#and he couldn't afford to NOT buy all those suits

[unpretty]

this toy is identical to a toy i already own except it comes with a remote. i absolutely shouldn't. but also. if you think about it. not buying it would be like losing money--

*i am instantly shot by the sniper who's been waiting for me to say something that indicates i'm turning into my father*

#original #one time he went thousands upon thousands of dollars into debt because the local macy's had a going out of business sale #and he couldn't afford to NOT buy all those suits #he bought a kayak on clearance at costco #he lives in the desert #don't ask how much money i already spent today buying the special edition of the wayfarer series

[lov3rmir]

★ ° * . ` red lipstick smudge `

★ ° ` summary ` after buying a new brand of lipstick, you couldn't decide which you liked best. so you asked for assistance.. ★ ° .

★ * ` mail ` a little ooc alhaithem but not too much, got lazy at the end but i love this <3

AL-HAITHAM—

The acting grand sage was drowning in his work. The pile of paper seemingly never ending, it didn't help he haven't seen you in a while. al haitham missed your scent, the calming yet fresh scent you always wore. The more he thought of you, the more his desire to see you grows. Alas, his duties calls yet again.

You however, had a much more troublesome duty. You had bought two lipsticks, one of which nilou recommended you and another which you had waited for its restock. Now that you had saved up and could afford both, you didn't know what to wear first. It was a dilemma of utmost importance, but you had no one to help you with.

Nilou was busy with the rehearsals, candace was too far to just ask about a lipstick and dehya was off somewhere. You couldn't find the traveler either, nor kaveh. So you decided on your trust worthy lover, The Acting Grand Sage.

Saying hello to the guards, you showed them the permission slips alhaithem gave you if you wanted to visit. This was much easier than to have to go through a whole line. Knocking softly on the doors, his voice invited you in.

“ come in. ” here he was, buried in a pile of paperwork, you almost missed him if his strand of hair wasn't stickin out from his grave. “ busy aren't you? ”

You voice made him look up, for a moment he thought he thought he was imagining it. Maybe all those numbers and words formed his desire and there you stood. But he knew better, that blinding smile can never be mistaken for fake.

He smiled at you, “ what brings you here? ” he asks. You walk over to him showing him the two items who made your hair turn grey. “ I'm having trouble deciding. Can you help, oh Grand Sage? ”

“ Acting Grand Sage. There's a difference. ” he frowned, this made you chuckle, ” yes, yes. Can you help me? Acting Grand Sage? ” he huffed, nodding to you.

You sat where there was space on his desk, smiling and showing him the two different lipstick. “ I'm having second thoughts on which i should use first. Do you think you can help me? ” you tilted your head. Al-haitham stared at you becore taking one of the two you held. He kept staring at it for a good while, you started sweating.

“ turn around. ” you blinked. “ what? ”

“ i said turn around. I have an idea. ” you knew he didn't like repeating himself, so you did as told. “ i dont get why i need to turn around. ” he stayed silent. It wasn't until a moment later you taped you on the shoulder.

Turning around you were about to question him when you felt his lips on yours. They lstayed there for a while, al-haitham had your eyes covered by his hand. And you knew, he definitely felt the redness on his hands. You could feel the smirk he had.

Before long, he stood back. A smile on his face. “ this one suits you best. ” you didn't understand what he meant until he wiped some smudge off his lip. Realization struck you. He wore your lipstick. And he—

Your face heated up. Words failing to form a sentence, you nodded and toke the lipstick. Walking away in a daze. Al-haitham watched you stumble a few time before reaching the door. He called out “ Leave your schedule open tomorrow, I'll have a reservation ready. Wear the lipstick too. Unless you want me to hel— ”

“ NO! Thank you! See you tomorrow! ” you left in a hurry, your face now hotter than ever. Everyone gave you look but ignored you. This isn't the first time you came out of the Acting Grand Sage all flustered.

Al-haitham however, was in his desk. A new found determination to finish all his work before your date. The lipstick still present on his lips.

©— lov3rmir. 2023.

★— @elychee * @eenie-teenieweenie * @simplyxsinned ...★

#★ : novels— #astronetwrk #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshinx reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x gn reader #fluff

[malereadermaniac]

Taylor Swift lyrics with Your Crush p.2

Male reader / Male crush

Requested but Tumblr deleted the ask 😭

Helooo! Just wanna mention that while I do look at my ask box frequently, chances are requests won't be done unless I really like the idea - sorry!

So yeah that's also why this took forever to be made.

fyi each lyric is a different scenario, they aren't linked

"Please don't be in love with someone else, please dont have somebody waitin' on you" ~ Enchanted

He was in love with you, (y/c) couldn't deny that anymore, but he was DEEP in the closet

After spending those whole 24h together, it only strengthened his feelings for you

He knew you must like him too after what the two of you did, but during the HUGE amount of talking you two did after having sex (y/c) mentioned his fear or coming out

Now, he's constantly stressed at the idea of you falling for another guy while you wait for (y/c)

He spends nights on end worrying about it, more than he worries about coming out in general

"Oh i remeber you driving to my house in the middle of the night, im the one who makes you laugh even when you're 'bout to cry" ~ You Belong with Me

Not to sound like a pick-me but his girlfriend was horrid

She only dated (y/c) for the social status, a social climber if you would

You and (y/c) have been friends for a while, becoming friends day 1 of high-school

He lived ages away but he would still come over to your house to hang out at least twice a week

You developed a crush on him real quick - after you came out he was one of the few people who stood up for you to the dickheads who thought it was hilarious that your liked guys - and you're heart just skipped a beat

But since he started dating his girlfriend, he's become slightly more distant and definitely less himself

(Y/c) seems overall less happy

So when your phone buzzes in the middle of the night, you could only guess it was (y/c) but the text itself freaked you out

"Im outside please come down"

You're outside ASAP

His eyes are sunken liked he'd been crying or hasn't been sleeping

"Sorry (y/n) I just really needed to talk to someone

You assure him it's okay and ask what's up, and that's when it starts

To summarise, they argued, (y/c) had had enough of his gf controlling little things in his life, she blew up and now he's single

And to summarise again, you invited him in, lent him a shoulder to cry on and the night ended with you two sharing a bed

"I need someone tonight. I'm sorry"

"I could see you in your suit and a neck tie, pass me a note saying 'meet me tonight' then we kiss and you know I won't ever tell" ~ I can see you

After high-school, (y/c) managed to solidify a fancy job, one which had many black tie events - rich people being rich

He would always bring you as a plus one, but you were his "friend" his co-workers had no idea you were his BOY"friend"

He had your permission to do that though, most of the people at these events were investors who were older than stonehenge, so they weren't too fond of gay people

But as soon as the event is over, once the door to the fancy car (y/c) can now afford closes he's all over you and vice versa

By the time you two arrive back home, your neck already had hickeys on it, and his top button is undone along with his gelled hair messed up

Your front door barely locks before (y/c) has you up against a wall, kissing up your neck to your lips

Your hands gently undo his neck tie, juxtaposing his rough hands man-handling you, your mouth, your face

"We could let out friends crash in the living room, this is our place, we make the rules" ~ Lover

You couldn't believe the man you'd known for 4 years, had a college crush on and eventually had a fling with would be the man you buy a house with

He was absolutely enamoured by you since that fateful day during finals, he would fantasise about this day

Memories would be made in this house:

Him sneaking up on you while you were baking in the kitchen, he scared you so much that you hit him with the dough

Playing with the whipped cream afterwards, giggling as he links some off your nose - a moment which could only end in one very spicy way

(Y/c) randomly saying he wanted to paint one of the walls purple at 11pm and the two of you driving to a 24h store and painting the wall until 4am - laughing the whole time

The Christmas lights staying up until the end of January, your friends telling you it was bad luck but the two of you wouldn't take them down - for the sole reason that the two of you couldn't find a day you both had time to do it, refusing to do it by yourselves

"Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending, with all these nights we're spending" ~ King of My Heart

The two of you were close friends, (y/c) had watched you go through every single painful breakup you could ever go through

He subconsciously wished you would break up with your boyfriend everytime you would get with a new one but he'd push those thoughts down for supportive ones for his dear friend

It was late at night, a few weeks after your boyfriend fucked you over again - he was originally your ex which exploited your kind nature, weakling his way back into your life according to (y/c)

Sitting on the hood of his car, you and (y/c) Chat away while drinking WDK, "sweet liquid shit" as (y/c) calls it but he drinks it for you cause you hate all other alcohol

You felt at home, comforted by bring with (y/c), and he felt that this was right, this was how it was supposed to be

That night ended with a kiss, under the moon light, utterly perfect

Or it ended with his car windows steamed up, it's up to you

"Our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you, there is an indentation in the shape of you, you made you're mark on me" ~ Dress

He's always been a possessive kinda guy, always touching you in some way

At a formal event, the two of you wanted to keep the PDA at a minimum, but (y/c) couldn't BEAR not being able to touch you for hours, so he decided the next best think was marking you

You'd never shouted at him louder

Not only did he bite your neck and leave a FAT hickey, but it was in a hard to hide spot

You had to spend an extra half hour getting ready cause concealer and Youtube hacks weren't working

Few people at the event noticed and none of them even asked you, but (y/c)'s ego had never soared higher

#gay #male reader #x male reader #fanfic #fluff #cute gay #taylor swift #your crush #male crush x male reader #male crush x reader #crush x male reader insert #crush x male reader #crush x reader #crush imagines #male crush #songfic #headcannons #gay headcanon #gay imagine

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

1) Harry has previously said that he didn't watch suits and has no idea about Meghan. Now he says that W&k were fans of suits so he knew Meghan/Suits? Which one is the truth?

2) Harry says William forbade him to keep a beard coz he wasn't allowed to have one. It sounds so petty. Did William really do that?

3) Harry couldn't even afford a sofa?? Why did meg had to lay for it?

4) If Harry couldn't even afford such a small item then who was paying for the Cotswold farmhouse that they had rented all through their courtship?

5) Most importantly, what exactly do h&m want in this so called "reconciliation summit"? What are your views Plant? I would be ashamed to show my face in front of my family and friends after such disgrace. They came to jubilee saying they want to honor queen, fine, but they have beef with Charles and William so why come to coronation. In fact if I had so much resentment towards someone I would cut them out clean. No contact ever.

1. No one watched Suits. He’s lying about Will and Kate being fans. He learned of Suits when he googled Meghan. The guy basically watches cartoons, by his own admission.

2. I don’t buy the beard story. Harry flips his narratives about Will several times in the book. First, Will ditches after his wedding and doesn’t my care about him anymore, then Will is over controlling, micromanaging stuff like his beard and wedding location. Both of those can’t be true.

3. Not sure what the deal is with the sofa because they got millions to renovate Nott Cott. Moreover, he has a trust fund Di left him and Meg made money from Suits and marching. They should have been able to buy furniture. Probably they bought a cheap sofa to tie them over until they got the big house.

4. Soho House paid for the Cotswolds cottage. It was a new development where the Soho House owner was an investor and the the Harkles were basically comped their stay in exchange for promoting the development.

5. He wants an official royal connection he can use for merching and reality shows, basically the half-in and half-out he asked for during Megxit. He doesn’t care about his family and just wants to monetize the relationship. He wants this for three reasons. First, they make a lot more merch money with the royal connection, like 200 times as much. The difference is huge. Second, official status gets them onto White House/political events and international events that they can use for their merching and reality shows and Netflix will pay them more money for that. Third, his main product is royal drama and he realizes he’s just recycling old drama now. He needs the reconciliation to create new drama material to sell. Of course, that’s exactly why the family can’t reconcile. They would be trading a five year old fake “royal racist” accusation for new “royal racist” accusations every three months.

His goal is to obtain a made-up post like the Trade Ambassador deal Andrew had that will allow him to set up two/three trips a year he can use for merching and filming. He’ll film each trip for Netflix and he’ll make up some drama about how the family is mistreating him by not giving him royal jewels/private jet/whatever. He’ll also sue the tabloids for some perceived slight. That should bring in enough income to support their lifestyle. Oh, the made-up role should also come with security, and the family should protect him from the tabloids who will be constantly accusing him of corruption and misuse of government funds. Oh, and none of his income should be taxed in the UK. Easy peasy.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Shopping spree

Wei Ying walked into the store - whatever its name was, he just picked the first that caught his eye - with Wen Qing and Wen Ning in his stead, happy to renew his wardrobe for the upcoming occasion and spend some time with his friends.

The place was obviously high-end: all white marble and elegant lighting, mahogany shelves and items worth more than the average person's monthly salary laid out in perfect order. Right in the center of the establishment, there was a glass case of jewelry, cufflinks and golden buttons so secure that would have put most museum art displays to shame. Wei Ying's eyes sparkled as his eyes landed on a beautiful pair of cufflinks encrusted with what could only be sapphires - if the price was anything to go by.

"I'm gonna get those for Lan Zhan." He happily announced, just about to fish for a credit card in his wallet, before a lady finally approached him.

She looked middle aged, dressed a bit like a stereotypical mean teacher from a 90s movie - and the fake-sweet expression she wore on her face carried that very same bitchy undertone. She looked a bit like Professor Umbridge, to be fair, but with a very unfortunate blowout.

"Hello." She began, a wide, fake smile on her overly white veneers. "I couldn't help but notice you three seemed a little... out of place in our store, yes?" And she gave them a quick, disapproving once-over look, still smiling. They didn't look like regular clientele, of course - that store usually served people in suits and ties, wearing Italian leather shoes and designer brands, not young people in sneakers, ripped jeans and band t-shirts.

"Is there anything I could help you with? Have you lost your way perhaps?"

Wen Qing narrowed her eyes at the woman, but said nothing. Wei Ying didn't seem bothered and this was about him anyway.

"Oh, nothing like that. I just wanna buy-"

"I don't think there's anything to suit your tastes here. Perhaps you should try the mall? It's only a few bus stations away, you know that, right?"

Wei Ying rose a questioning eyebrow and looked towards his friends. Wen Qing was furiously glaring at the lady, whilst Wen Ning sighed, fiddling with his phone. Drama was afoot.

"Oh." Wei Ying began. "I see how it is. You really don't think I can afford anything here and just walked in for curiosity or something."

The woman giggled, arrogant, smiling so wide her cheeks could have split up. "I think that is quite obvious, isn't it?"

Wei Ying could only smile back, mirroring the woman's arrogance. "Perhaps. But I'm not here to hear what you think. I want to buy the sapphire cufflinks you have on display here."

"You do?! But with what money? Or rather, whose?"

Wei Ying happily handed her a Platinum card, and the arrogant expression on her face chipped into shock. It was the kind that had no spending limit, she must have realized, and the way it shone in the store's lights made it definitely look like it belonged there.

"This can't be-"

"Mine? It is, actually. You see, I would have used my husband's, since he suggested I get something nice for the charity gala tomorrow night," (the woman paled the color of the marble, realizing just what she had done)"...but I want to gift him those and it would be in bad taste to spend his money for his own gift." A condescending smirk. "Not that you would know anything about good taste, of course."

"I-I didn't-"

"Don't bother." Wei Ying walked past her, a satisfied smile on his lips, purposefully bumping into her shoulder to go lounge on the couch. He sent a quick glance to another worker in the store and was promptly served champagne as Wen Ning and Wen Qing sat in the neighbouring plush seats. "As I said, I want the cufflinks. I also need a suit, but not the boring kind you have in the store front. It's a black tie event, as you know, but get me something interesting."

The woman furiously nodded, avoiding Wei Ying's gaze. "A-Anything else?"

"Red accents."

"I-I'll see what I can do-"

"No," Wen Qing interrupted. "I think we've already seen that. We need somebody that's a bit more open-minded. And a bit less..."

"Unpleasant." Wen Ning completed, glancing around the store with disinterest.

The woman scurried to the back of the store, momentarily leaving the three unattended.

"Unpleasant? Really?" Wei Ying laughed and Wen Ning turned red.

"I'm not good with insults! But I know 'unpleasant' is like calling her a bitch in rich people speak!"

"Hm, I'm gonna have to ask Lan Zhan to confirm. I don't really speak rich people."

"You do have the attitude down, though." Wen Qing laughed. "You really turned into an asshole billionaire in two seconds flat."

"Well I am a billionaire now anyway, I just had to channel my inner Jin Zixuan, you know?"

"I'm sure your husband won't like hearing you have another man inside you."

The three of them laughed, noisy and unbothered. The store staff looked like they really wanted to comment on it, but they knew better now.

"So, will you have that lady fired?" Wen Ning asked, finishing his champagne with a disappointed look in his now empty glass.

"Nah, what's the fun in that?"

Wen Qing signaled the worker to bring them more drinks. "Teaching her not to fuck around because she will find out?"

Wri Ying typed at his phone, "Well she already found out, didn't she?" An evil smile, "And I've just asked Lan Zhan to come and see me try stuff on, so she's about to find out even more!"

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #yall know that scene in pretty woman in which she walks in a store and is turned down bc of her appearance? #thats the inspo for this

[akwolfgrl]

Part 17 LFT

"This is where every pirate stocks up before heading to the Grandline," Nami said standing underneath the city's sign.

"I can't wait to go shopping! I bet they have all sorts of cool things perfect for experiments!" Ussop spoke excitedly. "Tabasco sauce," Usopp kept prattling on and Nami turned him out.

"I can start stocking up on food, I should start with the non-perishables first since you said we would be here a few days," Sanji said, patting his pocket in the shape of a notebook breaking the clean lines of his suit. “Tomorrow the fresh produce and meat.”

"I wonder if they have a swordsmith here?" Zoro pondered.

Nami couldn't resist the urge to tease him. Especially since she had given him enough money to buy Sanji something. The swords could wait for tomorrow.

"With what money Zoro?" She leaned into his space with a teasing grin on her face.

“Well I'm going to find the place where they kill people!” Luffy was off, Nami rolled her eyes not bothering to stop him.

“Sanjiiii-kunnnnn~ come with me clothes shopping then you can get stuff for the ship,” Nami moved towards Sanji linking their arms together sending a wink to Zoro. “Ooo then we can stop at a Cafe for lunch.”

“Of course Nami dear!” Sanji gushed, allowing himself to be dragged along with her whims.

Was she taking advantage of him? Yes she was, she felt no qualms about it one bit. She passed by an expensive bootique that she would have fun in tomorrow without Sanji. Today was about getting info from him, for Zoro who will owe her big time for this. She loved it when people owed her.

“Oo this looks like a good one,” Nami slipped inside what looked to have cute but affordable clothes for sale. “Go pick something out for yourself I'm feeling generous,” Nami just would add to Zoro’s ever growing debt. “All you ever were are those fancy suites.”

“Oh Nami-swan you're so sweet but I'm fine I have plenty of clothes,” Sanji protested.

“Aww but Sanji-kunnnn, it's more fun to shop together and I don't have any girlfriends to shop with,” Nami said with a pout.

“Of course anything for you sweet Nami-swan,” Sanji gushed before finally complying with what she asked.

“So Sanji-kun,” Nami spoke loud enough for him to hear while she looked through the clothes. “Tell me about yourself. I hardly know anything about you.”

“Oh? Well there's nothing much to say, I'd rather hear all about you Nami-swan!” Sanji turned the question back to her.

“Aww come on Sanji-kun! You already know about me, I mean you met my village and family,” How was she supposed to gather information if Sanji was so tight-lipped about everything?

“Hmm well I am a professionally trained chef, I spent most of my life on ships. I'm not sure what else is there to say,” Nami almost groaned in frustration. The ship thing was obvious by his sea legs, his sea legs were better than hers even.

Nami spotted Usopp walking past the window with a backpack strapped to his shoulders. It didn't look like he had bought much, only just bought one thing thus far. She rushed outside and grabbed him by his backpack.

“Nami! What's going on?” Ussop whined while she drug his skinny ass into the store. She shoved him down to the ground and crouched beside him.

“I need your help,” She hissed, keeping her voice down.

“With what?” He asked.

“Zoro asked for help in wooing Sanji, I offered very generously. I might add to do some reconstituting, and find out what Sanji likes. But the man is too tight-lipped,” Nami glared in Sanji's direction.

“How about we make a game? Everyone has to answer the question,” Usopp offers.

“Hmm that's not a bad idea,” Nami pondered, it might just work. “But you're helping.”

“What are you two doing on the floor?” Nami looked up to a concerned and confused Sanji looming over them.

“Nothing,” They both answered at the same time, Sanji was now looking at Usopp with supison. Nami stood up brushing the dirt off her clothes.

“Well shall we continue shopping?” Nami spoke looking at the few clothes in Sanji's arms. “Ah you actually found something. Let me see,” She took the clothes out of his arms and held them up. One was a sleek black turtleneck and gray slacks. While he would look good in them, they weren't exactly casual. “That's it?” She asked with her brow raised. “Didn't I say casual?”

“Well it's not a suit,” Sanji had the gall to talk back though his ears were tinting from slight discomfort.

“Whatever, fine! Just go try it on!” Nami sighed and shoved him into the changing room. “Ussop can start grabbing some shirts?”

“Sure,” He ran off towards the men's clothes. Taking this moment alone with Sanji, Nami offered up their little plan.

“So Sanji-kun, we’re going to play a little game. I'll ask the questions and everyone has to answer them. It would be better with alcohol but we can try again later… Sooo first question, what's your favorite food?” Nami asked moving closer to the curtain so she could hear him moving around in there.

“Spicy seafood pasta. Nami-swan, I adore you but… is this really necessary? I'm really not that interesting unlike you my sweet,” Sanji's voice was muffled as he changed.

“I ask the questions!” She scolded him.

“Yes Nami-swan I'm sorry,” he says, unable to deny his beloved lady friend!!!

“Now what's your favorite flower,” Nami demanded. Zoro could give him a bouquet of his favorite flowers.

“Ladies first,” Sanji responded, stepping out of the changing room, just as Ussop joined them an armful of shirts.

“You're buying that, I like sunflowers,” They were so bright and cheerful, almost unpredictable in where they will show up. One year before Arlong showed up, a bunch grew in front of their house.

“What are we talking about?” Ussop asked.

“Nami-swan asked about favorite flowers,” Sanji explained before returning to the dressing room before Nami caught his arm and shoved another shirt in his hands.

“I like daisies, they grow like crazy back home, they were my moms and Kaya’s favorite flowers. I used to pick them for her and put them by her bedside every day,” the sniper replied with a gentle fade in his eyes as if he was no longer there but lost in memories.

“Delphinium. And yes, I know as a chef I should pick something editable but I can’t help what’s my favorite,” Nami had never heard of that flower but well she wasn't a florist.

“Do you like to sing?” Ussop asked.

Nami glared at him, how was that supposed to help with Zoro getting Sanji on a date?

“Yeah, I do sing, I'm no musician but yeah I do sing. I mean I was raised by a pirate since I was ten and grew up on ships. During the stormy weather the Baratie would close and we would huddle up with whatever food we have and candles. We would drink, eat and sing until the storm passed. I know way too many old sea shanties, Patty and Carne know way too many love songs. They would get way too cozy with each other and as soon as the storm passed they would slip away from alone time.” That was the most Nami had heard him say about himself ever, Sanji came out of the changing room again this time in a pink see through shirt with large strawberries on it. “Umm did you mean to get this shirt for me?” She could see all the marks that Zoro had left on Sanji's skin.

“Yes, you are also getting that shirt!” Nami wasn't sure if she had enough information but she supposed that this would have to do.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #fanfic #vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #nami #ussop #shopping #lust filled thoughts

[citruswormii]

Byakuya Togami x reader!

Feminine-presenting reader / SFW / 2,011 words

Bringing Byakuya on a shopping date and teasing him a little along the way... until the teasing leads to an unexpected awakening when you get him to try on a dress.

Tags - fluff, established relationship

A little shopping date with Byakuya was always the best. Why else would you be dating him, if not for those good stacks of cash?

Jokes aside, you cling to Byakuya's arm as the two of you traverse the mall. It makes you feel a sense of playful power over him, knowing that you're the only person in the world he wouldn't immediately try to brush off at such touch. Having been together for months now, he's learned he can't quite put up a fight anymore– so instead he scoffs and tries to hide the rosy tint on his cheeks by regularly adjusting his glasses, hoping his hand can cover it as he does.

The first store the two of you go into (or rather, the first that you tug Byakuya into by his wrist, because he would rather be anywhere but a common shopping mall and you know it) is a perfume shop. The mixture of strong aromas that fill the air waft into your lungs, creating a crisp and hearty scent within. You can't help but reach out to various bottles, all stained beautiful translucent shades of pink and blue, to test each and every one out.

You spray a little bit of one onto your wrist and hold it up beneath Byakuya's nose, "What do you think? Does it smell good on me?" You ask.

Byakuya looks just about ready to collapse from the strong smell suddenly being thrust beneath his nostrils, but he manages to tense up just in time to not faint atop the display of glass perfume bottles. He clears his throat, and you giggle watching him go woozy from your playful shenanigans.

He replies, "No, I think it's a bit too floral of a scent for you. You could use something more contemporary."

You give him a small pout and cross your arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Byakuya sighs. It's almost dreamy how flustered he seems to get over miniscule things. "Perhaps a cologne would suit you better than a typical perfume, but if you think that one smells nice then I'm more than willing to buy it for you."

"Well," you say, a cheeky smile crossing your lips, "it might not suit me well, but I think it would suit you!"

Immediately, Byakuya stops entirely. His face goes blank as he attempts to process what's just been said to him. Once your words finally set in, another small blush sets on his cheeks and he says, "How about we just buy that perfume and get out of here?"

You chuckle knowing you've gotten your way somewhat, "Sure."

It's not as if you really wanted that perfume. In all honesty, you couldn't quite tell its smell apart from all the other artificial perfume smells shrouded across the store– but as the bottle gets paid for and bagged you know for sure that at least it will be memorable knowing that you managed to make Byakuya's normally stone face budge a little by teasing him with it, and that's what really counts.

The next stop is to the food court to get a couple of crêpes. Both yours and Byakuya's come stuffed to the brim with strawberries, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and just about any other sweet food you can think of that has substance and isn't just ninety percent sugar.

As the rich taste melts on your tongue, you can't help but let out some muffled words as the food still sits in your mouth somewhat, "So good…!"

"Dear, don't speak when your mouth is full," Byakuya replies firmly right after you speak, "But… yes. They do have quite a good taste. The chocolate there isn't my favorite by any means, but it's still satisfactory."

You giggle at his more-than-serious self, "I think your standards are just a little high."

"If my standards were high, then I wouldn't be in this place with you. I'm sure I would be somewhere with a lot more luxuries. I can afford it, after all."

"But… you chose to come here to this dinky little place with little old me?" You pester him in return.

Byakuya sighs. You can tell he's been backed into yet another corner by you, which brings you a sense of pride. He says, "Yes. I am here with little old you."

Your words in return are even more of a tease than before, "Is it because you love me?" 

He takes a good second to pause and swallow his food. "Yes. It is."

"I knew it!" You cry.

Another sigh from Byakuya's half of the table.

Your next stop, and the last one of your trip, after the crêpes are finished up, is a high-end clothes store. You came to the mall originally because you wanted to look for new dresses, formal ones, to wear around– and you figured it would be a great opportunity to bring your boyfriend along for a ride. When the two of you enter the shop, you break away from Byakuya to observe the dresses. All the while, you catch wind of Byakuya making his way to the other half of the store to observe their collection of suits and mens' dress clothes.

While browsing through racks on racks of dresses– long ones, short ones, sleeved ones, and sleeveless ones alike– you imagine Byakuya is probably having the time of his life. More often than not, he was seen in formal dress, so you would think he was in his 'zone' (so to say) selecting clothing for himself.

… But this train of thought comes to a screeching halt when Byakuya comes up behind you suddenly– and not to help you pick out a dress.

"I thought you were going to find a new suit for yourself." You say to him.

"I was– and normally I do enjoy the products from this particular brand, not once have their products been below-standard quality for me– but for whatever reason, the mens' wear was simply horrendous today. The collars of the shirts are not at all starchy, and the texture of the cloth pants was scratchy and itchy to the touch. I'm not happy with the quality whatsoever." Byakuya explains.

You ask, "Did you want to leave and find something better?"

He replies, "No. You wanted to come here for yourself, and I'm not going to stop you. Besides, maybe the women's section is better quality. They seem to refresh their womens' catalog more than the mens' one, and there are a lot more fabrics and styles to work with. I won't stop you, I'll just be here."

"You could always help me pick out something that looks nice on me!" You suggest.

"Alright," he states, "but don't expect me to give you expert advice on this."

After sifting through a few more racks, you narrow your choices down to two dresses. In front of a mirror, you rapidly switch between the two. One of the dresses is a lighter colour and a lot more flowy– similar in style to a summer sundress, but more formal. The second is a deeper, darker colour and is made of a satin material that trails all the way down your legs. You hold both of the hangers in either of your hands and go in between, trying to gauge what they would look like on yourself without having to use the change rooms available.

Byakuya stands behind you in the mirror, "Why don't you just go to the change room and figure this out?"

You pout again, "I don't know… I'm just not feeling the change room."

"Did you need help taking your clothes off, is that it?"

While you know it's probably sarcasm, Byakuya's sudden comment makes you swivel around in place to face him. Your jaw is agape. 

"Not like that, no!" You shout.

"I was only kidding, let's not cause too much commotion in this place."

He has a point. You promptly close your mouth and look away from his eyes.

But… when you do, your eyes meet the dresses held in front of you in your hands. Like a light bulb lighting up in your head, you get an idea. You lift the hanger of the first dress, the lighter one, then the second up in front of Byakuya.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Hold on," you say, throwing the two dresses onto the nearest rack, "I have an idea." 

Though a slight look of dread comes to Byakuya, you ignore it in order to find a size larger than the size you'd had previously for the two dresses. Once you've gotten your hands on them, you gesture for Byakuya, "Follow me."

Begrudgingly– and with an unfortunate sense of knowing for what might entail next– Byakuya follows you from there to the change rooms in the back of the store. You usher him into one, then look both ways to make sure an employee wasn't thinking the two of you were up to less polite acts in their change room. When you see that the coast is clear, you rush behind Byakuya into the change room.

"You should try these on!" You say, nodding to the dresses, "I think they'd look good on you! I promise I won't watch you get changed…"

As if your previous prodding at Byakuya was not enough to do him in, his face is now a beet red at the suggestion that he try the dresses on. He protests, "This is ridiculous. You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life." You assure him, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

A deep, ever-so exasperated sigh leaves him. You know for a fact if you were anybody else, he would've refused a lot more staunchy. But out of the crumbs of love left in Byakuya's heart, he obliges, begrudgingly taking his clothes off in exchange for the dresses. In order to upkeep your half of the promise, you turn towards the wall of the change room. And when you turn around…

You're not sure what you see on Byakuya's face, but whatever his expression was, you can tell there's at least some semblance of satisfaction behind his eyes. Like placing the last piece of a puzzle into the picture, or finally cracking an aching bone. The more he stares at himself in the mirror, the more he looks… content. Genuinely content with himself. 

A big grin graces you as you watch him explore this new feeling with each twirl of his dress. "So? What do you think?"

Byakuya doesn't answer right away, still in awe with the version of himself in the mirror and the strange sense of comfort he seems to be getting putting the dress on (somewhat) of his own volition. Once he can muster up the words to respond, he asks, "Would you… be able to turn around again? I want to try the second one on."

"The classier one?" You ask in response.

"Yes. The next one."

You do just as he asks and turn around. When you're told you can turn back, Byakuya is now admiring himself in the mirror with the longer, darker dress on. It… fits perfectly. The material nicely encapsulates each curve of his body and furthermore compliments his long, slender legs and broad shoulders. You clap a little to yourself in a giddy, joyous way.

"You look amazing, dearie!" You say.

"I…"

Byakuya still seems to be at a loss for words. You  take it upon yourself to fill in the gap left by his speechlessness, "Well? How about we get the dresses before we start overthinking things?"

Another hesitant pause from Byakuya follows before he says, "Yes… we should."

It doesn't take long for Byakuya to get into his clothes from before this little discovery, and before you know it the two of you are at the register making your final purchase.

And as you exit with bags dangling from the crevice of your arm, Byakuya leans down and tells you gently…

"We should do this more often."

#danganronpa #dr #byakuya togami #byakuya x reader #togami x reader #x reader #trigger happy havoc #in this house we love boys in dresses! #no more of boys in dresses to embarrass/shame them #more of boys in dresses to make them feel GOOD!

[cyberslam]

baby, don't deny what your poor heart needs

trans! 1-2-3 Kid/Razor Ramon

hi! On my bullshit again but god I've got Kid/Razor on the mind and I wanted to write something purely self indulgent between commissions. So here's some absolutely dripping in personally inspired trans narrative Kid.

Anyway I got to talking with Scotty and we talked about how getting your first suit as a trans man is such a big thing, and I thought it'd be sweet if Razor bought Kid his first suit.

I have a whole list in my head of headcanons for this version of Kid I may or may not post?

Also loosely related to Xentex's lovely standalone fic for his trans Diesel muse.

TWs:

needles/injections in the first part, nothing descriptive, internalized and mentioned transphobia, NSFW content.

[Ao3 Link]

Kid was laid flat on his stomach on the cushy hotel bed as he watched Razor tapping away air bubbles from the syringe in his hands. Ever since he began running with the Cuban, he insisted on doing Kid's t-shots for him. He had said it was something nostalgic for him. Kid was a little annoyed at first, but he was quick to relent given that Razor was a hell of a lot better at injecting him than he was. It sucked to have to do his shots in his thighs, and having to wrestle right after usually would put him in a ton of pain.

Instead, having the shot done by his hip was just more comfortable.

"What're you wearing to the charity dinner?" Kid asked, smushing his cheek against the pillow he was resting on as he caught Razor's eye.

"Eh, maybe just gonna throw a white suit over the usual on and call it a day." Razor shrugged. He was already replacing the needle. Kid didn't know how Razor had it all memorized. It basically took him half an hour to get through all the steps, having to consult the worn out instructions sheet he kept with the vials. Sure Razor had a good memory, but he did it with so much ease.

"Man, even you're wearing a suit?" He pouted. He'd basically asked every wrestler what they'd be wearing at this point. Shawn was gonna be in a suit, Diesel was going to be doing just a button up with a sportcoat, hell even the Bushwhackers had suits! Kid didn't even own a button up. Most events Vince made them do were casual enough he could get away with a t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. But this one was all fancy, way more formal and stiff than anything Kid had attended. The last time he wore a suit must've been…never. He frowned more, realizing he'd never owned a suit.

Razor ruffled his hair, taking him out of his thoughts as the taller man rounded the bed. He pulled Kid's waistband down, wiping the injection site down with an alcohol pad.

"What, you're not?" Razor asked, waving his hand over the alcohol to dry it off.

"I don't have a suit, Raze. Never did. Always had to wear dresses to big stuff." Kid sighed. He couldn't help the way it made him feel. His mom had always spent so much on those dresses, he never had the heart to tell her he didn't want to wear them. He knew how important having a daughter was to her; for a long time he was worried he'd just break her heart so he kept quiet.

He was thankful puberty never hit him too hard, though. A loose enough shirt usually got the job done to hide his body.

Kid came out to his mom when he first broke into wrestling. He couldn't make himself wrestle the women's division, or in any women's promotion. His mom had struggled with it. They fought. He moved in with his grandparents who were somehow more understanding.

The King had helped him out a ton, too. He owed him for being the reason he got to wrestle in the men's divisions.

"Ready?" Razor's voice brought him out of the past. He nodded, the slight sting hitting him as Razor pushed the needle through the skin he held taut. "So you never had a suit? Never been fitted for one?"

Kid shook his head as Razor pulled his hand away, depressing the plunger. "Never Raze. Makes me kinda nervous, going to buy a suit. I mean I can get one off the rack at Macy's or something I guess, but I can only afford the discount stuff and all that's too big on me. I'll look like a kid playing in his dad's clothes."

"Then get one tailored, chico."

"I don't think I need to tell you why that makes me nervous." Kid scoffed, rolling his eyes as Razor pulled the needle out, replacing it with an alcohol pad held gently against his skin. "Like, y'know what if they take inseams and they like…notice."

"If you pack they won't." Razor took care of disposal as he spoke, gently pulling Kid's waistband up.

"I don't know man…you know I usually don't anyway.

"Oyame, chico. I'll take you to my tailor. He won't say shit to you, he made suits for Vinnie. Does suits for dykes too. I'll explain it to him, okay?" Sharps disposed, Razor sat on the edge of the bed with a smile as he looked down at Kid.

The young man wouldn't admit it to his face, but he loved when Razor actually smiled. Not that slimy smirk of his, but a real smile. He couldn't help himself from smiling back.

"Alright Raze, but I don't know if I can afford that."

That got him a smack to the back of the head.

"The fuck you think I am? I'm gonna make you pay for this? It's a gift, niño. From me. You wear that shit and if anyone asks, you tell them Razor Ramon got it for you, got it?" He had pulled the toothpick from his mouth, pointing it at Kid as he spoke, making him laugh.

"Yeah I hear you big man. Mr. Ramon so kindly bought me my suit."

"Damn straight." He leaned down, pushing Kid's curls back as he placed a kiss to his forehead. Kid stuck his tongue out in response, before sighing.

"Thanks Raze."

"You're running with me. That means you get the best, or nothing." Razor patted him on the back, "we'll go tomorrow, all right?"

"Alright. You're the boss, Mr. Ramon."

"Damn right I am."

—

Razor managed to pull off a pretty comfortable experience for Kid's first time getting fit for a suit. Measurements weren't any different from when he would get fitted for wrestling gear, there was just a lot more to measure. Thankfully, his tailor offered private rooms so Kid didn't have to deal with any of the anxiety provided by someone potentially walking in.

He also couldn't deny the way it made him feel a lot more like a man to even go through the experience of getting fitted.

To save time, they had picked out a premade suit to be altered, given the charity dinner was that weekend. Razor had been pretty upset he couldn't pay for a suit to be made for Kid, but Kid reasoned that he didn't even need to wear them all that often in the first place.

Come Friday morning, the suit was ready.

Razor had picked it out, not that Kid had a problem with that. It was navy, with a black trim on the inside. According to the big man himself, he chose it because cool colors suited Kid more than blacks or anything warm.

For the most part, Kid had no idea what Razor would be going on about so he just nodded along and agreed.

Still, trying it on was something different. Razor had pretty much picked out everything else: the dress shirt, shoes, tie, belt…

“I’m worried I’m going to look stupid.” Kid was frowning as Razor was tying his tie for him.

“Ay niño, you look handsome. You look like the man you are.” The taller man chided him, speaking with a cigar in his mouth as he tightened the tie up to his neck. “That comfortable?”

Being called handsome by Razor of all people always made Kid’s chest swell with joy. “You really think so?”

“Don’t be stupid. The fuck would I lie to you for?”

Kid grinned as he was scolded, putting on the coat jacket as it was handed to him.

“There’s three buttons, you just button the top two.”

“Got it, boss.” Kid rolled his eyes, secretly appreciative of how much Razor gave instruction. If it wasn’t for him, he’d end up going to the dinner looking like he rolled in right off the street and Vince would’ve had his head for it. Slim fingers worked on the buttons before straightening the jacket out. He had to admit, it was a lot more comfortable than he expected. There was something nice about having the layer of the jacket to hide any awkward bumps the dress shirt wouldn’t.

“Alright. Now that’s a handsome guy. Turn around.” Razor was grinning at him pulling his cigar out of his mouth as he looked down at Kid. With one hand, he gently turned Kid around to face himself in the mirror.

Kid normally tried not to let his emotions really get to him in any big way, but this time he couldn’t help it. There was just a prick of tears in his eyes as he looked himself over in the full body mirror. Head to toe, he looked like he actually belonged in men’s formal wear. The pants gave enough of a drop near his crotch he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable even if he did pack, the jacket drew away from his chest and gave him a boxier looking frame instead of emphasizing how petite his body usually looked. Even his shoes didn’t look too small. He couldn’t help but smile as he checked himself out in the mirror.

“That’s not all. Here.” Razor pulled a small box out of his pocket, giving it to Kid. “Open it, c’mon.”

“Geez man, just like wait a second.” Kid huffed, pulling the golden cover off of the small box. Inside was some actual gold; two gold cufflinks and a chain. He was stunned, mouth slightly agape as he looked down at the gift and then at Razor.

“It’s real gold, chico. We’ll have matching cufflinks. And I figured you can wear the chain with just the shirt sometimes. When I take you out, I mean. You’ve been rolling with me this long. I can't have you without at least some gold, yeah?” Razor looked real proud, moving closer to Kid, pulling the cufflinks out of the box and affixing them to the ends of the sleeves of the jacket.

“Raze, this is too much isn’t it?”

“What, you stole my money and now you’re too good for my gold, huh? This shit is as real as it gets, chico.”

“Okay you like, already got over that. And I mean, this is different. You bought this for me. This must’ve been expensive.”

Razor took a puff of his cigar before he pointed it at Kid. “Nothing is too expensive for Razor Ramon, comprende?”

Kid huffed, before grinning. “Only because it’s you Raze, am I even worried that you spent money like this on me. I’d be out the door with anyone else.” He looked at the cufflinks, admiring the way they complimented the deep blue of the jacket.

Razor just shook his head in response as Kid looked himself over again in the mirror.

“I almost don’t want to take it off.”

"Mm. I can help you with that niño."

Kid watched as Razor put the cigar out in the ash tray. The larger man stepped in closer, pressing himself flush against Kid's back. He rested his chin on Kid's left shoulder, clearly scheming something.

Kid watched the two of them in the mirror. For once he didn't feel like he was fighting to look like a man, especially next to Razor. Not that anyone said shit to him ever since they started rolling together. Anytime some jobber even whispered that Kid looked "girly" in the locker room, they'd suspiciously have some injury and never end up on any of the shows.

Razor's rough hands began wandering around Kid's body, undoing his belt buckle as he watched the reaction of the younger man. Kid squirmed, feeling his face get hot.

"Razor…" He huffed, watching his belt being tossed aside as his dress shirt got pulled out. His coat jacket was pulled off next, laid gently on the ottoman to their side, and Kid wasn't sure if he wanted to be transfixed on the image in front of him or look away. "I can undress myself, c'mon. You know I don't like looking at myself like this."

"Kid." Razor's voice was stern, and the lack of a nickname made the slimmer man stand up a bit straighter. "You look so fucking handsome. C'mon, look." He grabbed Kid's face, turning him towards the mirror.

Kid's eyes met with his own, struggling to face the feelings stirring inside him. His eyes wandered down as Razor's deft hands undid his buttons, one at a time. Exposing skin. Before he undid the last few buttons, Razor slipped a hand in to cup his chest, calloused fingers rubbing at his nipple. Kid bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he looked away. Quickly, a rough hand turned his face to the mirror.

"Don't look away." It was a command.

The reflection was uncomfortable. His clothes were the only thing that made people see him as a man. Some days he didn't mind looking at himself. Hell, usually he didn't, but it wasn't like he spent time checking himself out in the mirror naked.

Kid watched his flushed face, the way he kept biting his lip, the lazy but hungry look in Razor's eyes as he fondled him. He kissed up Kid's neck, sending shivers down his spine. Wet, sloppy kisses to his ear made his knees nearly give out.

"You look so handsome, niño." He was practically purring into his ear. That low, rumbly voice was made of wet dreams.

"I look–"

Always a little dramatic, Razor pulled the dress shirt apart, fully exposing his torso. "Like a man."

The shirt was discarded as Kid looked on at himself. The way his chest curved. Razor grabbed at each pec, squeezing them, playing with him. Kid whined, leaning back against the broad chest behind him.

"Remember what I told you. If anyone tells you you ain't a man, you come to me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"That counts for you too. Cause you've got more machismo than half the guys we work with. This chest? This face? These hips? All a man's." With each body part, Razor put his hands there and gave a squeeze.

Kid was happy he wasn't prone to tears, because he'd be crying just about now. He knew he was a guy. A man. Not just some boy. And he knew his body was a man's body, but being around a bunch of cis guys who were bigger than he'd ever be, comfortable being nearly naked in a way he'd never be; it would give him some pause sometimes. Maybe Razor noticed. Maybe he saw how Kid had been lately and knew he needed his.

"Alright don't get a big head about." There was that smack to the back of the head to ground him. He shot Razor a nasty look, getting a slimy grin in return. "Sit."

He was gently pushed back onto the chaise chair, until he sat down on it.

Razor kneeled in front of him in a sight that Kid wished he could take a photo of. He watched as the man at his feet undid the laces on the oxfords, slipping them off his feet and placing them to the side. He lifted Kid's heel up to his mouth, kissing his ankle.

Kid wanted to squirm at the sensation. He held his breath watching Razor, who looked up at him and gave him a wink. He pulled the dress socks off before moving up, kissing at Kid's thighs through the fabric of the pants. His hands snaked up the outside of Kid's thighs until he was grabbing a handful of his ass, kneading his fingers into it.

His lips made it up to Kid's stomach, before kissing back down to his happy trail. His hands slid around to undo the fly as he looked right at Kid. Razor pulled his pants down, until they were completely off, and laid them next to where Kid sat.

The Cuban firmly pressed his lips to Kid's crotch, eliciting some small moans from him. His fingers snuck into the waist band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose Kid fully. Razor tasted how wet he was, his tongue licking through his folds and up to his clit before sucking on it.

Kid couldn't keep himself from moaning then. He panted, Razor working him up quickly. His hand found it's way to that slicked back, curly hair as he pulled Razor forward. It didn't take long for Razor to make him come, fucking him with his tongue and sucking him off like he was.

Climax overwhelming him, he tried to wriggle away from the overstimulation but strong arms kept him in place. Kid bit down on his own hand to keep himself from nearly screaming. He collapsed backwards, feeling his muscles twitching as they tried to relax, not even noticing that Razor had pulled his boxers back up.

Breathing slowly, Kid slowly sat up. He didn't know when Razor had grabbed his cigar and relit it, but he sure had.

"Gotta say of all the guys I've given head to, you're my favorite." Razor teased him, taking a puff of his cigar before blowing the smoke in Kid's face.

The smaller man frowned as he waved the smoke away. "Oh shut up."

He stared down at his legs for a moment.

"Thanks Razor."

"No problem niño." Razor ruffled his curly hair, before stepping away. "Get dressed, let's get outta here."

"Sure thing, Mr. Ramon."

#d is writing #razor ramon #123 kid #the 123 kid #wwf #wwf fic #this was probably the quickest ive written a fic to be posted in a while! #trans!123 kid

[jennablackmorebooks]

@kvr0ii if you don't mind, I'm going to answer on this blog, since I want to keep it somewhat separate from my main blog so I can remain uh. employable. extremely dystopian world isn't it

(Context: I made a post on my secret personal blog something about how it's totally cool for my friends to message me at 1 AM to ask about what textiles my characters wear; I considered doing the same thing to some of my friends before getting nervous about it.)

Mae turns 20 just before mid-2016, though the year is never quite stated in the text because every year we move farther and farther away from 2016. She's 19 when she gets her wings at the start of Rainbow. She's not at the point of developing a professional wardrobe for a workplace, she's still able to afford the clothes she wants, and because of the year she's relatively uninfluenced by microtrends and tiktok aesthetics (in fact, if you asked her about Tik Tok, she'd probably think of the song). At this point, business casual was on the back end of having its moment, narrower pants were in style, and while people were talking about sustainable fashion, it wasn't as prevalent casually as discussion of it is now.

There are a few styles that are pretty popular around this time, which she probably gets at the shops. Specifically, we see her with items such as a blazer, a couple of dresses (including one full of glitter), a hoodie, and knit leggings. The blazer is never really something that the origin is revealed of, though it is something Mae hadn't seen in a few months at one point but was familiar enough with to recognise, so we can't be entirely sure if it's perhaps an old wool blazer, or one of the new polyester blazers that were so easy to find in just about any mall clothing store in the mid-2010s. She cut a hole in the arm of it, so it couldn't have been too expensive. She does wear it to go flying over a lake, which wouldn't be the ideal thing to do with wool. Still, I'm going to suggest this might not be completely a win for polyester, since Mae complains of the heat quite a lot, and wool would be more breathable than polyester would be. I'll suggest perhaps this is a secondhand wool blazer. It still holds its structure after being owned a while and also cut in the sleeve, which , having personally owned some of those 2010s mall blazers, I know they wouldn't really have done all that well. The blazer is long, so it might have been a vintage oversized.

Her glitter-covered periwinkle dress, however, is all polyester and plastic, and her knit leggings are probably acrylic and elastane. I think her white dress might be linen, because of its pairing with the azalea crown as a sort of counter to the deeply unnatural Deirdre and Mae's change since acquiring the wings. But, it would have to be quite fitted at the top, since it's strapless. She describes it as a flowing dress, so the bottom is probably quite loose; it's great for the weather since it's an excellent material for hot days, and it flows quite well when there's enough fabric. The sequins on her concert suit are plastic, and the velvet of her boots probably acetate or polyester. The shirt she wears with it is silver, which suggests a non-natural fibre to get that really shiny look, and it wouldn't be silk since she's buying it in a random mall store for one specific event.

(As an aside, when she borrows Kaio's clothes, those are cotton. He's a flannel and jeans and t-shirts sort of lad for his everyday outfits.)

Mae, for the safety of her wings, can get away with wearing whatever she feels like; she never really has scale troubles. Perhaps due to the engineered nature of her wings, physical limitations such as the permanence of scales or the weight of her bones for flight never really matter that much. She notices that the small wing she activates her own wings with is not subject to the whims of physics that regular butterfly wings would be:

And I imagine the same is mostly true for the wings she develops. She never mentions taking precaution (despite her nervous nature) to keep her scales from falling off, and perhaps they do not. As butterfly scales do not grow back, perhaps the solution was for Kaio to engineer the wings in such a way that the loss of scales would not be a factor in the first place. This lets Mae wear whatever she feels like, and she seems to prioritize cut and colour over fibre content, recognising articles of her own and other people's clothing by these features instead of by their fibre content, excepting Keiko's silk dress, something that others Keiko due to its anachronistic nature to the time they live in, and the leathers of Feris who is still apart from Mae and Kaio in the sense of how she gained her wings and her connection with Tornin, and Iron Filings for concert outfits, which are deviations from what she's used to seeing them wear. So, textiles are mostly important to Mae when they serve to mark the wearer as different.

Thank you so much for asking, this was so fun to answer! :D

#i love textile fibres i love textile fibres #Rainbow #Mae Chouko #ask

[cookiesuga55]

[11] ~Fin~ Hi! I was initially going to request a prompt, but then the words escaped me >.< So, I guess I wrote a lil something for you (；^ω^）It's all yours! (I claim no rights to it) So, feel free to expand upon it or enjoy as is. I appreciate all the works you share with us <3 -A niny mouse

OH my goodness I was just gifted with the most beautiful lil story and I need to share it all with you <3

This makes my heart SO HAPPY that you shared this mini-masterpiece with me, and PLS DM me (if you're comfortable<3) so we can keep building on this story together @a niny mouse 🥹

And without further adieu- pls enjoy this lovely story--------

"Sugar Daddy!AU. A poor university student, JK envies the way his ex-roommates, Jimin and Taehyung, had successfully found good Sugar Daddies. It takes a little trial and error for Jungkook to find Seokjin, whose only idiosyncrasy appears to be wanting to see his sugar baby eat well. And honestly, given that his body is 90% ramyeon at this point, that doesn't sound too bad. And given how many hills he walks across campus, he's sure he would burn off the excess calories.

In general, Seokjin likes providing for JK. On the weekends which they spend together, Jin will cook hearty meals for JK in his luxurious city suite. He'll then get JK fitted for a new pair of clothes (while paying off the seamstress to log JK's measurements each time) and before dropping JK off at his apartment, will take JK out to a lovely dinner. Jin's care for him extends outside of those weekends though; paying for paying for a full-access dining hall meal plan, buying JK a car, and a generous bank deposit each week.

Jin's admiration and physical affection for JK is not subtle. In public, he'll possessively wrap his arm around JK's back, giving the cute love handle a little squeeze in his palm. He adores JK's chubby cheek; he's tempted to kiss them at any opportunity, but especially when JK smiles and accentuates his cheek bones. And whenever the two are snuggling, Jin's hand will always rest themselves on JK's tummy. Jin can't even explain how cathartic it is, to feel JK's tummy expand with each inhale.

JK is so busy and tired between school life and work. So, he starts new habits out of convenience. Waking up from a food coma after Jin took him out, he drives to class instead of climbing the time-consuming hills on campus. And when he can't avoid walking across campus, he's discovered all the small shortcuts, from the school shuttles to using the music library's elevator to avoid climbing stairs. He'll wear joggy bottoms and oversized shirts when he attends lectures because they're comfy.

He doesn't think much about how out-of-breath he gets when walking on campus with Jimin and Taehyung, because everyone complains about the hills. It's not strange that he's always the last person to finish eating at the dining halls; even when his ex-roommates would swipe him in when he couldn't afford to, he'd always eat ravenously to compensate for his daily deficit in calories. He doesn't notice strangers oddly glancing at him, because after struggling for so long, JK is happy.

But one day, he has to attend a fancy school event. He goes to re-use one of the older clothes from Jin, but when he goes to try it on… the nice clothes Jin got him were fitted to his exact measurements, but not like this. He stands in front of the mirror, and feels like a clown. He hates the way he can't flex his arms. They look cartoonish, seams pressing painfully at the joints and bulging at the flesh. He'd managed to button the pants, but they dig so painfully into his stomach that he feels nauseous.

He doesn't understand. He'd felt so confident in the clothes that Seokjin kept buying him. Jin had made him feel nothing short of beautiful. So as he disrobes from the too-small clothes, he takes a second to really look at himself.

In his self-exploration, he decides that he doesn't hate the new weight. Especially given the history of compliments he has received from Jin to boost his confidence. But the haunting feeling of being a sausage case when wearing too small clothes… he flits through his closet, and realizes he might not be able to wear half his clothes. And that thought… terrifies him.

So, he goes to the school gym to work out. Tries to do some cardio on the treadmill, and hates the entire experience: the way his thighs rub together, his elbows knocking into his love handles, the heavy thuds of burning legs trying to keep up, how so utterly out-of-breath and gasping for air he is. His cheeks are flushed red from the 5 minute run, and his smartwatch (another gift from Jin) is screaming at him that his heart rate is too high.

JK ends up talking about it to Jin. Confides his fear of no longer fitting into his clothes, but otherwise feels comfortable with his new curves. Jin reassures him that he will always buy JK new clothes. He's tempted to throw out the offensive garments that made JK feel so uncomfortable right now. But for now, Jin fixes JK a bowl of ice cream and the two cuddle, Jin of course worshiping JK's body with gentle touches and reverent kisses."

_____________________[The End]___________________________

Please know how much I loved this, you wonderful beautiful human <3

#seriously I cried from happiness #I love this thank you for the gift #PLS DM ME SO WE CAN BE FRIENDSSSSS <3

[4getfulimaginator2022]

Follow the Emerald Road, chapter 1/4

chapter 1: I'll take the high way

****************

Despite being in a bar, getting drunk was the last thing on her mind.

Her definition of irony? When a minor detail you've forgotten pops up at just the right moment to bite you in the ass.

That was probably why she was sitting sideways on a dirty bar stool, staring at her phone screen in disbelief.

Hey babe, something's come up and my dad's flying me to Ireland for the weekend. Nothing serious, don't worry, it's business. Dinner's on me when I get back.

Neal never spelled his words right in any of his texts. It's why she suggested he sleep with a dictionary under his pillow. Not that he took her seriously, of course. He kept auto-correct off and continued to gleefully misspell at will.

Heaving a scoff, Emma Swan threw back the shot of rum she had ordered, wrinkling her nose at the sting in her throat. Her boyfriend was hopping on a plane to Europe just like that. No good-byes, no apologies. Excuse me, sweetheart, but here goes three grand while I whittle away the time in luxury suites and expensive buffet brunch meetings.

His message was five minutes old.

She was still dumbfounded that he hadn't invited her along for the trip. After all, she was kind of responsible for his reunion with his father and the fact that he'd returned to the family business.

Mr. Gold was an expert antiques dealer with contacts across the globe, with a backed guarantee to sell anything that came into his collection for its right value. It was why he had such a high-standing reputation and everyone with old junk to spare came flocking to his firm. Neal's feud with his dad went back to when he was a teen. Their argument over his mother, who had gone off and left the both of them years before to make a life for herself in Ireland, was absurd.

Emma couldn't see the sense of it. The woman was grown and could decide for herself and hey, it wasn't like she belonged to her husband ― that would be a creepy standpoint ― so if she did the wrong thing and abandoned her family, that was her choice. Nobody was responsible for what Milah Gold did and did not do.

Which was why Emma had seen the ad in the newspaper and begged her stubborn, obnoxious boyfriend to please reconcile with his father. She had argued that he should consider himself lucky to have family who loved him and wanted him back. People like her...they didn't get that. Ever.

Fencing those watches all those years ago had worked beautifully for their savings. But money got spent and with expenses piling up, what had been an extended vacation in Tallahassee became a one-way move to Boston, with nothing but two suitcases, the Bug, and new dreams. They made their way through college and got into business school, which was the most they could afford at the time. From penniless thieves to penniless students , Neal would joke. Then the whole meeting with Mr. Gold mixed their lives up again.

For the first time in his life, Neal had an honest job and found out he was pretty good at being an art agent. He knew how to sell, how to buy, and how to win while doing both. Emma, on the other hand, had paid the price for his newfound confidence.

Before, it had been just her and him against the world. Now he was busy all the time, working late hours in his father's store, going over the fine print of would-be contracts, and slipping off to look at whatever new item came in. But life was hard and she understood the power of hard work. She was busy as well. Being a bail bondsperson didn't come with a lot of days off.

But understanding that life wasn't fair didn't make her feel less lonely, less forgotten, or less worried about being left behind. Like she was this very second.

Milah was a sore spot for Neal. With his faint memories of his mom and how attached he had been to her as a child, he was about to do something rash. Emma could sense it. He had never forgiven his mother for leaving them and if she had a new family over there in the Land of the Leprechauns, heaven help that woman. Neal was bundle of nerves and raw emotion. He spoke first and thought later. Seeing the truth of Milah's situation, right in front of his eyes, would make or break him.

Again, she tried to convince herself that it was out of concern for her boyfriend that she was even considering this.

She needed to be there for him. He couldn't do this alone.

Plus, there was the other side of the scale. He would see his mom and maybe want to stay with her. Emma wasn't prepared to say good-bye if that happened.

"Hi."

The man with the absurdly euphoric face gave her another toothy grin. Was he high or what?

She tried to smile back, but it was more of a grimace than anything else. "Hello."

Short enough that his feet barely reached the stool's rungs, her admirer was decked out in a moderate suit and tie, restless as he fidgeted. He looked down at her legs, then up at her face, then down again. When his eyes rested on her chest, Emma stopped her efforts to be part of the conversation. Another horny weirdo.

"Can I, uh, buy you a drink?"

She tossed her head. "No, thanks ― couldn't afford mine."

The man slapped down a twenty dollar bill, waving at the bartender. "Happy, give the lady whatever she wants and then make it a double ― I'll have what she's having."

Happy wasn't looking too thrilled. "Don't fall asleep on my bar again, lightweight," he grunted before refilling Emma's usual shot of rum and then filling up another.

"Hey, it's epilepsy ― I don't fall asleep suddenly for the heck of it," the stranger snapped back. Then his expression brightened, and he gave her another hopeful glance. She got more confused. "Oh, he's my brother. My nickname's Sleepy for a reason."

Emma felt herself nodding mechanically, all while wondering why she always attracted all the deadbeats.

Rewind.

Neal was a good guy. She was with a great guy.

Bars brought out the worst men, that's all.

"So, what's a lovely lady like yourself doing here, all alone?"

Ah, in for the kill, girl. She smiled sweetly. "I was actually waiting for my boyfriend."

Sleepy chuckled as if he didn't believe her. "Well, where is he?"

"Was supposed to meet me after work, but he couldn't make it."

"Poor you." He paused. "Look, I know this sounds forward―"

"More forward than buying a stranger a drink?"

"You're not a stranger. You're..." His gaze darkened when it roved over the tight fit of the pink dress she was wearing. "You're beautiful."

She toasted the rest of her drink. "Thanks a bunch."

"I mean it. Someone like you deserves attention. What's your name?"

Clearly, he was not going to leave her alone. Emma almost wanted to laugh. She gets dolled up to catch a thief on the run, but the best she gets afterwards is one of the Seven Dwarves asking her out. "Name's Emma."

He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Emma. I'm Mike."

"Sleepy."

He shrugged. "It's a family joke."

"Look, Mike. " She stretched a bit. "I really do have a boyfriend. His name is Neal. I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

His shoulders slumped. "Well, a woman comes to a place like this, dressed like that... You can't blame a guy for trying."

Emma let out a long sigh. "It's okay." She could be gracious to the poor guy.

Mike sidled up a little closer. "I own a drug store. It's not much, but... How about you? What do you do?"

"I'm more or less a bounty hunter."

Most of the time, that confession did the trick and scared off any asshole messing with her. But not this time. If anything, Sleepy here looked wide awake and definitely intrigued.

"Wow." He whistled. "That's impressive. You're one tough lady."

Shrugging, she leaned back on her chair. "Yeah, but it's tough work."

"Of course." He eyed her up and down again. "You're probably pretty assertive ― you go after what you want, and all that... Pretty straightforward, too."

Okay, enough of this game. If his eyeballs had hands, they'd be groping her.

"Emma!"

It was somewhere between a shriek and a banshee cry. That meant it could only be...

"Ruby, hey. Where's Graham?" She smirked at how the girl's face turned a shade of red to match her name. Short skirt and extremely high heels combined, Ruby Lucas defined the meaning of first impressions. Waitress by day and bounty hunter by night, she was "tough as nails" and disarmingly clever. She also was rather shocking when it came to romance. Like how the mere mention of her cute boyfriend could make her blush to pieces.

Provocative and romantic, Ruby was something else altogether. Mike's eyes were now bulging out of their sockets as he took in her appearance. Her dark hair was in complete disarray ( on purpose ), her makeup was perfectly applied, and her dress was a deep maroon, matched by black stilettos on self-manicured feet.

"He's got the late shift tonight." She took a seat on Emma's left. "And how about you ― did you get your man?"

" Busted ."

"Hell yes ― congratulations. That one was a piece of work. Where's Neal?"

And here she was, facing the same dilemma again. They'd barely just moved into the best apartment in Boston and made a real home. Was it asking too much if they could take their relationship to the next level and start a family of their own, instead of fighting over the past?

Ruby seemed to finally notice how riveted Sleepy was by the new conversation. "You ― who are you?" Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm a friend," he stuttered. "I'm―"

"Well, be a friend and scoot off. I need some girl time with Emma here ― alone ." She almost bared her teeth at him.

With a dejected wave, Mike carefully stepped down from his stool and scrammed. Most likely to make a round of the bar before circling back to see if she was by herself again and Ruby was gone.

Hah, not going to happen, buddy.

******************

Her colleague had hoisted herself onto his empty seat and was munching on the leftover snacks from happy hour. "You had dinner last night."

Emma toyed with the tips of her hair. "Yes."

"And he gave you something big and shiny?"

"Yes."

"Aw," she squealed, clapping her hands together.

"Earrings. Big, shiny, diamond earrings."

Ruby's wide-eyed stare transformed into a glare in mere seconds. "No ring? He calls it a special occasion, he doesn't cancel, he buys a new suit, and then there's no proposal?"

"Maybe he's just taking things slowly?" she offered. Her voice sounded weak to her own ears.

"Slowly? Slowly? Emma, you've been living together for over ten years . If that man doesn't marry you soon, I'd be happy to death-threat him for you."

She chuckled at the vehemence in her co-worker's voice. "No better way to compliment a girl than proposing under pain of death."

"I'm serious. What is up with you two lately?"

The question Emma was asking herself all the time. She couldn't ignore the signs anymore. Neal was pulling away from her.

"I don't know," she whispered. "It seems like he finds all the right reasons not to be with me."

Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. Her red lips formed a classic pout. "Then get him to own up. Corner him."

"This isn't one of our bailers, Ruby―"

"It doesn't have to be forceful. Just...stand up for yourself. Go to him, instead of waiting for him to come to you. Propose yourself."

"But what if he has doubts? If he's not ready?"

"If he's not ready now, he'll never be ready." Her brown gaze flashed fire. "Come on, Emma. This isn't like you. You're not afraid of anything."

She gulped down all of the insecurities that rose to her throat, wanting to be voiced. "Neal isn't here right now." The perfect excuse.

"When he comes home then."

"He...uh...he's actually overseas. Flying there, apparently. He's gone to Ireland."

"Ireland?" Ruby wolf-whistled. "Nice. Daddy paid his fare?"

"Ruby..."

"Oh please. Don't get me started. Neal is Daddy's little boy and he knows it."

Time to get out of this scene. Emma clambered down, wobbly on her heels. Ruby followed, but not before stuffing the remaining mini cheese and cracker kebabs into a napkin and slipping the little bundle into her purse.

"Why didn't he invite you?"

She groaned, pushing hard on the wooden door of the pub. "It's for work."

"And?"

The cool nighttime air was a relief. This girl would track her back to the apartment until she got answers, so it was better to make the most of it. "I think...he wants to find his mom."

Ruby looked skeptical. "Um...he couldn't ask you to do that?"

She in turn raised a brow. "Europe's got its own privacy laws?"

"Ugh, okay ― so maybe he needs to do this on his own. But that doesn't mean you couldn't surprise him."

"With what, exactly?"

Her grin was all teeth. And toothy smiles and Ruby meant big trouble. Like her mouth was about to spout an idea that Emma would regret listening to. "This year is a leap year, right?"

"Yes..."

"And Leap Day is coming up, right next week."

She could feel it ― the craziness was coming. "So...?"

Ruby jumped up and down, quite a feat for high heels. Oh no, this one was a whopper for sure. Enthusiasm of this size required equivalent brainpower. "So it's tradition ― centuries and centuries before, women have proposed to their boyfriends and whatnot on a leap day in Ireland. You could ask Neal the big question and save yourself the trouble of waiting. Then it's happily ever after."

Emma snorted at that. "Look, I'm not a big conservative here, but a woman proposing to a man when he doesn't want to propose himself. That just sounds wrong ."

"Wrong? It's not like you're extorting something from the guy," she pouted. "I mean, the worst that happens is he turns you down. We're not living in the nineteenth century."

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts ― it's perfectly feministic and a tad liberal." Ruby's bright smile diminished. "Emma, come on. Fight for something for yourself . If you want this...want Neal...you need to tell him. You can't push back because you're afraid he'll leave when it gets serious."

"He almost did once," she whispered, remembering a very frightened girl who did wrong things to keep ahold of her boy. "Reuniting with his mom...it might change things. He's restless. What if I am not what he wants?"

"It's part of the risk of proposing, but your belief in your love has got to be stronger than that. Right?" Ruby nudged her. She stayed silent. "Right. So here's how it gonna go: you're packing tonight, I'm buying you that ticket with my frequent flier miles.

"And you, Miss Swan, are going to Ireland in style. Tomorrow."

****************

The bed and breakfast wasn't much to look at. Dingy tavern that covered half the base floor, six small bedrooms upstairs that constituted the "bed" part of the place. "Breakfast" was that oversized room behind the bar called the kitchen, which was the most sensibly designed of the lot.

The bathroom was a fucking travesty.

But Liam Jones had loved the house all the same. And Killian Jones had kept it because he loved his brother.

Not because the goddamn shack had been in their family for generations and dear old Pa had left it to them since everyone else was long dead.

Too bad the sorry bastard hadn't paid off the mortgage as well before bequeathing it to his only sons.

It was why Killian had spent endless hours in his miserable closet of an office, pouring over bills to and from The Jewel of the Realm . Well, this certainly was no bloody jewel of an inn. It was awful, forcing the wankers that came in and out-drank their tabs at the bar to actually pay for all those bottles of whiskey and beer. He'd had to break more than a few noses to see coin. On the other hand, foreigners who came in for a brief stopover, usually to visit relatives in town or see the few local sights, made for a convenient, confirmed payday with all their lovely credit cards on file.

Like the very winsome lass currently parading around his establishment, cursing enough to make the wizened sailors in the corner blush and chortle through their shots, spilling rum everywhere on his recently wiped counter.

Not to mention that she was spilling water on the floor he'd diligently mopped the past hour.

A few choice words to taunt her American accent, high-heeled shoes, and perfectly curled hair had sent her scurrying to the telephone booth by the door, plunking out change to feed the machine. Drying the glasses he just washed, Killian watched her out of the corner of his eye, listening to her hurried whispers and frantic nodding. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but she sounded desperate.

Desperate enough to approach him at the bar and beg for a taxi driver to take her to Dublin.

He snorted. "There's no taxi service 'round these parts, lass. Unless you commission the first available bloke here sober enough to offer you a ride."

Five eavesdropping faces peered at her simultaneously, grinning like maniacs. At least half of them were already drunk off their arses.

Leroy, who could hold his liquor better than most of his brothers, was clearly enjoying the woman's distress when he snarled, "Sister, you'd have to be offering me a lot to get me ass all the way to Dublin in this weather." The way he was passionately chewing his tobacco, Killian was worried the man would forget the golden rule of never spitting on his floor. Profanity he could handle ― but not tobacco cud.

Her face brightened. Killian bit back a smile. Oh, this blonde fireball had no idea what she was in for. "I'll pay you anything! I don't have much cash on me at the moment, but―"

"Cash? Ya think I'll do it for just the cash?" Leroy glared at her. "What else are ya offering?"

Her answering pout was kind of cute. It almost made Killian feel sorry for her, the lofty American. "That's all I got."

The mischievous glint in Leroy's eyes meant trouble. He pointedly stared at her chest and crotch. "What 'bout payment in nature?"

Killian spit out the tea he had been sipping.

"Excuse me?" Her mouth dropped open. "Are you seriously suggesting―?"

"You and me. On a bed. Naked as babes." Even his smirk was dirty. "I get 24 hours with you and your diddies, then we're free to go."

She still was speechless. Killian didn't blame her ― the image Leroy had painted in his mind would have to be scoured out, or he'd suffer more nightmares.

"Diddies?" Still gaping like a fish, she was.

"It's...slang. Irish slang. Means breasts," Killian mumbled. He shouldn't be blushing ― he has touched enough breasts in his time. But seeing the lass embarrassed was making his stomach twist in knots for no reason.

He was no chauvinist, but the way she acted and talked made him feel like a bloody fool.

She said nothing in reply. However, her now tight expression and narrowed eyes suggested that she was figuring out this little game faster than he thought.

"So if I...if we fuck and I pay you, you'll take me to Dublin?" She crossed her arms over her chest. He could sense a tantrum of mass dimensions was on its way.

The group of men roared with laughter. Leroy grinned widely. "You got it, sister." Then his face froze comically from hesitation, eyes bulging and mouth hanging open. "Oh, but there is just one little, itty bitty problem..."

"What now?" she snapped.

"I don't have a bloody car."

The tavern was in an uproar, with chortles and sniggers and full-belly laughs echoing from the walls. Even Killian had a go at it, adding his chuckles to the mix.

Big mistake, git.

"So you think this is funny, asshole?" She poked her forefinger into his chest. "You know what will happen when my boyfriend finds out how you treated me?" Another fierce poke. "He'll kick your fucking asses, that's what!"

"Bloody hell, woman ― keep your bloody hands off me." That made the brothers laugh harder. The lass's face was bright crimson by now. "The lads were just having a bit of fun, is all. No harm intended. Besides, I don't see your boyfriend. Oops, is that him? No, probably not. He's not here, is he?"

She bared her teeth at him, the vixen. "What the hell is your name?"

"Killian Jones, proprietor of this fine establishment." He raised an eyebrow, his signature trademark for getting women to calm down and shut up. "And you are?"

"Emma Swan. If you won't get me a taxi, what does a person have to do to rent a fucking room in this town?"

He scoffed. "You're in luck. This is the only bed and breakfast in town."

She lifted her chin and stared down at him. "Do you have any available rooms?"

Tempted to say no, he decided against it. Money was money, after all. He needed money. Mr. Gold was pressing for the loan to be paid. "Aye." He pointed at the stairs in the corner. "First door on your left. I'll forgive the upgrade fee for having your own private bathroom, as a courtesy for any inconvenience."

"How kind." She gave him a cold, feral grin.

He couldn't help himself. Something about her just rubbed him the wrong way. "I believe the right words are thank you, lass."

Swan slammed her credit card down on the counter. "Just give me the goddamn key, Jones, and stop calling me that ."

"Aye, love."

Goddamn piece of work, that one was. Compassion, my arse.

*************

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! This fic is from 2015, and thanks to peer pressure on FF.net and way too many incomplete fics, I pulled it down then. Now it's back! Get ready for another movie AU that also got pulled down but is half-finished. 😍 Links to the fic on AO3 are below!

Follow the Emerald Road on AO3

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs ff au #leap year au #captain swan #4getfulimaginator #cs leap year au

[snowmuttgetsweird]

5/2/23, late morning

Been a minute.

I've mostly just been too occupied to really post here- not all bad stuff, some good stuff. Between work and play, I've been too tired to type most evenings, so I'm just taking a little time out of my morning while I sip some coffee to journal a bit.

I've been working really hard to try to catch up on commission stuff. A couple months ago I had like, a two-week long burnout where I BARELY worked at all- and if I did it was like, the absolute bare minimum, at a snail's pace. Since then I've been paying for it- I end up working on the PREVIOUS month's commissions during the time I need to be taking NEW work for the NEXT month's rent, plus Patreon Mini Commissions (I still need to do those for April in fact), and it kinda just keeps snowballing. I AM further along with commissions this time around than last month though, so I AM starting to actually catch up with my workload. It helps that my clients have been very patient with me, I'm so thankful for that. I'm glad they can be so confident that I WILL get their art done given the time to do so, and that they're willing to wait. I guess that's just the fruits of my hard work to ensure that's the truth of things. I ALWAYS finish the piece. I had one slip on that like two years ago and I made a personal vow never to let it happen again. Trello helps with that.

Besides work, I'm trying to still make time for play.

I DID make enough to buy the Digimon cards I wanted- about $45 bucks worth, so that's really cool. Digimon is nice, specifically because it's one of the cheaper TCGs I can play. I've mostly abandoned Yugioh because of the price tag. Initially I started playing Gallantmon because of the structure deck when I was first getting into the game, and since then I've stuck with it and haven't bothered to build anything else. Being a lower-tier/rogue deck, it's on the cheaper side even by Digimon standards as long as I don't invest in alternate art cards. In addition to that, being a popular, main character digimon, Gallantmon will likely, consistently, receive more support throughout the game's lifespan, so I should consistently have opportunities to expand and evolve the deck as long as the game goes on. Even if it's mid now, statistically, it'll likely get enough support to become genuinely strong later. Plus, Guilmon is just an absolute cutie.

That aside, a good friend of mine gave me the money to just straight up buy Resident Evil 4 Remake. He was enjoying it so much, knew I wanted it, and knew I wouldn't be able to afford it myself for quite some time, that he basically just bought it for me, so I've been playing that most evenings after work. It's /really/ good, and really I couldn't imagine a better game to invest in. RE4 has always had really good replay value, and the same can be said for REm4ke. I plan to play the game over and over for a while.

I've also been trying to learn chess on the side. I've always been interested in chess and enjoyed playing, but I'm quite bad and never really put time or effort into studying openings or anything. At this point in my life, with so much going on, I'm not sure I have the time to dedicate to it AND my other hobbies.

My roommate's birthday is coming up. I'd love to buy them something, but that might be out of the question, so I'm thinking of doing some art, getting it printed and framed, and gifting them that. I've got an idea for a three-piece suite I'd like to do maybe that could display well on a wall or atop a shelf- SFW, of course.

Uhh I think that's it for now, I'm not sure what else to say. I don't really have anything else going on, I'm just working and playing games. That never really changes lol.

TTYL.

[nnfrerking]

The Rock Painting 

The knowledge that I gained from my first meeting with the artist Cecilia Smith gave me the chance to do something incredibly effective yet equally dangerous. Considering Ms. Smith's standing, I am certain that this gift will bring me the artistic success I am so desperate for. Yet, if I do something incorrectly, I could bring about the destruction of myself and thousands if not millions of others. 

As the months wear on, I find that my desperation has been growing far stronger than my fear or guilt. I have been passively gathering all the pieces for the ritual whenever and wherever I happen to find them. Every time I find another ritual ingredient, I remember the day when I was partially awakened to the truth about everything.  

I was in my sophomore year when I met Cecelia Smith. She was going to give a lecture at the art museum a few blocks away from my college. I probably would have gone to the event anyway, but Mr. Boone, my art professor, made it even more tempting. He said he would give extra credit to anyone in the class that attended the event. 

Mr. Boone's reasons for creating the event were not purely academic, as he would later admit to us. He and Cecelia had been friends ever since college. He wanted to lend her some friendly support. 

Eventually, the day and time of the event arrived. Unfortunately, regret flooded my body the instant I stepped into that museum. It was immediately clear to me that most of the people in attendance were wealthy patrons of the museum and/or collectors of fine art. 

Though I am a tall woman, I felt as though these people towered over me. Each dress or suit they wore had to cost at least twice my monthly rent. Likely, they had also spent more than my monthly salary to get their hair and/or makeup done. In comparison, I had spent ten dollars at the thrift store to buy the dress I was currently wearing and had fixed up my hair and makeup by using discount store products and video tutorials. 

I was so certain that this mere mortal could not be safe standing within one hundred feet of these gods and goddesses, let alone five feet. My mind soon flooded with a daymare about them simultaneously turning to look at me and walking over until they surrounded me and then mocking and laughing at my lowly appearance and then throwing the drinks and appetizers they were holding at me and then picking me up and throwing me out onto the street. 

This imaginary situation repeated itself and eventually caused my body to break out in shivers. Yet, I managed to fight against the compulsion I had to rush out of those museum doors at once. My desire to see Cecelia Smith's paintings, which an online article I read had called "signs of the beginning of a new age of art", was far stronger than any of my fears. 

My shaking body was hard to control, but I didn't let that stop me from easing myself around the rich people's conversation circles and towards the hallway just beyond the reception desk. New daymares spawned that depicted a few of them turning from their cheerful chatter and telling me how ugly I looked. Others portrayed me bumping into a rich person and causing him or her to spill their food or drink on their expensive clothing and then they would grab me and shake me violently, demanding amounts of money that I couldn't even dream of affording. 

Things got worse as I entered the hallway. It was rather narrow and that made many of the conversation circles seem huge. The new daymares became more dramatic as they repeated. I imagined a few of my rich victim's friends shaking me, surrounding me, and ripping off pieces of my dress and clumps of my hair. 

I took deep breaths through my nose and diverted my thoughts by theorizing how paintings that were "signs of the beginning of a new age of art" would look. Perhaps she had added clay to a canvas to make pieces of art that were both a sculpture and a painting. Or maybe she had layered different-sized canvases on top of each other to create a kind of 3D effect. However, as creative as I got, even a person five times more creative than myself could never imagine what Cecelia Smith's paintings would truly be like. 

Finally, I exited the hallway and entered the gallery which was, much to my relief, far more spacious than the hallway had been. There were also far fewer people here, and the individuals that were here did not appear rich. They had gathered around in small groups around paintings and chattering in voices so hushed that they may have thought loudness could cause the paintings' color to fade. 

I took some deep breaths and performed mindfulness exercises until my body stopped shaking. Then I hesitantly approached one of the currently solitary paintings but looked away from it as I walked. In truth, I felt afraid that the paintings wouldn't live up to the expectations that I had built up in my mind. I desperately wanted them to make the stress of walking through all those rich strangers worth it. 

When there was a certain distance between me and the painting, I stopped and waited until I felt ready to see anything in that frame. But then I realized that I would probably never be ready. So I looked up at it and felt immediately confused as the painting seemed to depict the surface of an ordinary rock. 

Sure, there was enough high-quality detail that I could see every bump, valley, and scratch along the surface of the rock, but this couldn't be something worthy of that 'new age of art' quote. Feeling like I was about to drown in disappointment, I forcefully leaned in closer until my nose was a few inches from the painting and tried to take in every little detail. As I look back, I think I wanted to do this not just because I needed there to be something I was missing. I also wanted to flee this museum and its scary inhabitants and bury myself in the colors, strokes, and lines.

It turned out that I would escape the museum in another way. After a mere three seconds of staring at the painting this way, my senses started picking up things that couldn't have been there. If they were, then I would have been impossibly transported to a pine forest within the space of a few seconds. 

My ears were picking up the near and distant sounds of animals and the wind rustling through the trees. I could feel this same wind giving me cold kisses on the cheek as well as the muddy ground below my feet. There was also the mud and a previous rainstorm, the smell of which filled my nostrils. The only sense that wasn't picking up the forest was my sight. My eyes were still focused on the surface of that rock. 

My response to these sensations was delayed, but when my mind eventually picked up what was happening, I shut my eyes and let out a loud gasp. Luckily I managed to muffle it with my hand and avoided bringing unwanted attention to myself. 

As soon as I warded off the shock, I realized that in closing my eyes I had transported my other senses back to the museum. I heard that quiet chatter of voices and the clacking of someone's high heels as they walked across the floor. I felt the warmth that the museum's HVAC system was blowing into the room. The smell of someone's flowery perfume and the lemony freshness of the museum cleaning staff's supplies also surrounded me. 

I took in these sensations until I found the courage to open my eyes again. I was back in that forest. I closed my eyes again, and I found myself back in the museum. I had to open and close my eyes a few more times to try and convince myself that my senses were experiencing what they were experiencing. 

Even after that, I still had trouble convincing myself that the whole situation was real. Some of the facts just didn't add up. Yes, this type of effect did live up to the description that the article had given it, but why wasn't there more? The discovery of a revolutionary effect like this should've caused a pervasive media sensation. 

And then there were the other people in the gallery. Why weren't they more excited? They should've been smiling, giggling, and/or even shaking with delight at the new sensations. Even if they had experienced such sensations before, they should have still been jabbering loudly with each other and trying to figure out how the whole thing worked. 

How DID it work? What in the world could be the mechanism that caused such a sensation? I theorized that maybe the arrangement of the markings on the rock paintings had created some hypnotic effect. Or maybe there was some kind of beam in the frame of the painting that could transmit these sensory images right into my mind. 

Unfortunately, that last guess turned my thoughts into ones of extreme paranoia. If there was a beam that could do that, what else could it do? Could they tell people what to think or erase their memories? Were such beams now hidden in different areas and being used to control the populace? Perhaps, if there was a beam in the frame of this painting, it had already transmitted thoughts that weren't my own into my mind. I shivered at the thought as I moved my eyes over the frame of the painting but failed to spot any noticeable holes.

I glanced over at the other paintings and the walls, trying to see if I could spot any of these strange theoretical mechanisms. I couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Feeling overwhelmed, I decided to walk over to and sit down on a nearby bench I had spotted. Then I put my hands in my lap, closed my eyes, and performed some light meditation to help myself calm down. 

Once my mind was clear, it pointed out to me that an opportunity may have fallen into my lap. Since I knew Mr. Boone and he knew Cecelia Smith, perhaps he could convince her to give me an apprenticeship. During that, she could teach me how she created those revolutionary paintings and then I could make them myself and be a key part of this new art revolution that the article had predicted was coming. Then I would be just as good if not greater than all of the people here.

What would it be like if I returned to this museum after I had achieved this status? Perhaps they would open a gallery that held my works alone. And then they would have a party at the opening. I wouldn't be dressed in thrift store rags and using discount beauty products then. I would instead have a dress like the one I admired in that discount store which was blue and had thousands of sequins that shimmered like glints of sunshine in water. And I would hire the best hair stylist in the city to tie up part of my hair in a braid that even the greatest basket weavers couldn't achieve. And instead of tiptoeing around all the rich people, I'd be talking straight to them because my success would have given me the confidence that I always wanted. 

But wait, would Cecelia Smith even take me on as an apprentice? I had been struggling with getting good grades in Mr. Boone's class because my artwork had been, as he had written, "too pedestrian" and I needed to "be more confident and experimental" with my artistic ideas. Perhaps Cecelia and Mr. Boone would only stand there laughing at me and saying how terrible I was at art and that it was stupid for me to believe I even had a chance at getting an apprenticeship. And then Cecelia's bodyguards would pick me up and throw me out of the museum. 

Wait…that wasn't right. What sort of visual artist has bodyguards? Yes, the worse that they could do was laugh at me and put me down. But I knew Mr. Boone and while he could be critical he was never outright mean. I didn't know what Cecelia was like, but Mr. Boone probably wouldn't let her be too mean to me. They'd probably just stare at me awkwardly and make some excuse on why Cecelia couldn't take on an apprentice. 

Still, there was the possibility that Cecelia could see something in me that others hadn't. Didn't that make it worth trying, especially because the consequences couldn't be too severe? It seemed that way to me. 

I got up and immediately started walking as fast as I could in the direction of the presentation room, where I suspected Cecelia and Mr. Boone would be. Luckily, the lecture was about to begin, so I could just follow along with the wave of people and avoid bumping into anyone or having to dart around them. For a moment, I felt like I was part of an army marching into battle. This made me smile. 

When I made it to the presentation room, I immediately spotted Mr. Boone and Cecelia Smith on the right side of the theater. I gently made my way through the crowd and called out to Mr. Boone as soon as I got close. This caused him to turn, see me, smile, and wave. In a few moments, I was right next to him. Unfortunately, though, I was so enthusiastic about my plan that I skipped over greeting him and went right over to Cecelia. I said hello to her, introduced myself, stuck out my hand, and looked her in the eyes. 

 

My anxiety flooded back the instant that Cecelia grabbed my hand. That caused me to shake her hand and look her in the eyes for what was, I assume, a longer time than normal. While I was doing this, much to my shock, my senses were spirited away again. 

However, the place this time was different and I could take it in with my eyes as well as with my other senses. I was in a room in a seemingly abandoned house somewhere. I could hear a rainstorm outside, smell a musty odor, and see an old wooden floor on which several seemingly random items had been carefully placed. Hovering above this ritual arrangement was a portal. Looking through it, I could see what I somehow knew was the structure of the universe. Through studying this, I just knew I could learn exactly how the universe worked. Then I could manipulate it to my will and make paintings like the ones Cecelia had made. 

Before I could get a full understanding, however, I ended up fainting clean away and missed the lecture. I felt disappointed, but in retrospect, could Cecelia have given me any knowledge that was better than what I had received? 

Also, I probably wouldn't have paid much attention anyways. My new knowledge hijacked most of my attention for the next few months. I did my best to try and forget it and kept telling myself to not do anything about it. I could tell it was dangerous and I swore that I could forge an artistic career of my own without any shortcuts. 

Yet, it kept coming up in my mind with every bad grade I received and every time I lost inspiration. And no matter how hard I tried, these incidents kept happening. I was soon thinking about what I'd switch my major to and trying to picture a happy future for myself. 

However, all that I could see was me sitting in an office job in a sundown office building with half the lights gone and several dozen missing ceiling tiles. I'd be wearing a dress covered in holes and stains because I couldn't afford any new clothes. I also wouldn't bother with making my hair and makeup extra pretty or try to start up conversations with my coworkers at the water cooler because I'd be so depressed. 

So you see, I have to gather the ritual items, open the portal, and study the structure of the universe enough to understand how to make the painting, no matter how dangerous it is.  I've been trying to hold back the temptation for as long as I can, but I don't think I will last much longer. I am truly sorry. 

#creepypasta #horror #horror short #short story #painting #horror story #rocks #cosmic horror #social horror #story writing #horror genre #horror art #social anxiety #scary #scary stories #scary stuff #scary story #paranormal #supernatural #lovecraftian #lovecraft

[noxnephilim]

SPOILING YOUR HUSBAND

He won't admit it, but he's really glad you like to spoil him with such joy. He feels a something funny everytime you give him a gift.

The first time you tell him how much money you have,he isn't going to believe you. It truly left him shocked when he saw how much zeroes had your bank account.

Anyway, he isn't going to be shy in asking for new equipments for his traps. Better quality that he now can afford, with your card.Legit you froze him in place when you gave him your card and pin. That was the ultimate trust sign for him, and he...felt proud of that.

Once he was musing about which specimen he was going to buy, cause he didn't have that much cash to spend. Until you waltzed right in." Have you seen something you wanted?",followed by a quick nod. He wasn't going to ask you to buy them, not directly at least.

" How many are them? Only three? Asa you know I don't mind how many you buy, if you like them just buy them, I'll pay gladly for them"

He could have cried there and then, if he had been another man. But that night,you saw a more affectionate Asa. It was his way of thanking you for the gift.

He will be flustered everytime you spoil him,but he won't abuse his power. Maybe.

He could have sworn that you were some God sent. He couldn't believe it. And he married you,and he still couldn't believe it.

He thought he had seen it all,but this, this was something out of this world. He was left stunned st the amount of new equipment he found in his garage.

"Ya did all of this, fer me?", and if you heard the slight tremble in his voice,you didn't pay it any mind. He was happy and that was all that mattered.

And wait until he saw the new parts for his truck. He hugged you so hard, you felt some of your ribs crack. But you could put up with it,his smile was worth the pain.

He felt like a kid in Wonderland, and everytime you brought back a package he couldn't help but bristle at the idea of a new gift.

Well, you indeed saw a new Bo, and you were happy to see him smile so much. It suited him.

Unlike his brother,he is far more flustered than he let on. He was shocked to see his husband spend so much money on him.

Even of he told you not to, you did it the same. And his reaction never failed to make you laugh. He was too cute for his own good

And the new batches of wax you bought, the new equipments, the tools...god y/n, how could he not love you to the moon then?

And when you came in with all those boxes, and left there for him, he could have swore he saw heaven. All those art supplies,and such quality,all for him

Well, hope you don't have anything to do for the next few days,cause prepared to be showered in love from your man.

He will show you how much he is grateful for what you do daily for him and his brothers.

#slashers x male reader #slashers x gn reader #slasher community #the collector #house of wax #asa emory x gn reader #asa emory x male reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair

[soxcietyy]

Dollhouse

In a world where females are not commonly born you are kidnapped and taken to the kingdom of Valgore to be sold off to whoever can afford you. The General of the knights Yuta Okkotsu who isn’t sure if he wants a wife, takes you in but you arnt going to make his life easy by submitting yourself to him.

Tw: bad language, violence, drinking, beating, woman being mistreated, abuse, murder, rape, things that may trigger people.

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The line inside the theater was surprisingly longer than he expected. People of high class stood there. Commoners would come to just to see how the auction went. They would see what they would miss out and what they where going to have if a maiden wasn't sold.

Commoners with a bit of money could actually buy the maidens that weren’t sold off. Some chose not to, thinking it was going to be too much money going down the drain.

Yuta tightens his suit as he waits in line trying to look formal. While Gojo would loosen his saying it was getting hot with all these people around. "These girls better be worth it, I don't remember these lines taking so long. These men must be desperate." Gojo said rolling his eyes. Last time he was here it took him thirty minutes.

"That's a good thing no? More people can afford things they want meaning the economy is growing." Yuta says as he moved forward.

"Yuta sometimes that's not a good thing. Now us high class people have to stand with lower class? It's a waste of my time." Gojo pushes his circular sun glasses up.

After a while of waiting they were inside. Gojo signed in relief as he walked in snatching his number from the person handing them out.While Yuta greets the person handing them out and thanked him. His paddle had the number to 27 plastered on it. That making Gojo 26. Sitting down they sat near the front row due to Gojo being a VIP in the auction. Yuta couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not. But at least it had gotten them good seats.

Looking around he saw men acting all jittery. They would have their leg bouncing up and down. Their hands tapping on the chair. Some fixing there ties while others loosened them. "Alright Yuta I'm going to tell you how to do this. If you want the girl you lift up the paddle and yell out your number. If others say a high number than you lift yours up again saying how much you'll pay. You do it until you can't afford the girl anymore. I'll even help ya out. If I see you interested in a girl I won't lift my paddle up." Gojo said as he pointed at the stage. Yuta nods in agreement. Now all he needed to do was get this over with.

After everyone was settled in they closed most of the windows making the room dark and a spot light shun. Which was just a hole in the ceiling letting sun light in. Asha the woman who worked in the maiden estate came out wearing a bright green dress. Her hair was up in a bun and she wore a huge smile.

"Good afternoon gentlemen, I see we all are excited to see our maidens. Now I'm sure we all know how this work and what the ribbons mean." She said looking around making sure nobody had any questions.

Yuta looks at Gojo ,"ribbons?" He questions.

"Ah yes my fault I forgot. The maidens wear a ribbon around their neck. It indicates how they act. White means obedient, yellow means frightful and well red means she's a bit violent or she will try to run. Not many of those are seen but I believe Willow was the only one Iv seen with that ribbon. "Yuta turns his attention back to Asha.

" alright well let's get the auction started! Our first maiden is a kind sweet angle. She has beautiful blond hair and has a very thick accent from the south. I present to you our first Lady!" She said walking to the side letting the girl have all the spot light.

Not even a second and a man raised his paddle yelling 160. Then another one yelled 180, 230, 240, 270, and sold to a man in a blue suite for 300. He smirked as he sat down seeing all the angry people.

The girl looked quite frightened by how fast everything went down. She looked around trying to figure out what to do. Eventually two men escorted her out.

"Well wasn't that fun? Who's ready for the next one?!" Asha yelled bringing the next girl in. She was small, dark skinned and had braided hair. She came in with a straight face not worried about anything. It made sense since she wore a white ribbon.

The auction went as you expected. Many men bought girls the second their eyes landed on them. Some men bought a girl they weren't interested in because they saw that their enemy wanted them. They simply wanted to anger them.

Gojo laughed at them knowing he could destroy all of their hopes if he really wanted to but something told him to save his money.

"Number 9," Asha spoke as a tall pale girl with small eyes and lips came out. She wasn't on the thick side. She had a smaller chest and behind. She had a yellow ribbon and looked shy. She looked into the crowed with teary eyes that ended up landing on Gojo's.

"Perfect," Gojo whispers as he threw his arm up in the air not giving anyone a chance. " Ten thousand," Gojo said with a wide smile. Everyone groans in disappointment. Smacking their teeth at another loss. There was nothing they could do to this man. They had lost again to this man.

"Well arnt you a lucky girl." Asha smiled at the girl on stage.

The girl then walked off stage to get ready for departure.

"Alright now we have our next girl. I will admit she is a bit troublesome but I'm sure you'll find her interesting. Number 10 why don't you come on stage." Asha said as she went to the back.

"Um, why did she leave?" Yuta asks.

He was quite worried seeing that the auction was almost over and he still hadn't put a bid in. He couldn't just leave with nothing. At the same time he wanted to pick the perfect girl but how could he do that if he didn't get to talk to them?

"Usually when their a problem they have to be forced out on the stage. We even might see a fight go down." Gojo said putting his glasses down.

Then Asha came out with a girl. She brought her into the middle and made her sit making her dress spread on the floor. She had her head down making it difficult to look at. "Don't hide your face now, show them how beautiful a disobedient girl looks like when she's on the verge of tears." Asha said pulling the girls hair back making her face look at the crowed.

You could see the sheer horror in her face. She griped her dress tightly as she closed her eyes.

Yuta recognize the girl. She was the one who tried to run away but he had caught her. Poor girl looked worst than last time he saw her. Even if she was dolled up it didn’t hide her skinny face. He felt his heart sunk as he saw her fight her tears. He could remember how she trembled in his arms last night. Maybe he should put an offer to save her the embarrassment.

"Well isn't she interesting," Yuta heard Mahito said as he put his paddle up." Thirteen thousand." Mahito said with confidence.

Mahito was also a person with many woman under his name. He was a rich noble that had gotten to where he was from scamming people. He was also know for not treating his woman too well. One time the locals saw him dragging his wife down the road because his food wasn't warm enough."Geeze poor girl is gonna have a tough life," Gojo said as he looked at Mahito.

Yuta felt he couldn't just stand there and witness it. He would feel too guilt knowing he let something like this happened. Maybe it was because of the time he saw you crying that he couldn't think of seeing you like that again.

He quickly raised his paddle up high making everyone look at him shocked. They didn't actually expect the General to actually participate in the auction. "Twenty thousand " Yuta said out loud making a man next to Gojo spit out his drink.

"He must be desperate for some pussy," Gojo said to himself.

The crowed went absolutely quiet. Nobody made a sound or even moved. Even the girl on stage looked at him with wide eyes.

"Twenty five." Mahito breaks the silence.

Yuta turned to look as his direction. He was going to do everything possible to make sure Mahito did not win this.

"Thirty"

"Thirty five"

"Forty"

"Forty five"

Just how much money did this guy have? Whatever it was he was sure it didn't compare to him.

"Seventy" Yuta put in his final bid. This time nobody tried to one up him. Mahito rolled his eyes not being able to go any higher.

Asha let out a laugh,"well wasn't that amazing? Congratulations General you have won yourself a nice treat." She said over joyed with the amount of money she was going to get paid.

"Did the General really bid seventy on a girl with a red ribbon? I mean yea her looks are great but please I could never spend that much." Yuta heard someone say.

He sat back down shocked at his own response. Seventy thousand was blow just like that.

"He gonna discipline her very well if she try's to pull something."

Someone else said.

"Maybe it's his kink," one laughed.

Yuta sunk into his chair. Maybe this was a bad idea. He didn't even know the first thing about woman. He looked up to see Gojo with a wide smile.

"What was that Yuta? Never seen you so determined for a girl. You must of saw something you really liked." He said teasing him.

"Give me a break sensei, I don't know what happened. It was all so fast and I- I'm going to have a woman in my house soon." He panicked. He could feel his heat pounding just thinking of the girl on stage. That same girl is going to be laying in bed with him.

"I don't have anything ready Gojo! I don't have clothes, I don't have good food, I don't have womanly things. Don't they go need sanitary items? Where do you even get those?!" He said getting up ready to leave. But Gojo pushed him back down. "Don't worry too much Yuta! One thing about woman is that their smart so they know how to deal with what they got. But I'll give you more recommendations that my girls love later." Gojo said laughing seeing his student be so flustered and panicked.

What Gojo said did calm him down. If his sensei could do it so could he. At least he hoped.

The auction had ended before Yuta even noticed. He didn't even get to see the last girl be shown but hearing the screaming he was sure that meant she was being sent to the community.

"Everyone stay in your seat as we conclude the auction and the gentleman that have won a bid please head to the back." Asha spoke as she headed to the back herself. Gojo basically had to drag Yuta with him. The poor boy was scared to commit to something so fast and unprepared. They ended up waiting for the girls to be released one by one. Yuta slouched of the wall looking on the floor.

Gojo couldn't stand it anymore. He pushed Yutas back straight on the wall making him look at him.

" listen Yuta you can't let your girl see you like this. First impressions Matter. You have to look like you do when you are out in the field fighting which is a man with confidence. If she seen you all weak she's just going to play you like fool. Remember this isn't just any girl she had a red ribbon meaning they are just waiting for you to make a mistake. I should know trust me, it was a hard few months with Willow." Gojo said as he released Yuta.

"Maybe your right Gojo, but please give me some tips." Yuta said. "Come to my house later tonight and I'll tell you." Gojo said bringing Yuta next to him so he could look like a true General.

"Gojo Staturo please come to claim your woman." A man with a suite said. Gojo gave Yuta a thumbs up knowing he won't see him till later. He hoped his student wouldn't look like a idiot in front of his new girl. Yuta watched as Gojo vanished into a room. Leaving him to start overthinking about everything again. A few minutes later he was called "General Okkotsu, please follow me to claim your prize." The same man that took Gojo said to him.

Yuta walked into the room feeling nervous. As he entered he saw the girl sitting on the floor. She still wore the same clothes and had the same sadden facial expression.

"General did you bring any clothes for the lady?" The man said looking at him. Yuta turned around cursing under his breath. Gojo surely didn't tell him about bringing clothes after obtaining the lady.

Turning back around he looked at the girl. "Their is no need for that. I have a busy schedule and Im afraid I need to leave soon. I'll send a letter to the bank to transfer my money to lady Asha." Yuta said knowing well he had the whole day off.

The man nods proceeding to take the accessory's off of the girl. They most likely reused them for the next auction girls. He took them off carefully to not hurt her in any way. Then he moved to take off the dress strap. Yuta looked at him shocked.

"Surely you don't expect me to take her home without clothing." Yuta said grabbing his arm.

"I'm sorry general but it's Asha's rules." The old man said.

The girls face flushed red from embarrassment. Yuta dismissed the man saying that he'll take care of it. Not wanting anyone to see her in such a state. He crouched down to her level and proceeded to take her dress off. He made sure not to look at her naked body insted he watched his shaking hands remove her clothing. He couldn’t even zip her dress down.Eventually he took it off. He put it on a hanger and turned to look at the girl but when he did he received a hard smack.

"Try anything funny and I'll stab your eyes out." She said as she snatched Yutas pocket knife.

Gojo was not wrong about them being violent.

"Please refrain from violence my lady. Let's go get settled at home. Unfortunately I didn't bring any clothes so you'll have to wear my coat." Yuta said as he took of his coat. He wrapped it around her shoulders. It was long enough to cover to her thighs.

She still held the knife firmly even when Yuta tried taking away from her she had a good grip on it. The boy let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine you can keep it but hide it from others when we leave. Don't cause any trouble okay? I'll have to carry you because there are sharp rocks outside and you might hurt your feet."

He quickly swiped her off her feet making her gasp. He let out a small laugh seeing her surprised face.

"Don't worry I won't drop you."

Walking out he would see the crowed forming outside. They where waiting to see who was this girl Yuta had spent thousands on. He noticed how you hid your face by burying it into his neck. He could feel you soft skin against his, your warm breath, and your rapid heart beating.

"General! Who's the lucky girl?" One yelled.

"Ya Gonna share her?" Another said

Suddenly a cold breeze blew making you shiver. He brought your body closer to his. "Sorry, were almost there." Yuta whispered.

#jjk second years #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #jjk movie #gojo saturo #gojo sensei #jjk 0 movie #jjk x y/n

[marvelsbanner]

The Little Things

Summary: What happens when shy, oblivious Bruce Banner takes an interest in the new Avengers recruit. 

Pairing: Bruce Banner x y/n, you

Warnings: None!  

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic I’ve put out onto Tumblr, please let me know what you think! Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much welcome!! All mistakes are my own. :-)

It started with little things- minuscule really, things you never would have noticed if you were not a trained spy who was paid to notice the little details.

The way there was always a new pack of gum bought for you when the groceries came,

The way someone kept buying jam until they bought one you liked,

The way the blankets seemed extra warm after you would come inside from your nighttime run, despite the rest of the house being cold,

The way the coffee pot was already brewing by the time you managed to crawl out of bed,

Yes, someone was noticing you. But you didn’t know who.

-

Bruce was never really the observant type. Numbers and graphs, those he could interpret. He never did have much luck with human emotions and behaviors. Someone could have walked up to him and flirted right to his face and he would have been none the wiser.

That is, until y/n joined the equation.

She was the newest Avenger, none of the team knew much about her besides Fury. She was somewhere between the age of Wanda and Natasha, he imagined. She had gone through a similar training to Natasha, the organization was only recently infiltrated and y/n was the only one they were able to recruit back to SHIELD.

He didn’t want to know what happened to the others.

She was smart, incredibly smart. Quick-witted, with a very dry sense of humor. Her guard was always up- not unlike the rest of the team when they first met each other in New York.

She mostly kept to herself, never quite giving him or anyone else besides Natasha a second glance. So he couldn’t explain why he was so drawn to her.

Maybe it was her soft features, a contrast to the muscles she’s built over years of training. Her eyes- soft under the sharp stare of a built assassin. There was more to her than what she showed, and boy did he want to know more.

And so he tried, to know more that is. He observed her more closely than anyone he’s known before.

He noticed she was constantly chewing gum, whether it helped her focus or it was a force of habit he would never know but he did notice the gum, and so he maybe sort of might have added a pack of spearmint gum into the online shopping cart Pepper was making one week.

And he maybe sort of might have been adding a pack of gum each week they ordered groceries.

He noticed when you made a retort about preferring jam over nut butter, and realized that they actually didn’t have any jam in the house. So naturally, he maybe sort of kind of might have added a jar of jam into the online shopping cart each week until he found one she would use.

It took three tries: not strawberry, not grape, but raspberry was her drug of choice. He found it endearing.

He couldn't help the feeling of pride and something else that swelled in his chest when he saw the smile that crept onto her face when she saw the jam in the cupboard.

He noticed you got cold quite easily, usually opting for a thick jumper over your training uniform. Especially after your evening runs when the sun had set, when you would come home shivering and bundle in the blankets for the next half hour.

So he might have started throwing your favorite blanket into the dryer to warm up around the time you would usually return. Nothing much, just anything a friendly coworker would do- right?

He ran into Pepper one night and she gave a vow of secrecy, knowing if she blabbed to Tony about Bruce's little crush he wouldn’t be able to keep his big fat mouth shut.

He noticed you were the second person to awake after himself (and he would sometimes not have gone to bed at all) and the first to make coffee in the morning, so he decided it would only be considerate to turn the coffee pot on to brew so you had one less thing to worry about in the mornings.

And he also noticed that you didn’t seem to notice all of these things, acting as if it was all part of a normal day. And for that, he was grateful, because he didn’t know how you would feel if you knew it was him.

Wouldn't know how to explain why he was doing all these things for you. Deep down, he knew that he knew, but he also knew he couldn't afford those kinds of feelings with his job.

-

It took a month. A whole entire 31 days before you realized that the only one who woke up earlier than you was Bruce, the only person that would be making the coffee for you in the morning.

Once you noticed that, it all started shifting into place.

Bruce lounging in the living area when you got back from your runs, sitting in the kitchen making sure you were properly fueling yourself for your workouts (even though he didn’t eat half as often as you did), always making sure you were okay after a rough mission and feeling included when the team is talking in meetings and you could not believe you missed the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Then again, apparently up until now you weren’t.

You wanted to confront him, but were unsure of how to do it, pacing around the hallway in front of his room on your joint floor.

That's when you heard the shower start from his bathroom, and it clicked.

You ran to the laundry room, grabbing a thick, fluffy, green towel and throwing it in the dryer for a minute before returning to Bruce’s room. You heard the water still running and took that as your okay to enter.

You gave a heavy rap on the door so that he could hear over the stream of water, and you heard him give a confused shout of “Uhh... I’m... kinda busy right now. Unless Tony spilled flesh-eating chemicals on himself I’ll be out in a few more minutes.”

You gave a slight chuckle before opening the door and throwing the towel on the sink counter, hearing him give a slight yelp at the presence of someone else in the bathroom.

He peeked his head around the curtain, red flush running up his neck onto his cheeks, water dripping from his mess of dark curls. He really was handsome.. 

“Y/n.. what are you-“

“I heard the water going and thought you might need a towel. I threw it in the dryer for a bit, should be nice and toasty for ya. Just repaying the favor” and you gave a small wink as the realization hit him and he ducked his head, flushing even more-if that was even possible.

You think the red flush suited him much more than green, and decided you would do anything to see more of that lovely shade on him.

You turned to go out of the door before turning your head over your shoulder to say “You know Doc, if you ever wanted to actually talk to me- you could always just ask me to dinner. If that’s something that interests you.” You gave another wink before closing the door and swiftly leaving the room.

Bruce’s heart was beating rapidly even after you had left, letting his head rest against the cold tile and thinking about how on earth he was going to approach you after THAT.

Maybe there was one thing that he didn’t notice, that you did notice him. Maybe just as much as he noticed you. 

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