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goosita · 5 months

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attending a gala with young!politician!snow is both more and less terrifying than you’d imagined

he’d picked you up at 7pm on the dot, waiting outside of his car for you. coriolanus was dressed in all black, a departure from his usual red color palette. the moment you’d stepped outside to meet him in the dress and shoes (as well as necklace) he bought you, he’d smiled charmingly at you and offered his hand.

“you look absolutely enchanting, miss y/n,” he breathed, tone full of sincerity. you could feel your cheeks blaze at his compliment, giving a timid grin.

“thank you, coryo.”

coriolanus brightened even more, opening the back door of the car with his free hand and keeping you steady with the other as you slid in. he followed just after you, settling in beside you on the seat. now here you were, on the way to a big fancy party full of people who made more money in an hour than you did in a whole year.

“are you nervous?” he asks, glancing at you.

“absolutely terrified,” you admit with a soft laugh. “i’ve never been to anything like this. i don’t want to do or say the wrong thing.”

“you’ll be fine, i promise. just follow my lead, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

you nod, but still can’t force down all of your nerves. aside from this whole event being unfamiliar to you, you’re still jittery and unsure with coriolanus. he’s been so hard to read lately. you’re not sure if he’s just toying with you, but it feels too bold to think that perhaps he has a real interest in you either. too indulgent of your daydreams, your fantasies. you can’t seem to stop the fluttery drumming of your fingers against your thigh, until coriolanus is taking your hand and sliding his fingers between yours to stop their incessant tapping. your gaze snaps up to look at him, surprised by the touch.

“everything’s going to be okay. trust me,” he says gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. for someone who’s last name is snow, his hands are so warm. his thumb brushes over your knuckles soothingly, looking down at you with a calm expression, and you nod. you do trust him. he adds, “i’ll be right beside you all evening.”

his promise makes you feel better, some of the tension leaving your body at both his words and his soothing touch. you glance down at your interlocked hands, his so much bigger than your own. his fingers are so long, pale and beautiful as if they were carved from marble. the veins along the top stand out, raised little rivers of blue that crawl up into his sleeve. his silver watch band rests against the delicate skin of both of your inner wrists.

once you arrive, it feels like a whirlwind of colors and lights and sounds. you find yourself dissociating from most of it, from the moment coriolanus leads you inside with a hand at the small of your back. you try to focus on the way his cologne catches your nose when he turns or moves, the familiar scent helping to ground you. the event passes in a flurry of coriolanus’s voice chatting pleasantly with Very Important Men, fond introductions of you at his side by your name and never your job title, being handed flutes of posca that you only sip on here and there. your date, however, seems to have no trouble at all socializing and sharing drinks with these people.

he’s a natural people-person. coriolanus charms and wins over just about every person he speaks to. the men respect him and listen to what he has to say, while the women giggle and let their eyes wander his face and body. you don’t like that the latter bothers you enough to sling back an entire flute of posca at one point while some district 8 office holder’s wife practically undresses coriolanus with her eyes. if he notices the female attention at all, he doesn’t show it. coriolanus simply keeps one hand planted firmly along your spine, occasionally stroking the exposed skin there softly.

finally, finally, the night comes to an end. coriolanus is loose from the bubbly drinks he’s had, making him a bit more smiley than you’re really used to. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that spreads over the bridge of his nose and makes him glow.

“did you have fun, darling?” he asks as he gets into the car with you. while he waits for an answer, he fumbles until he finds the button that raises the privacy screen between you two and the driver.

“fun is…certainly a word,” you offer, unable to stop your grin. coriolanus seems younger like this, spine less rigid and jaw less tense. he looks his age right now, you realize.

“hm. yes, well, i don’t have much real fun these days,” he laments, undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. “especially not with a beautiful lady on my arm.”

he glances sideways at you as he says it, sly smirk making his smile line in his cheek stand out. you resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead looking down at your hands in your lap. you never know what exactly to say when coriolanus says things like that. you’re not sure if he’s being sincere, or if it’s just meaningless flirting to him.

he says your name softly when you avert your eyes, gingerly lifting your chin. “look at me, darling,” he whispers. he’s turned his body to face you fully now. his eyes search your face for a long moment before they trail down, landing on the snowflake pendant resting between your collarbones. his finger trails a path down your throat before tracing around the charm.

“it suits you,” he murmurs. the air in the car is suddenly so very warm, electric with the energy between the two of you. he’s so close to you, you wonder if he can hear your heart racing right now. if he knows its because of him.

“coryo,” you exhale, breath trembling slightly. you feel his touch again against your cheek, cradling it softly in his palm. his eyes seem to almost glow in the low light, the streetlights you pass making them appear almost translucent when they reflect off his irises. you both lean in simultaneously, eyes fluttering closed.

the first brush of coriolanus’s lips is soft, curious even. as if he’s giving you the chance to push him away. instead, you sigh and melt into him. his free hand comes to rest on your waist, squeezing softly as he kisses you more firmly when you don’t pull away. his mouth is plush and slick against your own, tasting like the sugary posca he’d drank.

you lose yourself to his kisses, slow and languid and indulgent, making you dizzy with how good it feels. coriolanus slides his hand down from your waist to your hip, then further down to tease at the slit in your dress that splits over your thigh. his teeth nip at your lip playfully, and he smiles against your mouth when you gasp at the way his fingers curl behind your knee to hitch your leg up over his own.

he encourages you to move so you can straddle him, sitting pretty in your silky dress on his lap. your hands land on his broad shoulders while his lips parts from yours, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your neck. his tongue drags along the side of your throat, making you shiver and moan softly.

“there’s a good girl,” he mutters, hands smoothing up and down your thighs that splay over his. “you make such pretty sounds for me.”

coriolanus’s words make you feel lightheaded, paired with his wandering touch and exploratory kisses. you shift in his lap just slightly, gasping softly when you feel how hard he is beneath you. his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, his hips pushing up subtly. he lets out a quiet groan, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. the uncontrolled noise spurs you on, gives you the nerve to cup his jaw and bring his mouth back to yours and demand more of his heated kisses.

“stay with me tonight, my darling,” he pleads, panting against your mouth.

“yes.”

#ehehehe i PROMISE next part is when i’ll stop edging u guys and give u what we all want #i just love a slow build #its about the yearning 🤌🏻#politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosbas #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

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alwaysshallow · 8 months

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— gorgeous, part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

previous part and next part

A man's attention, charmed by clumsiness. You truly hate it. (2,7k)

Read on AO3

The second time you see him? Two weeks later, a routine visit.

He doesn't call you at all, to ask something, he doesn't text you either; Bernie said that he reacted with a thumbs up reaction on a reminder about the visit, which made you chuckle. He seemed like that type since he wasn't talkative in person. You wouldn't accuse him of being super witty in text, he was just dry.

But, he would probably text if something was wrong with that adorable, orange stray cat that he practically adopted – so, you were pretty calm.

Control visit was necessary to check if the bone was healing good, if the kitty didn't need anything more.

And, besides, it was your chance to break the ice once again, and talk to him again. It was frustrating how you wanted it, but that's the thing about you – you could bring the best from everyone, make them talk, so what the hell was the matter with that incredibly tall, British guy? It was a mystery all along, and you were more than eager to solve it, especially when his cat was your patient.

Everything just needed to... work. You had to make it work, to get through that tough facade that he had because that was a facade, right? No one was this... composed, cold. Professional.

At least you thought.

You peeked out of your room again; the corridor was empty, you couldn't see even a damn soul that looked like him – and by that, you meant that scary skull mask that he had on the last time you saw him, since you didn't get to see his real face beneath it. He was already seven minutes after the time he was supposed to be in, and if he would make it fifteen, you were sure to close that clinic. Somehow, it was again a late visit, and you weren't so eager to wait for him forever.

Every minute counted when you were hungry, and you literally dreamed about a warm bath coming along with episode of Criminal Minds.

"Sorry. We had... problems." you heard, as the door opened finally after another two minutes; there he was, but... different.

The voice and his eyes were the only things that you recognized because everything else was just... different. He was without his skull mask and balaclava, looking perfectly normal, like he wasn't the guy that scared the shit out of Bernie two weeks ago. Black hoodie, jeans in the same color, white sneakers – his figure was even more muscled in those clothes, instead of military ones.

And you could see his face, what was probably the best thing about it all. Messy blond hair, not long, but long enough to curl a bit under the humid weather, face that had a big scar at the right cheek, and a couple of smaller ones in the rest.

You couldn't tell where exactly they were, as his eyebrow automatically arched in a question, and you felt your cheeks burning a little, so you started staring at the top of your shoes instead.

For fuck's sake, he was blonde.

Out of whole palette, he had to be a motherfucking blonde. The irony of it all striked you in full force; you thought he was brunette, just because of his mysterious demeanor. Like, maybe it was stereotypical way of thinking, but brunettes always were... different than blondes.

Yet, that one seemed to be the famous "exception" of the group; blonde that wasn't a talker, blonde that seemed like he's keeping everything to himself.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." he murmured, snapping you out of your thoughts.

One of his hand in his jeans, another holding the transporter – shortly after, he put it on the table.

You wish you could have Bernie here for support in that moment, but she had to leave earlier than she was supposed to – family business or something, but she needed that, so you just gave her a free time. She was too precious for her own good.

So, you were all alone with that interesting man. Maybe it was for the better? Less people, he could talk freely, he knew you a bit, and you really hoped for more scrapes of information from him. Every one counted. "Mm, no. You just look different" you sighed, seeing a glint of amusement in his deep brown eyes, but you said nothing about it, as you approached the transporter, seeing sleeping kitten in it.

You automatically smiled. "How is she?"

"Besides the times that leg hurt her more when she tried to walk or stand fully on her paws, she's good, I think. She wasn't really eating for a day or two, but I... managed." he said, his expression stern, when his gaze was darting between you and his cat, when you were examining her.

It seemed like everything was alright when you were touching her broken area, but you had to do an x-ray, so as the last time, you informed him and did your thing.

You came back a few minutes later, already with a scan so you wouldn't make it more awkward than it should be. Seemed alright, that x-ray; not too bad for a stray that was rescued and probably didn't trust Simon like normal cat would do, adopted one, not betrayed by humans. Involuntailry, you looked at her again, as she licked her owner's hand, when he played with her through a cat transporter.

A little smile crept up on your lips, as you observed that scene.

Something was making that big guy soft after all, you thought.

"It seems like everything is healing pretty good" you started "it's still early to let her walk on her own, so you have to be careful still, even if..." you didn't finish your sentence, as you tripped.

You didn't even realize what caused it, but you felt embarassement already, thinking that if you will hit something in result, will put you in a grave, and you probably you won't show your face to that man ever again.

Clumsiness? Your second name, so to speak.

Nothing like that happened though; a firm hand gripped your arm in place, preventing you from falling, and as you looked up at Simon, his stern, yet calm expression, you just felt like a blush is forming on your cheek. His hair was falling comfortably on his forehead, as he hummed, like he was considering something, when your gazes locked in, his eyes meeting your grey ones. Curiosity killed the cat, but you wanted to brush his hair with your fingers, just to see if they were as fluff as it seemed.

It also seemed like you were keeping eye contact with him for twenty minutes, when in total it was five seconds, when you snapped out of it and backed off before doing something more stupid than tripping – but hell, it was worth it for a close view like that.

"Careful over here." he mumbled in low voice, crossing his arms over his chest.

"...right, thank you. I don't wanna end like up like your cat, who's gonna treat her then?" you raised your eyebrow, trying to sound amused, you even made a joke (bad one) – you wanted his attention anywhere, but not on your cheeks right now. "Back to what I was saying, even if she wants to move more, you can't let her overwork herself, right? So it won't get worse."

He nodded.

You were grateful he wasn't teasing you about that blush on your cheeks; not only it would make your cheeks go redder, but it would be utterly awkward, and you didn't want that. Not at least after the time when you made a proper conversation with Simon.

First one – you noted – because that conversation that was two weeks later didn't even count as a conversation – more like, exchange, something professional. Right now, it was professional, sure, but it also seemed... comfortable enough for you to not stress what are you supposed to say, or if he's gonna beat you up.

You examined the cat again, searching if something was wrong, or if she needed anything else, but she seemed... taken care of perfectly, though. Her furr was so different from the last time; now, fluffy, she was being well-fed, you could tell. It cherished your heart, truly, it always was a good feeling when a stray found perfect home.

No matter if perfect home was in 6'4 giant with perfect, blonde hair, brown eyes that could make you drown in them easily. No matter if that giant didn't want to talk at all, or he was just reserved to strangers like you. A true wonder, that man – you wondered if he was like that to his friends too, because he had to have someone, right?

"Okay. You're good to go" you said after a few minutes, as you started to clean the room; at least to sanitize things that needed to be done, you couldn't leave it all on Bernie, when she's gonna open up the next day.

"How much?"

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Nothing."

"Nothing? $50 will do?"

"Jesus Christ, Mr. Harris" you groaned, turning to him, as you continued cleaning, going to the very end of it. "You dropped $90 two weeks ago, which is way too much, and..."

"Thought it was average prices for something like that." he interrupted you; for a few seconds, your gazes locked, and you could swear that you've seen a glint of interest.

Have you catched it somehow? You couldn't help but wonder, when he was counting the money, taking bills out of his wallet; you took only $5, not accepting the other $45. Not only he was overpaying for a routine visit, something that you adviced him to do, but he was annoying about it. His look spoke volumes, as eyebrow was cocked, but he just accepted the things as you put them, without saying anything else.

"It's just routine visits." you muttered when he walked out of the examination room, and you closed it swiftly. "Not something to pay for."

"I'm just appreciating your work. Late one, to be exact, no one's staying as many hours as you do, 's all." he explained, observing how you closed the front door too. You knew he wanted to ask something, just by that look of his, but he wasn't saying anything else.

"I'm good, no need to do that" you smiled weakly. "Part of the job, I love it too much to not stay over my hours."

"Mhm."

He nodded to you, which probably meant goodbye, considering that after that, he walked away. So, despite he couldn't see it anymore, you nodded back, and got into the car, thinking. It was a good conversation, you tried to tell yourself – he showed his face too, pretty one. Not to mention, he catched you in embarrassing moment, when you were about to fall, so...

You rolled your eyes, sighing. Why that occupied your mind? It wasn't like something was about to happen between you two, yet, thoughts that you had looked like one of a schoolgirl that has a crush. Pretty embarrasing.

What was more embarrassing though, was the fact that your car wouldn't fucking start, no matter how much you cursed under your breath. You tried multiple times turning the key in the ignition, and yet, it wouldn't start, it sounded worse than your grandma with asthma. Having no knowledge about cars that was going beyond changing oil and such sucked because you had no idea what to do right now.

Calling your mechanic would be a good option, but Celia wouldn't pick up, you were certain. Doing something on your own? Not a chance, you'd probably fuck it up even more than it already was. Leaving your car here seemed like the best options, but your apartment was a bit far, and walking to it in the middle of the night...

"You want for that battery to die badly, huh?"

That familiar voice made you jump a bit, and turn to no one but Simon, who looked at you with his piercing eyes, a transporter in his hand. You couldn't help but wonder, how the fuck you didn't hear his walk? He was, like, a motherfucking giant, and in theory he should have a tough walk, the one that you usually hear. Heavy one.

But no, no. This guy was sneaky as a fucking cat, and his swift, not noticeable movements were just preparing you to have a heart attack.

"Pardon?" you raised your eyebrow, looking at him.

"If you're gonna turn your key multiple times" he leaned a bit closer "you're gonna kill your battery. It's better to wait 'till morning."

You hummed in response, as you looked at keys in your hand; he was right, it was no need for you to try, you had maybe a one in a million chance for that beast to start. So, you stepped out of the car after rolling your windows up, and you locked it.

"Better to call the mechanic?" a sigh came out of your lips, as you adjusted your bag that was freely on your shoulder.

"Probably. Wouldn't want to make it more of a mess" he shrugged, keeping the pace of the walk with you. "Livin' far from here?"

His deep voice, with a British accent to it, made you shiver at his question; it was getting to you. And when you crossed your grey eyes with his? It was hard to not trip again, even if it was a pretty straight road.

Was it a little too forward to say that you were a sucker for different accents?

"A bit." you replied. "Not my first rodeo with walking from here, so I have my shortcuts, you know."

Simon raised his eyebrow.

"Not your first?"

"Sometimes my car does little tricks, you know. Like today. So, I walk, what other choice do I have?"

"How long it's been since you checked your car?" he asked, after a few seconds.

You let out a chuckle, as you tried to remember when you actually visited Celia. A few months? Six? More or less, even if your mechanic actually was reminding you that you can hop in every once in a while. It's not like you were always busy, you could just have a day off, since you were your own boss, or you could just close earlier.

It was just... a fuck up, from your side, honestly. It wasn't your smartest thing you've done, but shit happened sometimes.

"Around six." you managed to mumble with a bit of shame, as he gave you a look.

"And for six months you occasionally walk to home in the middle of the night? Instead of, I don't know" he snorted, rolling his eyes "maybe going to mechanic?"

You huffed.

"You make it sound worse than it already is" you pointed out, amused, despite the fact that he practically called you out.

He was right, and you knew it very well.

"Although" you started talking again "it's the perfect scenario for tragedy, you know. Kidnapping, being murdered in those bushes. Really."

Simon, before completely disappearing from your sigh in some alley, gave you a polite look that spoke volumes about what you said. Yet, he didn't dare to disagree with you, he probably thought of that too.

The headlines in newspaper would be funny. Vet died on her way home or Mysterious disappearance of Addison Frost. That second one sounds like a book or something – you thought.

"Take care, once again. Would hate for Sparkles to have other vet." you managed to hear, when you parted your ways, walking in other direction to your homes.

Sparkles.

So, it's the name of his cat.

You smiled under your nose, as you thought how adorable it is to name an animal like that. What was his inspiration, though? Has he looked to ideas on the internet, or he had it in mind? He didn't seem like he was a big softie and just decided on that. Maybe he had an inspiration?

You couldn't help but wonder, thinking that probably Simon Harris will occupy your mind for a little longer, even if he was just a client.

A client that you managed to talk to, despite his cold demeanor.

Seemed like a reward to you.

#simon riley #call of duty #imagine #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #cod #ghost call of duty

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comicaurora · 5 months

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Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

#asks #aurora #art stuff

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moonsaver · 1 month

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hiyaaa! its me again!! omg is it just me or is there just NO robin x reader content like, at all???

please please please!! if you don't mind, please give me your robin romantic headcanons?

an extra add on food for thought: what do you think would happen if both siblings happen to pine after the same person?

Hello dear inbox visitor! I think it would be better if you sent it during while requests were open, since it kind of teeters on the line between thoughts vs requests haha. Anyways, you're right. We dont have enough x robin content :(

Lets try and fix it!

Robin seems like a very attentive lover, which is surprising considering how busy she would be since she's a popstar.

During conversations or small talk, passing phrases, she makes sure to listen to you lovingly,and makes note of all the small things about you.

To me, I think she'd be the type of person who puts your name as just a pink heart icon, and notes down all the things you like in the description of your contact. She also has a separate notes tab for other things like your wishlist items, things she's noticed about you, and so on.

She's optimistic, but not unrealistic. If you're the overthinker type, she grounds you flawlessly. She's very rational and sorts things out carefully with you, sitting you down gently and discusses everything on your mind with you. Gives you a lovely, soft smile when you stop overthinking and come to a solution with a relaxed sigh.

Surprisingly sensitive to physical contact. She's not touch-starved, nor averse to it, but still is unused to it for the most part. However, she likes holding hands very often. She'd be very happy if you rubbed your thumb over her knuckles. Often takes off her glove just to hold your hand. I feel like her hands would be pleasantly cold. She squeaks slightly when you kiss her face! Then giggles. She likes the feeling of you peppering her face in kisses.

Lets you touch her wings often, and they are incredibly soft. They smell pleasantly of flowers, and sometimes she flutters them on your face to make you giggle. She doesn't mind if you mess them up a bit, as long as it's not before a concert.

If you have hair long enough to braid, she'll want to do that. She has cute little accessories on her that she uses whenever you let her, cute clips and hair ties that she uses for you specifically. She also really likes it when you braid her hair. She doesn't care if it's not pretty, she just likes that you're the one doing it.

Often, I imagine she gets overwhelmed with the amount of people working on her appearances that sometimes she just asks them to leave and has you help her work on her appearance. It could just be feedback and she'll appreciate it. She just likes being in your presence whenever she's overwhelmed, which can be often if she's especially out on a tour. If you can't be there physically, she'll want to call you, or replay any voice notes you may have sent previously. She saves them all – date, time, named and even the context behind them. She misses you dearly whenever she's away, just doesn't have the time to even express it.

If you're alright with cosmetics of all kinds, she's a little thrilled. She'll want you to try her perfumes and clothes, too. Kisses you directly if you ask for her lip balm or lipgloss, then giggles at the transferred sheen. Likes trying out new eye palette colors on you, trying out new styles of makeup, and often asks for suggestion on her own outfits. She also adores when you both dress up in matching outfits, and has a neat little album of you two consisting of photos that she takes.

Robin can feel a bit shy asking for affection or doing cute couple-things. She really likes the corny things, like indirect kisses from shared straws, being stared at while she's doing something, being kissed in the rain, dancing together, etc.. she also probably saw you eat a lollipop once, and wanted to ask you for a taste, but got too shy and didn't ask. You have to take the initiative and comfort her into asking for these things.

Anyways, if both siblings pine for the same person.. it's gonna be a little strained. Depends on how much they like the reader respectively, but lets assume both of them are head over heels for reader.

Robin and Sunday pining after the same person may either bring them together or put more strain on their already, slightly distant relationship. I feel like Sunday may either support his sister, convince her to pursue you and share you with him, or guilt trip her into not approaching you. Not even as a yandere, Sunday can be a little manipulative and greedy when it comes to his feelings. Ever since Robin left Sunday alone as the head of the Oak Family, I feel like he would harbor a small amount of apathy or even dislike towards her because of it, and on top of that, if she ends up liking you, he'll feel oddly like you've been stolen from him.

Robin.. won't back off so easily however. She's a smart girl, and even if she obliges to her brother's whims, she knows him better than anyone else. She'll probably stay docile for the most part, though. However, she isn't just a pretty face. Just because she remains docile doesn't mean she's given you up completely to her brother. She'll at least remain stubborn on having you to some degree, even if it means straining their relationship a bit.

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rinbowaman · 6 months

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When heethan looks at his y/n, bro be staring at you like….

HIS PERSPECTIVE

I took her on a walk through the park. The autumn palette of auburn leaves, tangerine pumpkins, and cinnamon branches harmonized together perfectly. Still, no matter how beautiful the earth may be, nothing holds a candle to her. The perfect tone of her hair, the peach blush that compliments her complexion, and the burgundy stain of her lips. Her colors are perfection; not even Heavens angels could compete.

I dressed her in a black, velvet coat, much like mine. I always like seeing us match as a pair, we belong, therefore it’s only fitting that our attire unites in wedlock. I covered her delicate hands with a pair of leather gloves, to keep her skin warm and safe from the debris and roughness of cooler weather. She is so much like a doll, not because I dress her, brush her hair, or swipe my thumb against her lips as I admire her face, that’s only a fraction of it. She’s such a doll for taking it, obeying me, and becoming better every day. It’s a shame that I have to break something so beautiful, but it is necessary to prune the rose bush and make it grow back the way you want it. Now look at my darling. So amendable and dutiful, yet still has enough spice to keep it challenging for me. I love her so much.

She twirls around, running her fingers through her hair as the wind dances to its own tune. The gust becomes stronger, causing all the strands to stray and surround that precious face…the face I call home. To me, she is always ethereal, yet moments like this, when she is carefree and focus on me—just me, I see a side of her that no one else witnesses, and it is the most desiring and beautiful thing I ever did see…that WE…ever did see.

When I watch her smile and hear her laugh, the beast inside me roars. She’s rattling the cage, but the poor girl has no idea. She’s tempting me with raw meat, and tapping those beautiful fingers against the steel door. For now, I’ll allow her to continue and enjoy the autumn calling, she deserves it…because once we get home, I’ll have my darling stripped and under me, and knowing her…she’ll take everything I give. She’ll take it through tears and pleasure, and in return, I’ll feel connected and whole all over again….my y/n. How did I ever live without you? You are the purpose of my life—the meaning of my happiness. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, little darling.

“Heeseung! Can we walk through the pumpkin patch?”

I feel the devil’s smile creeping along my lips.

“Sure darling, whatever you like.”

We’ll go and walk among the pumpkins and hay barrels…later, we’ll take another walk…through Heaven and Hell.

“Let’s go….pretty baby.”

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader Hey! Can you do a story where reader gets hurt during the fight in the last episode and Xavier freaks out and helps her feel better? Thank you! I love all your stories, they’re so good!!!

Who’s the idiot who accidently deleted all the asks/requests thinking I was on another side-blog that I wanted to clean up and re-purpose? It’s me. Hi. I’m the idiot. It’s me. I wish I had saved them somewhere, but I didn’t for Xavier… Please send requests for him so I can keep writing!! Also, for some reason I ignore, this post has not been showing anywhere so I took it down and reposted

Request: Can I get Wednesday’s sister getting attacked by the hyde and Xavier being at the hospital when she wakes up?

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

It all happened so quickly.

You and Enid had been running to get to Wednesday with Thing when you heard a grunt as Enid fell to the ground with a strange crack. You assumed she was hurt, but something else was happening. She was turning.

‘’Enid!’’

Her body was twisting in a sickly way as she was turning, her clothing ripping as she grew in size and shape and fur now coating her usual smooth and soft skin. You had never seen a werewolf turn before. You’ve always wondered how small people like Enid could turn into these beasts. It was fascinating.

Farther away in the woods, Wednesday found herself face to face with Tyler. They exchanged a few words until, just like Enid, his body transformed.

Once her transformation completed, the now werewolf girl howled into the night and began running to where you assumed was Wednesday. You and Thing followed after her, your much shorter legs — or fingers — carrying you slower.

You halted when you saw the hyde, seeing it for the first time. He was massive and visually terrifying as he fought with a ferocious Enid. You looked around for your sister, but the raven haired girl was nowhere in sight. She must have gotten away and gone to the school, Thing was explaining to you. That’s where the final battle with Crackwood will happen.

Suddenly, you felt sharp claws in your calf and were dragged down as you screamed in pain and terror.

The hyde got you. You clawed at the ground to anchor yourself, soil getting under your nails as you tried to resist the monster’s grasp but he was so much stronger and bigger than you that your fight was already lost. You were going to be the next victim — the next death.

Thing tried to help you, but he was just…a hand.

You kept screaming and fighting, tears formed at the corner of your eyes as the pain in your calf was intensifying. You’ve felt pain before, but never on this level. This felt like your whole calf had been butchered.

Your screams of distress were heard and a growl echoed, followed by Enid jumping on Tyler and clawing him with all her anger. He had hurt you, he had hurt her friend.

The two creatures moved the fight, and Thing hurried to your side. You sat to check your injury, the fabric of your pants slashed and soaked with blood. There were three deep gashes along your right calf. Blood was spilling rapidly and beginning to make you feel lightheaded.

Thing was telling you to hold on, to stay awake, but your eyes were too heavy and consciousness slipped away.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a room too bright for your sensitive eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and moaned in complaint, cursing the fluorescent lights above you. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh lighting, then started making out the white walls and the heart monitor that was beeping loudly every three seconds. By the window, there was a table with some dying flowers — pink tulips — and a matching pink card. They must be from Enid. The color palette matched her too well. There was also a small black cat plush that was likely from your sister, Wednesday.

At the foot of your bed was a boy in a dark gray hoodie asleep in a small and uncomfortable looking chair.

‘’Xavier?’’ you croaked out with difficulty, your throat and mouth dry.

You hadn’t seen him since the day he got arrested. No one had been allowed to visit him in the Jericho police office. You had tried to sneak in, but one of the officers caught you and escorted you out.

‘’Xavier,’’ you repeated, a little louder this time. It came out more like a squeak, but it was enough to make him stir and frown, slowly waking up.

Your name slipped from his lips and his eyes filled with tears when he saw you were awake. There were dark circles under his tired eyes and his hair were thrown into a messy half up, making you wonder how long he’s been sitting there for.

‘’Hi.’’ You reached out to him with your hand, only to wince at the small movement, feeling a throbbing pain in your calf and up your leg.

‘’Don’t move. I’ll come closer.’’ Xavier stood, rushing over to you and clasping your fingers with clammy hands.

He should alert the nurses that you were awake, but he’ll do that in five minutes.

‘’You’ve been unconscious for a few days due to all the blood you lost. You…you almost died—’’ His voice faltered, the thought of losing you making his heart ache.

Back in the woods when the hyde had attacked you, you thought that it would be it too. You thought that you would die and never see Xavier again. Never get to touch him or hug him or kiss him again. But he was here, standing before you and holding your hand in his.

‘’Enid told me what happened in the woods.’’ His eyes shifted to your blanket covered feet, your calf more precisely. ’’I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’’

You shook your head, refusing to take his apologies. ‘’You were fighting your own fight, Xavier. Besides, there were handcuffs and chains on your wrists and feet. How could you have been with me?’’

He looked down and laughed softly, knowing you were right. What could he had done from the inside of his cell?

‘’What happened to Tyler? Did they kill him? And Enid? I’ve got to thank her for saving me. What about Wedn—’’

It was Xavier’s turn to shake his head, shushing you. ‘’Later.’’ One of his hands let go of yours and tucked your hair behind your ear. ‘’I’ll tell you everything later. You need to rest…and I really gotta alert a nurse before one of them comes in and see I didn’t tell them you were awake.’’

He kissed your forehead before going, promising to be quick, but you grabbed his wrist as he was leaving. ‘’Not yet. I want to stay alone with you a little longer.’’ You looked into his green eyes and played your cards, knowing how to make him fold to your requests.

Xavier sighed, soft for you and unable to say ‘no’ to that face. ‘’Alright… Five more minutes.’’

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo—uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @wrldofsage @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

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gingerjolover · 3 months

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The Love Nest - Julien Baker x young!gf

read the blurb here!

synopsis: young!soft!gf has a bad day but julien is always there to make it better

g's notes: oh heyyyy.... this is a small installment in the controversially young!gf universe, she is lowkey soft!gf coded - i am really going to try and push out more fics now that things are falling into place for me and my life doesn't feel so out of control :-)

warnings: RPF, age gap (both consenting adults!), young!gf is 20?? in this fic, bad day vibes:/, talks of internet bullying, smoochin/lovin/the works, no fundamental physical descriptors except hair that can be tucked behind ear??

The frantic succession of pings had woken Julien up from her post-studio haze, her body half laying on the couch when the panicked texts came in. She didn't even hesitate to get up, changing out of her recording clothes into a pair of boxers and a big t-shirt, moving around the house like a zombie, the routine is one she could do with her eyes closed.

20 minutes later, she sits on the porch, messy hair and slippers on, half exposed to the neighbors by the gaps in her landscaping. She's only lived in the house a few months, having narrowed down what she wanted right around the time you both fell in love almost 8 months ago. It's a small Spanish-style home, close enough to her friends but far enough away from the city that she doesn't feel suffocated. Phoebe relentlessly teased her about the renovations she made, "Oh, so your girlfriend gets to choose the color of your backsplash... it's a love nest!" she had squealed, poking Julien's side as Lucy and Jo admired the palette you had chosen for her kitchen.

She'd hated the teasing, the constant (but loving) making fun of how she worships the ground you walk in, bending to every whim needed to make you happy. Her friends could see it was reciprocated, having finally gotten to know you enough to feel comfortable teasing you about your relationship, your skin thickening with every lousy comment, but smiling at everything from Julien's friend's mouth, laced with admiration for you.

It scares Julien, despite being on the same page about your love, often having deep talks before bed about how the love between you feels like the only thing to ever exist; it scares her just how much she loves you. There's something natural about you flittering around her house, an old ratty band tee adorning your figure as Julien playfully mocks you about not knowing the song blasting throughout the house despite it singlehandedly getting her through her sophomore year of college.

But the best thing, the most natural thing of all, is seeing you pull up into the driveway. Julien envisions when you're done with school, following your dreams full time, and coming home to her every night. Normally, she'd stand on the porch, smiling wide and staring dreamily at you as you park your car. The dog at her feet would wag his tail, ready to pounce when your Converse hits the first step.

But the dreamy eyes are replaced with concern today. She can see your blotchy cheeks through the windshield, eyes bloodshot and streaming. "Oh shit," she mumbles under her breath; every nerve ending is on fire, worry flowing through her veins as she makes her way down the steps to you.

You've barely parked the car before flinging the door open, jumping out, and rushing into her arms. She catches you with ease, one hand moving to support your bottom as you wrap your legs around her, the other tight on your back.

"Hi baby," Julien murmurs, lips pressed to your cheek, your skin warm and damp. Your tears leak down Julien's neck, her hand rubbing up and down your back over your t-shirt, hot and sticky from the sweat, no doubt a result of your anxiety.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, rubbing your nose against her skin as she walks you back to the steps.

"You never need to say sorry for coming here, you know that." She gave you a comforting squeeze before walking you to the porch, the soft glow from inside the house and a few small lights outside were enough to illuminate the whole yard, a warm glow in the incoming darkness.

"Careful buddy, be gentle, mama's sad," Julien says gently, sitting you both down as her dog excitedly moves to you, as if knowing you need comfort, licking your cheek, pawing at your back.

A small giggle and a succession of pets give Julien some hope, her eyes watching your face. Cheeks flushed and puffy, eyes brightened by tears, lips bitten and red, you look so innocent and clearly hurt, but despite it all, approach everything with kindness and gentleness.

“I just needed to see you and I know you have an early session in the morning and I’m not supposed to be here until Thursday but I—“ you start to ramble, knowing that you and Julien both have strict schedules.

"Baby... breathe. It's okay, okay? You're here and safe," Julien says softly, seeing your eyes descend into panic once again when trying to be considerate of her schedule. Julien presses kisses into the crown of your hair, mumbling against the skin, "Besides, I missed you, except I hate seeing you sad, so talk to me; what's happening?" Julien says, pulling away, thumb coming to wipe away tears under your eyes.

“Everything that could’ve gone wrong today went wrong, and I’m so tired,” you breathe out, almost like you couldn't get oxygen back into your lungs. The sobs start up quickly again, heading towards dangerous territory quickly.

Julien's worried frown deepens slightly, but she squeezes you reassuringly. This wasn't good. Not at all. You were usually a ray of sunshine, but the way you breathed out, having such a pessimistic view, sounded... it sounded terrible. She rubbed her thumb against your back in a gentle rhythm. "Slow down. What happened?"

You let out some shuddering breaths, sobs broken up between sniffles before you explain, “I slept through my alarm which I never do, so I missed my meeting with my manager, and then on my way to class my smoothie spilled all over my bag and laptop, and thankfully I backed it up b-but I need a new one, a-and I haven’t gotten the checks from my shop yet so I’m stressing about rent and then all of my paints dried out so I couldn't even work, and my lunch ended up being spoiled so I haven't eaten and I walked to my car after class and there was a fucking p-parking ticket and then when I got home and tried to shower a-and the water was ice cold, and then I stupidly went on instagram and I just—“ you sob gently, all your words like mush, coming in out in only a few breaths.

The more details you explained, the more worried Julien's expression grew. This was a bad day. Worse than most. Her brow furrowed as she took it all in, a frown settling. She kept stroking your back gently as she pulled you in closer, legs interlocking as you sat on the steps. "Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You don't have to worry about rent. I've got you. Let's just breathe for a sec and figure all of it out…"

“And I failed that stupid philosophy test! He’s making me retake it because my answers were “plagiarized,” according to Turnitin,” you cry out, the elective you were so excited to take because your girlfriend's enthusiasm is a main stress point this semester.

"Hey, hey, let's not worry about that right now. We can deal with your philosophy professor later. Right now, you just need to take some slow breaths, okay?" Julien's voice was soothing; she gently rocked you as she spoke. "Now… the laptop. You said you backed everything up?"

"Yeah, I- but I have so much homework due on Thursday and I— I won't have time to get a new one or even have time to go to the library,” you whine gently, leaning into Julien's affections.

"Hey, look at me." Julien holds your chin gently but sternly; she looks more serious now as she speaks. "You don't need to worry about all of that tonight. You're not going to the library. You'll have some dinner, then we'll crawl into bed and watch a movie, and you can just rest, okay? We'll figure all of that stuff out tomorrow."

“I— I don’t have the time, and I—" you try to explain, tears coming down faster.

The gentle tone in Julien's voice disappears as she shakes her head. "Princess, listen to me." She looks at you firmly and takes your hands into hers, her thumb rubbing your ring finger softly. "You can skip the library. You can tell your manager everything's all right. You can fail one test. You can sleep. We will figure out the laptop situation tomorrow, and everything will be okay. You're safe here, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you right now. You're just gonna relax. I'll take care of everything else."

"But the parking ticket-" you sob softly, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"I'll deal with that tomorrow." Her tone was more definitive, her eyes locked into yours. "You can just focus on getting some rest right now. Okay? I promise it's gonna be okay."

Julien searches your eyes, watching you nod. Her heart cracks when she sees the tears streaming down, a more profound pain behind your eyes. Her face fell instantly, her hands touching your cheeks as she pressed her forehead to yours. She breathes with you, trying to figure out how to approach what's clearly not a bad day but a breaking point. She gently strokes your hair, "You wanna tell me what's really bothering you, sweet girl?" Julien speaks softly.

“Why are you with me? You’re like— older and successful and isn’t this just— all so stupid, I mean I’m in college and I—“ you whispers, your words riddled with shame as you stare into her brown eyes, feeling small.

Julien's stomach drops; that definitely wasn't a response she was expecting. All of their friends joke about it, but you've never asked the question directly like this. Her mind reeled of every interaction she had witnessed that your relationship was the topic of conversation, wondering which comment was the nail in the coffin, one she didn't even know you had been preparing. She hesitates for a long moment, her brows furrowed. Her expression grows tender again as she pulls you into a hug and squeezes you softly. "Because I love you. And I'm proud of you. And I'm here to support you with everything."

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this; it’s all— childish, you’re like—taking care of me,” you say sadly, sniffling again. Julien notices specific language, the rhetoric not like your own, it sounds like a direct comment and not a narrative you've created for yourself.

Julien's eyes widened as she listened; she definitely heard those exact comments on social media, blocking most of it out for the sake of your relationship. "You're not childish. I'm not taking care of you. We're a partnership. We're taking care of each other. You take care of me too. Everything's gonna be ok," she says sternly but gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. "Can I ask you something?" she says softly.

"Mhm," Julien smiles softly at your hum, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. "Did something else happen today? Did someone say something about our relationship? Or have you been reading comments again?" Julien's eyebrows knit together in worry as she looks into your eyes. The trolls were nasty enough as it is. The thought that you might have been rereading their bullshit was heartbreaking.

You look into her eyes guiltily, bottom lip between your teeth as you open your mouth, but nothing can come out, just a sheepish blush crossing your cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." Julien groans, her voice more concerned now. She takes your hands and holds them more tightly in her own. "That's a terrible idea; we've talked about this, okay? You know not to read those comments. They don't know anything about you or us. They're just assholes with a keyboard."

"I couldn't help it, I-" you whine softly, dropping your head low to hide from any disappointing looks Julien might shoot your way.

"Look at me, come on." Juliens pulls your chin up, tilting it so her eyes meet yours. Her expression is soft as she strokes your cheek. "These trolls are just miserable people who have nothing better to do than make other people miserable. We've discussed this: you can't let their opinions take over your life. You can't let them affect you like this."

“I just— had such a bad day and I felt like I couldn’t get my emotions under control and— I just was on there for fun I swear, but then I saw the post from Saturday that Katie posted of us and some of the comments were just so mean, and I started to wonder why you would wanna deal with me? Deal with all of this stuff when you graduated like 6 years ago and I don’t have my shit together, I’m not even 21 so—“ you start to ramble, getting worked up again as the panic floods your chest.

"Hey. Look at me." Julien's voice is gentle as she strokes your hair, holding you close. "I'm not dealing with anything. It's called being in a relationship. There's nothing to deal with. What other people think doesn't matter, remember? Not a damn thing. All that matters to me is that you're here. With me. That's it."

Julien cant help but look down, your lips in cute small pout. She smiles lightly as she wipes your cheeks, kissing your lips quickly.

"Promise me you won't read through that garbage anymore, okay? You know it isn't good for you. It's not good for us. We're good. Just us. Don't let them get in your head. And you never have to justify why you're with me. That's not how this works."

You nod gently, chest lighter at Julien's reassurances. The heavy weight of people's comments still weighs on you, knowing this is something to discuss later, but for now, having Julien dote on you is enough.

Julien's lips curl into a soft smile as she brings her forehead up to yours, eyes still locked into one another's. She whispers softly, "That's my girl. You're gonna rest and I'll deal with the parking ticket and everything else. Okay?"

You nod softly, thanking everything in the universe for the woman sitting before you. You lean in, kissing Julien's cheeks a few times, the corner of her mouth, and then her lips.

Julien hums when you kiss her, your soft lips against her chapped ones. Julien's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim glow of the porch light, the sun almost set. She closes her eyes and lets out a happy sigh as she pulls your body closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"Are you happy?" you mumble out, tone laced with insecurity, silently face-palming yourself for how you sounded.

Julien's expression grows soft as her hands rub up and down your back, those words tugging at her heartstrings just a bit. She swallows before her voice comes out gentle and sincere, "I am the happiest I've been in a very long time, baby."

Julien's arms wrap tighter around you, and she pulls you into her lap, her lips meeting yours gently and tenderly. Her hands hold your head, mouths softly brushing together, the warmth of your breaths mingling against and into one another's.

She can't help but giggle when you pull away, cheeks flushed and your face moving to her neck. "Can we shower?" you mumble against her skin, Julien's hand rubbing your leg softly.

The blush spreads further up Julien's cheek as she leans in to kiss the top of your head. "Of course we can, pretty girl. I want to get you all cozy," Julien says softly, placing you back on the step as she pats the dog's head, quickly stepping down and towards the car.

She moves to grab your overnight bag, favorite pillow, and purse. Carrying the items in one hand, she locks the car and walks back towards the house, sticking out her opposite hand.

"Thank you," you murmur, kissing her cheek as you grab her hand. "S'no biggie, baby," Julien smiles softly, pushing you through the door first, locking up behind her, and following you straight up the stairs.

You make their way upstairs to the bathroom. The bathroom is dark, except for the light from the bedside lamp nearby that casts an orange-yellow glow. Julien runs the shower, watching you slip into the tub with a small smile. The shower is quick, like any other, Julien tending to you gently. She washes your hair and massages your scalp as you rest against her, a low song coming from her lips.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Julien grabs a pair of pajamas from your drawer in her room. Her hands move gently as she works lotion into your back, attempting to relieve the tight muscles in your overworked body. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she moves, her eyes locking into yours in the mirror, her expression so loving and caring, just wanting you to feel better.

“Thank you,” Julien's eyes shine brightly when she sees your soft, tired expression, your sweet thank you music to her ears. She pulls you closer to her chest, rubbing her thumb against your cheek gently and kisses your forehead. "You're welcome. You wanna order food?” Julien mumbles against your skin.

“Mhm, only had half a smoothie today."

Julien's eyes glow softly with admiration as she watches you lean into her. She kisses your forehead again and hums soothingly. “That’s not good,” she breathes, running her fingers through your wet hair. "Poor baby. You wanna lie down in bed while I order? I promise I'll be quick?"

“Yeah,” you say, eyes closing as you allow yourself to enjoy Julien's tender touch.

Julien's smile grows a little more, rubbing your back reassuringly. She pulls out her phone and pulls up the delivery app, watching you cross into the bedroom. She also moves into the bedroom, turning on the bedside lamp and pulling the curtains across the window, dimming everything to a soft, cozy glow. The room is warm and tranquil, any space in Julien's house can achieve this with just a few alterations.

As you snuggle into bed, reaching for the remote, Julien crosses in front of the TV to plug in your heating pad, setting it across your lap.

Juliens watches your face, taking in your exhausted expression, puffy eyes, and the way you're sunken deep into the blankets. Her soft, loving look changes into a teasing one, she can't help but to gently nuzzle her face into your hair as she leans down to you. "I know it was a hard day, baby, but try not to fall asleep before the food gets here," she whispers softly and playfully.

You squint back teasingly, “What’re you ordering?”

"Probably from that Thai place? That okay? That coconut curry could do you some good... it should warm you up and ease those muscles too."

“Is that the one that Phoebe got for me last time?”

"Yeah... think so," Julien's tone reflects the fond memories of Phoebe and Lucy trying to impress you and how cute and sweet it all was to them. "She said she did a little research for the best spot in town. It was so nice of her to do that, wasn't it? The food was really good too."

“Yeah, it was good. I haven't had it since that time with them, like 6 months ago," you say, looking up at Julien as she stands next to the bed, one knee resting on the mattress.

"That’s when I thought Phoebe and Lucy hated me,” you snort softly.

"Oh, definitely not. Lucy and Phoebe are probably both a little in love with you if you want the truth." Julien's tone is teasing; she knows how much her bandmates and best friends appreciate you, even if you don't see it yourself. Her tone grows kinder and softer as she continues. "Phoebe just wanted to feel out the vibe and get to know you better,” Julien says.

Julien's expression softens as she rubs her thumb against your mouth, arm sticking out in front of her, "Yeah, they were probably a little skeptical of you when they first met you. I don’t think they were sure what to make of you."

“Was because of my age, right?” you ask softly, eyes shining with insecurity when the 7-year age gap reappears.

Julien's expression grows warm and apologetic, feeling a lot of guilt over your anxiety about the age difference. She sits on the edge of the bed, tattooed hands running up and down your leg reassuringly. "That may have played a bit of a role, but honestly? I think there was a bit of jealousy there, too. You’re smart, pretty, and funny, and I was pretty smitten instantly. I think they might have felt a little threatened by you," Julien says with a twinkle in her eye, her smile moving to the side with jest.

“Shut up, Jay,” you groan, covering your face with your hands as you lean back into the pillow.

Juliens chuckles slightly at your reaction. "What, it may have been true. I mean, have you seen you?" Julien says playfully, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Flattery will get you nowhere."

Julien's playful expression grows a bit more mischievous. "Oh, it'll get me somewhere, alright. I have a certain spot in mind for that flattery." Juliens nuzzles her into your neck, leaning over you, her body half off the bed, as her lips land near your ear. "You know which one I mean."

“Jules!” you laugh loudly, pushing her off.

Julien's grin grows even wider as she's pushed off of you, leaning back toward you, kissing your lips playfully. "Sorry, angel, I can't help myself. I see a pretty girl, and my hands get a little excited."

You cock one eyebrow up at Juliens use of “a pretty girl”. Julien's eyes narrow playfully at your reaction knowing she's been called out for her choice of words here.

"Okay, okay, fine. I see my really, really, incredibly stunningly gorgeous girlfriend, and I just can't help myself. Better?" Julien chuckles.

“Better."

Julien moves to finish ordering the food, patting your leg quickly before going downstairs to get her laptop to try and get some of the things that went wrong in your day sorted. She lays on the bed, resting against the headboard, your back slightly towards her as you focus on the TV. One of her hands moves back into a gentle massage on your back, trying to relax you, your muscles still somewhat tense.

Julien works on setting up an appointment at the Apple store to get you a new laptop, highlighting and noting which options would be best for your current needs. She also makes sure to transfer enough money for your portion of your rent, knowing you will pay her back as soon as you get paid. And you didn't ask, she knows you would do it eventually, but she goes ahead and orders some replacement paint (and a few other things on your wishlist), knowing you need to get prints done.

Julien's fingers move up to your scalp, trying to commit to memory to ask you tomorrow about the parking ticket information so she can pay it as soon as possible. Her fingers move rhythmically, each stroke a gentle massage of your head. She hums softly as she continues, her eyes moving back and forth between the TV and her phone, watching the delivery time on the door dash.

Her fingers slow down and stop in place for a moment, taking a deep breath and realizing despite the hardships, she's never been more fulfilled and content. She can’t help but smile with tender affection as her mind is filled with thoughts of the girl in her bed, this sweet, smart girl who's taken up an unexpected home in her heart.

“Can I take a power nap?” you mumble, already half asleep, Julien's tattooed fingers to blame.

"You want to take a little power nap until the food gets here?" She asks with a smirk, lifting her arm and widening it, a signal beckoning you to her side.

“Mhm,” you nod, moving on your side and snuggling into Julien.

Julien's face is loving as she watches you settle into her side. She pulls a bit of the blanket over both of you, "Go on, baby, take your nap. I'll watch out for the food."

g's notes: does this suck? i feel like its somehow so long and yet nothing is happening lol

g's notes again: yes its 1 am, i- i don't have an excuse actually

#julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker fluff #julien baker x fem!reader #controversially young!gf universe #julien baker x young!gf #julien baker x soft!gf

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creatingblackcharacters · 23 days

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“The Same Place as the Music” Lighting & Color

“Where is the light coming from?” “The same place as the music.” Andrew Lesnie, Cinematographer of LOTR

How & Why It's A Problem

If I had to summarize the frustration I have with this topic in one image, I'd use JeCorey Holder's (queer Black creative!) meme:

Now here's the thing. I'm not saying you have to be a master at lighting. I'm surely not. Hell, I still play around with lighting in my art in ways that aren’t the ‘most realistic’. You can’t ask me the technical explanations behind ‘color theory’ or 'contrast' without me doing some more reading. However… I don’t think anyone needs an art degree to understand this point:

We should be able to SEE your brown skinned Black characters!

I brought this up in my lessons about skin tones and blushing, and it applies with lighting as well. If all of your other characters have focused light and shadows, so should your Black characters.

However, this does NOT mean making them lighter-skinned!!!!

It's not funny nor logical at all to suggest that they somehow can't be seen like your other characters when you’re the one creating the piece. It's like a classic fifth-grade racist joke, “You blend in at night”. Har-de-har.

I was once rudely told to my face (well in the DMs) that a Black character that was completely Europeanized looked like that “because of the [sepia] lighting”. So I'm going to give you all, gracious readers, an example to show that that's not true.

This is Ana Flávia, Afro-Brazilian model! Gaze upon her beauty! Notice how in both of these filters, Ana did not, in fact, turn into a white woman! Because, my friends, that is not how that works! At all!

Here are some other examples of Black people in non-color lighting:

None of these people vanished from the frame just because there was no color. They didn't have to paint on lighter makeup to be captured by the camera. What do they all have in common (in this example)?

Lighting!

Now let’s discuss different ways to think about and potentially try instead!

What I want you all to keep in mind, is that the art you’re painting:

And I know that's silly right, like yeah no shit Ice, we knew that. BUT my point here is don’t be afraid to study photography, theatre, and staging for ideas. They actively work with light! It’s why I share so many images of models; it’s purposeful, focused staging of light with many of these compositions!

Brown-skinned Black people- brown-skinned people in general- GLOW in the light! Our skin reflects environmental light! There’s so much opportunity to play with that, and you can see different examples in those mediums.

Here are a couple articles of lighting in film focused on Black actors.

When lighting a person with dark complexion, the answer is not LIGHTENING THE SKIN, it’s understanding how light reflects off of dark skin.” -Nilah Magruder

Nilah Magruder (Black creator!) has an ENTIRE, thorough and wonderful essay on the topic, far better than I could give! She incorporates the use of cameras, lighting, painting, and more- so rather than be redundant here, I'm going to spotlight (ha see what I did there. It's okay, I know I'm funny) her and her explanation.

Incorporating Blackness in Color/Colorful Lighting

@dsm7 has an excellent and short visual explanation of how picking certain colors will lead to washing out or whitewashing Black characters, and how certain lighting and backgrounds (think the black and white photos on brighter backgrounds) will change the way their skin tone looks.

@nicosbighead has one of my favorite images on here, that shows how many different colors can still be used to convey the image of Blackness. Notice how all those pinks still worked?

@gaksdesigns has a beautiful picture here that I feel utilizes the light in a very minimal yet effective way to show highlights even on a palette that's fully brown.

This article approaches from a lighting perspective via filmmaking, but essentially Sade Ndya suggests instead of increasing the amount of light, change the color/lens of the light based on your character’s skin, as well as for the circumstances of the scene. They'll remain vibrant that way, and you’ll still capture what you need.

I know one way I do this on CSP (I think I’ve mentioned this but I can’t remember) is to use the Add Glow tool with the same or a similar shade of the character’s brown skin tone as a highlight under natural light, or maybe use different colors or filters depending on the sort of light on their skin at the time.

Here’s a reddit about it too, just because I know y’all value Reddit on here, and someone else discussed the topic that both Nilah and Sade discussed.

Is It Intentional?

There are going to be times where you intend for the light to be minimal. Maybe it’s a style choice. That should still show purposeful composition. Here’s an interview with famed Black director Ava Duvernay discussing the intentional darkness on Black actors in the prison scene in the movie Selma. To show that they're both trapped in prison AND that Martin is temporarily low on resolve- it's a part of the story that's being told.

I'm always talking about this: there is a difference between intention (and following through), and neglecting to think about it at all. And neglect isn't what we want, because often we can tell visually when it is- when an artist simply did not think to do it for one versus the rest.

Sidenote, on Youtube in the suggestions after Ava's interview, are also plenty of videos discussing lighting for dark-skin as well- why not take the chance to look?

Conclusion

We do not lack for light! We aren’t flat and lightless when you see us in life. It's actually a pretty awesome part of being brown-skinned. If you’re giving proper, flattering lighting to everyone else, give it to us as well. Study and experiment with ways to highlight brown skin.

You already know what I’m going to say. It’s going to take practice, same as anything else, because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black art #black character design #black artists

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rip-quizilla · 11 months

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The Naughty Wench

Summary: You work as a barmaid at the raunchiest booth at the Renaissance Faire, and Eddie purchases a beer from you. He gets a little more than a "huzzah for the tipper" when he throws a fiver in the jar labeled "Thank you, Mistress". (Read: you talk dirty to Eddie while you pour beer down his throat) Based on this Tik Tok posted by @joyful_aura: https://www.tiktok.com/@joyful_aura/video/7244964514561543470

Word Count: 4.7k

Content Warnings: light degradation, dirty talk, sexual themes

Working the faire circuit was in one word… an experience.

Just last week you had been in Texas at Scarborough Faire, where it had been hot as balls underneath your layers of linen, lace and leather. The earlier months hadn’t been too bad, but there was one thing you’d learned about the southern states in your years of renaissance faire experience- when summer hits in the south, it hits hard. The moment you’d driven your van past the Indiana state line, you could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees on the spot.

Now here you were- all trussed up in your wench getup, tits pushed up high enough that they rested like two fleshy pillows right below your collarbones. The corset you’d chosen today wasn’t your most comfortable, but you looked damn good in it- milk chocolate brown with pale gold ribbons that laced up the front. The straps that ran over your shoulders provided some extra support, which you were grateful for with all of the movement your job required. Your skirts today were a warm shade of mustard yellow with a few mismatched patches sewn over holes and stains that had refused to come out over the years. Short sleeved blouses were a must, unless you wanted to pass out from heat stroke or have beer-soaked sleeves clinging to your forearms. Today yours was a pale cream color, with little puffed cap sleeves to cover your shoulders and a neckline that plunged below your corset, so the girls were front and center, ready to earn plenty of “huzzah for the tipper!”s.

Today was Sunday, and since this faire was weekends only, Sundays were basically Fridays as far as faire folk were concerned. As was tradition, you would all be going out for libations once the day was done, followed by a blissful night of sleeping late in your Volkswagen Westfalia.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you’d quit your job and joined the faire circuit, but every day you got to meet new people, play dress-up, and speak in a funny accent- which accent? You switched it up day to day. And the fact that you got paid to do that made it even better.

You loved your little renfaire life.

You stood with your hands on your hips inside the little wooden booth that served as your place of work for the next month’s worth of weekends. Every plastic cup was stacked in place, you had a fresh cleaning rag stuck into your apron, and patrons were already beginning to file into the fairgrounds. A pleasant breeze brought a smile to your face.

“Morning, love!” You turned to see your fellow barmaid, Ingrid, wiping her hands on her own apron after wringing out her own rag into a small bucket of soapy water. Her outfit today was- like most days- the polar opposite of yours. She looked more like a pirate wench while your color palette was more akin to what one might picture in a countryside tavern. Burgundy skirts and off-white petticoats swished around her black lace-up boots, and her black leather waist cincher showcased the smallest part of Ingrid’s middle. You gasped, acting scandalized by the bits of black lace from her bra that peeked over the neckline of her red blouse.

“Ingrid, what kind of place do you think we’re running here?” you tutted, smiling cheekily all the while. “This is a respectable establishment! People might start thinking we sell more than just the drinks here, you know.”

Ingrid cackled, hopping up to sit on the wooden counter behind her. “My dear, I have absolutely no clue what you could be talking about.” She shrugged, smirking behind a shared secret. “We do sell more than just the drinks.” You both giggled knowingly, continuing to complete all of the morning to-do’s around the bar.

Ingrid was right- drinks weren’t the only thing your bar was known for.

There were plenty of booths around the faire where patrons could purchase a drink, but only one where the barmaids would pour beer directly into their mouths while talking dirty to them- and The Naughty Wench just happened to be that booth.

Originally, the idea had been Ingrid’s- the two of you had been friends for a year now, meeting last year in this exact same spot at Indie Faire and working at what was then a run-of-the-mill beer booth. It was customary at any renaissance faire for bar wenches to proclaim “Huzzah for the tipper!” when presented with a tip of any kind, so neither of you was a stranger to putting on the theatrics when money was dropped into your tip jar. One day, however, Ingrid had put out not one, but two tip jars- one labeled ‘Thank You’, the other labeled ‘Thank You Mistress’. You had laughed at it at first. Then Ingrid started…changing the script.

A patron would chuckle to themselves, throwing a dollar into the Mistress jar, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing when Ingrid would smile and tell them they were “such a good boy.”

After a few more, she’d gotten even more creative. “Oh, you thought I only wanted money?” she would croon, holding the beer tauntingly out of their reach. “I want to hear you beg for it, say ‘please, mistress’,” When you’d heard it you’d been appalled, mouth opened wide in shock. You had already prepared yourself for the patron to yell in her face and demand their money back when you’d heard a shy, stuttering “P-please, mistress, can I have my beer?”

Throughout the day, Ingrid’s “Mistress” character only continued to amp up with every hour. At some point, you had joined in, repeating the sultry tones you’d been listening to Ingrid spout easily to strangers and even making up a few responses of your own.

“Only good boys get to drink at the faire, have you been a good boy?”

“You need to say please before you drink- good girl, you’re so very welcome.”

“Hands behind your back and open wide.”

Word about Ingrid’s sultry tipping strategy circulated quickly. Soon, more and more patrons were lining up at your booth ready to be degraded by pretty girls in tight corsets, and when you started pouring the beer into their mouths, tits pressed up higher on your chest while you leaned seductively over the bartop? People couldn’t get enough.

The success you’d both had with Ingrid’s brilliant idea had now landed you here- a booth that was dedicated to serving delicious beverages garnished with a splash of degradation.

Your first patron of the day- a young woman who looked ready to play a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream- stepped up to Ingrid, gazing up at her with a flutter of eyelashes as she ordered a can of beer and shyly dropped a one dollar bill into the jar labeled ‘Thank You, Mistress’. Ingrid smiled, asking “Do you know what that jar is for?” to which the fairy blushed and nodded, giggling.

“Mm-hm.”

Ingrid grinned flirtatiously, popped open the beer, and addressed the fairy, “Such tiny little hands you have, they’ll make my can look so huge…”

***

Eddie Munson was vibrating.

At least, he felt like he was. He could barely contain his enthusiasm as he looked around at every sword, every pair of elf ears, every corset- to his left, there was a booth selling handmade leather journals. To his right, a stage where a crowd had begun to gather to watch a group of bagpipe players. In front of him and behind him, a seemingly endless number of nerds who, like him, had found a place where being a weirdo was not mocked, not simply tolerated- but celebrated.

“I fucking love it here.” Eddie sighed.

Steve Harrington, whom Eddie was still a little astounded had been convinced to actually go to a renaissance faire, looked overwhelmed already. “I can’t believe there are this many grown adults who wanted to spend the last day of their weekend playing dress-up.”

“Playing dress-up and getting drunk.” Robin corrected. Unlike Harrington, she had thrown herself into the renfaire spirit completely, showing up in a tasteful pirate outfit that Eddie had a feeling was comprised mostly of oversized pieces she’d found in the men’s section of the thrift store, but she pulled it off. All she was missing were some real swords, which she had already announced she was on the hunt for today.

“I feel bad for people who are so out of touch with their inner child that they have to get drunk just to put on a costume.” Dustin said matter-of-factly, shooting Steve a judgemental look. Steve balked when he caught it, yapping at Dustin about growing up or the ridiculousness of how much quality costumes cost- something along those lines. Eddie wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking mental note of which booths he needed to come back to before they left; he knew if he ducked inside them now, he would blow all of his money on the first stall they saw, and he was determined to stretch his budget for the day as far as he could.

“Well I for one think we all look amazing, costume or no.” Robin said decisively. Eddie had to agree. He had spent weeks working on his own costume, digging through his and his friends’ closets to create an ensemble fit for a tiefling bard such as himself. He had fashioned himself a pair of red horns using one of Erica’s old headbands, toilet paper rolls, tin foil, paper mache and black paint. Now, they sat nestled securely among his brown mane of curls. The rest of his outfit had been easy- a blousy-looking shirt from Nancy’s closet that he’d rolled up around the elbows, one of Wayne’s old waistcoats from a suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since Eddie’s parents’ wedding, apparently, a pair of black pants that he’d tucked into his combat boots, and a plethora of accessories. Rings on every finger, every belt he owned slung over his waist or across his torso, one even looped twice around his thigh. Eddie had even gone the extra mile this morning and smudged some of Robin’s red lipstick (he was still amazed that Buckley owned lipstick) around his eyes as a nod to the fact that tieflings’ skin is normally red or blue. To finish off the look, he had even brought along his old acoustic guitar, which was slung over his back to mark him undeniably as a bard.

Eddie thought he looked pretty damn cool.

The rest of their party had also decked themselves out for the day, Robin with her pirate outfit, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will had done a fantastic job of transforming themselves into hobbits for the day. Max, Erica and El hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted to dress as pirates or fairies- so they’d all chosen both. Now they looked happy as could be, skipping down the dirt path with fairy wings on their backs and plastic swords on their hips. That left Steve as the only normal-looking person in a sea of geeks.

Eddie chuckled to himself- for once in his life, Steve Harrington was the odd one out while Eddie Munson was effortlessly fitting in.

“First order of business is turkey legs.” Robin announced, eyes already darting in every direction in search of lunch as she wandered ahead.

Steve mumbled in agreement, along with something about finding something to drink so that he’ll survive the day. Just then, a trio of pretty young women in corsets caught his eye, immediately brightening his mood. He ran a hand through his hair, ready to say something undoubtedly Steve-y to them, when they beat him to the punch.

“Hi! Um, would you mind taking our picture?” One of them said, shoving a camera in his direction.

Steve, surprised but not altogether deterred, smiled and took the camera. “I’d be happy to, ladies.” However, he couldn’t hold back his shock when the girls all turned to the four teenage boys.

“You guys look like you came straight out of Lord of the Rings!” one of them exclaimed. “Best costumes I’ve seen all weekend, honestly.” The girls situated themselves between the blushing boys as they muttered different ‘thank you’s and complimented the girls’ outfits in turn.

Steve snapped the picture begrudgingly while Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’re losing your charm there, Harrington.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Steve in turn.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Dante’s Inferno.”

“How have you read Dante but not Tolkien?”

Their bickering was cut short by corset girl retrieving the camera from Steve, then giving Eddie a shy, “I like your horns.”

Eddie turned his full attention to her with a toothy grin. “‘Preciate it, sweetheart.”

The girls waved goodbye with a thank you, erupting into giggles as they walked away. Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What world did I accidentally cross into where Munson has game and I have none?”

Eddie cackled maniacally, hopping onto a nearby picnic table and swinging his guitar to his front, strumming it a couple of times with a flourish of his hand.

“You’re in my kingdom now, King Steve!” Eddie plucked the strings of his instrument jauntily, unable to contain his glee. “Here, it pays to be a freak.”

Strum-strum-strum.

Eddie threw a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”

To his surprise, his call was echoed by several patrons and vendors, erupting in a hearty “Huzzah!” from all around him.

Accepted. Celebrated. Eddie felt at home.

That’s when Robin came bounding up from behind him, two turkey legs in hand. “Okay, I know where we’re going next.” She sounded excited.

Steve took one of the turkey legs from her hand, eager to get something in his stomach. “And where is that, Robin?”

She grinned largely, immediately launching into a retelling of a conversation she had had with another patron while waiting in line for the turkey legs, going on several tangents about how surprised she was that the line was short, how the patron had been dressed like a viking and actually had viking tattoos all up and down his arm, how she wasn’t sure how accurate they were but they sure looked cool-

“Robin!” Steve interjected impatiently.

“Right! Sorry! Basically one of the bars has wenches that talk dirty if you give them a tip, and I want to see that in action.”

Steve and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. Steve, hilariously, started to check behind him for the kids as if they were still too young and innocent to be talking about such things even though they were all about to graduate high school already. To his relief, they had all wandered into a booth selling leather goods.

Eddie responded before Steve could. His lips had curled into a mischievous smile, “Buckley,” he crooned, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’m gonna need you to tell me more about these wenches.”

***

By noon, the line for your booth was easily at least ten people long and stayed that way no matter how many beers you’d poured. Luckily for the two of you, not every patron at the faire was seeking you out just for the bonus content. Most of them just wanted a drink, which you couldn’t fault them for. After all, nothing went with a summer day quite like a cold, bubbly beverage.

“Hey,” Ingrid’s voice caught your attention as you took a brief moment to wipe down the drain under the tap while the line had gone briefly shorter. “Remember that conversation we had where I called you out on having a type?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yes, I think I do. Why?”

“Tell me what that type was again?”

You sighed, tucking your rag back into your apron and patting your hands dry at your sides. “Let’s see, I think I remember you said long hair was involved-”

“Long dark hair, specifically.”

“-long dark hair, right.” you remedied. You busied yourself with fixing the next patrons’ drink orders as the discussion proceeded. “Tattoos were mentioned, and I think you said something about makeup?”

“You always get all swoony around men wearing eyeliner or some kind of eye makeup. Always. Without fail.”

“Yeah, yeah okay…” you rolled your eyes. She was right, but you hated that you were apparently so obvious about it.

“I would like to make an educated guess about another thing I think belongs on that list.” Finally turning to face Ingrid, you cocked your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, I’ll bite- what else do you think belongs on that list?”

Ingrid grinned, looking pointedly at something over your shoulder. “I think you’re into guys who play guitar.”

You blanched- damn. That had been true since high school, how did she-

You spun around to see whatever Ingrid was focused on behind you, and felt your knees get weak when you found it. There was a man- in his twenties, from the looks of it- dressed as a tiefling bard with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was true, from looks alone he checked all of your boxes. The long curly hair, the red makeup around his eyes, the tattoos that showed on his forearms…

“You okay over there, or did my business partner go brain dead for a second?” You heard Ingrid’s smirk before you saw it. She laughed at you good-naturedly when you faintly swatted at her with your cleaning rag. “It looks like they’re headed this way, you take him and I’ll take his blonde pirate friend.”

You took another look at the man- trying not to be obvious about the fact that you were looking- and noticed this time that he was traveling with two others: the aforementioned blonde pirate and a normal-looking guy who, admittedly, had very nice hair. They did seem to be headed your way; you quickly took a moment to turn around and top off the canteen that hung from the leather belt at your waist with some cold water. You quickly took a sip before turning around to face the counter, and when you did, there he was.

“Hi, uh-” his eyes were downcast, hands digging into his pockets for cash. “-can you break a twenty?” Pulling a crumpled bill from a money clip, his gaze met yours under an apologetic brow. Big brown eyes, framed with blood-red smudges- he pulled it off. Tremendously.

You didn’t have to force your service industry smile- it came naturally for him. “With pleasure, noble bard.” You propped your forearms on the wooden bartop, hoping your cleavage was looking particularly stunning at the angle from which he was gazing up at you. “And what sort of beverage might you be craving on this fine day?”

“That’s right, wrap your lips around my tip and drink me down, beautiful-”

Before he could answer, the two of you were both more than a little distracted by Ingrid’s filthy monologue. She held a freshly opened can of beer to the blonde pirate girl’s lips, and you were very impressed with how easily the girl was able to obey the instructions that Ingrid gave every customer who tossed a tip into the Mistress jar- hands behind your back, mouth open, chin up, eyes on me. You and the dark-haired tiefling were both entranced by the sight before you: Ingrid, with the endless stream of dirty words that tumbled from her mouth as she poured bubbly, golden brew down the throat of the tall blonde pirate.

“-keep that pretty mouth open you little minx, and look up at me as i finish down your throat. Yes, that’s a good girl, and swallow.” Ingrid pulled the can away from her lips with a smile, gazing proudly down at the pirate who sputtered out a soft cough after breathing down some much-needed oxygen. “Good job, darling.” Ingrid crooned.

The regularly-dressed guy standing behind her stared with wide eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Oh…my god, Robin!” he guffawed.

“I’ll.. aha, um-” You refocused your attention to the bard standing before you, a natural blush now creeping into his cheeks beneath the red makeup on his temples. “-I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He nodded to his friend- Robin, apparently.

You smiled knowingly, taking the twenty from his hands and ignoring the rush you felt when your fingertips brushed his. You made his change, handing him a few fives and ones before giving the Mistress jar a gentle tap. You finished opening his beer just in time to see him toss a five into the jar- a generous tip, since the beer only cost $3.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him appreciatively. “Huzzah for the tipper.” you purred, opting to make the phrase just for him instead of yelling it obnoxiously for all to hear. After all, you were about to be plenty obnoxious already.

You nodded flirtatiously to direct his attention above you. “See those shackles up there, love?”

His eyes, shining with anticipation and the best kind of nerves, flicked up to what you were referring to- dangling from the wood above the bartop were a pair of metal handles that hung by black-painted chains. They were similar to an actual shackle, but it was obvious that they were there to hold, not imprison. The bard looked back down to you, returning your flirting gaze.

“I do.” he smirked.

You narrowed your eyes on him playfully. “I’m going to need you to reach up and take hold of them-” He did as he was told, and you admired how his blousy sleeves fell further down to his biceps, showcasing the way his ink stretched over lean muscles. “-oh good boy, you look so good stretched out for me like that. Hold tight now, darling.”

You had to hold back a chuckle at how quickly his flirty eye contact and smirk turned to a pure deer-in-the-headlights expression when you’d called him a good boy. You had an inkling that this guy wasn’t used to being told what to do in this particular way.

Leaning forward until your cleavage was practically up against his nose, you nodded at him sweetly. “Open that pretty pink mouth for me darling- yes, that’s right, lips around my hole and suck-” Once the can was to his lips, you began pouring a steady stream down his throat. His big doe eyes didn’t know where to look, torn between your eyes and your tits that looked just about ready to pop out of your corset. The rest of the words that tumbled from your mouth were less spoken and more so moaned while you gazed down at this gorgeous little tiefling who- for the next few moments- was completely at your mercy.

“-take it, yes, good boy, take me deep into your throat as you look up at me with those pretty brown eyes. Oh my goodness, you’re so obedient! I love it when a big strong man lets himself be this pretty and stretched out for me as he suckles on my little hole. No, don’t look away, my eyes are up here you wretched little thing- yes, that’s right, oh I only wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make when you take me down deep like this. Yes, you’re going to finish me, aren’t you? Oh yes, you’re going to finish me using that dirty little mouth-” Nearing the end of the can, you poured the last drop down his throat. “-yes, oh that’s a good boy, swallow every drop of me, good job love.”

He sputtered a final swallow, red-faced and breathing deep after chugging an entire can of beer. His eyes were still wide, but now there was also the way he looked at you- like he would do pretty much anything you ever told him to do at the drop of a hat.

Letting go of the shackles above your head, he managed to catch his breath before checking behind him to make sure he didn’t have a long line of waiting customers. No line had formed, but his blush had deepened when he saw his friends both watching him with smirks that said they were never going to let him live this down.

“Shit,” he chuckled looking up at you, his personality taking on a slightly more devil-may-care sort of attitude now. “I-uh- I think I blacked out, you might have to say all that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.”

You laughed, easily shirking the domineering attitude that you exuded for the job and relaxing into what felt natural- soft, sweet, and flirty- with this guy, at least. “Tell you what,” you said, coyly. You weren’t normally one to invite strangers out for drinks, but Ingrid had been right about one thing- this guy was definitely your type. “When the faire closes today, I’ll be at a bar called The Honeybee about ten minutes from here. If I happen to see you there,” you shrugged, and you didn’t miss how his eyes immediately flicked down to your cleavage as the motion made you bounce. “-then we can say all kinds of things to each other.”

The facial expression on the bard changed in an instant, his expression shifting from innocent and eager to knowing and darkly tempting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “Are you always as demanding as you were just now, or was that just an act?”

You knew what he was asking, and part of you wanted to tell him that he’ll have to show up at The Honeybee if he wants to find out, but something in you also wanted him to know the answer to that question- wanted him to know so many things about you it made your head spin.

“I can go either way and have a great time regardless.” you replied, smiling sweet as a spoonful of honey, and the devilish grin that he gave you in return took the breath from your lungs.

“Perfect.” he practically growled, “What’s your name?”

You told him, and the way he repeated it on his lips had you pressing your thighs tightly together. “And your name is?”

“Eddie.” he smiled.

You grinned in return. “Eddie.” you repeated. His name tasted like whiskey and cinnamon on your tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

To your surprise, Eddie laughed raucously, hopping back a few paces. “Oh, on the contrary, fair barmaid!” With a flourish, he swung his guitar from his back to his front, strumming a few chords in rapid succession and plucking them in a melody that showed a level of skill that you hadn’t been expecting. After a moment of music, he stopped short and looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mark my words, my love- you’ll see me again before tonight and you will- without a doubt- hear me before you see me.”

You let out a surprised laugh, fingers flying up to your mouth to block an obnoxious guffaw from escaping your lips. That only spurred Eddie on more. He made a sort of swatting motion with his hand, gesturing toward your own hand at your mouth. “Away, thou evil hand! How dare ye venture to hide the sweetest of smiles that does bloom on a flower such as this?” He plucked away at his instrument dramatically, as if doing so were a declaration of war. You couldn’t help but humor him, grabbing the offending hand with your other one and firmly clasping both in your lap.

Eddie smiled, still strumming his guitar. “Aye, and stay away! For there are far better things for pretty hands to do than hide even prettier faces.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down as he began to walk away with his friends.

Your jaw dropped as you let out a good natured scoff. “And what would the noble bard suggest I do with my pretty hands?” you knew that you practically yelled it, and it caused a few other guests to glance your way questioningly; you didn’t care, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing you’d said today.

Eddie’s cackle rang out through the air like electricity during a storm, and your heart did a little backflip when he spun around once before facing you one last time before he was out of your line of sight. “Oh, my lady-” he called, smiling unabashedly, “-I humbly suggest you find the biggest can you have, think of me-” and then the motherfucker winked, “-and use your imagination.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #renaissance faire #naughty wench #rip-quizilla

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