#more painting practice… i just like her :)

[quarterlifekitty]

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König is stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was lying on the floor of Robin's room, his back against the wall as he let Robin paint his toenails while he flipped through one of her magazines. The radio played softly in the background.

"I am totally new to having a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean platonic girlfriend," Robin said.

"Well, that's one thing we got in common, I don't think I've ever had a girl who's just a friend," Steve said.

"What about Perkins?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't count, I hated her. She's the reason Tommy became such an asshole," Steve said.

"Hm, yeah," Robin said and paused. "So, how close were you and Tommy?"

"Well, we were friends since we were eight. We pretty much bonded over the fact that we both had assholes for fathers. We shared everything and told each other everything. He told me about his first crush, and I told him about my first crush. We practiced kissing, practiced having sex, and when I got first kiss, I told him immediately," Steve said.

"Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!" Robin exclaimed, and she closed the nail polish. "What the fuck do you mean you practiced kissing and having sex with Tommy Hagan?"

"Exactly what it means," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "We hadn't gotten girlfriends yet, and we wanted to get good before we did. It doesn't mean anything. We like women, so it didn't count."

"It still counts!" Robin shrieked. "Did you or did you not put your lips on Tommy's?"

"Yeah, and I also let Tommy put his dick in my ass. I was basically his pillow," Steve said as he continued to casually flip through the magazine. "It doesn't count if you're not gay, Robin."

"It doesn't work like that! Steve Harrington, the first time you had sex was with Tommy Hagan!" Robin exclaimed.

"It was not!" Steve exclaimed, throwing down the magazine.

"Was too!" She yelled.

"Was not!" Steve yelled.

"Okay! So, let's say if I kissed you right now. . .," Robin said.

"Wouldn't count as your first kiss, you're a lesbian and I'm straight," Steve said.

Robin grinned, a manic look in her eye. She pulled her hand back and slapped Steve across the face. He screamed.

"Didn't count! I'm a lesbian and you're straight!" Robin yelled.

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Jesus, did you have to hit me so hard?" Steve asked, rubbing his red cheek.

"Yeah, dingus, I did," Robin said.

"Okay, so my first kiss was with Tommy, and I lost my virginity. We're not gay, though," Steve said.

"No, just desperate and very horny teenagers, apparently," Robin rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you had gay sex before me, and you're not even gay. I bet you pictured some blond with big boobies."

"Well, no, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Robin asked.

"I didn't have to picture a woman. I liked it," Steve shrugged.

"You liked it?!" Robin asked.

"Well, I am a man, Robin," Steve said.

"Uh, except not every man likes it when another man rams it up his asshole," Robin said. "Okay, I kind of wish I had been more delicate about this, but I didn't know this was you being in denial kind of situation."

"I'm straight, Robin, I like women," Steve said.

"Yeah, and did you know that you can like men and women?" Robin asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

Robin smiled and got up to pull out a box from underneath her bed. She pulled out a magazine and tossed it at Steve.

"Read it, study it, learn from it," Robin said.

Steve looked at it quizzically for a moment before opening it. He stared at it for the longest time before finally closing it.

"I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, you're not. You just didn't know," she said softly.

"Bisexual," Steve whispered, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, this whole time, I thought I lost my virginity to Chrissy Cunningham."

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Robin asked.

"Uh, we used to hang out all the time before she started dating Jason Carver," Steve said. "Our parents ran in the same circles."

"Well, you know, I guess you could say you lost your guy virginity to Tommy Hagan and your girl virginity to Chrissy Cunningham," Robin said.

"Yeah, that's true," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Robin, and especially thank you for giving me that slap. I definitely needed it."

"Anytime that you want me to hit you, I'm your woman," Robin replied.

They moved towards Robin's window sill and sat on it, opening a window to get some fresh air.

"You know this means that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"Something else we have in common," she said.

"You ever wonder how many out there who are like me and who just don't know?" he asked as he looked up at the moon. "Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Probably a lot more than we think," Robin said. "And they're out there, sitting in their closets wondering if they're ever going escape themselves or be rescued."

"Isn't crazy how we found ourselves?" Steve said.

"Maybe queer people just end up finding each other," Robin said.

"Well, maybe they'll find their way out themselves," Steve said and then he looked her, hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Seriously, Robin, thank you."

"You did that yourself, you know, you just needed a nudge. I mean, you could have told me to go fuck myself and continued to live in denial," Robin said. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Steve smiled bashfully and glanced back at the moon. He looked at her, with tears in his eyes.

"Is it possible to be platonically in love with someone?" he asked.

"I think anything is possible," she said. "I think it's a definite because I know that I'm absolutely, platonically in love with you."

They dangled their feet out the window and leaned against each other, Steve resting his head on top of Robin's.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he whispered.

"I wish I'd known you sooner, too," she whispered back.

They were here now, though, and absolutely nothing could get in between them.

Part Two

[weepingchronicles]

Hi! I saw your requests are open, so could you please do a Jinx x fem! Reader where the reader gets hurt badly after a fight (maybe after episode 6?) and almost dies? How would Jinx react? And make it angsty and fluffy please. Thank you! 🩵

a/n: aaa i didn't know if you wanted yandere or not but i did it anyways, i am very sorry if you didn't want yan!jinx. i didn't know if you meant season one or two but to be honest i couldn't remember anything anyways so this is just a made up fight! hope you dont mind <3

❝yandere!jinx x fem!reader getting injured❞

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Believe it or not, Jinx drops everything once she notices you are hurt, especially if it is critical. Of course, if she is distracted by the fighting and adrenaline of a fight, it might take her awhile to notice until you collapse or the fight is over. I imagine pre-shimmer Jinx would be more attentive and notices if you are hurt even a bit.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But basically, she drops everything and would rush to your side nonetheless. She will kneel by your side, assessing your injuries. Oh god, that is a lot of blood. Since when did you have so many wounds?

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Thousands of thoughts swarm around her head. She is so scared of losing you, she can't lose another person she loves. She just can't. Voices of her adoptive brother's voice ring through her head and even Silco's. Saying things like how she just hurts everyone around her, this was bound to happen eventually. No wonder Vi didn't want her to come on the mission. She's a jinx.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Thankfully, the marching and yells of incoming enforcers awakens her from her delusions. She scoops you in her arms pretty easily and rushes home to save you.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But as she is racing away with you in tow, she looks down seeing your colored eyes begin to gloss over and droop, your skin getting colder and colder. No.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Without much thought she rushes you to Singed. He helped Silco save her, why couldn't he now?

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Once you fully awaken you are not the same. The surgery was a success but your mind feels almost split into two. Your mind conjured the most horrible memories and distorted them into something worse. But Jinx was beside you through all of it.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You find your head laying in Jinx's lap, her painted nails twirling some strands of your hair between her fingers. She notices you, "Oh! You're awake!" She jumps and sit you upright. She is smiling but something in her face makes you believe she is worried, worried for you. Her motions are more jittery than usual.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She brings you a small makeup compact excitedly and open it up, showing your reflection through the small mirror. Your eyes were not the same color anymore. Instead they were a magenta color, something unnatural and not you. It almost reminds you of— "Now we match!" Jinx exclaims excitedly, as if you'd be happy.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "What did you do to me, Jinx?" You focus your gaze back onto her, feeling anger rising in your bones.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Jinx scrunches her face, "What did I do? I saved you!" she says, practically snarling at your accusatory tone. She stands, throwing the makeup compact harshly at you.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "You were going to bleed out in my arms so quit looking me like I'm some.. some monster!" Her voice breaks on the last note, showing her insecurity. You knew all about Jinx's past, about Vi.. Vander. You promised to never do the same thing to her.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You take a deep breath in. reassessing your situation. Yes, you were.. different but you were fine, right? Your wound were gone and in fact, you felt more alive than before. More hyper-aware, like you are a fresh eyed baby seeing the world new again.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "I'm.. I'm sorry, Jinx. I just feel so confused.. and different." You hunch over, cradling your own head in your arms.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Jinx's look pities, all tension disappearing at the sight of your struggle. She knew exactly what it felt like, how violating it felt.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She kneels down in front of you, looking up and gently removing your hands from your face. "I know, I know what you must feel. But I promise. . I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have no other choice. Please."

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You lean down, pressing your forehead to Jinx's in an act of understanding and. . affection. "I believe you, thank you for saving me. We will get through this together, okay?" Jinx nods hurriedly, her eyes all wide and thankful.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 The rest of that day was spent with lots of cuddles and talking, maybe this new you wasn't that bad as long as you have Jinx.

a/n: why was this kind of a soft yandere for jinx? oh well. . it was really cute!! i hope you enjoyed :3

[the-kr8tor]

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: It's the very first day of your first 'real' job, with new faces and names, you find yourself fumbling over a handsome coworker. Will you survive the day?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), a bit of loser! Hobie, The office AU, mockumentary AU, Coworkers AU, Coworker! Hobie, Reader has nicknames, one suggestive joke, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea!

Navigation

The camera zooms in on your confused expression until the lenses can see every single one of your pores. The producer clears her throat, and the camera man immediately tries to fix the view. The camera lense whirrs for a second before focusing on you as you sit on an old office chair in the corner of the conference room together with the drab eggshell white painted walls and a single plastic plant placed right next to you.

All you can see are the same drab white walls with thirty year old motivational posters tacked on it. The rows of plastic chairs are lined up in front of the whiteboard where a rolling table with a small box tv sits and collects dust. You feel like you're in an uncanny side of the world where everything is all paperwork and the sound of the photocopying machine whirs in the background amidst the smell of old carpet.

This is being a full fledged adult, you thought. You're starting to hate it already.

“Is this necessary? I just got here.” You chuckle nervously, fingers fixing your collar that doesn't need to be fixed.

“Yes, we need everyone's point of view.” The muffled voice of the producer echoes in the boom mic. “And please stop fiddling with your collar, the mic will pick up the sound.”

“Sorry,” you give her a tight smile. “Um, I guess I should give you my name?” They all nod simultaneously, making you more nervous than you already are on your first day of work. Saying your name without stuttering, you mentally pat yourself on the back for your accomplishment. “I–I just started today, and I'm very excited to work here at Connor's and Jameson's.” You smile sweetly at the camera, a rough cough from someone on the crew makes your smile falter. “C–can I go now?”

A sudden deep rumble can be heard through the mic, shaking you in your seat as you hold on to the armchair. “Woah!” As quick as it came, it subsides. “I think that was an earthquake!” You say, eyes wide in panic, fingers fiddling with your collar as your nerves get to you.

“No,” the producer behind the camera sighs, “there's construction just starting next door.”

“Oh,” You wish the earth could swallow you right now. Way to embarrass yourself on your first day, and on camera too. “Right, sorry.”

The scene shifts to your new boss, Miguel, as he watches the bullpen from his office with his watchful eyes. His hands are tucked behind his back, his large frame practically blocking the sun from his window. He sees the camera crew zooming in on him, and he awkwardly straightens up, weight subtly shifting from side to side.

The camera follows his gaze, landing on Lyla, who's chewing on the cap of her pen as she chats you up while you're working quietly on your desk. She wears a cheerful yellow button up complete with the same yellow pants. You gotta admit, she wears business well.

“I'm just saying, it's eat or be eaten in this office.” The boom mic captures her voice. And the camera moves from her to the entire bullpen that's quiet except for the sound of tapping keyboards and clicking mice. “But I'm sure you'll be okay, we're just selling electric toothbrushes. It's not the end of the world of you commit one fuck up.”

You stare at the camera with a wide look before glancing at Lyla. “T–thanks for the tip.”

Lyla tilts her head with a genuine smile, “no problem, newbie. If you need any help, you know where my department is.” As you nod and glance quickly at Miguel, who's still standing still inside his office, Lyla notices your nervous demeanor. She narrows her gaze at Miguel before flipping him the bird.

“Lyla!” You whisper yell, while Miguel presumably huffs in his office and closes the blinds right after.

“What? It's just office banter!” She returns her gaze to you, eyes softening at your nervous glance. “Nice blouse by the way! Pink suits you.”

The scene changes and now Lyla is the one in your former seat inside the conference room. “Let's just say that I have… some information on him.” She smirks before the camera lense zooms in on the window in the background where Miguel stares heavily on Lyla’s back, his nose flaring, and mouth etched in a deep frown. Lyla feels the presence, brows pinching together before looking over her shoulder. “Hey, boss man!” She says without a care in the world (Or without a care for authority no doubt,) while she waves at him casually.

The scene cuts back to you struggling on the copy machine.

The machine keeps eating all the paper you feed it, making a strange and awful creaking sound whenever you press the button. You're sure that you did everything Lyla taught you. The stack of paper goes into the side, then the file you're going to copy is placed on the scanner. Pressing a few more buttons, it should've spat out an exact copy instead of giving you a jumbled mess of paper that looks like a demonic curse was printed on it.

“Damn it.” You curse under your breath. Eyes glancing to the side, you see the camera crew practically stalking you by the pillar. You quickly change your demeanor, back straightening up, shoulders straight but your huffing through the boom mic can still be picked up unbeknownst to you.

Yanking the half eaten paper away from the slot, you internally curse the photocopy god for giving you this trial for your first day. Looking around the bullpen, you see Lyla in Miguel's office, probably getting chewed on for what she did earlier. You definitely cannot ask her for help. Gazing at your right, your other co-workers are busy with their tasks, tip tapping away at their computers with their blank stares. Well, except for that one intern you hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, who's playing minesweeper on his computer. Amazingly, he looks like he's winning.

Hands balled into fists, you're contemplating whether or not you should start throwing punches at the machine. Lyla did tell you its temperamental, maybe a quick punch would make it think twice from giving you hell.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout squarin’ up with the xerox machine?” A sudden new voice startles you in place. His tone is smooth, confident and deep that it sends good shivers down your arms. “Sorry, thought you need some help.” he chuckles, backing away from you when he notices your shocked expression. “You new ‘ere, huh?”

“It's okay,” your nerves bust through your shaky tone. “Uh, yeah, new associate– on probation for the next six months.”

He smiles sweetly, silver lip piercing drawing your attention towards his lips which you immediately correct your gaze by staring at his brow piercing instead. It didn't help much with your nerves, he looks handsome in every angle. It's not like you're looking for an office romance, it's not illegal to stare, right?

Your new acquaintance has his wicks in a ponytail, silver charms clinking against each other whenever he moves his head. He wears a dark button up, untucked and without a necktie. You find him unbelievably charming.

“‘m sure you'll get it. Once you get ol’ Jerry ‘ere to work for you.” He pats the machine as it whirs and eats another piece of paper. His lithe hand grabs your attention, silver rings dotted along it like he's about to play on stage.

You swallow thickly, avoiding staring too long. “J–Jerry?”

“Yeah, we named it after this bloke who worked ‘ere.”

“That's kind of nice.”

“He's not with us anymore.”

“Oh–” you blink, lips already forming apologies.

“He’s retired, we got him a cake and everythin’” you can see that he's trying to tamp down a laugh by how his Adam's apple bops up and down and from how he subtly bites his lip piercing. “Did you think—?”

“No.” You immediately say. He gives you a teasing look, brilliant hazel eyes that are a beautiful mix of brown and green gazes at you playfully. “T–That’s what I thought too.”

“Right,” he says, unconvinced. “My offer of help still stands. But after this you have to tame the bloody beast on your own.”

You nod, “please, I'm starting to rationalize whether I should punch it or not.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “that could work actually. I've seen people do it a few times.”

“Really?” You say with raised brows and a hint of a hopeful smile.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with a smirk, smile widening when you frown at him with an annoyed look. With a chuckle, he reaches towards the half eaten paper stuck inside, fingers wrapping around it to pull away. “‘m Hobie, Hobie Brown. I work in the post room.” He gestures with his head towards the cart full of envelopes and small parcels. “Or what I like to call it in a fancy way, the logistics room.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile at him, and Hobie smiles back as he finally rips the page away with a rough tug. The paper is suddenly released, the force almost topples him over if not for your quick reflexes. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you swear you felt his pulse quicken.

“You okay, Hobie?” As quick as you were, you retract your hand back to your side.

He nonchalantly clears his throat, fist gripping the paper in his palms. “Yeah, thank you…” he waits for your reply.

You give him your name, cheeks warm and palm suddenly clammy as you shift your feet from side to side to hide your bashfulness. With an inhale and your mind returning to the task at hand, you channel your bravery. “Care to teach me how to tame the beast?”

Hobie balls up the ruined paper all without leaving his eyes on you with a gentle smile. A bit unsure but definitely genuine. “Sure, I charge by the minute, by the way.” He jokes.

“Do you take lunch as payment?” You ride with his joke, hands placed inside your blazer pocket to again hide your shyness.

He grins, “I think we'll get along well, probie.”

You two have completely forgotten about the cameras. They got the whole interaction on film, complete with the lingering gazes and soft smiles you two seem to harbour.

—

“Hobie Brown.” He says while he's sitting on an office chair backwards, arms hugging the back of the chair and chin placed atop it casually. The producer eggs him on to continue with a single look. Hobie sighs, standing up swiftly before twirling the office chair away from him in one fluid and suave motion. “I work in the post room.” He crosses his arms on his chest, annoyed. “I've been ‘ere for three years. Don't like it, but it helps pay the bills, innit?”

“Can you tour us around the mailroom?” The producer asks in a hushed tone but loud enough to be captured by the boom mic.

“No.” He says flatly, already turning to leave the camera crew as he wheels his mail cart out of the room wordlessly.

The camera is left to just roam all over the organized chaos that is the mailroom. Everything seems to be in place but at the same time it's not. All the envelopes are in their correct spots on the large shelf on the far end of the wall, but all the boxes are shoved in a corner, all stacked up. It's a miracle that it's still standing without toppling over.

The mic picks up muffled chatter out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps can be heard as the crew follows the source of the sound. The camera peeks at the doorway, tilting to get a better look of you, who seems to be chatting Hobie up with a polite smile on your face.

“Mr. O’hara said that the shipping company messed up and gave us a different sample product.” You hold the box in your arms, clearly opened but was hastily closed off with masking tape. “He asked if you could send it back?” You ask sheepishly.

Hobie's whole demeanor seems to change as the white fluorescent light shines on your bashful eyes. “Sure, I know those blokes. I can even get it shipped for free.” He opens his arms, receiving the box from you, hands briefly brushing along his own. “They rarely fuck up, what's inside?”

“Uh,” you laugh nervously, cheeks aflame. “Something that is electric but definitely not a toothbrush—” before you could warn him, he shakes the box. It sets off numerous buzzing sounds inside. Hobie's neck snaps up towards you in a flash, with a smile slowly spreading across his amused face. “Yeah…” You wince, biting at your lower lip. “They're not toothbrushes.”

“Holy shit! It's—”

“Don't say it, Hobie!” You say through your grin. “Miguel was furious!”

His loud guffaw echoes down the hallway, making the boom mic pick up the sound, almost shattering the mic itself. Earning a high pitched sound emanate from it briefly. The poor sound tech had to take off his earphones lest he breaks his eardrums.

Hobie laughs harder. “I bet. I'd pay to see him all mad like that.” Shaking the box even more, the buzzing sound makes you chuckle, hand clasping over your mouth to tamp down your giggles. He mirrors your smile, finding your laughter contagious. After you've composed yourself, worthy of being your business self, he gestures towards the mailroom with his head. “You wanna see the post room, probie? It's not as glamorous as the bullpen but it's alright.”

“As long as you don't shake or god forbid, open the box.” You playfully gesture with your index at the box in his hands.

“Only if you ask.” He jokes back, or was it flirting on his end? Clearing his throat, he sees you widen your eyes, breath hitching in your throat. “I wouldn't, don't worry.” He immediately decides to remedy the awkwardness, feeling that he might've offended you. “There's a parcel ‘ere that's dated to be delivered in ten years. Don't ask why because I don't know.”

“In ten years? Weird, who's it addressed to?” You follow Hobie despite your thudding heart. He makes you feel like you're back in school again with all the crushes and lingering gazes across the classroom. Maybe it's not so bad to befriend someone else here that isn't Layla.

The camera crew immediately runs to the other end of the hallway to continue secretly filming the two of you, before you or Hobie could see them. Hobie opens the door for you, balancing his hold on the box and on the door.

“Yeah, it has your name on it.” You gasp right next to him. He smirks, eyes glancing at you teasingly. “Just fuckin' with you, probie.”

“I have a name, y’know.” You roll your eyes, seeing something move in your peripheral.

“You're probie until the lunch club says so.”

“The lunch club?” You ask, head tilting at the peeping camera from the corner of the hallway.

“You'll see,” Hobie shakes the box again to get your attention.

“You—! I told you not to shake it again!” Your giggles get muffled as you close the door behind you with a creak. The noise is followed by Hobie enthusiastically giving you a tour of the mailroom to the whole documentary crew’s amusement, and half disappointment.

—

You finally make it to lunch without a hitch. Without any more raunchy parcels and without you tripping over your own heels on the carpeted floors.

The camera follows right behind you, giving you enough space after you complained to Lyla in the HR department at how they've been too close to you, and hindering your work. (They haven't, you just find them annoying.) Hobie seems to have the same idea as you when he went to her office to tell them off too. According to him, ‘If I see another camera up in my face, I'll break their dodgy lenses.’ He said it with such gravitas that the documentary crew backed away immediately with their tails tucked in between their legs.

You grasp your lunch box in your hands, eyes roaming around the small break room with a few tables and chairs all grouped up. The vending machines on the side of the room whirr, its lights flickering in and out that has you suddenly creeped out. You blame Hobie for telling you a story about a night janitor that cleans the whole building even without its head attached to his neck.

Goosebumps appear on your arms when you remember how eerily he told it. Still, you were properly entertained before you had to go back to work, back to your drab computer with its boring programs and even more boring paperwork. Hobie makes it all bearable. You smile at the thought. Good thing that you're the only person in the breakroom, or your new coworkers would think that you're losing it. Then you remember the camera zeroing in on your face, you want to throw your lunch at them. If only it didn't cause you your job.

With a sigh, you claim the table nearest towards the vending machine. Sitting down your packed lunch, a bottle of your favourite iced tea grabs your attention inside the vending machine, begging to be let out of its glass confines.

Rummaging through your blazer, you could only find a stick of gum, and a button that magically flew out of your sleeve when you moved to grab a stapler earlier. You sigh, longingly staring at the sweetened tea. You bet that it'll help make your miserable first day a bit better. But alas, you're too lazy to go back to your desk to quickly grab your wallet.

Suddenly, an arm appears next to you, you almost screamed at the appearance if not for the recognizable rings around his fingers.

“Hobie, you scared me!” You clutch your imaginary pearls. “I thought you were—”

“The night janitor?” He smirks teasingly. You find him adorably infuriating. “D’you still need that change?” Glancing at his hand that's clutching the coin, it’s ready to be placed inside the coin slot, just waiting for your cue.

The camera crew backs away further into the corner, having the perfect view of the entire room and your interaction.

“I—” you wince when you pat down your other pocket, cursing at how your pencil skirt doesn't even have pockets. “— will you, please?” Great, your embarrassment will transcend through TV screens from now on.

Hobie smiles softly, coin clinking inside the machine as it falls. “Choose your poison, probie.”

Without a doubt, you press the number that correlates to your favourite drink. “Thanks, Hobie. I'll pay you back later. I'm supposed to be buying you lunch, remember?” You crouch down as the bottle tumbles down with a thud, falling right into your waiting hand. It's cold to the touch, the bee mascot on the packaging greets you with a cartoonish smile.

“Don't mind it, I have my own lunch. Save the IOU for another day.” he says as he sits down, setting his own lunch adjacent to yours. “Take it as a welcome gift.”

You turn around to face him, having a hard time opening the bottle cap. “And here I thought you wanted me out of here.”

Hobie scoffs without malice laced in it. The camera lense zooms in on his gentle smile. “Please, I don't give a tour to anyone in my post room just like that.” He gestures for the bottle wordlessly, fingers opening and closing in a come hither motion.

“I thought you brought all the new girls in there.” Teasing, you sit down in front of him, handing him your drink which he opens for you without a struggle. “Thanks.” He hands it back, warm fingers unintentionally brushing along your own.

“Not all the new girls.” He shrugs. “Jus’ the ones with the weak wrists.”

“Hey!” You chuckle, “rude. The cap was screwed in too tightly.”

“Sure, probie.” He opens his lunchbox, the smell of savoury meat and sautéed vegetables makes your hastily made sandwich look like it came from a microwavable meal.

“Wow.” You blink at the perfectly cooked rice. “Is that turmeric in the rice?”

Puffing up his chest, he smugly smiles. “Yeah, Beef broccoli with oyster sauce.”

“Damn,” you look down at your regular white bread egg sandwich. “Wanna switch?”

He chuckles, “no.” He makes sure to enunciate.

“Worth a try.” You mirror his smile. “Did your girlfriend or partner make it?”

“Nope, no girlfriend. Made it myself.” He says the last sentence proudly.

No girlfriend, huh? “It's pretty amazing that you have time to prep meals.” You take a bite of your abysmal lunch.

“That's what gets you when you don't have a partner.” Hobie scoops out a decent amount of his meal with his spoon, “your sandwich is…”

“Shit, I know.”

Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through his shining hazel eyes. “I was gonna say alright, but that works too.”

You take a sip of your iced tea, letting the cool drink douse your obvious shyness and flustered state whenever you converse with him. Lyla's words during the orientation keep repeating in your head, ‘no office romance,’ she said. ‘It's too complicated,’ she said. Is it though?

“So what's the lunch club? Shouldn't they be meeting up right about now?” Just as you said it, the doors swing open, revealing three college aged kids in their business outfits.

“Sorry we're late. Pav here needed to finish something.”

“Don't blame me,” The one with the flowy hair and dark brown suit scrunches his nose. “You're the one who's playing minesweeper all day, Miles.”

“The fields aren't getting cleared all by themselves, y'know?”

The only girl in the group sighs and rolls her blue eyes, pausing in the doorway once she sees you sitting with Hobie. “Well, who do we have here?” Her voice puts a stop to the arguing.

“Meet the new girl. Gwen, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Gwen.” Hobie gestures over to the blond then to you.

“Hi, it's a pleasure.” You say whilst quickly chewing your food to appear somewhat presentable when they caught you mid chew.

“Oho, so she's the one you've been yapping about, Hobie.” Gwen crosses the small distance, palm patting Hobie on his shoulder. “Now it's really nice to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowed playfully.

“He will not shut up, trust me.” Pav waves towards you in greeting. “I'm Pavitr by the way! I wish you could meet Gyatri but she's out sick.” He sighs, sinking down on the chair.

“It's nice to meet you, Pavitr.” You smile genuinely at the seemingly lovestruck Pavitr.

“Don't mind him, he just misses his girlfriend.” The one in a white button up and black lopsided necktie holds out his hand to you. “I'm Miles Morales.”

“Pleasure,” you shake his hand briefly while Hobie watches you interact with three of them. The documentary crew fades in the background, practically a fly on the wall by now that the group has gotten used to their cameras and lights. “I'm guessing this is the lunch club?”

“That's what Hobie told you?” Gwen sits down next to you, sliding drinks she got from the vending machine towards each of her friends. “We're more like the gossiping slash complaining club.”

You chuckle, “you guys are interns?”

“Unpaid interns.” They all say simultaneously in the same monotonous tone.

“It should be Illegal.” Hobie says, elbows placed on the table to address you fully.

“Not being paid for work in the guise that it's just an internship therefore the ‘pay’ is experience?” You make quotation marks with your fingers. Hobie raises an amused brow while the three share a knowing look that you can't quite decipher.

“That and interns.” Hobie shrugs with a smile, you snort at his joke, gazes lingering for a second before returning to each of your meals.

Gwen smirks and nudges Hobie's leg with her foot. The camera picks up and records their wordless conversation before she turns towards you. “If not for me then the mailroom would be a complete mess.”

“It's organized, Gwendy.”

“Well you did a shit job at organizing it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Miles leans towards you, “Hobie's technically her boss.”

“Doesn't look like it. They argue like siblings.” You watch them with amusement, eyes crinkling in the corners. You decide to save everyone's lunch, “so… the lunch club is just you guys chatting about?”

“It’s more than that!” Pav says while he quickly swallows his lunch, “it's a way of life!”

“We sometimes meet up to play a gig at some dinghy place, or to just hangout after work.” Gwen smiles at you, hand clasped around her drink after Miles tried to switch it with his. “Wait!” Her blue eyes sparkles, “you haven't told her that you're in a band, Hobie!”

The trio gives Hobie a wry smile. Mischief glimmering in their eyes. “Yeah, Hobie, tell her about that time you played for one thousand people.” Pav nudges him with his elbow with a wink that you missed.

“You're in a band?!” Your expression brightens. “That's so cool! My roommate’s in a band, what do you play?”

Hobie throws the trio a quick glare before clearing his throat. “The guitar—”

“Just don't ask him to serenade you— Ow!” Gwen flinches in her seat, gaze narrowed at Hobie.

Your smile gets brighter, “you must be good at it then, playing for a thousand souls isn't a walk in the park.”

“Pav’s exaggeratin’, it was only a hundred or so.”

“Please,” Miles scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “It was definitely more than ‘a hundred or so.’” He copies Hobie's accent imperfectly. “You should've seen him,” he points at Hobie with his thumb while animatedly talking and clearly gassing him up. “He was basically Freddie Mercury up there— Ow, what?!” He stares at Hobie as if his looks could burn a hole through his head.

“He has a show next week—” Pav suddenly exclaims. “don't you dare, Hobie!” He points accusingly at Hobie. A moment passes while the two have a stare off. Meanwhile, the camera zooms in under the table where Hobie's foot is threatening to kick at Pav's leg.

Hobie sighs, blinking away his annoyance, (and putting his foot down) “it's in the white horse pub, if you're free next weekend.”

“Drinks are on Hobie—!” Gwen quickly says before twisting in her seat, effectively dodging Hobie's attack. “You should go! The rest of the band will appreciate a new face in the crowd.”

“Are you guys sure?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don't want to impose.”

“Impose away, probie.” Hobie smiles at you, dimples in full display. “‘sides, the pub’s fish and chips are unmatched.” His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light of the vending machines.

You nod bashfully. “Sure. You had me at fish and chips.”

The trio share a knowing look before side eyeing the camera simultaneously with the same expression while you and Hobie gaze at each other with slight trepidation.

—

Before your first day could end, Miguel O’Hara calls everyone in the conference room for a quick meeting. You highly doubt that it's a quick meeting though since there's only thirty minutes before the day could officially end. Couldn't he just email it instead? Or maybe this is about *that package. If it is, you don't want to go.

With a huff and a quick but tired look at the camera, you make your way towards the conference room. As you enter, Miguel stands at front, muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the room.

You avoid his stare, finding that your new boss scares you just a tiny bit with his air of authority around him.

Leather shoes and heels shuffle on the floor as each employee finds their place on their seat. You find the farthest chair to sit on in hopes of staying invisible. The plastic chair squeaks as you sit, cringing at the sound, knowing that the mic probably picked it up. You're starting to hate this documentary crew following your every move. Who would even find an electric toothbrush company entertaining to watch? Moreso to film its day to day operations? It's a complete mystery to you.

The room slowly fills up with you sitting at the back, your fists bunch up at your skirt with your nerves bothering you as Miguel scans his brown eyes around the room. The man sitting in front of you twists in his seat, a smile etched on his face.

“You're the new kid, huh?” You nod at him sheepishly as he reaches for you in greeting. “I'm Peter B. Welcome to the shit show.”

“Nice to meet you?” You shake his hand despite what he said.

The woman next to him sighs audibly, curls bouncing as she looks over her shoulder over to Peter. “Don't depress the poor kid on her first day, Peter.” With a polite smile, she addresses you. “I'm Jessica, don't listen to him, he's nihilistic. And likes to scare the newbies.”

“Well, I couldn't do it to Harry, might as well do it to— what's your name again?” Peter raises a brow at you.

“I haven't given it to you yet.” Chuckling nervously, you give him your name, fists unfurling around your skirt as you find them weirdly comforting. Like your favourite aunt and uncle you only get to see during the holidays.

“And I'm that Harry.” Someone suddenly speaks on your right. You almost jump in place if not for his gentle and unassuming smile. “I was hired a month before you.”

You take his waiting hand and shake it politely, finding his hand warm and friendly. “Y/N. Got any advice?”

Harry chuckles, a strand of auburn hair falling over his eye which he quickly brushes away casually. “My advice?” You nod, “go with the flow, and don't take it too seriously. The world won't catch fire if you accidentally mess up your documents. Worst case is that someone won't be able to brush their teeth for a few days.”

“Thanks.” You utter with a chuckle.

“No problem, oh, and uh, stay away from the bathroom on the second floor.”

You blink, curiosity written all over your face. “Why? Did someone die there?” You whisper the last sentence.

Harry leans closer, whispering back, pausing for suspense as you wait with trepidation. “...No, the other workers in the building just like to take a dump in there.” With every word, his smile grows. “Why would you think someone died there?” He says teasingly.

Just as you laugh, Hobie finally enters the room with the trio in tow. Miguel gives them a sour look for being late. You glance at him, “I think someone gave me that idea.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, leaning away as Hobie sits down on your left. Harry gives him a polite nod before glancing softly at you and returning his attention to the front of the room. The camera zeroes in on Hobie's colder gaze at the man right next to you.

“What'd I miss?” He crosses his leg over the other casually, foot nudging you gently.

“Not much, just a few introductions—” Miguel's voice suddenly calling your name interrupts you. You feel like a student again when a teacher scolds you for talking in class. “Yes— sorry?” You stand up lightning quick, hands sweaty and stomach plummeting down.

“I was going to ask if you want to introduce yourself.” Miguel blinks at you, suddenly, you feel the room shrinking and with everyone's eyes on your trembling form.

You want to run and hide somewhere. Maybe not in the second floor bathroom.

“Uh, yeah, s–sure.” You curse yourself internally for fumbling over your own words. Saying your name, your throat feels like it's about to close on you. Someone coughs within the crowd, you feel faint. Hobie notices, the back of his hand brushes atop yours. You look down at the source, and he nods and smiles at you, encouraging you gently. “And I— I'm excited to work with all of you.”

Miguel nods, satisfied, giving you a glance as he tells you to sit back down. You can see Lyla give you a thumbs up from her seat up front.

“Nice job,” Hobie whispers to you, shoulder nudging your own. You inhale deeply whilst the camera lens focuses on you and Hobie. Miguel's words drones on, fading in the background. “Oi,” he says gently, “just breathe, yeah? It's over, you did brilliantly.”

“I think I'm gonna vomit.” You huff, trying to inhale and exhale out your bundle of nerves. “I almost fucked that up.”

“But you didn't.” Smiling, he taps your hand with his pinky. “Keep breathin’ for me. Don't want you gettin' sick all over the floors. What would the night janitor think about you now.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet down your chuckles. “Thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry that you have to keep saving me.”

Your whispered words make him grin, hiding how his cheeks grow warmer atop his shoulder. “No problem, it's part of my job description—”

“Hobie Brown!” Miguel's voice echoes from the front towards the back of the room, you flinch at the sound. “What do you do during an earthquake?”

Hobie's brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

Miguel rubs at the skin in between his eyes. Cameras flicking over to him and over to Hobie, who's grinning mischievously. The trio, except for Gwen, mirrors his playful grin.

“Dios mio, it's because we've been talking about an earthquake drill for the past five minutes.” You can tell that Miguel’s holding back from swearing.

“Ah, that.” Hobie smirks, feigning confusion. You swear he was actually listening to Miguel while he was talking to you. “Get on the floor and roll over?”

You almost laughed, Pav does, which was immediately extinguished by Miguel's stern stare.

“No, that's for when there's a fire.” Miguel gestures towards Harry right next to you. “Osborne.”

“Duck, cover and hold.” He shrugs, glancing at you, or was he staring over you and towards Hobie instead?

“Good,” Miguel breathes out a sigh, “the company wants us to practice what to do in the event of an earthquake.”

Hobie snickers in place. While Miles raises a defiant hand. “But there hasn't been an earthquake in New York since 1884.”

Miguel pauses like he's also thinking on why the company would instruct him that. “They just want to cover all the bases.” He says confidently, you admire at how fast he came up with that. “Lyla here will show you how—”

The floor suddenly shakes, and you grip at the nearest thing near you, which is coincidentally, Hobie's hand.

“Earthquake!” Lyla yells atop her lungs, already running out of the room in haste, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Everyone follows right behind her, panic settling in everyone.

Hobie glances at you, with a playful wink, he launches off his chair, hand clutching at your wrist gently. You follow a half second later, heels clicking against the floor as you try to keep up with his long strides.

“Wait! It's just the—” Miguel gets bumped by Peter, stumbling briefly before catching himself. “Lyla! It's just the construction next door!” Still, everyone sprints off, leaving him alone in the room.

With everyone either in a panic or just following the crowd without an ounce of haste, Hobie seems to be having the time of his life. Cackling above Lyla's high pitched screams whilst he holds onto your wrist.

“C’mon, probie! Don't want the buildin’ to fall on you now!” He says while running with measured steps on the stairs of the fire exit. You're sure that running out of a building during an earthquake isn't wise, but the shake wasn't technically an earthquake.

Your panic is replaced with something lighter, smiling as he holds onto you. “Do you know it's just the—?” Foot stumbling over the other whilst you two run down the stairs, he immediately twists around when he feels that you've become suddenly weightless right behind him. “Shit!”

“Got you!” Hobie's arms catch you mid air as you instinctively yelp and grab a hold of him. His back hits the wall in a groan, eyes briefly closing from the sudden ache. “You alright?”

“Me?! Are you okay?!” You actually panic now, scanning him for injuries, head craning to look at the back of his head. Thankfully, you don't find any injuries. “Oh thank fuck.” Thumping your head on his shoulder, he chuckles as his hands hovers above your back.

The rush of footsteps subside, and you two are left alone on the staircase. His shallow breaths echo while you lean away, but still near enough to see his dimples and how flustered you look in his gorgeous eyes.

“Sorry for draggin’ you around, love.” The new nickname has your head craning up to look at him at lightning speed. “Thought you could keep up.”

You two don't notice the lone cameraman atop the stairs, watching the scene unfold, all the while having a front row seat.

Your palms are on his chest, lips slightly agape, eyes gazing into his hazel eyes. “I did, you're not the one wearing heels, Hobie.”

“There you go, fight back, love.” His voice warms your chest as he smiles at you and only you.

Heart beating rapidly, you hear footsteps from behind, and you immediately unlatch yourself from Hobie. His warmth is left etched on your form, eyes glancing shyly at him, finding that he's already staring at you with the same softness.

“Good, you're still here.” Miguel huffs from the top of the stairs, “get the others back up here.”

The scene shifts to Miguel sitting alone in his office, looking disgruntled and tired. “I want to quit.” He says in a flat tone.

—

It's finally time to go home. You close your computer and grab your things, waving goodbye to Lyla, who's staying behind to work on paperwork. You guess that's her punishment for setting off panic in the whole office.

Mind recounting your whole day, you enter the elevator on auto pilot. The elevator door starts to close, but a hand reaches in between the closing doors, effectively opening it.

Hobie's expression brightens when he sees you.

“Hi, Hobie.” You smile, holding the door for him to give him time to enter.

“Love.” He tips his head to you, joining you in the elevator. He puts on his leather jacket filled with shiny spikes and buttons all around it, atop his button up, making him look like a tough businessman of sorts. “Headin’ home?”

“Yep,” you pop the letter ‘p’ whilst trying your best not to ogle him. “My roommate’s picking me up, we're gonna go celebrate with a couple pints of ice cream.”

“Cute.” He mumbles, quickly clearing his throat right after.

“Huh?” You glance at him, heart thudding, and hands clammy around your bag.

“I said that it's adorable, celebratin’ your first day.”

“You think it's childish?” Your brows pinch together.

“Didn't say that,” he backtracks, “I think it's nice to celebrate it.” You hum in reply. “I didn't mean—” Side eyeing him, you tamp down your laughter by biting down on your lip. He catches on immediately. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Hobie leans on the elevator wall, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Cheeky.”

“Learned from the best.” You shuffle on your feet to hide your shyness. “What happened to the camera crew?”

“They went home, they have regular hours too y’know. Why, you miss ‘em?”

“God, no.” The doors open with a ding as Hobie chuckles at your reply. You exit the elevator, shoulders aching from how much you've been sitting down today.

“Before I forget.” Stepping off, he opens the glass door for you, propping it open with his body as he rummages through his pockets. You wait for him patiently, watching as he pats all his pockets. “‘ere.” Handing you a piece of paper, he waits for you to read it.

“Is this?” Reading the contents written in his handwriting, complete with a little doodle of the iced tea you had for lunch. Your eyes soften under the orange sunset.

“The recipe for my beef broccoli I had for lunch.” He shrugs, hand scratching at the back of his head as he stares anywhere that isn't your shining eyes. “It's easier than you think it is. It only took me about 30 minutes to cook because I chopped everythin’ up and prepped it the night before. I stopped eatin’ at shitty fast food places when I learned to do it myself.” He rambles on nervously, hiding his sweet gesture with numerous explanations.

You pat his arm before pocketing the recipe for safekeeping. “Thank you, Hobie. I'll make sure to make extra for you.”

The corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Make sure you give me an extra serving of beef then, love.”

You nod, heart beating loudly against your chest. “Does this mean I'm part of the lunch club now?”

“‘Course.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. “The council has approved your membership. That includes the rest of my band mates.”

“And here I thought the council only consisted of you and a trio of teenagers.” You take a jab at him in an effort to tease him.

“Fuckin' cheeky, you're hangin’ ‘round me too much—”

A familiar weight suddenly falls on your shoulders. “Who's this tall drink of—”

“MJ!” You immediately clamp her mouth shut with your hand to save yourself the embarrassment. “This is Hobie, my coworker.”

Hobie's brows furrow, the cogs in his head turn at the sight of the red haired. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Mj moves your hand away before answering. “Wait, I think I know you too!”

Recognition flits over their faces, eyes widening. “You're in that band!” They say at the same time while pointing at eachother.

MJ leaves your side, and Hobie fist bumps her hand in greeting. You're standing in between them so you back away a little to give them space. You smile at their interaction, it's such a small world that they actually know each other. You're happy that your best friend is acquainted with your new friend.

“You're in ‘Mary Janes,’ right?” Hobie's smile grows bigger.

“Bitch, I am the Mary Jane!” She gestures in a ‘here I am’ pose, continuing to chat him up.

“Shit, I like your music, mate.”

“Dude, yours absolutely fucks hard!” Mj jumps on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I saw you guys play last month, the crowd was wild!”

“We have a gig next week at the white horse, wanna come with?”

“Fuck yeah, my guy!”

As they talk, you blend into the background. Your mouth opens to try to get a word in, but their enthusiastic words plow over your own. Your smile falters as they slowly forget about you standing on the side. So you wait, and wait like a kid waiting for their parent to stop talking to someone they bumped into at the grocery store.

Your first day wasn't so bad, right?

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[wrathofrats]

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 6, 4.3k , mature, read under cut or on ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

A thank you to the ever wonderful @divine-misfortune for being my cowriter

“Swiss, I,” Dew opened his mouth with the partial intent of coming clean but Swiss fixed him with those big brown eyes and his heart cracked. “He seems to get all weak in the knees when you’re bold,” he offered instead and resisted the urge to cringe at his own cowardice with a feigned nonchalance, tossing the crust of his sandwich to a sparrow, “so why don’t you go be bold and tell him how you feel before he’s gone for good. Win him back or get yourself an answer then and there. Get yourself out of this limbo.”

Rain doesn’t leave the house for several days after his talk with Dew. Can’t bring himself to - doesn’t want to face any of them, let alone Swiss.

Hardly manages to leave his room. The dark circles under his eyes are not lost on any of them.

His dad reluctantly knocks on the door periodically through the days, gruff voice gone surprisingly gentle asking if he needs anything. He brings him dinner when Rain is absent from the table. His mother sweeps into his room and opens the drawn curtains in the mornings despite the fact she knows Rain will close them again not long after, always asking hopefully if he’d like to help her in town or baking or something else benign. It’s hard to see her smile falter when he makes up an excuse about needing to read a few chapters of some book or some essay to stay on track with his classes for when he returns to school.

School came more into focus as he wallowed, it was something he could blindly throw himself into. The upcoming semester was steadily approaching and coming to terms with leaving his home, and everyone, behind again was no easy task. Maybe getting away from the mess he’d made was best for him, and everyone else. He was never meant for farm life anyways - his mom always joked that he was born to be a city boy all his life, there seemed to be some truth to that now.

And as his sudden and abrupt absence dragged on, Swiss only grew more confused. It was almost like the few days Rain had avoided him after their first kiss but worse. The farmer’s son had plucked out his heart and ran off with it for real this time, and he wasn’t coming back.

Swiss had gotten a small glimpse of him one afternoon as he was washing the tractor, elbow deep in soapy water with half his shirt soaked. He hadn’t taken his lunch. He hadn’t been taking them for a while, too worried to eat and too guilty to continue the routine he and Rain had fallen into; splitting two lunches between them in the shade of the grain silo, Rain bringing him a cold drink daily and a sliver of whatever his mother might’ve baked on Fridays. The silo was out on the far side of the front yard, far enough from the house Swiss feared he might just miss catching a glimpse of him.

Judging by the slow creak of the back screen door two things were evident; Dew hadn’t oiled the hinges like he’d been asked to last week, and Rain had been counting on Swiss’ absence.

He looked worse for wear. Uncomfortable having to simply exist, but most of all, Rain looked tired. Dead on his feet. Like he’d simultaneously just woken up and skipped sleeping the last few nights. Practically dragged himself across the gravel driveway to the barn where he fought with the heavy wood doors.

Swiss wasn’t sure if Rain was pointedly avoiding looking at him or simply hadn’t noticed the farmhand peeking at him from beside the tire but either way he couldn’t take his eyes off Rain if he tried. Even as he continued to wipe the body down, mindlessly scrubbing the sponge over the same scuffed bit of paint. Seeing Rain hurt but looking away might’ve just killed him.

But Rain did eventually grow wise to the hopelessly yearning gaze cast in his direction. He froze like a deer in headlight, the color draining from his face - Swiss had never seen him paled like that, that soft pink flush had never left his cheeks when they were together. Neither of them spoke. Swiss didn’t call his name, as badly as he wanted to, and Rain didn’t say his in turn. No apology, no explanation, not even offering Swiss rejection. A range of emotions flitted across his face instead, the most prominent being grief and guilt, before he was retreating back to the cage he’d made for himself in that house. Going where Swiss could not follow.

The entire situation plays on repeat in Swiss’ mind. Over and over. He should have just gotten over his nerves, the stupid gentleman complex he had, and fucked him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Rain, he did. He really did, bad. After all the weeks of constant teasing only to be pushed away and outright denied it only made sense that Rain was avoiding him now - in Rain’s mind, Swiss was either leading him on and playing with his innocent emotions or he didn’t want him at all.

It begins to eat away at him. Wearing guilt like a uniform as he drags himself through the overly long and unfulfilling days. He swallows it down for as long as he can until he simply can’t. Mountain unknowingly puts the crack in the dam, his concern hitting right at the weakest spot. It spills out of him before he even comprehends the words. For the first time, out loud, Swiss admits to his feelings. He’s more honest to him than he’d been ever since he and Rain first kissed. Confesses to just how much time they’ve spent together, and reluctantly tells them about the night that hadn’t left his mind.

”And I kissed him, and it just…We got carried away,” Swiss fidgets with a loose thread on his flannel, one of the buttons barely hanging on. Only when he glances down to the offending button does he realize it’s the dark green flannel he’d draped around Rain’s shoulders to keep him warm once upon a time. It felt like months ago. “Went pretty far and I knew he wanted to take it further but I stopped him.”

”You…Stopped him?” Dew paused, having been fiddling with the tab of his empty coke can as Swiss practically word-vomited on them. ”Why?”

”I don’t really know.” He laughed nervously, an involuntary sound that came out hollow. “He looked like a kicked puppy when I told him I didn’t think we were ready, that I didn’t think he was ready. Fucking hell, I’m pretty sure it sounded like I was handling him with kid gloves or some shit. Probably sounded like I didn’t want him.”

Mountain frowned. ‘The worried mom look’ as they all called it. He glanced sideways at Dew who’d popped the tab off his can finally, and Dew’s stomach sank. He knew exactly what Mountain was thinking - that he’d been right about Rain from the beginning. Nothing but a priss who barely tolerated the lot of them. Someone they should have protected Swiss from more proactively. It made his skin start to itch. Dew needed Mountain to stop looking at him. He needed Swiss to stop looking absolutely devastated.

He’d assumed the worst of Rain and his intentions. That Rain was using Swiss but how could he be using him if they’d never gotten that far? It’s not like he knew at the time - at least, that’s how Dew attempts to justify everything he said but it really doesn’t help. Fuck. Would Swiss understand if he told him? No, no Swiss wouldn’t forgive him for ruining something that affected him this deeply.

Jaw aching, he could feel his anxiety driven heartbeat in his clenched teeth. His molars might just crack, or he would. Something had to give.

Dew stared into his lap and shifted the food packed in his lunchbox like he was looking for something in particular despite the way his appetite had curled up and died. Swiss and Mountain continued to discuss, trying to find the root of the problem unknowingly sat uncharacteristically quiet three feet away. Every heartbroken word from Swiss was another nail in the coffin Dew dug for himself. The path to hell was always paved with good intention.

“You did what you thought was best, maybe you weren’t ready either.” Mountain flicked Swiss’ hand away from his flannel before he could actually tear the button off. “If he’s truly that upset then he needs to talk to you about it, not lock himself away. He will realize what he’s lost at some point.”

A chip fell out of the bag Dew was holding before he finally sighed and threw the rest to the birds. Salt and grease wouldn’t help him swallow this any easier, truth be told, everything was just helping to turn his stomach further. The truth sat like a lump in his throat, begging to be released. He just couldn’t decide if it was better to come forward and confess or pray Rain never divulged the things he’d said to him. Neither would play out well for him, he was more than aware. Dew was also aware of the fact Mountain wouldn’t save him from the consequences of these particular actions, might even turn a blind eye when Swiss inevitably jumps him with every ounce of bottled up hurt behind his closed fist.

“Swiss, I,” Dew opened his mouth with the partial intent of coming clean but Swiss fixed him with those big brown eyes and his heart cracked. “He seems to get all weak in the knees when you’re bold,” he offered instead and resisted the urge to cringe at his own cowardice with a feigned nonchalance, tossing the crust of his sandwich to a sparrow, “so why don’t you go be bold and tell him how you feel before he’s gone for good. Win him back or get yourself an answer then and there. Get yourself out of this limbo.”

He was trying to be a good friend now, he had been trying to be a good friend when he confronted Rain. Seems like he’s not very good at it. Swiss deserved better friends than him and that fact goes down just about as smooth as cough syrup. Dew couldn’t stand that sad expression much longer, and as much as it might just kill him to have Swiss learn the truth, maybe he could at least get Rain back in the process. Sugar to help Swiss swallow the bitter medicine of Dew’s indiscretion.

“But I don’t want to overwhelm him. You should have seen how he turned tail when he saw me the other day, I don’t want to chase him away.” Swiss sighed and rubbed both hands over his face.

Dew handed his now crustless, semi flattened sandwich to Mountain instead of tossing it to the birds. Chicken salad was bad for birds. ‘Borderline cannibalism’ Mountain had stressed to him in the middle of a lecture when he was caught throwing pieces of a different sandwich to some ducks one time. He’d had his fair share of guilt for the day.

“You really like him that much?”

“So much, Dew…More than I’ve ever liked anyone or anything.”

A pit opened in Dew’s stomach but he fought to grin. The smile Dew typically fixed him with before doing something mischievous.

“Go tell him that then.”

With a shallow breath Swiss nodded and hopped to his feet, Mountain following behind as he made his way to the barn leaving Dew to sit in contemplation.

Bold.

One of two things would come of this; Rain slips away and he walks away looking like a fool with wounded pride or Rain returns his affections. What did he have to lose? Either way, Rain would leave for college by the end of the summer and he couldn’t let him go without being truly honest with him, Rain deserved that much.

Fate was on his side, the stars had aligned. Wednesday was the one day of the week where he could count on Rain’s father being gone, restock day. He and the other farmhands dreaded it, usually left with aching backs and knees by the end of it after having to carry in countless bags of feed before they were allowed to clock off for the day. A routine they all knew well. Mountain went with. Big, strong, known favorite employee Mountain. It gave him a few hours to work with.

Like always, Mountain waved goodbye from the passenger side window and Swiss watched the truck disappear down the winding driveway with held breath. He counted to ten before turning and mumbling something to Dew about covering his ass. If the work wasn’t done by the time they got back they’d all get chewed out but Swiss needed to do this.

The house sat quiet aside from the buzz of the television as Rain sits on the edge of the couch folding towels, one of the few chores his parents could talk him into without much pushback as it didn’t involve stepping foot outside. The knock on the door came suddenly and urgently, and Rain nearly sent his neat stack of linen to the floor when he flinched. He fumbled over himself to get to his feet and hurry to the door. More often than not, if someone came to the door after his father left something was wrong, and fearing an emergency Rain swung the door open without so much as checking who was out there.

His heart swelled and sunk all at once. Gripping the doorknob Rain was frozen. He can’t retreat. Can’t bring himself to close the door in Swiss’ face even if he wanted to. Only with him standing there in front of him did Rain truly realize just how much he missed him. He fucking missed Swiss. It had been the loneliest he’d felt in years without him around. His eyes stung, the threat of tears barely kept at bay by a few rapid blinks.

”Hey…” Swiss started and Rain seemed to jolt out of his stupor, he put his hand on the door to stop him from closing it before he’d even made any move to do so. He knew it was a desperate, pushy thing to do. “Can I come in?”

“M-My dad will be back soon,” Rain tried to keep his voice level and his face neutral but the words came out whispered and wobbled. He swallowed thickly.

“No he won’t, he and Mountain just left. Please, I need to talk to you.” His gaze flicked away, catching Phantom and Cirrus both blatantly staring the two of them down from across the yard. He quickly tacked on a softer, “privately.”

Hesitantly, Rain stepped to the side and allowed Swiss in. Swiss’ shoulders sagged with a breath of relief as he crossed the threshold. Standing in his kitchen felt familiar but wrong at the same time, like he didn’t belong there. Rain quietly shut the door and retreated further into the kitchen to sit at the table, the plates from breakfast still laid out. He sits stiffly, hands folded in his lap. The tears collecting in his lashes betray his neutrality.

Neither of them spoke for a stretch of time that lasted far too long, both too stubborn and guilt ridden to break the palpable silence until it was too heavy to bear a moment longer.

“I’m sorry Rain, it wasn’t you I just was so wrapped up in-“

”I’m sorry, I never meant to make it feel like I thought poorly of you-“

The two blurted out in unison and ultimately trailed off into another widening gap between them. Swiss’ frown settled deeper and Rain bit his lower lip in some vain attempt to stop himself from crying but the tears spilled despite his efforts. All the lonely nights with only a growing numbness as his company had done well enough to bottle up everything, but with Swiss there in front of him, he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“What…?” Swiss’ brow furrowed, moving from the chair across the table from him to the one directly beside him when he began to cry. “Rain, what are you talking about?” He pulled his hands from his lap, squeezing them gently.

“I’m not like that, I never thought I was, was,” he hiccuped and dropped his head to stare at how Swiss held him instead of meeting his eyes “I never thought I was better than any of you, I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Swiss. Never wanted you to think that, or that this was some little fling. This wasn’t just a play for attention or anything, I swear.”

Every word felt like another knife in his ribs, urging him to curl in on himself like a sobbing child. He just couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, a proverbial waterfall of admission. He could see just how bad it must have looked - Swiss didn’t fuck him so he turns his nose up at him and the other farmhands after the princess didn’t get what he wanted. It could have only served to cement the idea of all of this being for his own gain and entertainment.

“Tadpole, what are you talking about?”

”Dew, he, he-“ Another hitch in his voice, “talked to me…Told me to stop messing around with you, and that you all thought I was uptight and snobby and that I was using you.” His head snapped up and he’s suddenly holding Swiss that much tighter, like he might pull away. “Swiss, I’m not. I promise I’m not, would never. I love you more than the attention or sex or-“ Rain was beyond the point of babbling, probably didn’t even realize he’d dropped the L-word.

If not for the sentence it was set in, his heart might’ve stuttered in his chest, but something hot and sharp began creeping up his throat instead. Anger and betrayal tasted sour in his mouth. Barely tempered.

“Dew told you what?”

The silence was beyond damning. More than enough confirmation. If not for how tight Rain held him or the tears pouring freely down his face he might have gotten up and stalked out to the fields to wring the truth from his skinny little neck. But Rain had been out of reach for so long, he wouldn’t dream of leaving him. Dew was what pulled them apart, he wouldn’t let it happen again. Rain was his priority.

“I- oh darling. I never thought that about you. Not even for a second. Figured you were sticking around for more than just my good looks when you willingly subjected yourself to sleeping in hay on more than one occasion.”

Rain gave a small laugh, grabbing a napkin from the center of the table to wipe his eyes. It was something at least.

“Dew is just, er…He’s suspicious of people he doesn’t know, and over protective of the ones he does. Doesn’t know you like I do though, none of them do. Couldn’t hope to understand how I feel about you.” The anger becomes easier to shove down with every soft stroke of his thumb over the back of Rain’s hands.

He has Rain again. He has Rain and there was nothing wrong between them anymore and he has Rain.

The tension leaves both of their postures, the quiet was easier to sit in without so much pressing down on them.

“Swiss…” Rain started somewhat shyly. “How do you feel about me?

It’s a question that should have a simple answer, ‘I love you’, but it didn’t quite answer it fully. Conceptually, yes. He loved Rain. But it didn’t feel like enough. Words didn’t feel like enough. Swiss had meant it, he’d never liked anyone the way he liked Rain.

“Askin’ the hard hitting questions there, Rainy.” He chuckled, meeting Rain’s expectant gaze. If only he could just lay his heart out there for Rain to see, it’d be easier. “…Do you remember the night we laid in the bed of my truck instead of the loft?”

“When we watched the stars?”

”Yeah, yeah. Remember how absolutely fascinated you were by them? Just in awe of how the constellations told stories, how you could tell the time, the season, the direction, all just by looking at them?”

”Of course I do, it was beautiful out there.”

“You couldn’t stop staring at them all night, watched you struggle not to fall asleep so you could savor them a little bit longer. Wonderstruck by each and every little dot in the sky, really seeing them for the first time.”

He tipped his head, “what does this have to do with how you feel about me?”

“Well, raindrop,” Swiss brought one of his hands up and kissed his knuckles. “That’s how you make me feel…Hopelessly in awe of you.”

His mouth opened but all he managed was a weak laugh while shaking his head, looking anywhere but Swiss’ face. Bashful. Beautiful. “You don’t mean that.”

Swiss turned him back towards him, cheek heating up underneath his palm. There it was. The only way he could possibly describe the way Swiss looked at him - nothing short of adoration.

“Barely looked at the sky that night, I couldn’t stop looking at you. Every night, every time I had you in my arms all I wanted was to look at you.” He chuckled nervously. Nobody warned him of how nerve wracking this would be. The movies made it look so easy. “You drive me fucking crazy Rainy. Got me feeling like a lovestruck fool when you’re around and a lost puppy when you’re not.”

Rain was a new shade of red. Nothing like the pinks he’d seen before, even when he had his mouth latched onto his throat and Rain was singing like a canary.

“C’mon…Say something.” His confidence wavered without any sort of response. “Tell me I’m not stupid.” It felt like he was begging for confirmation he wasn’t positively delusional. ”Tell me you feel something for me.”

”I do,” he rested his hand over Swiss’, leaning his cheek into his palm. “I never knew I could like someone so much.”

Air rushed back into his lungs as Swiss remembered to breathe, that he even knew he could breathe to begin with. A real lovestruck fucking fool.

“Fuck - you just, you make me feel alive. Swiss, all I’ve done during every break since I started college is come home and read. Stay in my room and study, wait to be told what to do, do the bare minimum to help out around the farm, and wait. I wait to go back to my dorm where I sit and I study and I wait to be told what I need to do before I drive hours home to do it all over again.” His face had almost become a grimace, recounting the routine he’d repeated for years out loud, but it softened out again when he refocused on Swiss. “Don’t think I’ve had fun like this in…I don’t know, like, forever. Haven’t felt hopeful about anything in even longer.”

Somehow, he managed to sit still despite the giddy excitement blooming and bursting inside him. He was pretty sure he could pass out. For the last two summers Swiss had been making heart eyes at Rain from afar, hoping for a chance he never thought would come. Before this summer, they’d had their small interactions. Not a whole lot of anything but it was something - a little banter here, a snide comment from either of them there, brief run ins that he’d been certain Rain brushed off and forgotten directly after parting. Swiss had loved every second of it, it always got his heart beating a little faster, he just didn’t know how deep his love for Rain really ran at the time.

“You were my first kiss y’know…” Rain admitted quietly like it was some shameful secret but the nervous, near bumbling reaction had given Rain’s innocence away within the first three seconds. Swiss decided not to tell him that, focusing instead on the little rush of pride that came with it.

“Yeah..? Was I memorable?” His grin is dopey, he knows it is. Can’t help it.

Flushing all the way to the tips of his ears, Rain made a little annoyed sound that turned into a laugh as he shoved Swiss’ hands away. He got up and Swiss did the same. His hands don’t stay away long, not when Swiss had every reason to possibly touch him.

“Maybe. Could have been, dunno. It’s been a while.”

”Need me to jog your memory then, darling?”

“Mm…Might have to.”

Whatever impossibly heavy and strange fog had drifted over them was finally dissipating. Waved away. He felt lighter, they felt lighter. More at ease, more so with each other. Rain hands don’t even shake as they slide up Swiss’s chest to wrap his arms around his neck, only letting out a surprised little ‘oh!’ as Swiss drew him to his chest. Eager to be close to him. He’d quietly yearned to feel him again from the second he’d slipped out of bed that morning, not entirely in a physical sense, aching for the pure intimacy of it.

Kissing him felt like dreaming. Slow, sweet, like they had all the time in the world even though the clock was steadily ticking on from its place above the stove. It didn’t matter. Their lips had always seemed to fit together so easily. Even easier was the way Rain’s fingers started to sneak into his locs. A silent plea for more, to be closer, to never let him go.

But they had to come up for air sometime. Swiss was the one to break apart, allowing him to catch Rain with his eyes still closed, bliss woven in his face. He wanted to keep him like that forever. His eyes flutter open and his delicate expression turns into the cutest pout that manages to tug on his heartstrings ever so slightly.

“Heeey…” He whined, rocking up onto his toes to steal another. All he gets is a peck.

”Gotta go before your dad gets back, lover boy.” Swiss grinned down at him, tapping him on the nose as he slipped from his arms. “You still remember where you can find me, princess?”

For that, Swiss earned a little shove against his chest and a proper fitting laugh. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he tried.

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 11/29/2024 Issue (No.23) ft. Miyabe Nozomi & Miyazawa Yu (translations below)

Publication: November 13, 2024

GavvPare! Vol.6 (Miyabe Nozomi)

-The main episodes that gave me confidence-

Let's backtrack abit and go over episode 7 and 8, which focus on Sachika. When I first read the script, I felt the difficulty of having to express a completely different side of Sachika's usual self through her past troubles and the problems she still faces. I'm not the type of person who shows alot of emotion on a daily basis, so I've never been angry like that in real life. I wasn't sure how to act it out, but Director Sugihara gave me the advice to "put more power into my eyes," and so I tried to play the role while being conscious of both the impression being conveyed through my eyes, and the gap between Sachika's typical smiling face and her enraged expressions. I was happy to receive tons of messages after the broadcast from viewers on SNS saying, "I cried" and "It was really good," and Director Sugihara also praised me. I gained confidence in my performance through these episodes, and it also motivated me.

Also, the scene with the paint being thrown on me was a valuable experience. In actuality, the paint wasn't real paint, but a mixture of dyes and flour, so it was alittle heavy, but during practice we used water, so the sensation was different. I think Tsujioka-san, who played Egawa, had a difficult time managing to do it. Still, I feel that the tension in the air, combined with the urgency and anxiety we both had, made for a scene that left an impact.

In episode 11, Shouma, Hanto, and Sachika finally work together. I personally enjoyed Hanto being pushed around by Shouma and Sachika (laughs). Hino-kun's comical performance really drew us in. Since there's been a series of episodes with more serious elements, I'd be happy if you could watch episode 11 while giggling.

Q: Tell us an unexpected side of Chinen-kun!

A: My first impression was that he was such a reliable person, that I couldn't believe he was younger than me, but right after filming started, I began to think that he "might just be an airhead." Recently, after the Director told him, "Next, we're going to shoot a close up of Shouma," for some reason he replied with, "Thank you very much" (laughs). I keep a close eye on him while thinking how adorable he is.

Off Shot: Nails that look like corn! I'm sure "Shouma" will say they look tasty. I also change my nails every time to match my outfits! _

BakuDAYS Vol.18 (Miyazawa Yu)

-I'm acting while being conscious of Sakito's growth-

Recently, the scene in episode 32 where Genba and Sakito clashed was particularly memorable for me, especially the sumo wrestling scene. From episode 35, in which Bundorio's past is revealed, as Byundi's partner, he had alot of feelings about it. I think it's only because Sakito's shared many experiences with Byundi up until now that he's able to understand both the joy of reuniting with Bundorio and the shock of learning about Bundorio's past. Although he understands Byundi's feelings better than anyone else, Sakito's very clumsy, so I was conscious of portraying the clumsy way he approaches Byundi, as well as the kindness he shows to him.

Sakito's been living in space since he was 10 years old, so there probably wasn't an environment for him to attend elementary or middle school to learn anything. Because of this past, my interpretation is that Sakito's a character that has trouble keeping his distance from others, is strangely calm in situations where others would normally be in a panic, and that he has an incredibly childish side to him. The experience he's gained as a Cleaner is an important part of Sakito, but there's also alot he's learned since encountering the Boonboomgers. He's always lived in space, so naturally, I'm sure he was confused and anxious about the sudden increase of friends. However, as a member of Boonboomger, Sakito has definitely grown. I'm conscious of acting in a way that brings out such perfect characterization.

Things will continue to rage on from here on out! Spindo, the final boss, has appeared, but I wonder what'll happen to the Boonboomgers from here. And then, how will the ISA play into the story? It'd make me happy if you'd look forward to the conclusion!

Q: Something you want cleaned up by the "Cleaner"

A: I've been filming Boonboomger for over half a year now, so I want to get my clothes in order. I'd like to get rid of things that need to be thrown away, so I'd like to have this cleaned up by the end of the year. I don't wanna have to drag this into the coming year! (laughs).

BakuageSHOT: A photo that was taken after filming the final scene in episode 37. Filming has entered the climax, and developments are going to continue to rage on from here on out, but as the Boonboomgers, we'll continue to overcome these "raging waves" until the very end! I don't want it to be over, but the six of us are going to push forward until the very end!

[sadlybeans]

They’re always Better Than You™️

I’m bored and I’m still thinking of how to continue writing my draft so instead…

Here’s every Fëanorion’s craft :)

Nelyo/Medhros: so here’s the thing, Nelyo’s main craft is technically warfare and he’s not proud of that. However, he is also very good at practically everything, Jack of all trades type of thing. Is he the best at everything? No, he’s just about average, but he can do it. It’s infuriating to everyone because he’s also humble and doesn’t see how cool he is.

Laurë/Maglor: I don’t even need to say it. He was born and made to sing, either on a stage or not on one, but his voice is also just very powerful in general, even when he’s not speaking. He always lowkey sounds like he’s half singing and when he sings it is always with power (literally).

Tyelko/Celegorm: nature. His is more vague because it ranges wildly, but he’s very much nearly a Disney Princess with talking to animals and all that. He also is a very good cook, but never ask him what’s in your food, because oftentimes the ingredients are the least expected and gathered from anywhere in the ground. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Moryo/Caranthir: his favourite thing is Numbers, which does make him very good with money, but he enjoys anything as long as he can do it with math. Mainly, sewing and embroidery. This mf can and will make unnecessarily intricate patterns based on mathematical equations, he’s insane like that. His second favourite thing is potion/natural remedies making because it requires precision.

Curvo/Curufin: again, don’t need to say it. Unlike their dad though, he vastly prefers the making of weaponry over jewels and gems.

Telvo/Amrod: his craft is dancing, but he and Pityo are different since they also have a second shared craft, painting. He has much less patience and is more hyperactive than his twin, but painting is the one thing he can do while sitting still.

Pityo/Amras: aside from their shared painting, his is sculpting like his mother. He mostly helps and works with her, but he is overly ambitious too and his best work is a section of an entire cliff carved by his own hand, and still unfinished despite being the largest elven-made sculpture.

And normally that would be all… but I want to add the grandkids too :)

Tyelpe/Celebrimbor: no need to say it! He’s replaced his dad as the second best smith between the noldor too, because he’s that great and I have zero favouritism at all.

Elrond: healing, of course. The Best Elven Healer.

Elros: never quite grew old enough (from an elven perspective) to find one.

Ereinion if you believe in the Russingon propaganda: horseriding and hunting.

idk if to add the nolofinwëons and arafinwëons to this, so ig you can tell me if you’d like to see that

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Three: Echoes of Us

Word Count | 2.1k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | Don't want to spoil it but something more happens You awaken with a sense of determination, resolved to make the most of your day. And by “most,” you mean finding a way to know the General better.

Not in a romantic way, of course. No, he is to be nothing more than a good friend. When I become Domina, it is only practical to be close to the General of my army. Just friends, nothing more.

Yet, deep down, you know you're only deceiving yourself. You refuse to admit it, but perhaps it’s because he is the first man to truly catch your eye. He didn’t approach you with empty flattery, boasting about his victories or wealth. Instead, he was kind, thoughtful, attentive. That simple gesture—his letter and the flower—still lingered in your mind.

I must repay him in kind, you think, though your heart knows there is more to it.

“You asked for me, Father?” you say as you enter the room where the Emperor sits, surrounded by maps, documents, and the weight of his strategies.

“Oh, dearest, indeed,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “I am planning a hunt with the senators and the General. Knowing your fondness for the outdoors, I thought you might wish to join us.”

“Oh, I most certainly do! There are so many things I need to gather—fresh pigments for my paints, new flowers for the gardens… perhaps even a sketch or two of the countryside,” you exclaim, the excitement bubbling in your voice.

Your father chuckles at your enthusiasm but regards you carefully before continuing. “However, I’ve noticed how you seem… uneasy in Marcus’s presence. If that troubles you, feel no obligation to attend.”

“No, no, Father, I will gladly accompany you. As for the General—well, I barely know the man. But I must confess that I may have formed some unfair opinions about his character,” you say, your voice softer than intended, almost as if admitting it to yourself.

Your father tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I most heartily hope you’ll come to tolerate him, at the very least. He is a good man, Aurelia. In truth, for a time, I even considered proposing your hand to him.”

Your heart stumbles at his confession. This changes everything. You had always assumed that your father would marry you to one of the wretched senators—a man he despised the least. But the idea of Marcus...

“What made you change your mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear prickles at the edges of your thoughts. Perhaps the General is already married. The pang of jealousy that surges surprises you—a pang for a woman you don’t even know, and for a man who was never yours.

Compose yourself, you think. You wanted to be friends, remember?

Your father’s reply is steady, tinged with quiet regret. “The General seems... indifferent to love. He’s spoken of how he would never make a woman a wife only to leave her a widow. But as a friend—” he pauses, his expression softening, almost wistful, “I admit, I would like to see Acacius know the warmth of love someday.”

He rises from his chair, stepping closer to you. Gently, he takes your hands in his, lowering his head slightly to meet your gaze.

“As I wish for you, my daughter,” he continues. “I have delayed as long as I could, hoping you would find a man who would truly capture your heart. But I fear I must soon make that decision myself. I plan to announce your betrothal before Acacius departs for his next, and last campaign, I'm afraid.”

“His last campaign?” The words escape you before you can temper the concern in your voice. His tone lightens as he mimics the General’s voice with exaggerated solemnity: “‘After this campaign, I will find a place to rest—whether in the quiet fields of the interior or the Elysian Fields with the gods!’”

“Do not trouble yourself with such matters, Vita Mea. Not for a few weeks yet. There is still much to plan—strategies to devise, funds to raise, preparations to make.”

Your father chuckles, clearly amused by his own impersonation. “He’s quite the witty man, the General. Now, off with you, Aurelia. The hunt begins before the sun reaches its peak.”

You leave the room feeling... unsteady. The idea of the General departing pulls at you more than it should.

Perhaps he is one of those men burdened by unhappiness, shaped by the unrelenting hand of war, you muse.

And then, almost involuntarily, another thought slips through: I wish I could change his mind.

Perhaps you can.

You just don’t yet know how a friend might do such a thing. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You leave in a chariot with two other maids, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You wish Vera were with you. The two of you could have spent this time gossiping about your most recent discoveries regarding the General's life. Ever since the festivities a few nights ago, she has seemed distant, as though a veil has been drawn between you two. You saw her talking to a soldier earlier, but didn't think much of it. Was she with him today? The two ladies accompanying you are much older, and though their company is pleasant enough, they would undoubtedly slow you down.

"You shall stay here as I go fetch some flowers and things to make paint. I will not go far, and you'll be more comfortable waiting here," you tell them with a casual smile. They exchange looks of mild concern but nod in silent compliance, knowing better than to question the princess's command.

As you wander deeper into the familiar fields, the calmness of the space starts to settle over you. The flowers and the gentle breeze bring a sense of peace, almost as if your mother were right there beside you. You miss her terribly in moments like this, when your thoughts wander to what advice she would have given you—especially about how to approach the General. Is it proper for a lady to speak to a man like him? Is he truly worthy of your time? Since her death, you've rarely ventured out to the fields; your father, protective as ever, hasn't allowed you the same freedoms. You can see the years catching up with him, and the thought of disappointing him is enough to keep you in line.

The flowers here remind you of the days when your mother would bring you here to gather blossoms, to paint, to breathe freely. As you step carefully through the waist-high plants, the sight of a soldier ahead catches your eye. He’s standing near one of the poisonous trees your mother once warned you about, inspecting one of the fruits.

“You shouldn’t eat that, soldier!” you call out with a playful yet firm tone. He looks up, startled, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to approach, especially not you.

But as you draw closer, you realize this isn’t just any soldier.

“General Acacius,” you bow respectfully, surprised at how much you enjoy saying his name aloud. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, not at all, Lady Aemilia,” he replies, his voice soft but careful, as if unsure whether his words are too bold. “You are always a welcome sight.”

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment, and for a moment, you forget about your awkwardness.

“You are too generous, General,” you say, averting your gaze in a subtle gesture of shyness. "I must thank you for the flowers you gave me yesterday. They helped with the pain."

A shy smile plays at his lips, and he steps closer, his movements measured as if he's unsure of the boundaries. “I’m happy I could help, my lady,” he says with a small bow. “I am here to serve you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you find your voice again. “I must also apologize for the way I’ve behaved—at the gardens, and again at the coliseum. I was not raised to treat anyone in such a manner, and I am truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see a hint of something else in his eyes—understanding.

“We can always start again, Gemma,” he says, his voice warm, offering his arm. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

You smile shyly, almost relieved, and nod as you accept his arm.

“Must I assume you were lost from my father and the senators?” you ask playfully, trying to ease the moment with a lighter question.

“Oh, not at all,” he replies, his tone light. “I was the one who got lost. They spoke of matters I have grown weary of hearing. I came back from a place where all I heard was suffering and war. I simply needed a change of scenery, something more peaceful.”

You listen intently, your heart softening. "I see. The Senate, and sometimes even my father, seem to speak only of war and conquest. I can only imagine how tedious it must be to hear the same things over and over again."

“Indeed,” he agrees, his tone thoughtful. “But tell me, Lady Aemilia, what brings you to the woods alone? You should be accompanied by at least five of your father's best men.”

You laugh softly. “I love the fields. My father never lets me come unless he’s with me, which doesn’t happen often enough.” There’s a touch of sadness in your voice, but you quickly shift to something lighter. “And, by the way, I wasn’t the one surprised by your presence. I know these corners as well as the palm of my hand,” you tease with a playful smile.

He laughs, a sound that you find endearing, and you notice how his steps slow just a little as he seems to ponder your words.

“I see, I see…” he says, avoiding your eyes now, looking instead at the ground ahead.

As you both walk, your maids come into view in the distance, talking distractedly among themselves.

How did he knew your maids were in this direction?

“You should not be walking alone, Lady Aurelia,” he says softly, his voice taking on a note of concern. Gently, he takes your hand in his, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, his thumb traces small circles over your palm. “I shall return to your father’s side now. Please, promise me you will be safe.”

You look up at him, heart fluttering at his words, and nod. “I promise, soldier.”

Before he leaves, you add, almost as an afterthought, “You may call me Aemilia, General.”

His posture straightens, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he meets your eyes. For a brief moment, there’s a warmth there, an understanding between the two of you. “And you may call me however you wish, my Lady,” he replies, with a slight bow.

You smile as he turns and walks away, his steps confident, as if he knows exactly where he’s going. But you are left standing still, with a sense that something has shifted between you—something both fragile and meaningful. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Sleep refused to find you, no matter what you tried. Every attempt to calm your mind—warm baths, reading, writing—had failed miserably. Thoughts of General Marcus Acacius consumed you, swirling endlessly. Had you been foolish to imagine his feelings extended beyond duty and respect? Could he truly not know how every fleeting touch of his lingered on your skin like a whispered secret? Frustrated and restless, you rose from your bed, determined to quiet your turmoil.

A walk shall fix the problem, you told yourself.

Donning a simple nightgown, you stepped into the dimly lit corridors of the palace. The chill of the marble floors sends a shiver through your bare feet, while the night breeze tangles your unbound hair. You don’t mind; the palace is cloaked in silence, its residents deep in slumber, save for the watchful eyes of the night guards stationed by the doors.

The gardens, bathed in pale moonlight, were your destination. As you reached a bench near the lake, you froze. Familiar eyes met yours in the half-light—his eyes. General Acacius sat there, looking as weary as you felt.

Him again?

"My lady," he said, standing quickly and bowing with graceful respect. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shall I leave if you desire solitude?" His voice was rushed, and he looked prepared to vanish into the shadows.

"Oh, you mustn’t," you blurted, failing to suppress the desperation in your tone. "I mean—your presence is... welcome." Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with the hem of your gown, suddenly acutely aware of how little fabric covered either of you. His tunic hung loosely over his frame, ending mid-thigh, and he shifted, seemingly just as self-conscious.

"Please, sit," he said softly, motioning to the bench beside him.

You hesitated but finally sat. The silence that followed teetered on the edge of comfort, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, and each accidental touch sent an unwelcome thrill through you.

"I must ask—"

"What are you—"

You both started at the same time, the shared interruption prompting a sheepish laugh. He gestured for you to speak first.

"What are you doing here, General Marcus Acacius?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid your nerves would betray you.

"I... I struggle with sleep," he admitted. "The war—it clings to a man’s mind, even in peace."

"I’m sorry to hear that," you murmured. Conversation felt so much easier with others, but with him, every word felt monumental.

"And you, Serenissima Aemilia Aurelia?" His voice softened as he brushed your shoulder lightly, the touch unspoken reassurance. "What burdens your mind tonight?"

"Not something..." you began, "but someone."

His demeanor shifted, his brow furrowing as though your words had struck him. "Is it... a boy? One of the men trifling with your affections, my lady?"

Your breath hitched. You should be the one telling me.

"Excuse me?" he asked, leaning closer, clearly having heard your whispered protest.

Suddenly, emboldened by a rush of courage, you rose, facing him with defiance. Your chin lifted, and your voice rang steady. "I am the daughter of the great Emperor Antoninus Justus. I will not be treated as a mere bauble for amusement." You took a measured breath, but your resolve did not falter. "You may be the esteemed General of the Phoenix Legion, but you are still a guest in my home."

For a moment, you paused, softening your tone. "From the start, you have shown me kindness I never expected from a soldier, and I must admit..." Your voice dropped lower. "...my thoughts have been fixed upon you in a way they never have with any other man."

"My lady…" He rises, beginning to speak, but you swiftly cut him off, making him sit back. "I am not finished," you declare firmly. "I have guarded my heart, vowing never to give it to any man, for they seem to know only destruction and death," you add, your tone steady and resolute.

"However," you continued, lifting your chin again, "if your intentions are to make a fool of me, I must demand you cease at once—"

He rose so swiftly you stumbled back, but before you could register his movement, his hands were cradling your face. His lips brushed yours in a whisper of a kiss, soft and reverent. His voice trembled against your skin, more a breath than a word: "Amor mea."

The world stood still. You surrendered to the warmth of him, your hands instinctively finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he pulled back, wide-eyed and almost startled by his own audacity.

"Forgive me," he stammered, his voice unsteady. "I don’t know what came over me—I’ve never—"

"You silly man, come here," you interrupted, seizing the fabric of his tunic and pulling him back to you. This time, he groaned against your lips, his restraint crumbling. His hands found your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you flush against him as though afraid you’d vanish.

"We shouldn’t," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing down to the curve of your neck. "We can’t, Aemilia."

But his actions betrayed his words as he nipped at your ear, sending a shiver through you.

"You’re the one saying this, yet here you are," you teased breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his curls. The low, defeated sound he made spurred you on, pulling him closer until it seemed nothing could separate you.

With a herculean effort, he drew away, his breathing ragged. "Carissima," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Please..."

The broken look in his eyes stung more than you cared to admit. You made a mistake. He kissed you so you would shut up. You faltered, your confidence waning. "You... you don’t want me?"

His hand shot out to grasp yours. "No, no, never think that," he said with fierce desperation. "My heart has belonged to you since the moment we met. It calls for you as the earth calls for the rain."

His words made you smile, and his answering smile was radiant. But his gaze darkened slightly as his eyes roamed your figure.

"It is not that I do not want you, Solis mea," he said, kissing the back of your hand tenderly. "It is that I want you far too much. And tonight, with so little between us..."

Your pulse quickened as his meaning sank in.

"Marcus..." you whispered, but he shook his head, cupping your face once more.

"You bring light to my darkest days, Aemilia. You bring joy where there was none. I am yours," he said simply, his forehead resting against yours. "Now and always."

And in that fragile, moonlit moment, you knew your heart was no longer your own. It belonged to him, as his belonged to you.

[beevean]

Yeah, she was done dirty. She could have been such a great villain, a selfish manipulator only concerned with her own comfort, hiding behind a veneer of condescending kindness that hid a deep desire to have power over others (desire spurned by the awareness that no one likes her so she has to force people to like and respect her), a monster wearing the mask of a human even if it hurt her (clipping her claws, dousing herself in perfume to hide the stench of blood) because she resents her own cursed condition to the point of not even wanting to bite people but only to not feel "guilty" about it, eventually regretting the awful way she treated the only man who showed her kindness but too prideful and childish to apologize. The elements for a good character were all there, she's fun to think about!

Too bad she was conceptualized by a sexual abuser and it shows, from how her consistent physical, emotional, mental and sexual abuse of Hector in S3 is portrayed as masturbation fodder because haha hot girl puts a leash on a submissive peggable idiot, and in S4 she gets out on nowhere painted as a poow widdle girl who did nothing wrong 🥺 and the man she raped into slavery shows zero conflict about how this woman who pretends to be nice to him also broke his heart in the most visceral of ways.

You could have had a heartbreaking story about how Hector's constant abuse broke him, and the way he crawls back to a woman who only showed him the bare minimum of decency shows how he would do anything to feel that someone out there cares about him, even when it's not true. You could have had an intelligent, nuanced story about the intricacies of abuse and toxic relationships, how people can like you and care about you and want the best for you and still hurt you in irreparable ways, because their selfish desires and need for control is stronger than what you need to thrive. Instead, I got this:

Yay, "it's not rape if you enjoyed it" turned into sassy banter! Just what I like from the characters I'm supposed to root for and empathize with :)

I'm sure the genuinely well-meaning, gentle Lenore who fell in real love with Hector that exists in fans' headcanons is a lovely character. I would love to meet her, I also have a Lenore in my head who is a very complex villain. But what I saw on screen from day one was a poor excuse of jerkbait with three different personalities and the source of appalling abuse apologism, because it's fine, she's hot, he deserved it for being stupid, she raped him for his own good, actually it wasn't even rape because when someone lies to another person for the express purpose of having sex which leads to being trapped in an unwanted relationship is just a little dirty trick, a small lie, no biggie, of course the person who was lied to will eventually understand and forgive and want to kiss the person who betrayed them!

Pictured: a poor woman pressured by her peers who was very torn over having to resort to rape by deception to enslave the man she kept molesting for no practical reason other than her amusement. Sure, she could have just offered Hector the position of pet the moment she told him that Carmilla no longer had use for him, and he would have accepted because Hector's only objective in life is feeling cared for, but hey, why not truly humiliate him to feel more powerful? :)

anyway Lenore was never a good person. She had fun toying with the heart of a man for the sake of turning him into a tool to use to enslave people: she did little harm compared to Dracula, sure, but it's more personal, and motivated by even pettier reasons than "wife died", because everything about her screams "I want to feel in control and powerful". And much like Dracula, I would have been perfectly fine with her being a vile piece of shit (well, the writing in S3 still sucks because she's bullying a shell of a man and there's no meaningful conflict, but eh, I could go on a rant on how Hector was done dirty) were it not for the fact that the writing insisted that I should feel sorry for a whiny abusive ineffectual cowardly brat who only thinks about her own pleasure and can't even see the man she trapped as his own person, whose main source of angst is "besties don't like me and Carmilla's plan would be inconvenient to me and my feelings 🥺"

(I linked to too many posts here. I have sources for everything I said. Look at how much proof I collected that Lenore never loved Hector or saw him as a person! It's honestly impossible to read her from any other angle.)

So in short, she's cruel, she's petty, she's disgusting, she's incompetent (using her pussy to unnecessarily trick a man who is painted as so stupid he's on the verge of being called the R-slur doesn't speak highly of her manipulative skills), she's whiny, she's a hypocrite, she doesn't even do anything concrete in the plot (I love me some cringefail villains who still have some gravitas to them, like OG Isaac and Dahlia Hawthorne), she does like one (1) good thing and it didn't even matter, and her grand finale is ragequitting from life like a kid who lost too many times at a videogame, abandoning like he was a mere afterthought the man who cut his own finger to get rid of the slave ring she put on his hand and still chose her. peak. she's lucky that her design was artificially engineered to be as cute as possible, because that's deadass the only reason fans tear their hair to justify her and defend her.

S4 was bad and she was particularly pathetic there (seriously that ring was fucking pointless), but that didn't make her a good character in S3 either. So yes, she deserved to be written by someone who understands the gravity of abuse and doesn't think some people are so stupid that they deserve to be harmed.

lenore is a very well-written character that is written very well

[mossspond]

NingLi 🌸

Zero Official ->

[sanchoyoscribbles]

cute wand? ✔️

magical powers? ✔️

cute little mascot? ✔️

saves the world? ✔️

she is a magical girl...

[myokk]

Eloise and Lorra🥹🥹

@lorrainmorgan

[clottedscream]

“it’s just a warmup sketch,” i say to myself. “i’m just gonna warm up on shading and coloring. i’m just warming up on anatomy.” my spine crackles from sitting in shrimp stance for 2 hours. “just to warm up.”

[aardvaark]

the fact that parker uses stolen jewellery for christmas tree ornaments makes me wonder if she does that with some of the other stuff she steals. like imagine hardison comes over to hers and she hands him a bowl for cereal and it's like. 16th century fine china that belonged to king henry VIlI or whatever. and he has to curse the fact that sophie has been teaching him so much about making fakes cause now he is sure that this is genuine antique porcelain and he's using it to eat lucky charms

[feelo-fick]

molten/molted/molded

also yes i do actually have a flamingo mug thats sorta chipped, and it is a little ugly, here it is :

its not super chipped, but i was still devastated when i found out