#& when i woke up another little creature had come into the house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubblybloob · 4 months

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I dare you to draw smitten with either cold or the beast, you pick.

This is because I said I hadn’t gotten many asks for the Smitten, huh?

This might actually be a bit more Cold focused, long thing I wrote below.

There were fights, a lot of fights, actually. How could there not be? Eleven voices given form, only to be cramped back into one space. At least this time it was a house, not a body.

It wasn’t a bad thing, far from it; Hero wagers most were thankful for the permanent, familiar company, while the rest indifferent. Hero himself quite enjoys chatting or playing games with the others, it isn’t uncommon for him to seek out one of the voices simply so his stirring thoughts can have an outlet.

However, sometimes the others don’t click. Usually it was fine- Broken, Hunted and Contrarian seldom got physical. Opportunist and Paranoid might if they felt strongly enough about something to throw away their pretenses or fear, but they weren’t often the issue.

The rest tended to jump to bold accusations and wild conclusions, looked forward to it even. Skeptic occasionally found himself going from relatively mundane quarrels to all out brawls from causing accidental offense. Stubborn and Cheated had a tendency to get too excited about coming out on top in one way or another, and the other two…

Sometimes it felt like they only ever fought each other.

Okay, that was lie, Cold purposely ruffled the other’s feathers out of pure boredom. Hero wondered if he had made up some sort of challenge to see if he could get the non confrontational voices riled up for a fight, given how often he pushed their buttons. Once he flat out punched Contrarian in the face just to see if he’d retaliate.

If Cold couldn’t get them to crack he’d sigh with something akin to dejection and approach someone like Cheated, maybe Stubborn if he was feeling risky- pretty much anyone with a shorter fuse so he could get some form of thrill.

But they weren’t his go to, that would be- of course- Smitten.

“You vile, wretched thing! I won’t hear another word of nonsense out of you. Begone! Foul creature!”

“Call me all the names you like, you won’t get the response you’re looking for.”

It happened just about every other day: Cold would say something off putting, Smitten would respond with something that would offend anybody else, a bit of snarky back and forth later, and suddenly hands were being thrown.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Cheated grumbled, coming up to stand beside Hero, whose eyes were encircled by dark shadows.

“I ‘dunno, woke up to them yapping at each other, or at least Smitten’s yapping, I don’t think Cold has ever raised his voice.” Hero yawned out, scratching at his horn tuft.

“With how often those two are at each others throats, I think we should count ourselves lucky one is so soft spoken.” Cheated stretched his arms and body upwards, his wings instinctively snapping outwards and flapping as he tried to relieve his muscles. The large wings smacked Hero’s side as he did, which had the heroic voice stumbling backwards as Cheated mumbled a small “sorry” out.

“It’s fine. I think it’s less that he’s soft spoken and more that he’s sharp spoken. He talks like he knows where all your vitals are.” Hero responds, shivering at his own words.

Cheated shrugs. “Probably does, he’s our resident freak after all.”

“How is it then that you feel nothing? Without feeling one will rot away, yet you’re still here.” Seems Hero had missed part of drama during his and Cheated’s little chat. Smitten had now grabbed Cold by the chest feathers and was looking ready to tear into him.

“Who knows, really? Maybe I’m like a ghost, haunting the remains that our godly self expelled. Or maybe we simply can’t die, I haven’t eaten in a while.” Cold replies with a sharp whistle.

“Ooo, he shouldn’t be so candid about saying that out loud, never know when Hunted’s listening.” Cheated says behind a wicked smile. No doubt the avian had tucked the information away for blackmail, or to get a favor from Opportunist, who also found a new joy in digging up dirt on the others for his own benefit.

Hero was about to step in at this point. Smitten looked ready to let loose, and Cold seemed to be passively soaking in the drama of it all. But before Hero could open his mouth, Smitten’s hold relaxed, and his head hung low.

“No, I see through your tricks, scum. I will not loose myself to anger over frivolous things such as this. Leave, now, I must prepare myself for the morning time.” Smitten let’s go of Cold’s feathers, which were not bunched together and frayed. Cold hums something tired.

“Weak willed of you, can’t approach her killer?” Cold tilts his head.

A flinch. “I know what you’re doing, I won’t fall for it this time, villain!” Smitten whips around, and goes to walk from the conflict.

Cold’s wry smile falls flat on his face, he turns his head toward Cheated.

“Not today pal, Paranoid seemed extra twitchy though, probably didn’t get much sleep. It’s still early and he isn’t fully alert in his head, might be able to start something up with him if you push hard enough.” Cheated suggests. Hero punches him in the arm, just when he thought there would be no morning fight to put down.

Cold’s brow raises, evidently interested in a fight with someone who rarely raised his hands. He moves past the two, already on the prowl for their jumpiest member.

“Troop on, you emotionless fuck- ow, stop that!” Cheated yelps when Hero punches him again, this time a little harder.

Cheated’s words seemed to have stopped Smitten in his tracks however, he mutters something to himself, and whips back around. “You can’t be as dispassionate as you claim! You’re merely afraid of your own feelings!”

The accusation makes the Cold stop dead. His expression is hidden, but Hero swears he sees his feathers puff out. He expects them to quickly flatten back down.

But they don’t.

Cold slowly turns the upper half of his body, his face looks… almost strained. His composure had finally cracked.

“Hmm?” He darkly hums. It’s an oddly moderate response, given how Cold takes any and all opportunities to tease whomever he talks to, especially for outlandish claims such as this.

They were outlandish… weren’t they?

Hero had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn’t explain.

“I’m right.” Smitten looks a little surprised, before a damn near elated expression creeps onto his face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cold doesn’t respond, still half turned to leave. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t swayed in the past ten seconds. Hero wonders if he was still breathing.

“You aren’t unfeeling at all, are you? You’re full of emotion! What’s is it then that makes you push them under the deep, dark waves of the heart? Fear? Want? …Guilt? I can guess what it’s for.” Smitten continues with his theory, the Cold still hasn’t retaliated.

“Ooo, might be onto something there, Smitty.” Chester looks almost excited as he says this. His words seem to encourage Smitten further, who puffs up under the praise.

Cold stands there.

“Go on then, tell us the harsh truth, fiend. You’re no emotionless husk.” Smitten moves closer and closer to Cold’s position. Hero wonders if he should put himself between the two, but he can’t say he isn’t interested to where this is going.

Smitten stands face to face with his Cold counterpart. Hero swears Cold shrinks back under the close attention.

“You’re afraid.”

For a moment, they stand there, a stare down. Hero briefly hears the faint phantom sounds of glass breaking under the weight of godhood.

In a blink Cold draws his arm back, and his fist connects to Smitten cheek.

—

WoooOooO cliffhanger that might never keep going.

I’m unsure if this is common theory or whatnot, but I’ve not for a moment believed Cold was emotionless. I think he’s hurt by what’s happened to him, so much so that he thinks being emotionless, acting only to entertain will bring him some form of twisted comfort.

I think he’s too afraid to let himself feel, so he pushes his feelings far, far down, and pretends he feels nothing. He’s so good at it that he believes it to be true.

He’s so good at ignoring both physical and mental feeling that he himself believes he is nothing but a thrill seeker. In reality, his emotions, his physical needs, it all hurt him, so he squashes both.

Think about it, you usually get him by killing the princess in cold blood, and then subsequently stabbing yourself. Both hurt him. He only knows hurt from both, so he throws them aside.

#slay the princess #stp voices #voice of the smitten #voice of the cold #voice of the hero #voice of the cheated #art #my art #writng #asks #requests #too many goddamn tags #that’s what the fandom should be called

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saigawrites · 1 year

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Hey siri, how to take care of an aura jelly blob?

Continuation of my series | part 1 | part 2

Seelie! Genshin characters x Platonic! Gn! Reader

Sumeru men edition

Tags : fluff, crack, scenarios

Warnings : cursing, mentions of animal attack

Summary : you took home a strange creature, that looked nothing like anything from your world. So, you try to take care and somehow live with this sentient balloon.

You didn't know what had happened at all. You didn't know how and why you took home an intellectual blob with pretty colors. But, right now there is no time asking questions, as this flying circle thing has been squeaking for about 30 minutes, trying to explain you something. You came up with an idea in your mind, but for a moment thought it would be impossible. But, who knows? Maybe this creature actually has an intelligence and can write what they wanna say on a notebook?

Grabbing a empty notebook and a pencil from your workspace table, you open it and give the pencil to the creature. Shockingly, it holds it with tiny arms, and levitating themselves closer to the paper, they start to scribble something.

Wanderer ♥︎

"Filthy humanoid creature! I am the unnamed wanderer from teyvat! I know nothing about the surrounding environment around me. Tell me, where am I, so I can figure out a way to return to my homeland. And don't you dare to take advantage of my current state! I am powerful beyond your understanding, even if I'm not in my original form."

Okay, that's kinda freaky. Why is an aura balloon acting all supreme now?

When you read what he wrote, an "really?" expression set on your face. That's probably why he zapped you when you took him out of your bag.

As much as you know, there isn't a place called "teyvat" in any part of the globe. So, this thing is from another one. Great. You somehow bringed an alien into your house.

But at least, some of your questions were answered.

You found a bit funny that a floating circle with cat ears and tail was deliberately trying to boss around, though you didn't wanna get electrocuted again, so you simply followed whatever demands this alien thing could have.

Oh, his demands were BIG. No sleeping past 6 AM, doing intense research on the topic of multidimensional lapping, and long explanations about literally everything your world can offer you.

Well, you are glad that you don't have to feed him or watch after him.

That last part was a lie, as this seemingly harmless boss companion of yours was dangerously curious, and happened to cause trouble even if he was as soft as jelly.

Yeah, that time he wanted to see what type of clothes do your humans wear, he shaked that closet a little too much, as it almost fell on you.

You learned that he is surprisingly very strong after that, he even helped you put the heavy wood rectangle back in place.

Or that time you both were taking a walk in the forest, and he came too close to an aggressive tank with antlers, a 6 feet tall moose, making him react violently to you.

Gladly, the moose couldn't come any closer as your blue-purple friend somehow casted a heavy gust of wind, strong enough to push the animal away.

Your angry little jelly blob rushed to your side after that, afraid of you damaging yourself in any way. After scanning your face for any injuries and finding none, the cat blob made sure to not to stray away from you far.

Kaveh ♡

"Thank you, kind-hearted humanoid! I was so scared when I woke up in that place. Your rescue will be forever remembered by me. I am Kaveh, the architect of the sumeru city! It is an honour to be acquainted with such a peculiar creature like you! Please, help me find a way for me to get back to my planet."

First off, did he mention sumeru? The ancient city that existed centuries ago? Second off, did he call you peculiar? These balls be wildin

The warm-yellow bunny eared balloon floated around you excitedly, waiting for your response. You wanted to pet him and slap him into the void at the same time.

You got his vibe just right in your first interaction. The jelly ball acted all cute and adorable, but the clinginess of his made you progress on the aggression part in the cuteness-aggression feeling way more.

Seriously, this piss blob's ignoring of your personal space is on another level. The amount of times you had to shove him away from nuzzling all over your face and hair is overwhelming.

In his eyes, you are a majestic architectural masterpiece. He takes notes how your eyes and ears are on the same level, how your brows are exactly perfect centimeters away from your eyes. He loves your nose structure, he often stares at it to much, gaining a questioning look from you.

He is just like that with literally everything else in your apartment. He takes notes of the proportions of some objects, and in his seelie mind he finds ways to project your modern structures into his own.

Other than disturbing your piece he likes to look out the window, stare down at all of the other buildings and examine them with extreme focus.

Sometimes he even tries to make a sketch with his itty bitty hands, but fails miserably and comes crying to you, burying himself in your arms and making you pet his smooth body.

Al-haitam ♥︎

"I am Al-haitam, and I come from another world, as you probably already have guessed from our appearance differences. I thank you for taking me into a safe environment, may the archons bless your kind-soul. I ask you to fulfill my another wish, help me return back."

Who are archons? Are they some kind of deitys? Gods perhaps? You truly don't know.

His calm and reserved behavior matched his talking style. He kinda reminded you of the mystical tree, his colors and a leaf like antenna confirmed your statement further.

That's probably why you would burst out laughing whenever the green aura circle would act all smart, reading books and watching educational videos on youtube with you.

Though, after laughing your ass off, you would always think of his behavior as cute in a way. So much that you would have to hold your hands in place and resist the urge to just squeeze the life out of him.

Sometimes you couldn't hold it tough, and give in to your desires, smiling and giggling as you nuzzle this jello orb body of his.

Fighting back and eventually winning, he would aggressively bring your communication notebook and write down that your relationship is purely professional and you are disturbing his necessary research.

Making a ridicilously serious face and nodding repeatedly you would leave him alone for some time, only to come back again to lay on him and fight in the process.

Eventually he would just give up and go with the flow of your playfulness, seeing as he got exhausted of reading multiple books already.

And when you would get tired, you both would just lay there, napping peacefully as he nuzzles in your chest, listening to your heartbeat and think of how strange you are in his world perspective.

After waking up from a quick nap, he would poke you with his tiny arms and tug you to stand up to go to the library with him.

He really loved your libraries, the sight of your extremely detailed and textured bookshelfs and scriptures would make him scream like a fangirl on the inside.

He also liked your concentrated state, with your reading glasses on and gaze fixed on the letters. He would enjoy it even more when you would take notes of the subject, he's genuinely amazed of your handwriting.

Cyno ♥︎

"I am the general Mahamatra, Cyno. I thank you for saving me from the streets. I would be more than happy if you could get me back in my world, teyvat. Thanks in advance, or should I say, in later on."

What the hell was that. Was it... a joke? Okay, now is not the time to question what type of humor does this purple circle has.

Oh, but he's questioning you, looking at you with such a attentive gaze. Is he waiting for you to laugh?

Fulfilling his wishes, you chuckled from the amusement of not getting the joke at all. The blob didn't care though, as he simply jiggled in his place, proud of himself.

From that moment you discovered that this alien orb is a terrible jokester, as he would literally pull you from whatever you were doing to just check his new made ones.

And everytime you couldn't help but laugh histerically at his antics, because you wouldn't get the premise at all. All of his jokes never made sense, but were the most hilarious thing you laughed at in a while.

And he would always jiggle with pride after you laughed, bro really thought he gained a fan of his jokes💀.

One day you thought about showing him your world's perspective of humor, as you sat him up on the couch and turned on the tv with popular comedy shows.

Safe to say he would repeatedly jump from his seat, and roll on the couch from side to side, as his purple anubis ears would jiggle uncontrollably.

You took it as a sign of him liking it, and soon enough you both had a routine of watching comedy shows and gasp from laughing.

At first you thought he was just a happy go lucky guy, not realizing he can be sort of a guard dog.

Really, you only saw him being serious when he sensed something and flew to it's direction, only for it to be a racoon that he scared away with mini thunder.

Now you got why he was such a bright color of purple. Not gonna lie, you were a little scared to hold him after that, afraid he'll electrocute the shit out of you😰.

But it never happened, so you guess he's only friendly to you? Honestly, you felt kinda honored to have this status.

Tighnari ♡

"Greetings, suspectable another species of humankind. I am Tighnari, the forest ranger of the sumeru region. It is a pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world. Though, I would appreciate it if you could help me return back to sumeru. I still have a ton of things to do back there, so please, make sure to fulfill my request."

Is he some type of a scientist? "A pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world" yeah, my ass.

And he was an ass. Pain in the ass, to be exact.

He wouldn't leave you alone, wherever you would go or whenever time it was. He was always around you, floating and examining your features.

He just can't help himself, you look so strange! And everything around you looks so strange. He just has to know atleast something about the place he is in right now, what type of setting it is, how does it work, and yada yada yada...

That's what lead you to the situation you are in now, as he peeked out of your hoodie pocket, staring at all the contests of the supermarket you were in.

Even if you had told him already a thousand times that he can't go with you because he doesn't look like everybody else, he didn't listen and sneaked inside your clothes, successfully getting out of the house with you.

You desperately tried to cover his enormous ears with your hands, stuffing him further inside the pocket only for him to pop out from the other side. What a nosy aura blob.

It would get even worse when he would fly out to scan some object like salty pickles, thinking of it as peculiar, when in reality the only thing that's peculiar was him.

He would closely watch whenever you would put something in the cart, taking notes on how you hold the product and how you place it inside the metal structure.

He especially got very freaky about your world's greenery, demanding you to go out with him into a park, a nearby forest or literally anywhere where there is some type of plants.

You instead decided to take him into a local botanical garden, and when I say he went crazy, he went crazy.

Stopping every 3 minutes to find a new plant and examine it for about 20 minutes you and him spent the whole day in that garden.

He would poke your shoulder to it being numb, asking you to explain or tell what kind of plant it is, where does it grow, how does it grow, can we take it home, all that nerdy shit.

You did end up taking some small house plants afterwards, due to his unstoppable crying and squeaking, like a child wanting their parent to buy candy in the store.

He then made sure to always bug you to take care of the plant, saying that he is "incapable" of doing so himself. What a troublesome circle.

Oof, this ones LONG. And I'm proud of it😜. Genuinely hope you enjoy this, cuz I spent an eternity writing this😭.

Tag : @vault-of-reblogs

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tinycozycomfort · 10 months

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rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta.

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done.

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for.

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation.

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for.

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him.

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing.

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.”

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?”

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.”

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out.

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.”

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?”

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?”

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.”

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?”

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it.

She might be.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—”

“Hey.”

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.”

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else.

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class.

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on.

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—”

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.”

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.”

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.”

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home.

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.”

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours.

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream.

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old.

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways.

But it’s not up to you.

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel.

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating.

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome.

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts.

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking.

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged.

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him.

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.”

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull.

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack.

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy.

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take.

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding.

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating.

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed.

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal.

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all.

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him.

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself.

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy.

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it..

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you.

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat.

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?”

“What?”

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?”

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to.

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?”

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself.

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why?

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away.

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.”

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous.

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.”

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more.

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.”

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear.

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other.

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun.

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?”

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.”

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?”

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?”

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?”

“So you can get his number.”

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes.

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.”

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.”

And then you’re alone again.

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed.

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous.

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing.

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet.

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind.

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now.

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion.

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind.

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time.

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement.

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip.

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable. He’s going to be a problem.

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Note

❛ come back to bed. ❜ passionate sex in the middle of the night when reader goes to the bathroom and steve wakes up😭

here we gooooooo

When Steve woke up, his room was still dark and the space beside him was empty and cold.

It didn’t take him long to find you, his house empty and quiet apart from the hum of his refrigerator and the soft running of the kitchen tap. He found you against the counter, feet and legs bare, his old gym shirt hanging over your thighs.

He watched you in the glow of the moon, the streetlights that snuck their way through the paned windows as you sipped the last of your water, placing the empty glass in the sink with almost too much care - he knew you were trying to stay quiet and not wake him.

But you didn’t seem all that surprised when he walked into the kitchen, feet padding against the tiles, chest bare and cotton shorts low in his hips.

“Baby,” Steve mumbled in greeting, sleep still tugging at him, his body still warm from bed as he wrapped himself around you. “Y’alright?”

You hummed, letting him tuck you into him, your face pressed to his chest, lips pushed into a kiss over his collar bone. He still smelled like the cologne you’d watched him put on that morning, mint toothpaste, home and Steve.

You nodded, smiling when his lips found your forehead, kisses pressed to your temple, the high of your cheekbone, the corner of your lashes. “Yeah, just a little unsettled,” you whispered, “I didn’t wanna wake you m’sorry.”

But Steve tutted, kissing your apology off of your lips with a firm kiss. It was soft and slow, just like the night and the boy didn’t have to ask what had you evading sleep. There was enough bad in the world for nightmares to seep into your sleep, but Steve figured that regular encounters with creatures from another dimension would definitely make those dreams less sweet.

So he soothed a hand over your hair, tucked the sleep mussed strands behind an ear and kissed you once more, even slower, lazy and languid with the promise of something a little dirtier. It made you huff out a breath over his cheek, your mouth opening against his without Steve needing to ask.

He pulled back then, a small smile, eyes all fond, his thumb pressed to your chin to keep your mouth hovering just within reach of his own.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured.

You didn’t hesitate to follow the boy back up the stairs and you were already expecting it when he slanted his lips back over your own as he closed his bedroom door behind you both, shutting you both in blue darkness and the quiet.

Clumsy feet took you both back to bed, falling back into messy sheets together, down into pillows that smelled like laundry detergent and Steve.

“Can I make you feel better?” Steve was murmuring against your mouth between kisses, between teeth and tongue, soft nips and licks. “You gonna let me make it better, sweetheart?”

You nodded, warm and pressed underneath him, and honestly? It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Steve to slide inside of you. He’d been hard since he kissed you in the kitchen and he made quick work of licking into your mouth with kisses that were meant to drive you a little crazy, hot and slow and dirty, hands that wandered all soft before they found a part of your body they loved and fingers dug into your skin appreciatively.

You’d have Steve shaped bruises on your hips in the morning, the curve of your ass, the soft skin on the inside of your thighs.

The pace he set against you was just as lazy as his kisses, just as dizzying, mouth only just hovering against your own as he swallowed your moans and cries, one of his large hands gripping underneath your thigh, hitching your knee up high to your hip, spreading you open for him.

The other had your own hand pressed to the pillow by your head, fingers tangled, his hips rutting it your own over and over and over and over. His cock was a thick and slow stretch inside of you and Steve hissed every time you clenched down on him, eyes fluttering shut as you grew closer and closer to the orgasm he was desperate to give you.

“Tell me,” he whispered, voice rougher than usual. His brow was furrowed as he tried his hardest to hold himself together, waiting for you to fall first. “C’mon, baby, tell me. Let me know, huh?”

“I’m close-” you choked out, back arching, head pressed back into the pillow and your jaw went slack, “m’gonna come, Steve-”

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” Steve’s hips snapped forward, a stutter in his thrusts that let you know he was right behind you.

His hand left your own and you whined at the loss of comfort, but he was kissing away your protests, that hand falling to the space between your thighs instead. Steve rubbed circles into your clit, fingers wet with you, messy, fast movements that had you keening.

“See?” he told you, cooing. “Told you I’d make it better for you, huh? That’s my girl, there you go.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve baby blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #ask

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sword-is-bored · 1 year

Note

HI SWORD OMG I LOVE TLOZ WRITERSS

So i have a request.. I would like to request Link x Reader, where the Reader once saves Link, pretty early after he woke up because he got into a fight with monsters that were too strong for him. After that Link just sort of clings to reader, because he wants to protect them too 🥹

Hope you have a great day!!

HIIII HEHEHE THANK YOUUUU

BOTW!!

A Little Longer?

(Y/n) wandered around the ruins by the Great Plateau. They knew there might be some treasure there, so why not? With their travelers sword and simply shield strapped to their back they were pretty well equipped to deal with monsters. As they rummaged through the ruins, a shadow passed overhead. Bigger than a regular bird. (Y/n) looked up, finding someone gliding. Their eyes widened. No one has been able to get onto the Plateau for years, let alone leave. “Come,” They hissed to their horse, who was lazily chewing at grass. They rushed over, climbing atop their steed determined to follow the person.

They rode behind them, and watched in horror as they dropped from the sky. It was a man! And unfortunately for him, he landed directly in the view of a moblin. The large creature walked over to the man with a club. “Go!” They hissed, snapping the reigns. The man pulled a tree branch from his back, and with one single hit it shattered. He seemed to reach for another weapon and looked surprised that nothing appeared in his hand. (Y/n) leaped from their horse as the moblin raised the club, (Y/n)’s shield met with the wood as it came down. They grunted, pulling out their sword and sliced away at the moblin until it collapsed.

(Y/n) let out a soft breath of relief, turning to the man who still had a bit of panic in his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” (Y/n) panted, putting away their sword. The man closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before clearing his throat. “Yeah,” He said simply. His voice sounded scratchy, like he’d just woken up. (Y/n) smiled, holding out their hand. “We’ve gotta stick together out here. It’s kind of dangerous. I’m (Y/n).” The man took their outstretched hand and gently shook it. “I’m Link. Thank you.” He said softly. (Y/n) looked Link up and down, finding him in tattered clothes. They were a bit confused, but who’s to judge? “Anywhere specific you’re heading?” (Y/n) asked. “I can accompany you until you find a suitable weapon and shield.”

Link pulled out a weird device and looked at it, before his eyes met (Y/n) again. “Uh… Kakariko?” They chuckled at the way he worded it. More like a question than a request. “Yes, I know where that is. Do you have family there? Friends?” Link gave a blank stare as he seemed to think about it. “I’m not sure, I was just told that’s where I need to go.” (Y/n) hummed as though it’s something they’ve experienced as well. “Alright, no worries. Come on, Star here can hold two people.” They said, walking over to their horse. Link slowly followed, putting away the device. Together they climbed on the horse, and rode off towards Kakariko.

“Well, since you’re here I guess I’ll be taking my leave. I hope to see you around, it was fun.” (Y/n) said, looking down at Link as he climbed off of Star. “No, please don’t go.” He murmured, his face heating up. “I… I need to repay the favor. Since you saved my life.” (Y/n) shook their head. “No, seriously it’s nothing. Just a civilian of Hyrule looking out for one another. You’d do the same.”

“Please, just stay here for a few moments.” Link pleaded softly. (Y/n) let out a sigh and smiled. “Alright.” They agreed, to Link’s delight. He climbed up the stairs to the Kakariko elders house and vanished inside. (Y/n) sat atop of Star, looking around the beautiful town. When Link returned, he requested that (Y/n) stay with him. “Since you know your way around Hyrule a lot more than I do.” Was his excuse. Which turned into (Y/n) being dragged around Hyrule. Link would defend them from monsters any chance he got, going as far as defeating a Guardian when (Y/n) almost got blasted off the face of Hyrule.

“Link, seriously, you’ve repaid your debt enough. Can I go home?” They murmured beside the warm fire as they camped outside of Rito village. Link peeked up at (Y/n) from his cooking, chewing on his lip in thought. “I’m nervous.” He said quietly. “Nervous about what?” (Y/n) asked. “You were the first person to show me kindness and compassion.” Link replied, his shoulders releasing the tension. “You… truly are wonderful. I enjoy having you around.” He murmured, seeming to be thinking of what exactly to say to (Y/n).

“You’re quick witted, smart and funny. I find you immeasurably attractive. I thought that… well I’d gather the courage sooner or later to tell you.” He looked up at (Y/n) hopefully, noticing the surprised look they gave. “So, I was maybe thinking you could accompany me for a bit longer? I think we could have a wonderful relationship, whether it’s romantic or not. If that alright with you.” (Y/n)’s heart fluttered, their ears and cheeks burning up with the admission of love. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” They whispered, staring back into the fire. Link smiled as a comfortable silence washed over the two of them.

“I think we can try romantic.”

#the legend of zelda #link legend of zelda #link is a softie and i stand by that #x reader #tloz #legend of zelda #link x reader #link x you #i love him #breath of the wild #loz breath of the wild #loz botw #botw link #loz link #botw

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erajoie07 · 7 months

Text

I see you : Aemond Targaryen x Fem reader

Writer's Note: Hello! Halloween is tomorrow! I'm so excited. This is based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting I hope you guys enjoy this otherworldly fic.

It is late at night in the village. October 27th, four days before halloween. Lately, a cat finds its comfort sitting in the kitchen. YN doesn't know who owns the cat but it just entered some somewhere and none of her neighbors own a cat. It started coming during the fifteenth of the month. October 15th marked a terrible moment for YN, her husband Aemond died from murder during from one which he tried to save a woman from being robbed and ended his life. A dead hero. Since then the house where they stay lacked a warm and joyous feeling. But sometimes she feels that Aemond sits where he usually sat during mealtimes. When she turns around, she only finds the cat on table near his spot. YN had made sure that the cat is well taken care off even if at the start of another day she finds it missing only to come at night from where it creeps into. The cat was a majestic black cat without a collar. Doubtly, it had no scratches or bites in any part of its body. Wherever she goes, the cat strangely pierces its gaze into her motions.

That late night, YN is still up and looking for a way to sleep. During a commercial break, there was a breaking news where her husband's killer was found and received a few minor injuries. The CCTV caught a glimpse of a sudden appearance of a black cat that forced the murderer to abruptly swerve his car and hit a post. YN's parents-in-law called her and told her of the news. Unexpectedly, YN receives affections from the cat when it lays on her lap. YN begins to cry once more. Even if the murderer has been found, her husband will never return to her. The cat sits on her lap and raises its paw to her arm then nuzzling its head on her. She rubs its head in return.

When she woke up the next morning, the television playing, she feels a furry mass. Fortunately, the cat did not leave. YN has grown to love the feared creature. Later that day, she decided to crochet the furry friend a yellow collar with dangling small tulips. “Monde” the cat's name when she ties it around its neck. Instinctively, she grips the underarms of the cat and lifts it in the air like a child. Looking at Monde's eyes, she sees her husband's gaze dropping the cat on air. In a panic she reaches for the cat but it safely landed on its paws. She saw her husband in the cat. The cat approaches YN and swirls between her feet and rubbing its body on her. There isn't any thing in this world that could explain how she saw Aemond in its eyes.

YN reads all the messages she and Aemond sent each other from the first courting down to the fifteenth. There had been arguments even on the digital. “Hopefully, I'll be home soon in an hour, my sweet wine.” My sweet wine is her nickname. That message was the last thing he sent on the fifteenth. Experimenting, she messages his account, “Aemond, we still have to decorate for halloween.” See if that little ball with his profile moves down. Sleeping away the tiredness before she sets up the house for halloween when it was supposed to be ready days ago.

When YN wakes up, she is surprised to see that Aemond has left her message on seen. Startled and frightened, she gets up. Are the authorities playing on her? She walks out of the room and sees the cat sitting by the telephone on alert and eyes on her. Poor YN cannot look at Monde's eyes. Thinking straight ahead, she contacts several platforms her husband's account is in to permanently delete his accounts. She looks at Monde and rubs its chin.

October 30th, in the afternoon. October 29th, YN watched horror themed episodes for the first time without Aemond. Without a loving husband to tug his arm when the Dominican nun makes her move on the victim, YN screamed alone. Without Aemond to pat her head or caress her cheeks when her heart beats too fast and caught on fright. Aemond was incomparable, YN longed for his touch and love. He was too different from the others, Aemond knew how to set her life in burning flames just to hose it down and make sure she's safe. As YN settles on the wooden couch, there will be things that will be first without Aemond and one of their traditions as a couple had already started.

“I'll just grab a bottle. I'll be back.”

“No!” YN frantically said, pulling his shirt

Aemond chuckles, “Honey, no one is clinging on the walls.”

YN is incorrigible and won't budge. Aemond softens, “Then come with me, sweetling."

That was perhaps 2017, the day after tradition. YN clinged to Aemond thinking the walls were infested.

YN terribly misses Aemond. Each time she cries, she runs out of breath, unable to control her emotions. Bawling and drawing hiccups. It is happening again. YN terribly loves Aemond, how she fought so much for him to be hers. Now that he is gone and his memory remains, a thousand things she wishes. Monde approaches YN, rubbing its head on her leg, grabbing her attention. YN shoos it away but it is also incorrigible. When had enough, she kicks Monde to the floor, earning a cry of pain from the cat. Pulled out of trance, YN looks at Monde who was now loafing and pulls it up to her embrace, muttering apologies to it. She screams after, wailing, “I'm sorry. I just miss you, Aemond. Please come back!” YN shared that time to lay with Monde on the couch.

#aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond #aemond targaryen #reader insert #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond targaryen #house of the dragon

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magicamicitia · 2 months

Text

Volume Two, Chapter One

“I have the perfect plan!”

After finishing her homework, Twilight Sparkle stared at the bulletin board on her wall as she tried to brainstorm her friendship plan.

She’d gathered information from other students at Canterlot High, and as it would seem, the hatred - or fear - of Sunset Shimmer was a universal feeling.

Twilight recalled her first meeting with Sunset.

It wasn’t the most pleasant either, but… on that same day, she had the privilege of discovering a different side to the seemingly mean girl.

“Are you really trying to get them to team up with Shimmer?”

Twilight turned around. The white fairy with dead red eyes stared at her from her bed.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“You’re wasting your time, you know? Magical girls don’t trust others that easily. Besides, Sunset Shimmer doesn’t have a contract with me, so she’ll just be a liability to them.”

“Sunset saved my life.” Twilight murmured. “She’s a good person, I just need find a way to show them that!”

Kyubey seemed to have caught onto something.

“How could a human like her save your life?”

She remained silent.

“Unless…”

“Listen, Kyubey,” She stopped him before he could say anything else. “I really appreciate your… constructive criticism, But I need to be alone to think right now.”

The little creature stood still for a moment, analyzing the human. Then, he simply nodded and leaped out the window.

Back to the bulletin board, Twilight thought to herself,

“Sunset and I became friends because I had the opportunity to see a different side of her when she saved my life.

She walked in circles, pondering.

“So all I have to do is make that happen another five times over again! Twilight Sparkle, you’re a genius!”

However, amidst her flash of inspiration, Twilight remembered something.

“Oh, right. How’s Sunset supposed to save everyone else if she’s a regular human and they’re magical girls? Agh! I didn’t think about that!” She lightly hit her own head. “Stupid! Stupid!”

At the corner of her room, her dog Spike barked softly. She turned around to see him sniffing a pink orb surrounded by a gold encagement. Her soul gem.

“That’s right!” She picked it up and held it over her head. “I’m also a magical girl! I can just create magical problems and help Sunset magically solve them!”

Spike whimpered.

“Shut up, it’s a great idea! I’ve got it totally under control.”

The next morning, Twilight Sparkle woke up earlier than usual and stopped by Sunset Shimmer’s house on her way to school.

Ding

Dong!

The doorbell rang. Sunset opened the door, to find her friend standing with a bright spark of determination in her eyes.

“Oh, hey Twi…”

“Sunset!” She enthusiastically interrupted. “I have the perfect plan to get everyone to totally like you!”

“Huh? You’re still on about that?”

“Still on? Hah!” She snorted. “I spent all night coming up with it!”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just listen. Here, see, this is a soul gem.” She took out the tiny fabergé egg out of her pocket. “Magical girls need these things to transform and use their magic. If we lost them, It would be pretty bad.” Twilight said with a tone that almost made it seem like she was trying to tell a joke.

“I-I guess it would be?” Sunset wasn’t really following her friend’s train of thought.

“So,” She put the soul gem back inside her pocket. “Here’s the plan; I’m gonna use magic to summon a fake witch. Then, I’m gonna call everyone to fight it. But, while nobody’s looking, I’ll steal Fluftershy’s soul gem!”

“You’re gonna WHAT?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you! And then, when she realizes she’s lost it and starts totally panicking, you can give it back to her and save the day!”

“Twilight!”

“What?”

“She’s just gonna think I stole it in the first place!”

“No way! Fluttershy loses stuff all the time. Just say you found it on the ground or something. Trust me, it’s the perfect plan.”

Sunset slapped her own face in distress.

“Twilight, I really appreciate you doing this for me, but…”

“You do? I’m glad! Let’s go then! We have a long day ahead of us!” She took her by the hand, not listening to anything else Sunset Shimmer had to say.

“We sure do…”

Lunch. The perfect hour of the school day when Twilight Sparkle knew all five of the magical girls would be together. They sat at a table in the corner of the cafeteria with no one else. Twilight reached out the hand with a magical silver ring on it towards Fluttershy’s school bag. She didn’t know how it worked, but she knew she had magic flowing through her soul. And magic can do anything. Repeating those thoughts to herself, slowly but surely, the Peach-colored soul gem fell out of Fluttershy’s bag, and dragged itself towards Twilight’s hands.

“Got it!” She yelled thriumpantly. A couple of students turned around and stared at her for a few moments. “Sorry…”

The commotion warned the magical girls.

“Twilight?” Applejack said. “What’re you doin’ on the ground?”

Alarmed, Twilight quickly hid the gem behind her back. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go, but whatever.

“Oh! Um, I-I came to get you guys, because…. There’s a witch! In the Gymnasium!”

“There’s a witch in the gym?!” They all shouted in unison.

Rainbow Dash jumped on top of the table, propelling herself forward.

“This one’s mine!”

“Rainbow, Be careful!” Applejack ran after her.

“Come on, girls!” Rarity stood up. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie nodded.

As they were leaving the cafeteria, the fashionista turned back for a moment. “Twilight, we could use your help.”

“Oh!” Twilight suddenly remembered that she, too, was a magical girl. “Yeah. I’ll be right behind you.” She lied.

Once they all had left, She quickly strutted towards the rooftop, where she knew Sunset always ate lunch alone.

“Sunset!! I got it!!” She waved the soul gem in her hand.

The red haired girl nearly choked on her food.

“Twilight! You actually went through with that crazy plan?!”

“Yeah! And it worked! Here, hold this and be at the gymnasium in about, like, five minutes.” She handed over the soul gem. “I have a witch to conjure!”

Twilight left as quickly as she arrived. Sunset, however, was left standing shocked in place. She looked at the soul gem in her hands. It let out a strange glow, almost as if it were in pain.

“This can’t be good…”

Before entering the gym, Twilight quickly transformed into her magical girl attire. Breathing in deeply, she gently opened the door.

And she found

Four

Girls

Standing there

And

On the ground,

A corpse.

#magicamicitia #mlpmagicami #mlp au #pmmm au

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wh01sgrape · 1 year

Text

Ao’nung x Reader

Not proofread no warnings might be a little cringe

Head cannons and a short story at the end

________________________________________

♡

He wouldn’t like PDA, the most he would do is hold your hand or a quick hug in public.

♡

When you first started dating he was embarrassed. Not of you, he’s just nervous yk. Doesn’t know how to act.

♡

You were definitely in a relationship for like a week before people found out. It was his idea for your relationship to be a secret for a while but he’s the one who gave it away.

♡

He’s scared of your dad. Almost ALMOST gave up on you when he remembered who your dad was.

♡

Your first date was interesting. It starts when he accidentally knocked you into the water then he got his hand tangled with your hair while he helped you out. When you were eating together he choked,(he was so embarrassed while struggling to cough it up).

on top of all that he brought you home later than he told your father he would.

He cried when he got home.

♡

Jake acted slightly aggravated but he was holding in a laugh. It was obvious you were covered in water and he was completely dry.” So uhh what happened here.” he said small smile on his face. “He knocked me in the water” you before you heard Lo’ak bust out laughing followed by your other sibling's giggles. (it really wasn’t that funny) It warmed Neytiri’s heart to see everyone smiling again.

♡

The day after that he came back to your house early in the morning to apologize. He brought a present too.

He just pick up the first thing he saw tbh.

♡

Ask you on another date (to do it right this time) and-

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You woke up with your head smacking the floor with a loud thud. When you lifted your head you saw Lo’ak smiling at you, that little bitch pushed you off. You got up quickly and chased after him. You were mad but it was still a little funny to run around like you were little again. “Hey! It’s too early for this, do that later.” Jake said soft smile on his face. Probably thinking of you and little Lo’ak running around like this. You knew he wasn’t really angry, so you just giggled and sat down at the table waiting for breakfast.

♡ (switching to first person)

While eating breakfast there was a knock on the outside of the marui, Ao’nung came inside waving to Dad “Hello sir” he said, “Ao’nung, have her back here before eclipse.” He responded with a stern look on his face. “Yea sir I will “ motioned with his head to follow him outside.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Where are you taking me,” I said As I walked with him across the beach “You will see” He led me to the water and started calling for an ilu “Come” he was he said before dragging me into the water with him and pulling me on the back of his ilu. I held him tightly closing my eyes only for a brief moment before opening them again. Under the water was beautiful, but as we began to surface I saw that we were on an island. I glanced back at where we had come from it was hardly visible anymore.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Tada,” He said smiling back at me and helping me get off the ilu. As we walked deeper into the island we saw a cave. A rather large one at that When we entered I saw water, it was glowing all sorts of colors. He went into the water with me following. When I went under I saw nothing but beautiful creatures I lost myself staring at the beauty of it. Feeling a tug on my hand Ao’nung pulled me deeper into the water. he took me to a small hole just big enough to fit through. When we went in, there was a small air pocket, surfacing with Ao’nung I laughed at the face he made coming out of the water. Then he got a little closer looking into my eyes and then at my lips before leaning in and kissing me. Pulling away to look at me again. Ao’nung grabbed my hand swimming down and out of the hole past the creatures and beautiful colors pulling me out of the water with him.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Still holding my hand he walked out of the cave and close to the shore sitting with him I asked “Wanna build a sandcastle” He looked confused “It's something my dad showed me, he said he did it when he was still human” soft smile on his face as he, agreed we spent hours making this “sandcastle” and... It wasn't that extraordinary. Sure it was tall and wide with pretty shells on it but it fell over and over and over again so it was a bit lumpy. Ao’nung looks very proud of it.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

I look at the sky before realizing how late it is. “ shit, Ao’nung we gotta go.” slightly panicked look on my face as I recall my father's words. A little worried about what he would say to Ao’nung or if you would be allowed to see him again. Being late back home the first time he let slide, back late two nights in a row he wouldn't be happy about. Ao’nung must have remembered his words too before quickly grabbing my hand and running to the water calling the ilu back “We can still make it in time if we hurry.” he said.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

We entered the water ilu moving faster than before. When we surfaced we ran as fast as we could making it back just in time. Right at the entrance of my Marui about to go in “Wait,” he said as I turned around to look at him, he grabbed my arm and put a bracelet made of shells pearls, and small pieces of smoothed sea glass. It was stunning. ”I made it myself, you don't have to wear it if you don't want to but-” I cut him off with a kiss. “I love it” smiling brightly as possible telling him good night.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

After coming inside you see your brother making fun of you. In the deepest voice, Lo’ak could muster “I made it for you babe hope you like it” pretending to be Ao’nung “Oh I love it I love I love it” Neteyam said in a high-pitched voice jumping around. narrowing my eyes as I pushed past them “Leave your sister alone” Mom said from across the room preparing dinner. I stuck my tongue out at them before sitting beside her to help.

The End. ♡

(I don't feel like writing a dinner scene so this is the end)

Ao’nung looking stupid at your door with a dead plant.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Tags 🏷️: @myh3artt

#aonung #aonung x reader #avatar #avatar 2009 #dad!jake x daughter!reader #mom!neytiri x reader #avatar fanfiction #platonic sullys x reader #headcanon #avatar headcanons #avatar fic #ao’nung

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french-unknown · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟕𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 (𝟐) | 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: As a Victor from District 11, (Y/N) was close to the Victor of District 4 but the 75th Hunger Games turned everything upside down.

warning: prostitution, death mentions

word count: 2.3k +

author's note: Hi! English isn't my native language and, even if I can read English text, I have practically never written in this language. So you will be my English practice lesson! Be indulgent, thanks ~

[ masterlist ] - [ previous chapter ] - [ next chapter ]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

A deep rumble resonant into the valley was reverberated while amplificating between the mountains. Paniqued, (Y/N) raised her head to look at where this sound was coming from. And there, right from the north, she saw a huge wave of fifty feet surge toward her.

Suddenly, everything turned black and the girl woke up with a jolt into the darkness of the night. The moon was the only source of light to lighten up the sweat perling on her trembling arms and, above all, the tears that were maculating her cheeks. Her saccadic breath was going at the same speed as her fast-paced heartbeats. A knot in her throat left her incapable of breathing correctly while she was still feeling the sensation of the water on her skin.

Yet, little by little, she gained back control of her respiration and then her body. When she finally stopped crying and trembling, she sighed.

She was in Victors' Village in District 11. She wasn’t in the arena anymore.

Exhasted by her nightmare, she stood up on her still-unsure legs and went out of her bedroom to search for some water in the kitchen. But she found her father in the living room while she crossed the house. He was there, sitting in the dark, absent-minded.

"Dad?" she asked.

As if he were reconnected with reality, he turned his face toward her and made a melancolic smile.

"Why are you still up at this hour?" he asked too.

"I can say the same," she responded. "You worked a lot of hours the last few days, you should sleep a little more."

"It’s Reaping today," he sadly explained. "Some feelings never disappear, you know."

Forgetting her glass of water, (Y/N) climbed on the sofa and simply placed her head on his shoulder. She knew that no word in the world could make her father feel better so she preferred to believe that an act was worth a thousand words.

They stayed that way until the morning came.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Standing on a platform on the District 11 main plaza, a wave of stress beached in her belly.

She logically knew that, pretty in her black dress and as a former Victor, she didn’t have any risk of hearing her name today but her father was right: some traumas are graved in the flesh. Besides, even if she is not the one who will be leaving, two other families will be destroyed in the next hour.

The sight of the crowd in front of her just kept that aweful feeling getting bigger and the other Victors', Seeder and Chaff, presence at her side didn’t change anything.

However, it didn’t stop the ceremony from beginning.

The same promotional clip was projected on the big screen as every years then the strange creature who will be the escort this year went to the urn for female tribute. She chose a paper.

"Rue Montgomery," she announced with a smile.

The mob separated to make way for one of the lost girls in the first ranks. But (Y/N) could only see the scandalized looks on her parents faces at the back.

Rue’s parents and hers had been friends since childhood. In consequence of this, she always knew the girl even if they weren’t close due to their age gap. She couldn’t even eye the brown-frizzy-haired girl while she went closer to the stage under the escort's concerned eyes.

"Any volunteers?" she asked with some kind of diluted hope.

But only the sound of the wind responded.

So she turned to the male urne and pulled another piece of paper with the nametag of a young, strong and robust boy who climbed the stairs before both of them were separated into a room to say goodbye to their families.

The crowd dispersed and the Victors moved toward the car that would bring them to the train.

Still (Y/N) intercepted Seeder on her way before she went up in the car and guided her to a more quiet place away from unwanted looks.

"Please, take care of her!" she immediately begged the woman who has been her mentor at her own Games.

"It’s also your job," she responded.

"But I know her!" added the (H/C)-hair. "I can't even look straight at her because we both know she’ll be dead soon. She doesn’t have a chance! Please."

After a silence, Seeder nodded and the younger felt a little bit relieved.

This feeling didn’t stay for long since she was intercepted a few feet away by two adults that she instantly recognized as Rue’s parents. They pleaded with her to help their loved daughter, to prepare her and to bring her back home. They desperately cried all the tears from their bodies.

(Y/N) couldn't expose them to the cruel reality.

A 12-year-old child from District 11 will never be strong enough to survive several bloodthirsty teens from Career Districts. She will never be an interesting ally who will be protected by another district's tribute. She will never be considered entertaining enough to receive gifts from sponsors.

In the best case possible, she will die without too much pain or fear on the first day.

She was saved by the Peacekeepers who pushed her into the car before the tribute’s parents could finish their beseechings.

On the train, she closed herself in her cabin during the entire journey.

At the moment she arrived at the Capitol, she left her possessions at the Tribute’s Village and immediately rushed to the 7th floor. She jumped on Johanna and started to blather about her problems when they arrived in the brown-haired girl’s room. Even if she winced several times, the District 7 Victor let her speak without interrupting. Once she finished, she could get her temper back. She thanked her friend and agreed to let her unpack peacefully.

But when she came back to her floor, she saw an envelope with her name handwritten on it on her doorstep.

Accompanied by a white rose, she didn’t need a drawing when Lucretia, her stylist, arrived with a wonderful white corseted dress in one hand and makeup in the other. She chatted about a meeting between potential sponsors to which (Y/N) was invited.

So it was with a man that she arrived at the Tribute’s Parade. After a complete afternoon of hearing conversations about the Hunger Games: how much they were excited, rumors about the still unknown arena, or how tributes seemed promising this year.

She wanted to vomit.

However, she kept her smile on and stayed as entertaining as she could. She knew what would happen if she didn’t.

On the stands, she noticed some familiar faces. Jonhana, who already appeared irritated. Seeder and Chaff were discussing a few ranks behind an unusually interested Haymitch. Career Victors were meeting together and laughing not so far away.

But it was another person who caught her attention.

Effectively, Finnick Odair was proudly standing there with a woman too much makeuped for her age. Too much makeup in general, actually. He looked convincing as he seduced her with his overly smooth smile and whispered sweet words into her ear. She giggled and hit his chest while he continued to charm her.

And, as if he felt the insistent pair of eyes, he looked around him and perceived (Y/N).

Sadly, before anyone could make a move, the man who was accompanying the District 11 girl put his hand on her hip and used it to bring her closer to him. He placed his lips near her ear.

"It’s better if you don’t get sick tonight," he murmured.

(Y/N) felt a first thrill of disgust go through her spine when his breath brushed her ear. A second one followed right after she understood what he said. But, far from being discouraged, the man took this reaction for something else and smirked with satisfaction before reporting his attention to the circuit where Tributes will parade at any moment.

When she wanted to find the blond-haired guy with green eyes again, she found him at the same place, with the same person, in the same position.

But his gaze wasn’t playful anymore. It was just unreadable.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Throughout the duration of the Games, (Y/N) avoided as best she could the room where the citizens and sponsors were viewing the Games. Only, it didn’t prevent her from knowing about Rue’s death in the arena.

The news spread to her through a knock at the District 11 floor door.

She knew Johanna didn’t watch the Games anymore this year since her two tributes passed away. By the way, she thanks her for the bottle of alcohol she brought this night and which made both of them forget the horrifying atmosphere around them. She didn’t come back home after that, so they still met a few times to chat and drink together.

But it wasn’t the explosive-tempered girl behind the door.

She was face-to-face with Finnick Odair.

"Hi Honey," he started with his well-practiced smile. "Will you let me in?"

Already kind of annoyed by his over-smarmy character, she went out of the way and he didn’t wait a second before stepping inside.

As soon as the door was closed, District 4 Victor’s aura changed: his shoulders stooped, his chin lost a little bit of his height and, mainly, his abominable superficial smirk wore off from his lips.

"So, do you hold up?" he softly asked.

(Y/N) only shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t really know how to respond without ending in an unterminable monologue.

"What about you?" She tiredly answered. "And Mags?"

A grim laugh passed the barriers of his lips.

"Both are already dead."

"Bloodbath?" she continued, sluggish.

"For him, yeah," he somberly declared.

"We can say that it was effective this year," she laughed without humor. Some memories surged into her mind even if it was mostly the sound of the weapons clashing against each other as well as the surprised or painful screams of kids.

"Not yours," affirmed Finnick, bringing her back from her memories. "You would have known if you've been there."

The girl sighed then went to the bar of the floor with the purpose of resting her back against the counter.

"Don't tell me you came here just to say that." She began to get angry.

"It’s your job to support them in the arena, you’re their mentor. You’ve no choice," he reminded her. "Even if it’s become personal."

The District 11 Victor felt a thunder of irritation pass through her mind.

"Johanna?" she wanted to know.

"I know all that she knows as much as she knows all that you know, and you also know all that I know," he claims. "It will made 3 years, still surprised?"

(Y/N) slid the length of the counter until her butt touched the ground and she could feel her knees pressing against her chest. She wound her arms around her legs and couldn't help but feel hurt.

"No, but you know how much I love when people talk about me behind my back." she bitterly retorted.

Finnick moved and took a seat next to her.

"We’re just worried about you." he explained while raising his streched arms on his bended knees.

However, his sleeves rolled up and exposed the rednesses snaking on his forearms and wrists. Alarmed, (Y/N) straightened to take an arm closer to her eyes. But she couldn’t do anything when the blond-haired guy resumed it before rolling down his sleeves again.

"What happened?" She confusedly asked even if she thought she had already gotten the answer.

"Cliente."

A deep sadness lumped her throat. Her eyes started to get watery when Finnick grabbed her hand and brought her back to him. With her back against him, he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Wedged in the hollow between his arm and his chest, she relaxed herself to try to profit from the heat coming from his body. She let herself imagine the sea smell which normally perfumed his skin but was covered by one of the Capitol's strong fragrances. Her head fell back to be placed next to his neck.

"Sorry to announce this to you like that, but your girl passed away earlier." he declared as softly as he could.

The (H/C)-haired girl immediately frozen before relaxing as fast.

"Did she suffer?"

He tightened his embrace and a weight was settled on the top of her skull while one of his tuft of hair went twirling around her temple.

"No, the District 12 Tribute took good care of her," he said. "She left in peace."

"For Hunger Games." she moaned. "It will never stop…"

Fiinick's free hand on her side got closer to hers. Without moving, she accepted it when he entwined their fingers together.

"As long as we stay together, everything is going to be okay." he declared. "Everything is going to be fine."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Several days later, when the Hunger Games were won by the pseudo-couple of District 12, (Y/N) came back home. At the moment her foot touched the ground, she was instantly accosted by her mother and her older brother.

The first one had a terrible expression on her puffy face with her little red eyes and her hair all around her in this kind of nest of knots from which some hair strands escaped around her face. Besides, even if her clothes were clean, lots of folding marked her outfit and made her look messy. Her brother at her mother’s side didn’t seem better.

Getting an eye around her, she finally noticed the unusual number of Peacekeepers in the streets.

Her way back to Victors' Villange was spent in heavy silence and there, behind the closed doors of her house, she discovered the dreadful news. After Rue’s death, riots began in the entire district, but they were immediately contained and the instigators were publicly executed.

Among them were Rue’s father and her own.

#Hunger Games #imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 10 months

Note

Can I request a crossover about

Tensura x KNY

Rimuru x Mitsuri! Reader

When Reader has the Same strengh and personality as Mitsuri from KNY

-When an explosion in the middle of the night woke most of the growing village up, most of the warriors were quickly up in arms, thinking it was another attack.

-Rimuru was understandably upset as they had just finished rebuilding from the last attack, where Shizu had been overtaken by Ifrit, and the newcomers that came in the form of the ogres have helped with the process.

-Rimuru just wanted to have a moment of peace once in a while!!

-Rimuru arrived on top of Ranga, seeing Rigurd keeping the others back from a smoking crater, just outside the village, damaging nothing other than some nearby forest plants, “What’s happened Rigurd?”

-The ogres arrived shortly after, Shuna holding onto her brother’s arm, “I sense a tremendous amount of magical energy, but it seems to be fading.”

-The slime bounced over, telling the others to stay back, just in case if there was a threat and he peeked into the crater, finding the crumpled body of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more so than Shion!!

-You had long hair, two toned colored of pink and green, reminded Rimuru of Sakura mochi, some of it pulled into braids, and the rest flying free, wearing a black uniform with long green socks, but many parts were torn, showing off pieces of your beautiful body.

-You were heavily injured, your breathing labored as you were unconscious, a ribbon like sword laying around you, the hilt clutched in your dominate hand.

-Rimuru scanned you and almost instantly received the information about you, *L/N F/N, was sent to this world by powerful demonic magic. Originally from your world where she lived in the Taisho Period. Occupation- Demon Slayer. *

-He hummed quietly before making the decision to take you in, telling the others to prepare a room for you as he hopped down into the crater, enveloping your body into his own body, healing your wounds before he lifted you out of the crater.

-Many were surprised to see a human as Rimuru pulled away from you, taking on his human form as Benimaru kneeled down, sensing your strength, “She’s a human but there’s something… unusual about her. There’s an unnatural strength inside her, but I can sense nothing amiss.”

-Rimuru nodded softly, agreeing with him before telling everyone that you had come from another world, which shocked many of them, as usually those from other worlds are insanely powerful or have been given dangerous abilities.

-Rimuru made the decision to bring you back to his own house, to watch over you just in case if you were going to be a threat. Shion offered to remain as well, to protect her lord but he was able to convince her that he would be able to handle it.

-You woke up a few hours later and almost immediately lunged up, as you had been locked in battle with a powerful demon and you gasped, finding yourself in a simple yukata and your sword was laying nearby.

-You heard a strange sound, one that sounded like water, and you turned, seeing a slime bouncing over to you, “You’re awake!” you squeaked, panicking as you tried to scramble back, “What is- a demon?!”

-Rimuru hopped to sit in front of you, “Nope- I’m just an adorable little slime! My name is Rimuru!” while a bit thrown off to learn that this wasn’t a demon, but a creature known as a slime, you calmed down, “A slime? Where- wait! Where’s the demon?!”

-Rimuru changed into his human form, which shocked you, making you squeak as you fell back again, scared, “Whoa there- you’re safe here! You were transported to this world, just like me! I used to be a salaryman in modern day Japan!”

-His words confused you, not sure about what he meant about modern day Japan, because you didn’t know of an occupation called a salaryman.

-Rimuru was very informative, answering all your questions, curled up in your arms against your large chest, which you weren’t bothered by, seeing it as something harmless as he was only a child, not realizing the truth of the matter, even though he did tell you.

-Rimuru introduced you to Rigurd which was a good idea to do it in his house rather than out in the village, as you punched Rigurd, sending him flying, thinking he was a demon. Rigurd harbored no hard feelings as you groveled before him after Rimuru explained that the demons you knew didn’t exist in this world.

-Rigurd wasn’t bothered, finding your strength impressive for such a delicate looking human, which made you blush cutely from the praise before you told them that your muscles were extremely dense which gave you your unnatural strength but with a drawback being your metabolism was very high.

-Rimuru was furious, learning how you had been treated as you walked around the village with him in your arms, introducing you to others, including the ogres who were nice, but Shion was jealous, pouting at you were holding Rimuru.

-You handed him over and she snuggled him hard, cheering her up while Rimuru was scolding you, with no real malice, telling you to save him as he was handed to Shuna.

-Benimaru, Souei, and Hakurou were all intrigued with your sword and skills, as was a dwarf blacksmith, Kaijin, who was in awe of the craftsmanship of the blade, seeing how flexible but so strong the whip like blade was.

-Since there was no way back to your world, Rimuru offered you a place in his village and you were grateful, bowing lowly to him, thanking him for his kindness and you became one of the defenders of the village, alongside the ogres, and Rimuru’s private pillow, as he enjoyed sitting on your lap, switching between you and Shion at random, usually when Shion would get pouty if Shuna didn’t want a turn.

-You found a kinship with Rimuru as you had both been suddenly taken from your lives, thrown into a world you knew nothing about and had to survive in such a dangerous and harsh world. He enjoyed your company as while your looks and strength were a bit odd, you were a sweet and gentle person, one that was calm and soothing for him, and you found Rimuru to be funny but also a good friend and leader to all.

-You were so happy to have made such good friends with such a cute little slime.

#rimuru tempest #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #mitsuri reader

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twostepstyless · 1 year

Text

Just Us

Fic Advent Calendar Day 22

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Authors Note: Everyones arriving to spend Christmas at Y/N and Harry's tomorrow and they have so much to do. Vince gets sent to doggy day care and Harry thinks they need to get something out their system because it'll no longer be just the two of them.

As always, reblogs, likes and feedback of any and all types is loved and appreciated!! - G xo

Word Count: 4.7k

NSFW - 18+ only

———

‘Twas the night before, the night before, the night before Christmas and all through the house, all the creatures were stirring even a… golden retriever named Vinnie. Well, that doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as the original story, but you get the idea. The house was busy. Today was the last day of peace as they had so-called it this morning when they woke up. Tomorrow, they would be awaiting the arrival of their families who were spending Christmas with them at their home this year, so it was all hands and paws on deck today to get organised for everyone coming. Well paws were not so much helpful, but more a fluffy distraction who had taken to hop up onto the just-made beds for a roll around as soon as Harry or Y/N looked away. On a normal day, they would think their dogs’ antics were cute and that he was just playing a fun game and in his furry head that is what it still was, but Y/N and Harry had so much to do today, they went for the next best option and Harry was sent off to make a phone call.

Vinnie’s favourite place on the planet, second only to being with his parents at home, was at doggy day care. He didn’t go often but when he did, he had the best time ever, he was well cared for there and always came home exhausted after a full-on day of play. They should have thought ahead and had him booked in for today, but Harry put his best pouty voice on and called up ‘Barkingham Palace’ where he goes for day care and went begging if they could squeeze him in today. They loved Vince at day care so jumped at the chance to have him in for the day and said they would swing by and pick him up.

“Har, d’you think you could make Vin’s bag up for day care?” Y/N asked him as she passed him in the kitchen, off to launder another set of bedding for one of the guest rooms where Y/N’s parents would be staying.

“C’mon pup,” Harry called and whistled for Vinnie who came in carrying one of the throw cushions from the guest room bed Y/N was currently cleaning in his mouth, “Jesus Christ, Vincent.” Harry grabbed the cushion from Vinnie’s mouth and left it on the countertop out of their playful dog’s immediate reach. “You’re on one today, aren’t you? Good thing your Mum didn’t catch y’with that cushion, I reckon she would’ve returned one of your Christmas presents, Vin,” Harry gave Vince the scratches behind his ears that he so desperately crave as his golden fur covered head nudged into Harry’s hand as his fluffly bum wiggled in excitement. Harry smiled before he reached into one of the cupboards for the childrens packed lunch box they had, that had ‘Vincent’ stitched on the front in a loopy font with a paw print next to it. “Y’gonna have such a good day, Alice and Timmy are coming t’pick you up,” Harry narrated Vince’s schedule to him as he got the Tupperware out that they had set aside for day care trips. “Then you’re going to day care, and you’ll have loadsa fun, running round with all y’mates, and eating all the snacks m’sure and sniffing all the arseholes you want,” Harry smiled down at their happy dog, who’s tailed wagged even more enthusiastically as Harry told him about the dog’s day ahead. Harry scooped out some of Vince’s food into the container, enough for his day away and then packed into his little lunch bag, popping in a packet of his favourite treats on top of the Tupperware before wandering round to his bed to pick up one of his favourite tennis balls and the tiny little stuffed bunny that Vince went to bed with every night and always had with him for every nap he’s taken since he was a puppy. The bunny was now so discoloured, they couldn’t even hazard a guess at what colour the bunny’s fur was when they first purchased it, it was also comically small in comparison to the dog that toted it round. Harry packed them both into his little bag just in case he wanted to play with his ball or needed his bunny to take a nap while at day care. As Harry finished getting Vince ready, by clipping him in his collar and leash for Alice and Timmy to take him out to the van that would take him to day care, the doorbell rang, alerting them to the day care workers’ presence. Vinnie took off running to the front door, yanking Harry with him as he held the dogs lead and lunch box. Harry opened the front door and Vince knew better than to take off running when the door was opened, so stood on the threshold tapping his paws in excitement at seeing his favourite caretakers other than his parents in front of him.

“Vincent, y’gonna take y’lunch for me?” Harry asked as Vinnie looked up at him, before Harry held the lunch bag down to the dog who took the handle in his mouth to carry it to day care with him. Harry passed the leash over to Timmy as Y/N appeared in the hallway behind him as they both told Vince to have fun, with a few farewell pats from them and licks from Vinnie before Harry closed the door.

“I love him more than I can comprehend,” Y/N began, “but I have never been so thankful for doggy day care in my life,” she sighed as they moved back up the hallway.

***

They were back in the guest room that Y/N’s parents would be staying in, this time without the dog rolling round in the bed, making up the bed with the freshly washed and dried bedding set.

“I don’t know how I ever did this when I lived alone,” Y/N panted as they wrestled the duvet cover on between the pair of them, surely there’s an easier way of doing this.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry groaned in agreement as they laid it flat thinking, they had managed to corral the bundles of duvet into the cover only to see it was folded over on itself, inside the cover. Y/N fake cried as she stamped her bare feet against the floor as if she was having a tantrum at the sight before she unfastened the bottom over the duvet cover and all but crawled inside it to try and fix their error. She flopped out onto the floor of the spare room as they finally closed the duvet cover and Harry shook it up to settle it and smooth it down on the bed. As Y/N lay on the floor, Harry worked around her to finish making up the bed, fluffing the pillows and placing the throw cushions, including the one Vinnie had in his mouth a little while ago that Harry managed to sneak back into the bedroom without Y/N noticing. Finishing the job, Harry stood with his hands on his hips as he looked at Y/N sprawled out on her back in a pair of joggers and a tank top that she had stripped her jumper off from over when she got too hot, her hair was piled in something resembling a bird’s nest on top of her head, and she was so beautiful. Harry watched her in wonder as she stretched from her place on the floor, all her joints popping and clicking as they stretched then relaxed. He saw as her hand came up to rub at her tired eyes, wiping away remnants of sleep and a stray eyelash that got caught in her eye and caused it to water profusely causing a tear to run into her hair.

“Alright, pretty, what’s left on the list?” he asked as he broke himself away from his silent admiration.

Y/N fished around in her pocket for her phone to pull up her notes app, “mum an’ dads’s room done, y’mum’s room is done, just waiting on the sheets drying for the other spare room for Gem, we need to sort out the pull outs in both our offices. Y’did clean up your office?” she asked, looking over the top of her phone from her place on the ground.

“I did,” Harry said. He had, mostly. He’s got a couple bits left to tidy up but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay, so the pull-out beds, hoover the downstairs and our room is probably needing a look at for my own sanity because it looks a shit-tip jus’ now,” she sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket before reaching both hands up in the air, silently asking Harry to help her up. He gripped her arms and helped pull her to feet with a loud groan from her.

“Right, well, I’ll get up and hoover tomorrow morning, y’know Vince is just going to get hair everywhere when he comes back tonight, so may as well do it fresh tomorrow before everyone arrives,” he watched her fluff up the pillows once more on the bed before checking up on the little basket she had left in all the rooms with little necessities their families might need or want over their stay.

“Y’sure?” Y/N asked as they exited the bedroom, closing the door tight behind them so when Vinnie arrived home later, he wouldn’t go in and mess up their hard work.

“Mhm, you can take the dog out for his walk in the morning, and I’ll do the hoover and last clean round before y’come back,” Harry confirmed, “the pull-outs won’t take long to sort so let’s shuffle that down the list, can’t do the other bed til the sheets are dry, so our room?” he asked. Harry had other reasons for wanting the couple to head toward their own bedroom right now. Today was their last day of having the house to themselves for nearly a week and he’d be damned if he didn’t plan on making the utmost use out of that. Plus, have you seen Y/N, how could he resist.

They entered their bedroom as Y/N took a seat on the edge of their unmade bed and looked around, it wasn’t as untidy as she had in her head. “It’s mostly your shit that’s lying around anyway,” she smirked at him.

“Oi, I resent that,” he replied.

“H, sweetheart, look around,” Y/N laughed.

“Okay, so you’re not wrong, jus’ you take a break then, I’ll sort this out, y’can watch me be a domestic goddess,” Harry threw a wink over his shoulder at her as she kicked her legs up onto the bed as she watched Harry begin to clean up his mess.

“Try not to chuck it all back in your junk drawers, y’just cleaned them out,” Y/N pleaded.

***

Harry was ready to put his plan into action, he had tidied up most of his things as Y/N relaxed on their bed as they made idle conversation, but the more Harry looked at her in her casual state, the further it was riling him up.

“Is it warm in here, or is it jus’ me?” he asked, looking over at her as her eyes flickered over him.

“No, s’quite warm, I probably need to adjust the heat actually, let me add it to the list,” she went to grab her phone but got distracted as Harry’s hands ventured to the hem of his t-shirt and began tugging it up his sculpted body.

“M’bloody roasting,” he said, innocently, letting his t-shirt fall into the hamper of laundry he must take to wash when they’re done.

“Y-yeah, y’look hot,” Y/N stammered out a little, he always rendered her breathless when he peeled off his shirt, his skin had a sheen to it that made the ink imbedded into his skin appear darker as his tattoos moved with his body.

“Mm,” Harry hummed, fanning himself with his hand for a second to add to the effect, “y’look hot too, baby, positively scorching,” Harry took careful steps towards where she lay on their bed, “do you maybe want to lose a layer, don’t want you overheating, my love,” Harry kneed up onto the bed so he was beside her, letting his fingers trail with a featherlight touch over her sweat pant covered leg before finding the drawstring waist and letting his finger twirl through the bow that was tied there.

Y/N nodded shyly, and Harry’s finger twitched, pulling the bow out of its knot, and letting his hands run under the waistband, the pads of his fingertips felt wintery against her heated skin. He pulled his hands wide as the fabric of her sweatpants pulled taught over his hands as he peeled them down her legs and off, tossing them into the hamper alongside his shirt.

“Better?” he asked, his eyes trailing up her legs, seeing where her underwear that was cut high on her hips dug into the plush skin, leaving marks, that Harry would like to trace with his tongue, in its wake.

“Yeah, loads,” Y/N breathed, watching closely as Harry’s hand met the skin of her thigh as he started to trace mindless patterns on the surface, goosebumps popping over her skin although they certainly weren’t from the cold, as she shivered under his gaze and whisper like touch.

“So, I was thinking…” Harry trailed off, his own gaze locked to the finger he was using as a drawing tool as it climbed higher on her leg until it began to trace the line left by her knickers before he snapped the elastic of her underwear against her skin as she jumped, not from pain but from the surprise, as a mischievous smirk graced his lips. “This is our last day of just us, and as much as I’m looking forward to having our family here to celebrate, m’going to miss it being just us,” his eyes flickered up to hers, she’d bet her pupils are blown as Harry eased her into the fun, he wanted them to have.

“Are you?” she whispered as Harry nodded, “what are y’going to miss?” Y/N asked, finally coherent enough to lean into whatever game he was playing.

“I’m going t’miss us being able to do nothing and not having to play host, I’m going t’miss see you walk around in next to nothing,” he laid down next to her on his side, his hand trailed further, playing with the edge of her tank top, fingers brushing the skin of her abdomen as he fidgeted. “I’m especially going t’miss being able to have you wherever, however, whenever we want,” he whispered as his head got close to hers before he placed a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, with a shrug, “I’ll still have you, but maybe just in here, with the door closed, in the middle of the night while y’promise me you’ll be quiet,” he nudged her nose with his own. “You can do that, can’t you? Be quiet when I ask you too?” Harry’s eyes searched hers. Y/N’s hands had joined his in their exploration, shy touches and brushes to his exposed torso, dipping down over the front of his joggers where she could feel him hardening under the fabric. Y/N nodded at his question. “Good, m’glad you’ll be quiet for me, but I think, since it’s our last day of just us, do you think y’can be loud for me instead?” his hand landed on her hip as he massaged the full of her hip and thigh under his touch, “because I’ll really miss that, not being able to hear you,” he placed a kiss to her cheek, “cry,” another kiss peppered on her face, “and wail,” kiss, “and scream,” kiss, “and plead,” kiss, “and whine,” kiss, “and moan all for me,” his kisses ended on her neck, before he whispered against the skin, “so will y’do that for me right now? I’ll make you feel so good as long as you’re nice and loud for me, d’you want that?”

Y/N could only nod in response. “Nuh-uh, remember what I said, I want to hear you, I need words, my love,” he teased.

“Yes, yes,” she panted, “I’ll be loud, please Harry, want it so bad,” she whined.

“There’s my good girl,” he smiled at her in pride before his lips finally sealed hers in a kiss, rolling her onto her back as he came to hover over the top of her as he deepened their kiss. Her lips were full and soft from where she had been chewing her lower lip as Harry teased as he spoke, he needed to taste her, his tongue split his lips and traced the seam of her mouth as his wandering hand snapped the elastic of her underwear against her waist again, hard, causing her to gasp into the kiss, letting Harry’s tongue brush into her mouth as he lost himself in the feel of their melding tongues and shared breath. He was hard under the layers of fabric, and he just needed a little bit of relief, so he let his pelvis drop down towards hers as he ground against her panty-covered core lightly. Even through the fabric, he could feel the head radiating from her centre. He broke their kiss as he lifted his head to look at her, her neck strained as she tried to reach his lips with her own, not happy about ending their kiss. Both of lips were spit-slicked from the kiss and it set something off in both of them as Y/N let her mouth fall open and stuck her tongue out as Harry’s hand came up to grip her jaw.

“Is that what you want?” he grinned, “m’good girl wants me to spit in her mouth?”

“Uh-huh” she managed to get out from her opened mouth as she watched Harry let his saliva pool in his mouth before seeing a glob fall from his mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as it landed on her outstretched tongue as Harry moaned at the sight of her mouth closing and her swallowing it down.

“Fuck, y’fucking filthy, baby,” Harry moaned, his hands reaching for the hem of her tank top and began to shuck it up and over her breasts letting it catch around her neck as Y/N moaned at the taste of his saliva as Harry’s tongue found her pert nipples. Harry licked, sucked and bit at her nipples as Y/N whined and let her hips tick forward against his, not happy at feeling him still in his sweatpants so she let her hand find the waist of them and began pushing as best she could with one hand, before she gripped Harry’s hair and tugged harshly with her other hand pulling him away from the home he’d made in her cleavage as he sucked as many marks as he could litter across her skin. He moaned loudly at the pleasurable burn she applied when pulling at his hair.

“Off,” she demanded, pushing at the jogging bottoms.

“Ask nicely,” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“No,” she said defiantly, “off,” and before Harry had the chance to retaliate, she moved them, flipping them over as she straddled his waist, he could feel her heat and the pooled wetness seep through the cotton of her underwear and leave a sticky glaze under his belly button, sticking the trail of hairs, that led under his sweatpants, to his flushed skin, before she wriggled back and took his trousers with her, leaving him straining against the heather grey of his briefs as she sat atop him, grinding herself down against his hardened cock in his underwear as they both moaned at the friction. She quickly ripped the bunched-up tank top the rest of the way off her body as her own hands found her tits and began toying with her nipples as Harry watched her moan at the sensation as his hands found her hips and continued her rocking against him. Her mouth was watering, she wanted to taste him all of him. She stood to her knees as Harry looked down at where she had been sat.

“Look at that, made a mess on me, soaked all the way through y’knickers and everything,” Harry looked, admiring the damp patch she had left on him. She smirked, enjoying the sight herself, but wanted to reveal what was under the wet fabric even more, as she began to shuffle down his body. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Nice an’ loud for me, okay, gorgeous?” Y/N turned Harry’s earlier request of her on him before she gripped the elastic of his briefs and tugged them down his legs, not waiting long as his cock bobbed free from the fabric constraints as she licked a stripe on the underside of his length, wetting his shaft before swirling her tongue around his sensitive tip as Harry moaned, loudly, into the room, his hand finding the back of her head as she took him into her mouth, letting her saliva drip down him to help her hand that had come to work his shaft that she hadn’t taken in her mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Y/N, oh my god,” Harry whimpered as she released him from her mouth, letting her tongue lick his slit where he spilled pre-cum for her, tasting him as much as she could. She huffed a laugh through her nose before her mouth went back to work, bobbing and suctioning as she reached his tip and back down again, taking a little more of him each time until just her thumb and index were gripping his base as he touched the back of her throat causing him to groan and spew profanities as well as every pet name he’d ever called her. She came off of him to give herself a break as her hand went back to work, keeping her grip tight on him just how he liked as her wrist twisted and tugged at him, thumb brushing his slit every time she reached the top as Harry’s hands pushed the hair that escaped her birds nest style away from her face so he could see her lost in the act of pleasuring him. Her tongue migrated, painting over his balls before dipping lower and finding the patch of skin between his balls and his tightest entrance as she lapped at it happily as Harry’s thighs began to quiver.

“No, no more,” Harry panted, pulling her away with the fist he had on top of her head, he both wanted her to continue and for him to try and put off his orgasm as long as possible until he made her come, but she was playing a dangerous game with him. He caught his breath as Y/N giggled at his reaction. “Oh, is that funny?” he asked once he’d mostly recovered as Y/N nodded, “hands and knees, arse up,” Harry demanded, getting to his knees on their bed as Y/N moved into position, looking back over her shoulder at him, wiggling her bum as Harry ripped her underwear down so they were caught in the crooks of her knees. “I’ll show you funny,” he taunted, coming up behind her before landing a loud smack across the full of her cheek, her ass jiggling from the spank as Harry squeeled at the sensation before pushing back against his hand.

“Please Harry, please,” she cried.

“Please what?” he massaged the reddening skin, “tell me what you want and y’can have it.”

“I want, I need y’to fuck me, hard please, need it so bad, baby, I’ll be so good for you,” Y/N pleaded, grateful that they were alone.

“Good girl,” Harry gripped his length and painted it through her wet folds before finding her entrance where she wept for him and pushed his profusely leaking tip in. “This enough baby, jus’ like this yeah?” he mocked as he rocked just his tip into her.

“Fuck Harry, no, all of you, want it all, I can take it, please,” she wailed and tried pushing back, but his grip on her hips rendered her motionless and in one swift push of his hips, he thrust his entire length inside of her, her walls clamping around him as his head tipped back between his shoulder blades at the tight sensation she had him gripped in as she screamed at the pleasurable burn and stretch, her arms nearly buckling from under her. “Hard please,” she whimpered out her request again as Harry lost any sense of where they were as his powerful thrusts knocked them both breathless. The slap of skin echoing across the bedroom and travelling out into the hall as their bedroom door was left open. He spanked her across her bum again, finally releasing the grip he had on her hips so she could work back against him.

“That’s it, good girl, look at you, working for it,” Harry purred in her ear as he slumped over her back, his hips going at a rapid pace. “I want you to rub y’little clit for me, okay? I want you to get yourself right to the edge,” he moaned as he kissed the back of her neck before he sat back on his hips pulling her so his chest was flush with her back as she was sat on his lap near enough as Harry began to thrust up into her as Y/N’s hand trailed to her front and began rubbing tight little circles on her clit, her cries of pleasure like music to Harry’s ear as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

“M'close,” she purred as Harry slapped her hand away from her clit quickly.

“Let me taste,” he gripped her wrist and brought her hand up so he could lean over her shoulder to suck on her fingers that had been pleasuring her. He moaned around the digits, it wasn’t the same as drinking her straight from the source, but he can’t deny this was a pretty good way to get his fix. “Y’gonna cum all over m’cock aren’t you? You’re going to scream my name as you burst all over me,” the latter was a statement rather than a question as Y/N frantically nodded her head adding in squeaks of ‘yes’ after remembering he wanted to hear her.

Harry’s hand found her clit and began working it, pinching, and rolling and rubbing at flicking as if he was being paid to do so, his thrusts slowed ever so slightly but were as deep and hard as he could possibly manage as both were knocked silly, only able to get out the others name.

With one last hard thrust, Y/N collapsed forward as her orgasm rocked through her body, screaming his name as her body shook as she drenched him, the fluttering and pulsing and immediate gush of fluid sent Harry over as he came, hard. Loud groans emitting from the base of his throat as shivers wracked his body.

It could have been 10 seconds, minutes, or hours. As feeling began to return to their bodies, as they lay on their sides facing each other, starting in their fingertips and rushing through their nerve endings in a comforting warmth, like stepping into a bath on a cold day as they blinked wearily at each other before huffing a breath.

“Glad we got that out the system before everyone arrived,” Harry laughed, kissing the corner of her lips briefly before sticking another on the full of her bottom lip.

“I wonder if the other sheets are done in the dryer because I think I might need to put ours through a spin cycle before everyone arrives now,” Y/N replied before falling into a giggly kiss with her loud love.

———

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