced signs of affection and love. You see it when he roughly grabs your bags from you and holds them for you. You feel it when he silently corrects your posture when you’re working out together. You hear it when he briskly grunts at you to stop working so much and get some real food and sleep.      

Life isn’t a fairytale. There are no magic teapots to provide guidance. There’s no spell to blame their fights on. There’s no magic that will instantly restore peace. There’s only two humans, two equals learning how to love, navigating through life together, sticking side by side through the fights, the tears, the laughter, and the smiles. 

And Iwaizumi can’t help but think this is far better than any romantic fantasy, even a tale as old as time like Beauty and the Beast.    

[miss-m-winks]

Love is an Art

part 1. oh? what's that? I'm actually posting a writing project to tumblr like i said i wanted to? wow. amazing. let's see how long i can keep it up. I'll be making this old post into the masterpost

btw here is part 2

Summary: a story about two of my ocs, that will unfortunately not make it into my bigger story. Talib and Kouto are elves, attending a university as art students. Kouto is a nude model for a sculpting class, and Talib is one of the sculpting students. It's just a whole lot of slow friends to lovers fluff. It may get a bit more Adult in later parts, we will see if I can manage to make it that far lol.

This all takes place in a fictional world I've built. Most of the people species are ones other fantasy uses, but instead of "halfling" I have been calling my equivalent people species "haufin". That's the only odd word I can think of right now, figured I would explain to avoid confusion.

The pottery studio was warm. Clay dust stubbornly settled in to every corner and crack in the floor, walls, tables and shelves. The earthy smell of it filled the air and clung to every piece of cloth in the room. Professor Rutfang busied herself about the place, setting up the tables as her earliest students arrived in scattered handfuls.

She was a stout haufin woman, her black hair all streaked with grey in a long plait, and her skin nearly matching the red-brown color of the clay stains on her coarse apron. She greeted her students with a nod as they set up their stations for the day. Her class was diverse, but most of the students were goblins, haufin, and drow. The tables and stools built to accommodate the orcish students were all too large for her to move, so they remained in their designated place.

"Morning Talib," one of the goblins said to a dark-skinned elf as she passed him coming into the room.

"Oh, morning, Gilik," he replied with a half smile. Taking his jacket off in the warm studio, the sleeveless shirt he wore beneath revealed the countless raised scars all over his arms and shoulders. He unpacked his tools from his bag, standing at the shelves to the left of the door so his own left side, with his missing ear and eye, was facing away from the other students as they entered.

"Excuse me, are you Talib?" An unfamiliar voice approached him from behind. Turning, he saw another elf with much paler skin than his own. Their hair was black like his, tied back in a similar bun, but where his was curled and springy, theirs was straight and smooth.

"I am," he replied, "you must be our figure sculpting model," he said, as he noticed they were wearing a bathrobe and no shoes. They smiled, dark eyes narrow and sharp as a charcoal sketch.

"My name is Kouto. Professor Rutfang told me what you looked like so I could talk to you after class, about the extra sessions you'll need." They glanced over him, focusing for a moment on the left side of his face.

The metallic decoration that hid the gaping hole where his left ear should be. His missing left eye, with the long raised scars around it. Today, the eye was a round piece of multicolored glass with a swirled pattern, all blue and red.

Talib cleared his throat, turning his head slightly and hiding his hands in his pockets before Kouto could focus on them too. He wore partial leather gloves, holding his wood and metal prosthetic fingers in place. Half his real fingers were missing, leaving only the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and the three extra fingers on his left, like one full hand split in half.

"Yeah, she did mention that you were willing to take the extra time for me," he mumbled, "thank you. I appreciate it." His lopsided smile was restrained by the scars that came down from his eye and a few smaller ones on the right side of his chin. Kouto nodded.

"I'm glad I caught you before class," they said, "I'll let you set up, and we can talk schedules later, when I'm wearing real clothes again." They laughed, pulling the bathrobe a little tighter at the waist.

"Yeah, of course." Talib slowly turned back to unpacking his bag as Kouto stepped away and walked over to the circle of tables, sitting on the platform in the middle of the room.

With her class settled and set up, Ms Rutfang closed and locked the door. She would not have late students or other people opening the door and disrupting the nude model session.

Talib fidgeted with the special gloves that covered his prosthetic fingers to protect their joints from the clay. He was sitting at the left side of a table, with Gilik to his right. His tools, a bowl of water, and a flat wooden board, were all laid out neatly by his block of clay.

"Alright then," Ms Rutfang made her way over and got the class's attention. "This here is Kouto." She gestured at them, and they smiled, standing up. "They're also a student of the arts, but they take time out of their own schedule to model for other classes."

"Thank you for the introduction, Ms Rutfang," Kouto said, "I really enjoy modeling, and I will be going around during my break times to check out your work, if that's alright." They removed their bathrobe without a moment's hesitation, stepping up onto the platform.

Kouto was skinny, Talib noted right away. Long, thin legs, hip and rib bones easily visible, but not in an unhealthy way. Talib let his eye skip politely past Kouto's groin, though he still recognized the shape of a penis. Their chest was flat, with a sprawling lightning scar discoloring the skin just over their heart. Talib heard the other students notice it too, keeping their surprised murmurs as quiet as they could.

Kouto didn't react, taking a seated pose in the center of the platform; one they could hold for a while. One leg flat, one knee bent, both hands flat on the platform behind them. In only a few slow blinks and steady breaths, they settled into stillness with a neutral expression, practically a statue already.

Ms Rutfang began her rounds of the class, offering reminders of basic sculpting techniques. She brought attention to the key points of Kouto's body, the landmarks that helped define their proportions. Here, the crest of the pelvis; there, the corner of a shoulder blade.

Kouto remained stoic, only moving enough to breathe and blink. Talib built up the base of his sculpture, glad to be at a good angle to see Kouto's full pose. He knew the platform could be turned quite easily, so the whole class would be able to work from different angles at Ms Rutfang's discretion. But even so, for him, being able to start with the full pose in his sight was helpful.

He left the arms off for now, building the torso and legs in thick slabs he could trim down. Each time he glanced over Kouto's body, he noticed more thin lightning scars of varying coloration. They all spread out from the cluster over Kouto's heart, covering their body the way Talib's scars covered his.

He pressed his fingers into the clay, forming the headless, armless body with an uneven texture. His prosthetic fingers always pressed a little too hard, or a little too light.

“Alright, it’s been half an hour, go ahead and take a break, Kouto,” professor Rutfang said, stepping forward to mark the platform where their hands and feet were resting so they could easily return to the same pose. Kouto retrieved their bathrobe, wrapping it around their body before they left the circle of tables to fetch a water bottle from a bag they’d left near the professor’s office.

Talib shook his hands out, stepping back from his lumpy sculpture. It was far from his best work. He frowned at the texture, glancing over his gloves and pulling them tight again. He dipped his fingers in the bowl of water beside him to clean off the residual clay.

“I miss wheel throwing,” he muttered. Gilik gave a light chuckle.

“Ah, it’s not so bad. We’re all new at figure sculpting.” She looked at his work and he looked at hers. “See, mine’s not great either,” she remarked, “I’ve got his knee wonky, I can tell. We’ll get better.” She gave him a toothy grin. “Yeah.”

“Mind if I look?” Kouto’s bare feet hardly made a sound on the dusty floor as they walked over. Gilik turned and gestured apologetically towards her partial sculpture. Kouto looked pleased. “I’ve never actually done clay work myself,” they said, “so I can’t give pointers. But it’s really neat to see how you all work.” Talib tensed as Kouto’s attention turned to his side of the table.

“I haven’t done much,” he admitted. Kouto tilted their head.

“It’s only been half an hour. I think it looks like a good start.” They bounced on their heels for a moment and then walked away to look at the progress on the other tables. Some students were trying to work from memory as they waited for the break to be over. Others had gone for a water break of their own. Most were standing back like Talib and Gilik, glancing over their own work and that of their table mates as Kouto peeked in from behind them with a friendly smile.

By the final half hour of class, Talib still hadn’t added a head or arms, focused on getting the torso proportions as accurate as he could. Kouto was facing his direction now, the platform had been turned nearly a full circle during the course of the class period. Now and again, Talib thought he saw Kouto’s eyes focus on his sculpture, squinting as they watched him work.

He carved out the gap beneath the folded knee, digging a little too close to the other leg and creating a gouge. He frowned, but kept his focus on the bent leg. With a glance at Kouto every few seconds, he shaped the foot and marked where the knee bone jutted out.

"Now don't rush just because the clock is ticking," professor Rutfang said, walking around behind her students. "This is only your first session with a live model, I expect these sculptures to be a little messy. I want you to get a full body in the correct pose, but don't worry about adding too fine a detail."

Talib cast a glance at the clock, wincing at the time. Hastily, he rolled out two columns for arms and an awkwardly large ball for the head. He scored the clay, wetting it and pressing the parts into place. He used a flat wooden tool to smooth out the seams, and then he added the flat ovals of hands and the second foot.

Gilik leaned back from her sculpture, turning the wooden board beneath it. She pursed her lips at the bent leg that leaned out too far, the oddly tilted head, and the overly thick torso she had sculpted, but she shrugged it off and started cleaning her tools in her bowl of water.

“Alright, that’s time then,” professor Rutfang announced. “Go ahead and clean up. You’ll have time during open studio hours to smooth things out if you want.” She gestured towards Kouto. “But if you really need extra time with the model, they’ve offered to run an extra session or two each week. You’ll have to come talk to me first if you want to be part of that.” She smiled and crossed her arms. “If too many of you join, it just means I’ve done a poor job organizing my class, but in all the years I’ve taught here I haven’t seen a student fall so far behind that I couldn’t help them get back on track.”

As she talked, the students cleaned their tools and hands. Kouto nodded and smiled at the mention of the extra sessions, then stood up from the platform to put their bathrobe on again.

“You sylvanids have such weird butts,” Gilik muttered to Talib, her eyes catching sight of the thick pads of skin on Kouto’s buttocks. Talib paused and looked up, but Kouto was already covered.

“It’s rude to stare,” he teased, “and besides, having a well-padded rear is no weirder than your head bumps and barbels.” Gilik ran her fingers over the thin fleshy strands that grew out of her jawline. “Hm, I suppose. Still, you have to admit that drow butts are even weirder.” Talib nodded.

“Alright, yeah, they’re a pretty odd color.” He smirked and walked away to fetch a roll of absorbent paper and a sheet of waxed bark cloth. Dampening the paper, he carefully laid it over his sculpture in small torn sections, then wrapped the whole thing in the waxed bark cloth to keep the moisture in. He carried it off to the shelves, sticking a name tag to the front so he could find it again. Gilik was close behind with her own work, and their class shelf was quickly filled.

“See you next week then,” Gilik told him, hurrying off to grab her bag and head off to her next class. Talib waved and took his own bag, in no hurry because he had an empty period after class.

“You’re a lot easier to recognize when I’m wearing my glasses.” Kouto said behind him. He turned to see the model now wearing normal clothes, though their dress had a similar wrapped look to the bathrobe. All vibrant blue with an embroidered floral pattern and sleeves that left a gap at their shoulders. Their eyes didn’t look so narrow now, behind their glasses. “Do you have time to compare schedules?”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” Talib pulled out his schedule book at the same time Kouto was opening theirs, pencil in hand.

“Great, alright, so here’s what my weeks look like, and these are the days and times professor Rutfang said she’d be available for the extra sessions.” They leaned over so Talib could see the color-coded schedule. “I can do one or two sessions in a week, they’ll be two hours or less. Which times work for you?” Talib glanced over Kouto’s book and back to his own.

“I can do these days here, in the early evenings.” He pointed them out in Kouto’s book, the days just before sculpting class. They nodded and marked those squares with an X.

“Perfect. I’ll let professor Rutfang know.” They smiled at Talib, “I’m looking forward to it.” Talib nodded, putting away his schedule book and shrugging his bag further up on his shoulder. Kouto’s eyes lingered on his face a few extra moments, before they blinked and their cheeks went pink. “Sorry, I just-“ they glanced aside with a sheepish grin, “I just realized how much detail there is in that glass eye you’re wearing. It looks really cool.”

“Thanks.” Talib reached up to touch his eyelid. “I better head out, I promised a friend I’d meet with them after class.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.” Kouto tucked their schedule book back into their pocket. Talib walked out of the studio quickly, making his way to the library.

[rosssrandomblog]

Saiyuki reload zeroin finale aka ep 12 and 13.

At least we have all the gang now, let's just hope that it won't be a massacre. Spoiler! It is.

Well let's just say that not only Ukoku is the most terrifying person on this goddamn planet but he's also a fucking clown 🤡.

It was known but this is ridiculous. Arghhhh.

Ok I am calm.

Sanzo is kinda ok now 'cause he have his ✨besties✨ but Hazel...

He was a destroyed man before but in this two episodes he had been annihilated and I am not ok.

To me is very clear that all the Varaharu story is a narrative mirror of the mental dinamic of Hazel. If it's not I... Don't know maybe I am crazy.

Hazel for all this time directed all his rage and anger and grief to something other than himself, to something external: the youkais. And that was a defence mechanism to distract himself from the fact that the real target of all that rage was himself. He was the demon all along, but if he hates something else can't use that energy to hate himself and self destroy.

For a hot minute I thought that would have been Varaharu to kill Gato... Thanks god it wasn't, it would have been even more devastating and I gonna need some days to recover already so... yes.

Anyway Sanzo and Hakkai bullying Hazel to make him react gives me life. I appreciate that they made Hakkai give him the final 'hit' because it was clear from the beginning of the series that they are the two faces of the same coin.

*fast forward* hearing Ukoku saying "I am bored now" froze the blood in my veins. I was like <has been nice, but I am going now. Goodbye>

Goku and Gojyo going at Ukoku with no care in the world was philosophical in a very Saiyuki style, I love it.

The flower will die eventually but it blooms. They are going to lose this fight, they know but what matters is the fight it self, what matters is to fight even if you know you will lose at the end. The flower will come back the next season and you can win the next fight.

Gato death... Guys, I am not ok.

It was nice to see Hazel really show of his powers (yes Varaharu's fit doesn't count) obv he's no match for Ukoku but was nice seeing him handle himself in battle.

Gato using his last strength to stop Hazel and 'relieve' him from his oath of atonement had me sobbing.

Hazel and Sanzo being the ones to be able to hit Ukoku for real was a little reward, thank you I really appreciate it.

I knew that Hazel wouldn't die that way but he was ready to do so, he really was. His interior monologue sounded very much like a goodbye.

Sanzo Ikkou aftermath is the only reason I am still sane, reminded very much the post Kami-Sama.

But Hazel's cries and sobs are still ringing in my ears.

...

Well that was a long walk through, all the serie was intense, so many feelings. I am glad though it was amazing, for me is even better than Reload Blast.

It's pretty obvious but Hazel quickly climbed up the 'favorite charcters list' accommodating himself at Sanzo's side at the top of the chart. Sanzo for me had always had been some kind of role model, an inspiration. Hazel is the one who I relate to, I see myself in him completely.

Anyway I don't know what I gonna do with my self now.