#next part will probably be better quality

[a-man-of-questionable-morals]

ghoap au pt.1

[magentagalaxies]

giggling and kicking my feet while i'm lying on my bed like a cliche teenage girl bc bruce's assistant just sent me high-quality recordings of both shows where bruce announced the buddy cole documentary at the rivoli

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[hedgehog-moss]

Here are before/after pics of my two shorn llamas ✂ ✂ Pampoldine was the one with the most wool, which makes sense seeing as her father looks like a long-necked Komondor dog. I didn't shear Pampelune, she's my least woolly llama so I decided to leave her alone until next year, to her great satisfaction.

Shearing Poldine made me discover new aspects of her, like the fact that her tail is very impressive! It's not as striking when the rest of her is covered in equally thick hair but look at it now:

I had tried to prepare Poldine in previous weeks by stroking her with a stick in increasingly annoying ways while going bzzzzzz (we had reached a point where her only reaction to being bothered in this way was glaring at me). I should have bzzz'ed louder, though. Or maybe bothered her with an electric toothbrush instead, or sat on the couch with her to watch youtube shearing tutorials together with the volume turned up—because when the moment came she was very alarmed by what an ugly noise the shears made. Every time I turned the thing off to reapply oil to the clippers then turned it on again she was like aaaahhh what's that noise all over again.

I bought cordless shears so I could shear her in the pasture, surrounded by the emotional support of her loving family, but as soon as they saw Poldine tied to a post and heard that ominous robotic wasp sound, Pampe & Pampy went okay Poldine it was nice knowing you! And left. Abandoning their daughter / granddaughter to her grim fate.

(the very bad quality pics in this post are screenshots from bad quality videos) (oh and the grey fur you see at the bottom right is Pandolf's, my mum brushed him a few days ago. I promise I didn't shear Pandolf—although he would have probably volunteered, to share Poldine's suffering.)

Considering it was her first ever shearing, I think she was very brave and stoic! There was no spitting, no dramatic hyperventilating, no attempts to lie down on the ground and play dead as llamas sometimes do. (But wait for Part II.) She just danced around a lot to escape the shears, and made plaintive HMM sounds in a vain attempt to awaken some deeply-buried maternal instinct in Pampérigouste. Who never came.

The only (tiny) incident was when Poldine stepped towards me as I was shearing (surprising; she kept moving away before) so I took advantage of this spark of goodwill to lean over her back to shear on the other side, and then she abruptly stepped away and almost made me fall !

This second pic is the most malevolent Poldine has ever looked. She looks just like her mother!

But other than that, it went really well. The process was long and tiring (the shears get heavy after a while) and I kept discovering hidden unshorn spots when I thought I was almost done (look at these Niagara Falls of wool in the pic below!), but Poldine was very sweet. I didn't insist too much on her legs or under her belly as those were her least favourite parts, and I also left a little goatee at the top of her neck so she can stroke it pensively and look wise, and I gave her muesli afterwards and she gave me a kiss, no hard feelings. I couldn't have asked for a better llama partner for my first shearing.

My second shearing, however.

(Continued in Part II...)

[rafesslxt]

neglected | mattheo riddle

summary: Theodore completly ignores you and doesnt take it serious that you miss him while he flirts with another girl at a party.. so his best friend has to help you filling up that hole inside your … chest.

warning: cheating? but is it if he does it first?, mattheo eating out the reader, fingering, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, getting caught, he‘s a munch don‘t fight with me over this -

note: i do not support cheating, this is just for the story

— monday —

I don‘t know how many times I already begged but from time to time.. i felt more and more neglected.

"Theo, please just this one weekend! You had been busy with your friends and studying the last 3 weeks!" Yeah, 3 weeks since my boyfriend went on a date with me, had some quality time or touched me.

"Y/n I told you I don‘t have time. I already promised the boys I‘d come to the party. We‘ll see us there, I have to go study now, with Lydia." Before I could even say a word he left his dorm. I hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room, making me turn my head in it’s direction.

"Told you you deserve better baby." Mattheo, Theodore‘s best friend said, sitting on his bed. They share a dorm and every now and then he would see Theo and me arguing.

I huff and leave the room, a aching feeling in my body.

— the next day —

"Theo please, I need you. You didn‘t touch me once the last few weeks." I whine into his ear, sitting next to him. He just groans, but not the way I want him to and gets up with his book in his hands. "Don‘t you see that you‘re distracting me?" Irritated he leaves the room, probably walking off to the library again.

Ugh.. i let myself fall back down onto the mattress and cross my arms over my face. Is it my fault? Did my body change somehow? Why the hell won‘t he touch me? But before I could continue my thoughts, I hear the door again, my head shooting up, hoping it is Theo who changed his mind but no, it‘s Mattheo. I groan frustrated and let my head fall back.

"Wow nice to see you too baby, but I think you‘re laying on the wrong bed." he says, teasing me.

"Sometimes I think like that too." I mumble into my arms and more to myself.

"What was that?" he asks. "Nothing."

— two days later —

Patiently I wait on Theo‘s bed, dressed all up.. or down, in his favorite lingerie set and a pair of black knee socks. When we got together half a year ago he told me he loved them on me, made my legs look even longer.

As the door opens my heart starts beating faster and I look up, shrieking and pulling the blanket over my body as I see who it is. "Damn mami is that for me?" Mattheo asks as he stand in front of Theo‘s bed with a smirk on his face, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked furious, not wanting him to see me like that. What If Theo comes in and would see us, what would he think?

"Last time I checked this is my room, sweetcheeks." "But you‘re supposed to have quidditch practice!" I whine and look for my clothes.

He chuckles and steps a bit closer as I stand up from the bed. "Could you turn around? I wanna get dressed." "No." "You are such a pain in the ass!" I roll my eyes at him and take my wand, mumbling "Colloportus“. and holding it towards the door so no one can come inside.

I let go of the blanket, thinking fuck it, and grab my skirt, pulling it over my legs and then my hips. "Did your cute little boyfriend leave you unsatisfied again?" he grins and takes a step closer. "You know.. I could help you with that." he says in a suggestive tone. "He’s your best friend Mattheo, stop this shit." "I can’t princess. Hurts me to see that pretty little body of yours, knowing how desperate it must be after all these weeks." he whispers the last part as he lets his fingers slowly brush over my arm, sending shivers down my spine. "See? It’s so hot for just a little attention." "No, it is cold, thats why." I say, swallowing down the clump in my throat as i nod towards the opened window.

Just as I wanted to reach down for my top, I see Mattheo getting down on his knees in front of me. He looks up and licks his lips. Damn.. something about a men on his knees for me made me feel slme type of way.

"Please let me touch your legs, please. Need to know how soft these pretty thighs feel." I could feel his warm breath against my skin, again, sending shivers down my… spine. wet pussy

"Mattheo get the fuck up I swear to god!" i hiss at him. Yes I closed the door with a spell but it wasn‘t really hard for everyone above first years to open it with a spell.

"Please, I swear If you let me just touch it I‘m gonna leave you alone for the rest of the week!" he pleads, looking at my face and then my legs. I sigh as I think about letting him. Damn was I really thinking about it? Am I really going to let my boyfriends best friend touch my thighs?

But I mean.. nothing’s wrong If I don‘t feel anything for it, right? Plus he would just leave me alone for a bit. "Fine." I press out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel his big warm hands on my thighs. "Shit.." he mumbles as he lets them wander up and down my legs. He slighty squeezes them, making me sigh in relief.

I feel his curls against my skin before I can look down and see him kissing my flesh, grabbing it with a bit more strengh now. I had to bite my bottom lip as he starts massaging them. Completly lost in thoughts, I realize too late what he was doing.

Suddenly he stands up and kisses my cheek "Thank you, doll.", before leaving the dorm and leaving me breathless in the middle of the room. As I slowly come back from the dizzy feeling inside my head I again, stretch over to get my top but gasp with shaky breathing as I see what Mattheo left on my skin.

A hickey. And a bite mark. I didn‘t even notice him biting my leg. Shit.

— Saturday —

To say i was pissed, while sitting on a chair in some corner of the common room, was a big understatement. Theodore and I arrived at the party he talked about a few days ago.. 2hours ago. I saw him drinking with his friends and playing truth or dare in a little group, always walking away from me as soon as I approached him. So I decided to stop chasing him.

"What are you doing here all alone sweetcheeks?" I look to my right and see Mattheo. Of course it was him. "Leave me alone." I say, rolling my eyes and looking back to my boyfriend, sitting beside this girl named Lydia. She was a year under us I think.

Mattheo followed my gaze and shakes his head. "Well , the deal was I would leave you alone till end of the week. The week is over." I don‘t even answer him, not in the mood to argue.

"Yeah thanks for the hickey and the mark between." i say sarcastically. "Yeah it‘s not like your boyfriend would see, right?"

I roll my eyes again and look back at Theodore, to see him standing up. What was he going to do? Suddenly I see him taking Lydia‘s hand, pulling her up with him and kissing her. In shock I opened my mouth, but instead of crying like i normally would, my face got red in anger.

I tried everything and here he stands sucking of the face of that stupid thot. In the middle of the common room? With the girl he "studys" all the time? I bet that’s not the first time they kiss. Mattheo seems to see it too and looks at me more serious now. "Hey.. are you okay? I mean he‘s not worth it If you - " but before he can continue I grab him at the collor of his shirt and drag him with me to his dorm.

— 30 minutes later —

"Oh fuck yes, Mattheo!" I moan into the air, pushing his head against me while his lips suck on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. "Shit who would have known that you go this feral for my tounge huh?" he smiles and mumbles against my skin.

"Stop talking and continue!" I whine and push his head back. I hear him chuckle before he laps at my throbbing clit again. God If I would have known how good this feels I would have had ended things with Theo way sooner.

His free hand slides across my body up to my left boob where he started to tease my nipple. I gasp and push my hips up, arching my back. My body was so sensitive I wanted to cry out of pleasure everytime he touched me somewhere.

It didn‘t took me long before my body starts trembling and shaking, Mattheo licking everything up as I come on his tounge.

"I could get drunk on your pussy." he groans before kissing me, making me taste myself on his lips.

"I hope you‘re ready cause that pussy screams for me." he whispers against my lips before going down on me again.

A few minutes in I hear someone yell. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

My head shot up and I looked to the door where Theo stood, looking ag us with an angry face.

I saw Mattheo looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at him with glistening lips. "Hey men, hope you don‘t mind? We got the impression you were busy.. never mind – bro how could you not eat that pussy like.. all day?"

"I‘m gonna kill you, Riddle!"

shorter than usual but I liked it 🌼

thanks for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[hyperlexichypatia]

The thing about "lack of third spaces in the U.S." that doesn't get mentioned enough is that it's not just "Capitalists and corporations bought up the commons, privatized public resources, and made people pay to access them."

That's a big part of it. But it's not the only part.

The other part is that middle-class people -- particularly middle-class white, abled people -- willingly forked over money to set up private spaces rather than share public spaces with people of color, disabled people, neurodivergent people, poor people, religious minorities, and other "undesirable" people.

When you look at any article or picture from some point in the 20th century about third spaces that are less common now, consider that depending on exactly where and when in the 20th century U.S. this was, people of color might have been banned from that space by either law or threat of violence or both (or, at minimum, made to feel unwelcome). Physically disabled people probably could not access those spaces (or were institutionalized or kept at home). Visibly non-passing neurodivergent people probably could not access those spaces, because they were institutionalized or kept at home. Two women kissing, a man in a dress, any type of visibly queer or gender nonconforming person would not have been tolerated in that space.

And my point is, these things are not unrelated. The decline of third spaces is not unrelated to civil rights gains.

I'm not saying "Stop talking about the good things of the mid-20th century, don't you know that era also had racism and sexism and ableism and queerphobia?"

I'm saying they're not unrelated -- it's not "This time period was better in some ways, like more third spaces, but worse in some ways, like more racism and ableism." It's "Those good things, those third spaces, those labor unions, those safe neighborhoods, that sense of community, relied upon the systemic exclusion of a dehumanized underclass, and as soon as any civil rights pressure was put on that systemic exclusion, the sense of community crumbled."

The pattern is clear and recurring: Privileged people build a public space for "the community", marginalized people start using it (sometimes after a court case or two), the public place gets a reputation for being "full of" marginalized people, privileged people build a private space they can exclude people from, privileged people abandon the public space, the public space gets neglected and deprioritized because "nobody (who matters) uses it anymore," the public place goes to shit from neglect and possibly closes, the private space gets expensive, privileged people lament the loss of the public space.

Privileged people killed public pools rather than share them with Black people. Mortally wounded public schools rather than share them with people of color and religious minorities. Are trying to kill public libraries rather than share them with queer people and unhoused people and neurodivergent people. Can't revive public transportation for fear of sitting next to poor people. It's white flight all the way down.

The whole "Social democracy is the left wing of fascism" claim is tankie ridiculousness, but like most tankie ridiculousness, there's an underlying grain of truth. In this case, the underlying grain of truth is that widespread support for public services is a much easier sell when people don't think they'll have to share resources or public space with people they consider inferior. It's not a coincidence that some of the countries that provide the highest quality of life for their abled citizens are some of the worst to noncitizens and disabled people.

And it's not like Weird Queer Left-Leaning Types have a great track record of sharing public space with people different from yourselves, either. Y'all can't be normal about someone wearing a yarmulke at Pride. Y'all can't be normal about adults playing board games with kids. There's no way you'd be okay with unsupervised, uncontrolled, unmedicated-by-choice schizophrenic people hanging out and talking to themselves. You cannot handle public third spaces.

Yes, blame corporations and advertisers for privatizing public spaces, but also blame the social prejudice that willingly forks over money to avoid sharing public space with Those People.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Photo

Patri Guijarro x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Patri teases your girlfriend

"And this is one of her eating a plushie. And this is one of-"

"Patri," Talia says," Seriously, stop. You're embarrassing me."

"Good," Patri says, nodding her head," As your sister-"

"We're literally cousins."

"-It's my job to embarrass you around your girlfriend." She winks. "And show her just how out of your league she is."

Talia rolls her eyes, arms crossed as she sags on Patri's sofa.

You laugh a little bit, reaching out to squeeze your girlfriend's knee.

"And this is Talia when we went ice skating when she was little. We took Pina with us and she wiped us both out."

Pina yells out her outrage from the kitchen but doesn't come out to defend herself. She's been slaving out the stove for the whole day trying out some new recipe for lunch.

It hasn't been going well and none of you are going to tell her you've already ordered lunch until it turns up.

It's safer that way.

The burnt smell was really taking over the room which is why Patri busted out the old photo albums to distract you.

"Oh! I like this one!" Talia leans over you to point and you smile. "It was when I was little. At one of Patri's matches."

"Frido's there," Patri says, pointing out your aunt to you.

"And I'm there." You point.

The room goes silent.

"What?" Talia sputters.

You frown. "That's me. Right there. See?"

The picture is old but it was captured on a good quality camera so it doesn't look like it's faded at all.

In the foreground is Patri and Talia. Talia's little in it, maybe around four or five.

Patri looks hot and sweaty, straight off of the pitch after a match. She's got Talia up on her hip, both of them doing a big thumbs up to the camera.

In the background is the rest of the team, most of them are blurry but a few of them are more in focus.

Pina stands a little to the left, head half turned as she talks to someone just out of view. To the right is your aunt Frido.

It looks like she's grinning but she's a bit too far away to know that for sure.

Next to her, is you.

You're little like Talia is, still just a kid but you'd seen enough photos of yourself at that age to be able to tell that it's you.

Frido's hand is on your head, ruffling your hair and you're wearing her Barcelona shirt.

It's funny to think that so many years later, she wears your Barcelona shirt instead.

"That's you?!" Talia asks," But...But...What?!"

"Yeah, that's me," You confirm, nodding," What's so shocking about it?"

"But that's you! And that's me!"

"Yes?"

"But...We were so close to each other! How come we never met?"

You laugh at Talia's astounded face. "I'm very shy," You tease," I was probably scared. And, you know, language barrier. We wouldn't have been able to communicate."

Talia pouts and Patri laughs.

"Maybe it's better this way," She says," Otherwise you'd have been pining after her since childhood. How many more sappy letters would you have written in that time?"

Talia's face turns red and you grin.

"Sappy letters?"

"Don't listen to h-"

"So many sappy letters!" Patri seems delighted to have more things to embarrass Talia with. "For a moment, I thought she would start writing poetry."

"Shut up! You're so annoying!"

But, of course, Patri didn't shut up. She rarely did when the alternative was embarrassing Talia so thoroughly.

"She didn't know your address so she never sent them but I'm sure she would have. She really poured out her heart."

"Oh, yeah? What did they say?"

Patri clears her throat. "Your eyes are-"

"That's enough!"

Talia launches herself over your body to tackle Patri to the ground, the two of them wrestling on the ground.

"Fuck!" You hear from the kitchen right as the fire alarm goes off.

The doorbell rings. The food is here.

You smile, snapping a photo of the picture, sending it off to your aunt as you pick your way through the carnage to get to the food.

[girlkisser13]

going on your first date with the tvdu men would include

damon salvatore

• damon would likely choose a secluded and romantic location, perhaps the mystic grill for a drink, followed by a surprise trip to a hidden spot in the woods or a beautiful clearing with a view of the stars.

• he would pick you up in his blue convertible, making the journey to your date part of the experience, complete with playful banter and a perfectly curated playlist.

• expect witty and flirty conversation. we all know damon LOVES to tease, but he’d also be surprisingly attentive, showing genuine interest in getting to know you better.

• he’d most likely choose your drink for you, something you’d end up loving, showcasing his impeccable taste. if the date involves food, he’d make sure it’s something special, perhaps even cooking for you at his house.

• if the moment felt right, damon will suggest dancing. whether it’s a slow dance in the woods under the stars or a playful dance at the grill, he’d make it unforgettable.

• at the end of the date, damon would walk you to your door. his goodbye would be lingering, leaving you eager for the next time you see him. he’d probably leave you with a teasing comment or a promise of more to come.

elijah mikaelson

• elijah would choose an elegant and sophisticated location, a high-end restaurant with a stunning view or a private, luxurious setting that exudes old school harm.

• he’d OBVIOUSLY show up dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, reflecting his refined and timeless style. every detail of his appearance would be perfect, from his cufflinks to his neatly styled hair.

• elijah would send a classic car to pick you up, or he would arrive himself, ready to escort you to your date with utmost courtesy.

• elijah would be genuinely interested in your thoughts, opinions, and experiences. he’d share fascinating stories from his centuries-long life, offering glimpses into his past while keeping an air of mystery.

• elijah is the epitome of a gentleman. he’d hold doors open for you, help you with your coat, and ensure you feel cherished and respected throughout the evening.

• he would bring you a thoughtful gift, such as a bouquet of rare flowers or a book that he thinks you’d love, showing his attention to detail and consideration.

• elijah would choose the finest cuisine and wine, making sure everything is of the highest quality. he’d ensure the meal is a culinary experience, with each course carefully selected to delight your palate.

• he would engage you in conversations about art, history, literature, and culture, revealing his vast knowledge and passion for these subjects.

• while elijah is a perfect gentleman, there’s always an underlying sense of his power and ability to protect you. you’d feel safe and secure in his presence, knowing he’d go to great lengths to ensure your well-being.

• at the end of the date, elijah would walk you to your door, ensuring you’re safely home. his goodbye would be tender and sincere, perhaps with a gentle kiss on your hand or a soft brush of his lips against your cheek, leaving you enchanted and eager for the next time you meet.

kol mikaelson

• kol would choose a fun and unpredictable location for your date. this could range from a vibrant bar in the french quarter, to a late-night carnival, or even a spontaneous adventure like breaking into an abandoned mansion for some exploring.

• kol would either show up in a flashy car or decide to take you for a walk through the lively streets of new orleans, there’s no in between.

• kol is all about living in the moment. he might suggest impromptu activities, like dancing in the street to a nearby musician’s tunes or trying some exotic food from a street vendor.

• there’s always a touch of mischief with kol. he might pull a harmless prank or engage in a bit of friendly competition, such as challenging you to a game of pool or darts at a local bar.

• kol wouldn’t hide his vampire nature; instead, he’d use it to impress you. he’d show off his speed, strength, and compel the bartender to give you both free drinks.

• the date would be filled with energy and excitement. kol’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he’d ensure you’re constantly entertained and engaged, never a dull moment.

• at the end of the date, kol would walk you home, making sure you’re safely inside. his goodbye would be flirty and full of promise, perhaps with a lingering kiss or a playful comment about your next adventure together.

jeremy gilbert

• jeremy would choose a casual and comfortable location, like a cozy café, a local diner, or a peaceful spot by the lake for a picnic.

• jeremy is a good listener and would be interested in learning about your passions, dreams, and experiences.

• jeremy would suggest doing something fun and interactive, like visiting an arcade, going for a hike, or even attending a local concert. he’d want to create a memorable experience that’s enjoyable for both of you.

• jeremy’s an artist so he might even take you to a local art gallery, or he could even bring his sketchbook and show you some of his sketches (they’re honestly probably all sketches of you).

• jeremy would choose a place with good, hearty food— nothing too fancy, but something that feels comforting and satisfying. if you’re having a picnic, he’d pack a basket with some of his favorite snacks and drinks.

• he also loves being outdoors, so he might take you to a beautiful, secluded spot in nature.

• at the end of the date, jeremy would walk you to your door and make sure you’re safely inside. his goodbye would be sweet and sincere, leaving you feeling cared for and excited for the next time you see him.

malachai "kai" parker

• kai would choose an unconventional and adventurous location. this could range from exploring an old, abandoned building to a spontaneous road trip to a nearby town. he loves to keep things exciting and unpredictable.

• there’s always a sense of mischief with kai. he would definitely suggest something dangerous or illegal, like sneaking into a restricted area or trying out a thrilling activity. he enjoys pushing boundaries and seeing how far you’re willing to go.

• kai wouldn’t shy away from using his magic. he might perform small, impressive spells to amuse you or use his powers to enhance the date, like creating a magical light show or conjuring up something special.

• kai would take you to a unique, offbeat restaurant or café, somewhere with a cool vibe and interesting menu. he’d make sure the experience is memorable and out of the ordinary.

• at the end of the date, kai would walk you to your door with a mix of playful charm and genuine interest. his goodbye would be intriguing and magnetic, perhaps with a lingering touch or a cryptic comment that leaves you wanting more.

niklaus "klaus" mikaelson

• klaus would choose a sophisticated and exclusive location, like a private rooftop dinner with a stunning view of the city, a hidden garden, or a historic site. he loves grandeur and would want to impress you with a memorable setting.

• klaus would pick you up in a luxurious car, ensuring you travel in comfort and style. the journey would be smooth and filled with engaging conversation, making you feel at ease and intrigued.

• klaus is well-read and knowledgeable, and he’d be genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences. he’d share fascinating stories from his long life, providing glimpses into his complex personality.

• klaus is a master of romantic gestures. he’d bring you a bouquet of rare flowers, arrange for a talented musician to play a private concert, or surprise you with a beautifully handwritten note expressing his admiration.

• klaus has a deep appreciation for art and culture. he might take you to an art gallery, a classical music concert, or even show you some of his own artwork. he’d love to share his passions with you and see your reactions.

• klaus has a penetrating gaze that can make you feel like the only person in the world. throughout the date, he’d often lock eyes with you, never looking away until you do.

• his protective nature would be evident. he’d ensure you feel safe and cared for at all times, subtly asserting his strength and willingness to defend you if needed.

• klaus is a gentleman at heart. he’d open doors for you, pull out your chair, and be attentive to your needs, ensuring you feel respected and cherished.

• at the end of the date, klaus would walk you to your door. his goodbye would be lingering and filled with promise, perhaps with a gentle kiss on your hand or a soft brush of his lips against yours, leaving you yearning for more.

stefan salvatore

• stefan would choose a charming, low-key location for your first date. this might be a quaint café, a scenic park, or a cozy restaurant with a relaxed atmosphere where you can talk and connect.

• he’d pick you up in his car, making sure the ride is pleasant and comfortable. he might even play a soft playlist to set a relaxed mood.

• stefan is thoughtful and would likely bring a small, meaningful gift, like a single flower or a favorite book he thinks you’d enjoy. he values the little things that show he’s paying attention.

• stefan would plan a thoughtful activity, such as a stroll through a picturesque park, a visit to a local art exhibit, or a casual outing to a farmers' market, where you can explore and talk.

• he’d pay close attention to your preferences and needs, ensuring you’re comfortable and having a good time. if you mention a favorite food or drink, he’d remember and include it in the date.

• stefan’s demeanor is kind and respectful. he’d open doors for you, offer his arm while walking, and be attentive without being overwhelming, showing his genuine respect and care.

• rather than grand gestures, stefan plan a quiet moment to watch the sunset together or find a peaceful spot where you can talk privately.

• at the end of the date, stefan would walk you to your doorstep. his goodbye would be heartfelt, leaving you with a feeling of warmth and anticipation for the next time you see him.

[unluckilyimnot]

Love language - isagi, nagi, sae, kaiser, rin

m.list | rules

Note: that's realy something I love to do and since I got ask for wind breaker I thought I'll do it for bllk too !

Isagi - word of affirmation + act of service

He's the type to tell you all the time how he appreciates you and how grateful he is to have you in his life. That he likes your outfit and how well you handle this complicated situation at school or work. He just wants you to know that you're loved all the time, no matter what you did or how you look.

He spent all his time saying "let me do it for you !" Yes, he'll always bring you that glass of water if you're too lazy to do it yourself. He'll carry things for you with a big smile and always, always let you know that he likes doing it.

Nagi - quality time + physical touch

He likes to do nothing, so obviously quality time is a must for him. He wants to just lay down with you next to him but doing his own things and you doing yours. He doesn't want to force you to play with him or anything. As long as you're in the same room, it's acceptable for him.

Which leads to the physical touch part : he prefers to have you against him at least. He wants to feel you next to him, it doesn't matter to him it's just his leg wrapped around yours or you laying on top of him. He wants to feel your touch and he is able to hug you when he wants.

Sae - quality time + act of services

He likes his personal space, but he likes to share a room with you. Your presence feels comforting and he finds himself looking for you when he doesn't hear you anymore. He checks on you regularly and maybe he'll kiss your head if he passes by you. But that's not that common.

The second he notices you clicking your tongue or looking for something, he's asking you about it. He always makes time and pushes what he's doing aside to help you. He'll get up and get you that cup before returning to what he's at. He'll buy what you mention was missing or when he notices that you ran out of your favorite treat or stuff like shampoo. He will always cut food for you and apply your sunscreen for you because you hate the feeling. You don't have to ask.

Kaiser - physical touch + gift giving

He probably struggles to show love in the right way, he's not so good with words or at least with compliments. So he'd rather hold you close every chance he gets. It helps him feel more appreciated as well if you return it or at least accept it most of the time. When he's really down, he might just crush you into a hug and never let go because he rarely got to experience this.

He wants to spoil you as well. He has a lot of money and he wants it to go to you. He never lets you pay anything and gets mad if you suggest that you can pay. He wants to pay everything for you if he's with you. He loves going shopping with you.

Rin - quality time + physical touch

It was rough for him to be alone all of sudden so he really appreciated knowing that you're here all the time. The fact that he can turn around and always see you put him at ease. He rarely felt this calm in his life.

It's even better if you two spend the night together, cuddling up to each other watching the last horror movie that came out. Or simply one that you two like. You're sitting between his legs or yours laying on his. He gets frustrated if you move around a lot but as long as a part of your body is on top of his, he can deal with a lot of things.

Let me know if you liked it !

[suashii]

— 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓃 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 1.3k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ flirty teasing ﾉ pet names ( sweetheart :3 ) ﾉ mentions of food

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

boothill is usually making his way back to the house by now, but you don’t hear the click of the door opening to announce his arrival or the sound of him kicking off his boots at the entryway. his schedule has become familiar to you as you’ve established one of your own and you’ve taken note of how he always strolls in around lunchtime. you’ve taken note of other things, too, like his big appetite, how he eats whatever you cook without complaint, and the way he never fails to thank you for the meal.

his flattery when it comes to your cooking skills knows no bounds and consistently earns eye rolls on your end but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore his gentlemanly qualities.

lunch is just about ready and the farmhand is nowhere in sight. you turn to your grandpa who’s sitting at the table as you wipe your hands on the dish towel. “did boothill go out?”

his focus shifts from his half-finished crossword puzzle to you. “not that i know of. he’s probably just finishing up.”

he’s right, the man could be in any minute for all you know. but something feels wrong about setting the table and starting to eat without him. as much as he grates on your nerves and makes you feel feelings you’d much rather bury, you’ve grown used to three people sitting around the table. the next words that push past your lips make you wonder if you’re truly the one to speak them.

“i’ll just let him know the food is ready.”

your grandpa hums in acknowledgment, letting you slip past the sliding doors without protest.

the heat of the air hits you immediately and you close the door behind you quickly to be sure it doesn’t warm up the kitchen. the long-sleeved blouse you put on this morning suddenly feels excessive as you traverse the grounds in search of boothill.

it’s not as easy to find him as it has been in the past and you’re beginning to think that he did leave but the fact just slipped your grandpa’s mind. you’re nearing the edge of the property when you consider dropping the manhunt and returning to the house. maybe boothill won’t mind if you set aside his plate for later with a little note explaining that you couldn’t find him.

the moment you think about turning around, something catches your eye. there’s something propped up on the post of the split rail fence. you squint your eyes to get a better look only to realize it’s not something, it’s someone—boothill.

he’s sitting up with his back against the post and his feet stretched to the next—they’re crossed at the ankle. his arms are crossed, too, resting comfortably on his stomach. the hat that’s usually situated atop his head is tipped down to shield his face from the sun’s harsh, bright rays.

you’re unsure if he’s awake or not so you approach him quietly, light steps carrying you closer to the man. the wind catches his hair, blowing unbound black and white strands in rhythm with the breeze. your newfound proximity offers you a better glimpse at the man, namely his exposed chest that you didn’t take notice of a few seconds ago. his shirt is unbuttoned nearly to where it’s tucked into his jeans, leaving smooth, glistening skin on display. even the addition of a denim vest over the white button-up isn’t enough to hide his tanned skin and the beads of sweat forming on it.

you catch yourself staring and shake your head before turning it up to look at the clouds. the blue sky and fluffy spots of white are a pretty sight but the picturesque scene does nothing to help you get the image of boothill’s toned abdomen out of your head. you fear it’s stuck to your eyelids, haunting you every time you dare to blink.

how are you going to look at him across the table without imagining what’s under his shirt now?

the thought reminds you of why you came out here in the first place—you’re supposed to be bringing him inside for lunch. you’re sure he’s asleep by now—he most definitely would have felt your greedy gaze on him if he weren’t—but you’re willing to stir him from his nap if it means getting him out of this summer heat (and getting him to cover up).

you cautiously reach out to take his hat in your hand, lifting the accessory away from his face. you’re not sure how the sudden introduction of light doesn’t bother him but he remains still like you never disturbed him at all.

his resting expression is different from the others you’ve seen paint his face. there’s no crease between his eyebrows like there is when he’s working hard, no curl to his lips like when he’s got a teasing remark on his tongue. he simply looks peaceful, calm, unbothered. pretty, you have to stop yourself from saying aloud.

and it’s all ruined in a moment.

“see somethin’ you like, sweetheart?” his eyes don’t open but the little smirk you so often find him wearing has made itself comfortable on his lips. you take a startled step back—you were sure he had nodded off. how long has he been awake? does he know you were staring?

the lack of an answer from you leads boothill to open his eyes, though they squint almost instantly upon being met with the brightness of the sun. although, that doesn’t stop him from meeting your eye and holding your gaze.

you disregard his question and keep your eyes on his face, not risking letting your gaze fall below his neck. “if you’re tired, you should go sleep in the house. it’s way too hot to nap out here.”

his eyebrows raise ever-so-slightly at your suggestion, smile unwavering. conversely, yours furrow at the change in his expression—nothing good can come of it. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re worried about me.”

you press your lips together. is that what led you out here—your worry about him missing a meal? worry doesn’t feel like the right word… you simply want to adhere to your routine which, whether you like it or not, now includes boothill. that’s that, worry is out of the question.

“i’m not worried,” you tell him, clenching your fists as if that’ll help you convince yourself. it’s only then that you realize you’re still holding his hat. you look down at it in your hand and suddenly your palm and the tips of your fingers feel hot, like that hat is a scorching fire that’s burning you. you quickly toss the accessory into the man’s lap. “i only came out here to tell you lunch is ready.”

having gotten your job done, you turn on your heel and start back towards the house. you only make it a few steps before boothill is coming up beside you, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. it’s a mistake to glance his way as he hasn’t bothered buttoning up his shirt and his hands are stuffed in his pockets like he had no intention of doing so.

you're not so lucky to go unnoticed this time and it would be unlike boothill not to comment on your wandering eyes. “what? like my outfit that much?”

you silently scold yourself for staring, eye flitting away from him. “it’s fine.”

“oh? somethin’ else catch your eye, then?” he asks, and you can hear the humor in his voice. “maybe it’s my—”

“oh my god!” your hands fly up to cover your ears and they’re hot to the touch. “shush!”

despite the barrier, you can still hear his hearty chuckle that comes at your expense. 

the thought comes far too late but you realize you would have been much better off leaving him to bake in the sun, never making the effort to call him in at all. because now, even after you’ve made it through lunch, washed the dishes, and are back in the comfort of your bedroom, you’re still going to be thinking about the farmhand and his annoyingly perfect abs.

thanks for giving this a read! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

[somerandomdudelmao]

OKAY SO GENERAL THOUGHTS AND SOME HYPOTHESES BASED UPON THE INFORMATION WE HAVE:

Holly is from Teegarden; a place where either all of his species can shapeshift or he himself is some kind of priest of whatever god they worship that has given him the ability to shapeshift. If ALL of the Teegardenians have innate shapeshifting, this makes the bird hunting Inherently More Sinister, but it makes far more sense to me for Holly to be special, because he says he's from a temple and attributes his shapeshifting to god. It also makes sense for Holly to be special amongst his species because Sculptor asked Oscar and Ward 'Which of you is smarter?'

They're keeping higher quality/more unique specimens in The Vault and maintaining them for some reason.

When Ward is still Very Much Ravaged by whatever the fuck the Science Scrapers were doing, we see probably-Sculptor saying they should put him specifically with 'someone peaceful'. We don't know why they have taken this consideration beyond determining he's not going to be a danger to a more peaceful inmate, but we do know Holly is also missing an eye, which means that must be part of the 'forcibly extracting information from a creature's body and brain' process. Ward was not doing any talking, they got the information about Oscar's laptop via stealing it out of his brain. Sculptor was not separating the dangerous smart one from the harmless stupid one. The Echolocators (this will be my shorthand for the rest of the Q) fully believe themselves to be above both these weird little dudes, but they know from experience they can get more, better information about humans out of the smarter of the two.

Holly sighs sadly and says 'they've found another civilization to destroy', and he's been kept alive alone in the vault for an indefinite period of time while the general ecosystem of his planet appears to be intact enough for regular hunting excursions. Either the Echolocators circle around regularly between planets they've previously colonized to keep the base resources on each planet fresh, or they are in the middle of ravaging specifically Teegarden beyond livability, and will move on to Earth next now that they've conveniently found some fun new pets. I believe the use of 'civilization' is significant enough to suggest it's the former, which is Way Scarier because they've also noted humans are edible and taste good.

A species of colonizer aliens being set up in an ant-like colony is delightful by the way. Also I saw someone in the notes saying 'oh no she doesn't know about The Incident' over Ecliptica being like 'I didn't really check on Ward, science is boring to me' and would just like to say No. Ecliptica absolutely knows about the unethical Whatever That Was and The Vault. She just doesn't know if Ward survived or is any semblance of okay. Because Oscar is a cute fun novelty and Ward is some guy she does not particularly care about.

Oh, my God, I want to express my thoughts on your hypotheses so bADLY. But that would be the wrong way to present information that should be shown in a story. But I still want everyone to see it, because carefully analyzing a story is one of the greatest forms of art that amazes me every time🧡

[mechaknight-98]

Reciprocal Feelings (NSFW) FT Natty

Authors note: a little something special for Valentine's day, especially since Natty is exceptionally hot.

You were surprised when your 118th match on Tinder messaged you “Can you come through tonight?” and even more surprised at you doing so.

You arrive at the hotel 45 minutes later. When you enter the lobby you see your match’s smiling face. Her cute expression puts your previous worries about meeting her away and replaces them with other concerns but more on that later. Her outfit accents her curvaceous body while still leaving more than enough to the imagination. You walk over to her and she smiles at you

“Vlad right?” your match asks

“Yeah, you got it.” You affirm

“Natty.” Your match responds while going in for an awkward hug. She breaks the hug and says “Let’s go to my room.” You nod and follow.

You arrive at the 8th floor or so of the luxury hotel where Natty eyes you nervously as she watches you pace. To ease this you sit next to her.

“Be gentle” she says. You hesitate but know what you should do

“Are you sure about this?” You ask

“Yes!”Natty asserts pushing her breasts closer together hoping to entice you into not asking any more questions but with the redness of her eyes as if she was about to cry. You felt that was the wrong call.

“Really?” you ask

“Yes, why don't you think so?”Natty insists again

You grab her hand gently to show her how much she's shaking. She breaks into tears shortly after as she withdraws into your chest. You let her sob for a while.

“So what's the rush?” you ask eventually when Natty stops crying.”

“My members have been making fun of me for not having lost my Virginity,” Natty says through ugly tears and a dejected sigh.

You scowl as that was an extremely unconventional response “That's dumb,” you respond skeptically before you can think about your answer. You watch her eyes droop further in sadness which keys you into that response being the wrong one.

Still sniffling Natty looks at you again“Well, that's not the full truth. They make fun of me for not having a partner and boys only want one thing” Natty clarifies. You listen and now try to formulate the proper response

“Um,” you say unsure how to respond to that specific concern.

Natty looks at you confused and worried “Wait what was that “um” about?”Natty asks. You take your time as you consider your response

“I was trying to figure out how to respond to your previous statement which there is a lot to unpack about the statement,” you answer Natty looks at you surprised

“Why?”Natty asks. She looks at you wide-eyed as she thinks to herself. “Oh, he's different.”

Knowing that this was going to be. The long answer you pinch the bridge of your nose as you think Natty smirks at this thinking to herself, “he's thinking hard about this, which means he cares.”,

You sigh as you begin your answer “Well our culture (for better or worse) propagates that physical intimacy is the only worthwhile intimacy worth pursuing and that is the true manifestation of a mature and healthy relationship at least to men. All of our advertising, cultural relevance, and prominence is tied to “find woman, fight for woman, get woman, breed woman, repeat” and that's it. While I understand from a biological psychology reason why that would arise it isn't (and shouldn't be ) the end all be all for every man. Now, there are some who it is. However for the most part if you take the sexual enculturation out of us all you'd probably see sex become less of a main focus and more emotional intimacy or intellectual intimacy rise. Now for me, the way to my heart is through my stomach but that's because my mom’s love language was quality time and gift which for her translated to extravagant meals due to her being a world-renowned chef. For example, do any of your members have multiple exes?”

“Yes, my unnie Julie has 4,” Now atty says excitedly. She's excited to be engaged like an adult but also elated that you're taking her concerns seriously and not just diving into “getting physical” Also world renowned chef made her consider that he'd make a great house husband.

“How does she talk about them? Does she have them categorized in different ways for example is one referred to as the kind one where she talks about his overwhelming kindness, or does she have one whom she and her ex-partner whom she only talks about the mind-blowing sex she had with them?” you ask Natty’s eyes widen as two of Julie’s exes immediately pop into her head as she nods. Julie would often describe them in the categories you mentioned. As she goes to respond your stomach rumbles.

“Are you hungry?” you ask Natty. She nods and you respond “If it's okay with you let's grab something. My treat.” Natty. smiles wide at you before making noises of glee. “You will be mine” was all she could think about while you walked to your car.

3 months later you're taking a flight to South Korea to visit Natty for Valentine’s day. The flight was unpleasant but you endured for your love. Upon arrival, you thanked Zeus that he didn't find it within himself to strike you out of the sky. After that you make it to the hotel you'd be staying at for the time being. When you check in the attendant says that you'll find the accommodations suitable for your situation. You try not to scowl at the phrasing but it's kind of hard to do so. Regardless you ride the elevator up to your room. When you settle in you get a call from your friend Max. He tells you about this incredible girl he was dating named Yu Jimin. The picture he sent you of her made you laugh.

“Um, dude do you know who that is?” you text back to Max. Max sends back a confused emoji and you laugh audibly. You sent back a screenshot of a Google search and waited for Max to reply. Before he could though you got a text from Julie saying that Natty was ready to be picked up. So shaking off your fatigue you make the trek to her building. On the way you get flowers. You arrive at her building shortly thereafter as you walk inside Natty walks out. She sees you and gives you that adorable massive smile that radiates lovesick puppy energy. You smile back and present the flowers as she runs to you. She hugs you tightly and says “It's so good to see you Vlad.” she breaks the hug and quickly leans into your ear and whispers “I can't wait for you to destroy this pussy when we get back to your hotel room.” her words cause you to shudder and you barely hold off on pitching a tent in your pants. As she steps away she squeezes your arm in excitement. Unfortunately, she squeezes your bandaged right arm. You since which is when she finally notices it. Natty frowns and then hits your not (visibly) injured shoulder. When she sees you wince she scans you once over and notices all of the other scrapes and bruises covering you.

“What happened to you?” she demanded

“Max and I got attacked by a giant lion during one of his digs, best not to worry we'll be okay. No rabies just injured for the time being,” you explain as you gesture to the various cuts and scrapes. Natty scowls at you, but she knows that while she prefers you not have flown in this condition she knew you were not missing Valentine's day. Come to Hell or High Water or in this case Lions, Tigers Bears oh my.

“So how does it feel?, having your globe-trotting boyfriend visit you on Valentien’s day” you ask. Natty beams with an annoyed smile as the two of you walk out together. She has taken the flowers and is purposefully ignoring the cheers and jeers of the rest of her group.

She follows you back to the hotel flowers in her hand smile plastered across her face.

“It’s nice especially since you’re here Vlad.” Natty eventually says as you exit the building together.

Before y'all reached the hotel the both of you decided to stop at the k-bbq place on the way. The last time you had visited Korea this was the place Max, Gally, and Danger met while you talked about the next dig (the one you just finished) and recapped the previous one (the one before that). You and Natty sit down and begin to catch up.

“So what did you think about the comeback?”Natty asked

“Oh, you looked stunning. Every outfit you wore made you look better than the others. I am super sorry I couldn't make it but you know with the digs they could discover something, but the next concert I'm there regardless of anything.” Natty smiled at your fervor for her. She knew you would move the sun the moon and the stars if you could to make her happy. She did feel bad sometimes as she couldn't always reciprocate those feelings but did her best. She loved you in her own way. She was captivated and enthralled by your academic mind. But also you heart had shown her what unconditional love looked and felt like so she had a vision and a goal. Meanwhile, you were just so caught up in how remarkable she was. You were six months older than her but she had already accomplished so much so young. Being an international megastar. Almost debuting on one of the most publicized survival shows in the history of K-pop. Debuting not once but twice, and completely reinventing herself. You often felt inadequate next to her so you compensated by being the best trophy boyfriend you could be. Natty takes her place next to you on the right. In the booth, the to of you got assigned. This allowed you both to eat together without being in the other’s way as she was right-handed and you were left handed.

(Short aside you are not a trophy husband by the by. You are remarkable in your own right)

The two of you eat together in relative silence. Flirty silence but silence nonetheless. Some hand hand-holding here. Some hair fixing there. Overall just tame stuff. That was until Natty made a sudden move and “accidentally” forced her tits all over your hands. As you try to lessen the awkwardness Natty gives you a mischievous smile. “Can't wait sweetheart?” she coos. As she looks into your eyes her hand slinks down to your crotch. She slips her hand under the waistband, but wait the waitress is coming to take your order. Natty looks up innocently as she continues to inch her hand closer to your cock. You keep your composure as the two of you order another round of food. After that, she leans into your shoulder and breathes heavily into your ear as she grasps your cock. You jolt which only eggs her on more as she nibbles on your earlobe.

“What's gotten into you?” ask concerned. Natty has always been bold but this is a new height for her.

“What I can't worship my boyfriend’s big cock before I have it creampie this wet pussy?” Natty says as she continues to stroke you. Her eyes are lidded seductive and full of lust as she speaks. Her tone is that of an errotic whisper like a siren.However, her words make you laugh. Natty had done the whole sexy act multiple times and it was always so cute because she tried so hard. Your laugh caused Natty to pout acutely before increasing the fervor of her handjob.

“Babe please we in public.” you struggle as you stifle a moan. Natty’s mischievous grin returns.

“Um no.” she teases as she continues to jerk you. You hate to admit but her actions arouse even more. You love her aggression. Her eyes widen as she stares into yours watching you writhe and squirm under her touch.

“I love watching you ride the edge until you can't take it anymore,” she says as she feels you inch closer to the finish and her hand is drenched in your precum, but just as you are about to explode she stops, Mostly because it coincides with more food arriving. You'd be furious if you weren't so hungry so you manage to calm down. As you eat you get a call from me.

“Yeah Danger,” you say as you pick up the phone. I noticed a hint of laboring in your voice.

“Everything good Vlad?” I ask

“Yeah just flew into Korea last night and am a little tired,” you respond as you still are shaking off the sensitivity you felt from your girlfriend’s recent escapades.

“Oh well if that's the case, I'll be flying in next week as well we can go into more detail about what's the plan for the next dig. Go over what you all want me to observe and record for the b-roll since you're the director for this. It sounds like you are exhausted so letting you rest may be better,” I respond

You smile relieved that you have time to think before any intense choices need to be made. Especially since a little minx is just waiting at the edge of your vision. I hang up the call wishing for a pleasant farewell and you get back to eating.

“Who was that?” Natty asked

“Oh, that was just Dangerfield the videographer for the digs and seminars.”

“I thought that was you.”Natty Says confused.

“No, I'm just director of photography and head photographer.” you answer Natty nods in understanding as she begins to stroke you again. She smiles watching you try to keep composed.

“Hey is Danger like us?” natty said slowly stroking you

“Asian?” you ask hesitantly. “No, he's super black,” Vlad says flatly to Natty who rolls her eyes.

“No. I mean ascendant?” she asks

“I'm actually not sure but enough about him it's your special day and I want to indulge you,” you say as you kiss her forehead. Natty smiles as you go back to eating. You decide to give her a taste of her own medicine as your offhand inches back down her crotch and past her panties. You hear Natty stifle a gasp as she leans in.

“Oh someone wants their dessert early,” Natty says holding a moan off. You ignore her and have your fingers circle around her clit, as you eat. Natty whispers progressively dirtier and dirtier things to you that I can't repeat. Yet undeterred you send one finger into her pussy which is soaked right now. You stay calm as she begins to beg to cum.

“Please let me cum on your finger. I don't care if wee in public let me cum please. I need it.” Natty begs. You chuckle and when you feel her pussy clench in the way it does before she would climax you remove your hand. The two of you finish eating after that on edge waiting for the other to make a move.

When the two of you arrive at the hotel Natty growls at you, and rips your pants open as soon as the door closes.

“No more foreplay wreck this pussy like you stole it.” Natty demands as she tears off her clothes as soon as she gets yours off.

You don't even bother taking the rest of your shirt off and plunge into her bedraggled pussy.

“You like that?” you ask as you slap Natty’s bodacious ass.

She moans your name and a string of incoherent noises after. As you pound her the squelching sounds of her pussy egg you on further.

“I still need to fuck your ass natty, but not tonight. Tonight this pussy is mine,” you state authoritatively as you pull the bent-over girl by her hair.

“I love how your cock fills my tight pussy.” Natty says as her pale ass bounces and ripples with each thrust. You look into her eyes full of desperation and need.

“You're such a dirty slut now,” you say to Natty. Her pussy grips you fighter as if she liked it. So as you thrust you test your hypothesis.

“Who'd have thought that you'd be so into such filth? Trying to get off in public love? When we met you were Miss Prim and Proper Princess now you're a common whore.” you say. Tears begin to flow from Natty’s eyes as her pupils roll back into her head. When you see tears though you automatically stop.

When Natty comes back to her senses and calms down she asks, “Why did you stop?”

“Because you were crying. Look I'm all for pushing boundaries and finding kinks but I draw the line tears.” you say which makes Natty feel even safer with you. She begins to cry and lets out how she doesn't deserve you and how you're too good for her.

“Natty um where is this coming from?” you ask confused not expecting this to be the conversation of the hour.

“You're always there for me and I have not once been to a seminar or a dig site for you, and it tears me up. I haven't even had time to go to one of your galleries.” Natty adds.

You shrug, “Why are you worried about that? You are busy with almost endless schedules and performances.” you say to comfort her as you hold her. Natty’s eyes are still misty as the two of you spend the rest of the night eating chocolate and cuddling.

[mattypattypinky]

Anxiety (Inside Out 2) Romantic Headcannons

Crush Advancements

I feel like when she has a crush on someone she goes through stages. Like, I think it would start with denial.

She'd like, super duper deny that she has those feelings, and she'd be scared of the idea of having those feelings for someone. I feel like part of the reason is because she's overthinking countless things that could go wrong. What if they don't like her back? What if they hurt her? What if she hurts them?

It would take her a long time to get out of this phase and the next phase is hardly any better since I feel like after she identifies it's a crush she'd heavily overcompensate to try to mask it out of fear that if you found out something bad may happen. Like she'd emphasize how great FRIENDS you are and how she loves you AS A CLOSE BEST FRIEND or MUTUAL, she'd emphasize it or stress it in hopes you don't catch on to her crush.

She'd probably exercise favouritism but she would try to deny that she is doing that??? Like she'd try to be around you more than the other emotions or talk to you more but if anyone accused her of such thing she'd actively try to hang out with other emotions to prove this theory wrong.

Like if she got you a gift and envy got jealous she'd get Envy, Embarassment and Ennui a gift as well.

"I'd like to buy you a drink! ... Why??? Because, um... I'm buying EVERYONE a drink!"

I feel like when she decides to confess, she'd have a full proof plan and script she's memorised. Like, she'd plan a night with you that she can be alone and hanging beside you for a few hours, maybe you both take dream duty or something. She has a full script she's rehearsed when brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She knows word for word what she plans to say to you and if at any point her script gets interrupted or derailed I feel like she'd abandon the script entirely and decide to confess another day.

If her music skips, if the dream isn't playing the right dream, if she stutters, if you talk over her or ask something in the middle, if someone walks in- Anything goes off script and suddenly her 'thing she needed to tell you' can wait and she completely abandons ship until next time you're hanging out.

Realistically I feel like she'd had planned out every bad end to her confession, and not what she would do if it ended smoothly, so if she ever manages to fully confess her feelings to you and you express that you reciprocate I feel like she would short circuit. Like she'd never even thought of the possibility that you would say yes to her advances, and even if she did, it was overshadowed by all of her anxious negative outcomes.

I feel like if you said Yes she'd panic because her script for the positive reaction "never got out of drafting" and she'd try to recite the script she write word for word but I feel like she took so much time on the negatives that she wouldn't even have the second sentence down for the positive outcome.

She'd be afraid she looks like a fool not knowing how to respond to your reciprocation though.

General Romance

She'd search up how to be a good partner on the internet, or got a book about it, and follows it to a T.

I feel like one of her love languages would be quality time and gift giving.

She keeps track of her lovers interests so she can formulate heart-felt presents, if you were interested in a specific dream (movie) she'd try to watch it so she can learn the plot of it so you can talk about it to her together. She'd actively try to engage in anything you like in attempt to make herself seem like a better partner, as she would be extremely worried constantly that she isn't, or that she isn't doing enough.

But also she'd do it simply to see that smile on your face, because it makes her feel good knowing she's doing you good.

She'd be a very reassuring partner, but need a lot of reassurance herself. She'd be very clingy, and she would worry that it would bother you. She'd probably say sorry quite a lot in the relationship even for miniscule things because she wants to make sure you know she never intends to do by you wrong.

She says I love you a lot, even unprovoked and randomly, she needs it back or she will spiral into a worry about if you do love her back or not. :(

I feel like she'd be a little bit of a jealous partner, but she'd be absolutely disgusted by the fact that she is. (It's just because she is extremely insecure and anxious) - She would overthink that if you like someone and hang out with them that you'll like them more than her and leave her, which is completely irrational but she tends to be when it comes to anxious thoughts as that. You tell her you're going to hang out with another emotion for a few hours and I feel like she'd be like, "Oh, yeah, no, that's fine!" but inside she's Panicking and stressing out and coming up with tons of bad outcomes. You'd learn quickly you might need to reassure her a little bit more than other partners.

She has trouble sleeping but I feel like she'd prioritize her partner getting to bed before her if her partner has trouble sleeping too, - She would rather her partner get rest than herself. However if you are insistent on helping her sleep she'd feel extremely flattered and probably get flustered and nervous but agree to it.

She's the type of girlfriend to constantly put her partner's health over hers, she'd forget to drink water, she'd forget to eat, she'd drink six energy drinks in one sitting but if her partner did any of that she'd have a panic. She'd preach how dangerous it is to go on 2 hours of sleep with no nutrition yet she's doing the same thing.

She'd definitely be a cuddler, she's very big on physical touch but she would lay off if her partner isn't. In the movie she is very touchy with every emotion she interacts with on a face to face basis so I feel like in a partnership that would double. She'd be very keen on hugs, holding hands, linking arms, snuggles, etc. She'd be very worried about it being overbearing or annoying. She would constantly ask.

I feel like she has random spikes of confidence in the relationship, like out of nowhere she will flirt really confidently and then when she realizes what she's doing I feel like she'd quickly backtrack and apologize, stating she doesn't know where it came from. She'd be very anxious about getting too comfortable in the relationship despite that being what people do in relationships.

Regardless of how it is though she would love you, and she would express it in her own way.

Special thanks 2 my lovely boyfriend @fenny-self-ships who helped me curate these headcanons today :D

PS! I MIGHT TAKE PROMPT REQUESTS IF YOU GUYS GIVE ME IDEAS TO TALK ABOUT WITH HER.... pleasee... I need more ideas...... give me ideas people!!! send a brain storm!!!

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[ahhhwomen]

Nothing really matters.

Vampire Empire

Part 3

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @thinking1bee

The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natasha’s business meetings a few weeks later.

Back in Carol’s possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.

After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natasha’s respective staff members had become background noise.

There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.

To Natasha’s surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didn’t even glance at her once during the introduction to today’s meeting.

Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.

She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.

She could not say the same for herself, however.

Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.

It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.

Carol changes you.

Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.

Natasha’s chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she can’t seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.

Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.

You are still covered in bruises.

They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But it’s clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.

Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.

Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadn’t been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasn’t very light-handed.

She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blonde’s rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.

Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.

She can’t figure it out.

She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.

Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.

You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.

The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but it’s nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.

That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.

There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you don’t mind.

Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.

Until one of them jumps the fence.

You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but she’s big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you don’t know what to do with.

She smells like the flowers around you, maybe that’s why you don’t flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.

She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.

The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesn’t bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isn’t directed at you, and then the other dog’s calm.

Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesn’t matter.

A dog is a dog.

The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t help either.

She just watches as Master drags you away. You don’t know why you thought she would do anything else.

Master is right.

Master is always right.

No one will help.

You don’t deserve it.

When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she can’t be bothered to stay here too long.

Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.

“Carol. Wait a moment.”

Please don’t.

Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.

“There is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.”

Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, “Something about an unsettled bank record?” The redhead squints in the blonde’s direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEO’s face.

Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.

The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.

A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. “Stay here.” Her voice leaves no room for arguing, it’s a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldn’t talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.

Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.

There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.

“Are you in pain?” Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.

Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.

Of course, it hurts.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You smell different.” Carol scrutinizes you from afar.

If it weren’t for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.

The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.

It’s easier than you thought.

Maybe it’s from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clan’s leader has in hers.

You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.

Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.

It’s been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.

You don’t know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.

The other days had passed in a blur.

It’s like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.

Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didn’t even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didn’t blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.

She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didn’t affect you.

You ruined her little power trip of the day.

She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. “Look at me when I am talking to you!” Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.

You don’t care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.

Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.

The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasn’t so scary anymore.

*slap*

You wonder what would happen if she went all the way…

*slap*

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they killed you.

*slap*

“LOOK AT ME!” Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.

*slap*

“CAN’T YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?”

*slap*

“Look at me?” Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know her…

*slap*

*slap*

Your head bounces against the pavement.

*slap*

Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.

She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.

From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.

If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.

Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.

Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.

She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.

Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?

She wanted to talk to you.

Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.

Something was definitely wrong.

However, she didn’t expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.

You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natasha’s presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.

It’s not until you can hear Carol’s heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.

Carol nods in Natasha’s direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.

If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.

Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.

Convincing herself it’s for the better. Again.