#crazy how different my art feels when forced to draw with a soft brush i need to do that more often but not in my class notes

[slugfishh]

college doodles

#attempted to draw fp with pupils #idk how i feel abt it but its there #these are ripped straight from my class notes so yes i know the lizard is breaking down materials dont worry about it #crazy how different my art feels when forced to draw with a soft brush i need to do that more often but not in my class notes #rainworld #rain world #rainworldart #slugcat #survivor slugcat #rainworld survivor #slugcat rainworld #rain world art #rw five pebbles #rainworld fanart #fivepebbles #rain world five pebbles #five pebbles rain world #pinklizard #rainworldlizard #rain world lizard #lizard rw #rw lizard #rw #slugart

[omg-imatotalmess]

Your Turn

Hey guys! So, y'all can thank Skirt anon for this absolutely wonderful idea. They really outdid themselves offering me an idea like this because I literally couldn't stop thinking about it. Like, I really just went head too full. Hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Based on this ask: Ok I had a ✨thot✨for sub Harry- basically having him riding ur strap and it's a larger one than he's used to and even with prep he's squirming around.

"It's too big!" (He's fine it's just for the scene) and you just kiss away his tears and bring him down harder and thrust up a little and as it presses into his prostate, he lets out a cry as he has the most powerful orgasm of his life without you even touching his dick

-skirt anon

Warnings: Smut, sub!harry, dom!reader, pegging, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), slight praise kink, swearing

                                                            ---

Art came in many forms: songs played for generations, paintings in museums, sculptures that endured lifetimes, but none that rivaled Harry. More specifically, Harry as he was just then. Eyes clenched shut, and tear tracks down his flushed face as he slid inch after inch of your strap into him. You'd never seen any piece of art more worthy of praise or more breathtaking than him. And completely yours. Only for you to see. A smile graced your lips at the thought, and you trailed your eyes over his trembling body again. You'd never seen anything more exquisite in your life.

"Beautiful," you murmured.

"(Y/N)," he whined, hands tightening on your shoulders. Gently, you ran your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles jump under your attentions and the strain of holding himself up. You bucked your hips, sliding a little more of your cock into him. A strangled moan filled the air around you.

"What's the matter?" you asked as if you didn't already know.

"It's too big!" he sobbed.

"But you're nice and full, aren't you? All stuffed full of my cock. That's what you wanted, sweet boy," you said. More tears dripped down his cheeks as you thrust in again.

"Yes!" he cried breathily. Leaning forward, you began peppering kisses all over his face and neck. You couldn't tell if the slightly salty taste was from sweat or tears, but it made you shiver anyway. The effect you had on him always made you a little breathless. It took so little to have him shaking and crying on your strap. And you were the only one that got to see this stunning creature this way. Trailing your fingers back up his thighs, you latched onto his hips. Perhaps with a little more force than necessary, hoping to see the bruises tomorrow.

"Show me how much you love it then. Fuck that pretty ass on my cock," you purred.

"I can't, I can't. (Y/N)!" he moaned, voice pitching up and cracking on your name.

"Then let me help you, baby," you said. And in one fluid movement, you dragged him down on you and slammed your hips up. The resounding howl rattled the windows, making you glad you'd remembered the silencing charm.

You set your hips at a punishing pace, driving your strap into him without allowing him time to gather his thoughts. All he managed to get out were strangled sobs and mewling sounds that might have been some version of your name. At some point, he'd wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you as close as he could get you. Tears and sweat mixed as they dripped onto the skin of your collar bone and little punched-out breaths fanned across your cheeks. You couldn't stop.

"Too much! More, please, more!" he begged, slamming his hips down in a sloppy rhythm.

"That's my good boy," you panted.

"I can't! Too much! I need more!" You weren't sure if he was even aware that he was speaking at this point, but you didn't care. It didn't matter. Your golden boy needed more, and you were damn well going to give him as much as he could handle.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Harry?" you asked, digging your hands into the soft flesh of his ass.

"Yes! Please, please, so much!" he babbled. His cock twitched violently where it was trapped between your stomachs. A wicked smile cut across your lips as you pressed him back so that delicious friction came away from his overly slick cock.

"I want you to cum from my cock and my cock alone. Can you do that for me?" you asked. The answer you got was a simple incoherent cry. His bouncing became more frantic. You were just enjoying being about to watch his angry red cock bob in front of you.

"So hard for me. What a good boy," you cooed.

"Harder! Use me!" Harry's desperate plea shook you down to your core. Electricity shot up and down your spine as you slammed up into him again. Judging by the howl, you'd hit his prostate dead on. Then something savage awoke in you.

Shoving him onto his back, you hiked his legs over your shoulders and thrust into him with a surprising amount of force. All you could focus on was fucking him through the mattress. Being too much. Being the only thing he could think about, then forcing him not to think at all. And you were. His back arched as he sobbed out long whining moans so forceful you wondered if he was past words. Vaguely, you could feel his hands curl into your hair. The slight pull drove you harder into him. You could barely hear the slapping skin over the cacophony of moans. Hips bucking up erratically, head thrown back with the tendons of his neck bulging, Harry let out the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard.

"(Y/NNNN)!" he howled, drawing out your name into a near scream as he came.

The sight of him with his eyes rolled back in his head as he painted his chest and your stomach with his cum was nearly enough to send you over the edge. It almost did. Slowly, you rocked your hips into him, letting him ride it out until he finally went limp. You stilled for a moment, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You alright, love?" you asked, sliding your strap from him.

"Brilliant," he slurred, peering up at you with his eyes just barely open.

"Good," you said, "Did you like that? Was it okay?"

"Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant," he said. Harry gave you a lazy smile that made your heart squeeze. The amount of affection you had for him was a little overwhelming. "Your turn."

"Wha-" Before you could fully answer, he rolled over until he laid over you.

"Let me finish you off, yeah?" he asked.

"Please do," you said.

"Can I- can I use my mouth?" For a moment, he looked almost a little shy, which was a bit laughable considering you'd just fucked him within an inch of his life.

"Fuck yeah," you breathed, letting your head drop back into the pillows.

You felt him hook your legs comfortably over his shoulders, and a hot breath caressed your slick skin. A shiver coursed through you. You hadn't realized how worked up you were until just then. Then your thoughts cut out entirely. Harry dragged his tongue over you, lapping gently at your lips, looking up at you to carefully watch your expression. You swore this gorgeous boy would be the death of you. He did it again. This time just barely flickering inside. Humming, you threaded your fingers into his hair.

"Good boy. Just like that," you sighed.

Harry was always a gentle lover despite the way he liked you to treat him in bed. He saw to your needs with the utmost care, with soft sweeps of his tongue, never rushing anything, building you up until you couldn't stand it, and you love him for it. All he ever asked in return was that you told him he was doing it right. And by god, you could do that for him. With every flick of his tongue over your clit and easy swirling over you, you let him know how good he was. You let every little sound he pulled from you slip out unchecked. Every sound seemed to tell him exactly where you needed him most. His hands massaged your legs in the most intoxicating way that had you going boneless under them. Pulling your thighs further apart, he pressed his face more into you.

"You taste so good. God, I love it," he muttered against you, toying with your clit.

"Good. Harry, so fucking good!" you groaned.

"You drive me crazy when you say my name like that, you know?" he said, genuine amazement coloring his voice. You arched your back, keening at the sound. You felt like you might be floating. Or losing your mind.

"Shit, that's it," you hissed.

You'd lost track of what he was doing. Whether it was his hands or his mouth on you didn't make a difference. With everything that had taken place, you were teetering so close to the edge you couldn't think. You didn't care to. Harry worked around your clit again just the way you needed him to, and you felt your hips jump up. So close.

"Please cum in my mouth," Harry pleaded, the words slightly muffled.

And you were falling over the edge. Your voice choked off into a soundless moan as you arched against him. Your thighs shook uncontrollably. The rhythmic rolling of your hips that you'd just noticed turned to jittery, forceful thrusts against his lips, grinding for all you were worth. Harry simply stayed there, licking up every drop of slick you gave until you relaxed. Only when you began pushing his head away did he really stop.

"Harry," you sighed for no other reason than saying his name.

"Was that good?" he asked, green eyes staring up at you through pieces of displaced hair.

"Jesus, yeah. You're always good," you said. Smiling, he crawled back up, covering your body with his own.

"You too. I mean, so are you," he said. Laughing, you pressed a kiss against his messy lips and let yourself relax against the sheets. Both of you were in desperate need of a shower, but you had the feeling that would have to come later. When Harry snuggled under your chin, you decided you didn't really mind.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #harry x reader #harry x reader smut #sub!harry #dom!reader #hp

[bosspigeon]

a space between the shadows

My VERY last-minute prompt fill for @wayhavensummer, which turned into YET ANOTHER character study of my Sad Werewolf Detective~ Prompt: 🌈First Pride, Belonging Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~ Words: 2137 Summary: Arlo has some... complex feelings around his identity, his relationship with his closest friend, and who he is supposed to be in a place like Wayhaven. CW for allusions to homophobia, slurs, and implications of religious trauma/bigotry

Seeing as someone actually bothered to submit paperwork this time, Arlo feels it’s safe to assume there will be no (or at least fewer) strange supernatural occurrences involved in this festival. Still, he’s not sure what to make of it.

“I don’t… have to go, do I?” he asks Tina.

Tina blinks slowly at him, as if he’s suddenly become the stupidest creature to ever draw breath. “Yes,” she says simply.

“I’m just a detective, and it’s Wayhaven, it won’t be anything crazy, so I don’t have to be there to keep things—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she interjects, well acquainted with his nervous babbling by now. He’s barely exhaled his relieved sigh when she leans her elbows on his desk and grins in his face. “We’re going in a purely civilian capacity.”

“But I don’t want to,” he says quietly, and he knows he sounds like a pouty little kid, but he can’t help it.

Tina pouts mockingly right back at him. “I don’t care.”

And that sort of sums up their entire relationship, he thinks.

Adam, of course, is about as pleased as Arlo is. Unfortunately, Adam has not yet learned what Arlo knew by sixteen— that there is no force in the known universe more powerful than Tina Poname's stubbornness. She simply can't be defeated.

"She's a little bisexual juggernaut," Arlo sighs. He's annoyed, sure, but he can't keep the fondness from his tone as he watches her swan back and forth from the safety of the sitting room.

Naturally, Tina and Felix get on like a house on fire, and the two of them have commandeered Arlo's studio. The floor is a minefield of water cups, washable paint, and drying posters. Felix has Tina's flag tied around his neck like a cape.

Mason disappeared the second the first tube of paint was popped open, though his sharpy retort of "I like what I like" when Tina asked what his persuasion was (so that she could make him a poster as well) did launch her into her practiced dissertation on the intricacies of bi and pan identities, and how they mean similar things, how at their core neither are meant to be exclusive, and it is simply a matter of personal identity and choice which one suits an individual best.

"Have you been to a Pride festival before?" Nate asks, setting down two mugs of tea on Arlo's coffee table, carefully out of the way of the map of Wayhaven he and Adam are poring over. More for Adam's peace of mind than anything. It's mostly taking place in the local park, and while there will be a parade, the route is short enough to keep things contained.

"Yeah, once," Arlo says with a shrug, and he and Adam are sitting close enough on the sofa for their shoulders to brush with the motion. "When I was at uni."

Nate hums and sits down in the armchair across from them. "I assume it was… unpleasant for you?"

Arlo smiles, flustered, and rubs at the back of his neck. "It was fine. Fun, even. I mean, I went to art school, so the turnout was great. Nerve-wracking, yeah, because so many people, but seeing your anthropology professor riding a mechanical bull in little more than nipple pasties is one hell of a distraction."

He can feel the scandalized look Adam is giving him, but he knows if he turns to meet his eyes, he'll blush all the way to his hairline, so he sips deeply from his mug instead.

Nate tilts his head, lips pursed. There's a brief twitch of amusement to them, but it settles as his brow furrows thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If you had a good time at the last festival you attended, why are you so hesitant to participate in one closer to home?"

Arlo looks down at his mug, thumbing at a chip in the black enamel, exposing an ellipse of white ceramic underneath. The silence is heavy, and he knows if he lets it go on too long, Nate's going to start apologizing, so he sighs hard through his nose before he barrels on. "It's… it's different here. Back at school, I wasn't… I wasn't the Detective's weird brat. I was just Priestley, the weird performing arts major." He picks a little harder at his mug. "Might sound odd, but I didn't have to perform there, not the way I do here. I could just be Arlo. Not a shadow. Just… the fuckoff huge goth from your sociology lecture hall who just so happens to like men."

He doesn't look up, but he can tell Nate is chewing over the information. As he considers, Adam shifts on the sofa, closing the bare inch of space between them so their thighs press together. Arlo peeks up, and Adam's giving him that look. The one that makes him go all soft around the edges. "I know small towns can be… conservative," he begins, and his mouth twists distastefully around the word. "But I have never gotten the impression that Wayhaven was…"

"Anything but refreshingly progressive," Nate finishes for him.

Arlo looks up with a wry smile. "Yeah, no, it's great on that front. I'm damned lucky I didn't have to grow up with Rebecca's family. It's just…" He shifts his weight, and before he can sprout claws to really start menacing his poor mug, Adam plucks it from his hands and sets it out of the way. "There's a legacy for me here," he murmurs. "One I never asked for. Sure, I don't have to worry about getting called slurs," he chews his lip, "at least, not anymore after the whole Graham thing, but I'm still… I don't really get to be me here. People here don't look at me and see Arlo. They see Rook's kid. They see Detective Priestley the Second." He huffs out a laugh. "I didn't even get to come out on my own here. I honestly don't think I ever have outside of school. Everyone knows everything they want to know about me, because I've been a landmark since I was born. This month, it's just a landmark with a rainbow flag."

Nate is giving him that sad-eyed look he gets whenever Arlo and Rebecca get into it. The one that says he wants to help, but he's not sure how.

Arlo rubs his hands over the worn denim of his dark jeans, picking at a frayed thread. There’s a spiderweb of cracks forming in the fresh coat of black polish on his thumb where the nail has begun to thicken in response to his emotional state. He sighs a little, but he doesn’t have the time to sink too deeply into his own head, because there is a pale hand creeping cautiously over his.

“Why do it, then?” Adam asks, head tilted and brows drawn, as if he truly doesn’t understand. “Officer Poname cares deeply for you. I am sure she would understand if you were honest with her.” His lips twitch faintly, and the smile he gives Arlo is touching in its earnest, if stilted, effort. “Bisexual juggernaut or no. Though, she is only little to you.”

Arlo snickers weakly, turning his face away so he can hide behind the fall of his hair. Adam doesn’t let him hide, though, brushing it out of his face, knuckles skimming the detective’s cheekbone. Arlo can’t help but sigh and lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

There’s a crash and a cry from the other room, but it’s Nate’s startled noise that makes the two of them leap apart as if burned, putting a few inches of space between them.

Arlo’s face flushes hotly when Nate smiles at them, and there’s a mischievous twinkle to his dark eyes. “I wonder what that’s about!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together and springing to his feet. “I’ll go check on them, shall I? Make sure they’re not causing too much trouble.” And before Arlo can even stutter out a… something—an explanation, or maybe an apology for third-wheeling the poor man—Nate is striding off towards the studio with a spring in his step the detective can’t help but find incredibly mocking.

He closes the door behind him with a parting smile and a decisive click.

They’re left on the sofa sitting guiltily apart like a pair of teenagers caught canoodling, and surprisingly it’s Adam who breaks the stalemate by huffing through his nose and turning to Arlo again, reaching out for his hand and tugging it between his own. “You were saying?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing ticklish lines alone Arlo’s palm.

Arlo tilts his head and sighs “I guess I just… Tina’s like my sister, you know? And we wound up going to different universities in different cities, and I didn’t really get to share any of those big milestones with her. She’s not the type to be jealous I made other friends or went and had fun without her, but it feels sort of… I want to be able to share this with her, since she was one of the first people who ever bothered to… to not just care about me, but to care about me enough to…” He furrows his brow and chews at his lip, trying to figure out how to make sense of the feelings he’s never really been able to express out loud. “Neither of us belonged here, really. Sure, I was born here, but I never really felt like I was supposed to be here. I just felt like I was filling a space someone more important than me left vacant.”

He looks down at Adam’s hands, sturdy and strong, tangled up around his freckled, long-fingered one. He swallows. “Tina’s the one who looked at that space, then decided it wasn’t for either of us, and she carved out one that was.” He smiles fondly, thinking of the way Tina bullied her way into his lonely life and gave it some much-needed color. “She made a space where we could both fit. It was messy, and awkward, and we were still outcasts, but we were outcasts together.” He laughs, and it sounds suspiciously wet even to his own ears. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t bring attention to it. “Christ, I’m rambling. Does this make any sense at all?”

Adam is quiet, thoughtful for a moment, but he squeezes Arlo’s fingers to draw his eyes up again. He’s smiling, a real smile, one that Arlo is seeing more and more these days. A man could get addicted to a smile like that. “It does,” he murmurs, bringing Arlo’s hand to his mouth to brush a kiss to his palm. It’s such a simple little touch, it barely lasts a second, but it steals all the air from Arlo’s lungs.

Adam shifts, and his face scrunches a bit. “While I won’t say I am looking forward to the chaos, I am…” He looks up at Arlo again, his brows drawn, his jaw set with the same fierce determination with which he stares down trappers. “I am honored to share this with you.”

It is really not fair, the way he can just say things like that, things that would sound trite and cheesy coming from anyone else, with such naked honesty. Arlo has no choice but to kiss him. He’s rewarded by a sweet, startled noise rumbling against his mouth, but he draws back before they can get too distracted, seeing as their friends are just a room away. If Adam is pouting, Arlo’s certainly not going to be the one to tell him.

“I guess, in a way, it’s a first for the both of us, right?” he coughs, just to ease the heavy atmosphere a bit. “My first Pride in Wayhaven, and your first entirely.” He pokes Adam in the chest. “We’ll have to get you a flag. You look good in pastels.”

“Are you certain the rainbow is not too at odds with your aesthetic?” Adam teases in return.

“Goth is a state of mind,” Arlo replies archly.

They laugh quietly together, shifting again to close the distance between them. Adam turns to face Arlo more fully, their shoulders bumping in a way that is incredibly comforting in its charming awkwardness. “What is wrong with Agent Priestley’s family?” he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw the attention of their companions chattering in the other room.

Arlo tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a tense grimace. “Catholic,” he snorts.

Adam’s expression mirrors his so perfectly, Arlo has to clap a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t bark out a laugh. “Ah,” the vampire says primly. “I understand.”

Arlo gives up and collapses against the vampire, snickering helplessly into his neck.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhavensummer #adam du mortain #a du mortain #tina poname #i hope this makes any sort of sense #i know i kinda went off the wall w the prompt #but my logic is that there's ANOTHER prompt that will be for the actual festival #so this is more an introduction to the First Pride???? #fhdkjashdkjsg if its bad its bad okay #yeehaw #oc: arlo priestley #arlo's issues aren't with his identity so much as with the fact that his identity never really mattered to people in wayhaven #just who his parents are #arlo wants to be allowed to be himself without feeling like he has to live up to someone else first #and tina helped him with that #tina is the one who helped him feel pride #so he wants to be able to share this with her #its not directly mentioned here but naturally adam is trans yeehaw #pidge writes

[mahizli]

Bonds (Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, 22 BBY)

Art by Mokorney and Part 22 of ‘Sparks of Hope’

***

Dooku held nothing but contempt for the Skywalker boy – no finesse, no subtlety, and no mastering of emotions, without much room for improvement. The Force knew he had tried to curb similar faults in Qui-Gon, very long ago, but his former Padawan had found his balance into meditation, oddly enough, and Dooku had only needed a few seconds to assess that Skywalker was completely unable to achieve it, and never would be.

Dooku was no fool. He could sense how powerful the boy was, what an asset he would play once he would have fallen completely – he was also very much aware of the interest his Master had in him. An interest that Dooku needed to be watchful of – because he knew how easily a Sith Apprentice could be replaced.

Dooku was no fool – and that was why he was keeping Ventress just close enough to control her, and just far enough for her not to attract Sidious’ attention unnecessarily. Ventress was fierce, skilled and loyal to a fault – and since he could not have Kenobi yet, she was a tolerable substitute.

It did not mean Kenobi was entirely lost to him, though – and Dooku watched him wake with carefully hidden interest, sitting up and rubbing his brow silently, helping Skywalker to recover.

“How you could choose to walk out there and get yourselves caught despite my warning is truly beyond me”, Dooku quipped, taking delight in watching Kenobi’s eyes widen slightly.

His former Grandpadawan’s eyes wandered to the electric bound wrought around his waist, attaching him both to Dooku and Skywalker. And the Count was surprised to feel resolve and relief seep through his incredibly strong shields. Kenobi was quick to place himself in front of Skywalker, holding him back and shielding him with his body, as soon as Dooku began to provoke the boy – it was frankly too easy. One just had to mention his arm, and watch Skywalker go feral.

“You will pay”, Skywalker hissed. “For all the Jedi you murdered on Geonosis.”

“That, my dear fool of a Jedi, is entirely your Master’s doing. Remind me again whose rescue it was that needed two-hundred and twelve Jedi?”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Anakin.”

Kenobi’s voice was calm. Measured, and so very soft. His body language still spelt protectiveness, one hand lightly placed on Skywalker’s left forearm. His face looked pale, in the dim light of the cell – but there was nothing but steadiness in the Force around him, and the command on his shields was frankly impressive.

“The Republic is going to send envoys with the spice. We need to get out of here before. And since we appear to be bound together, for the time being, I suggest we refrain from murdering each other.”

“You want us to team up with him?!!”

The indignation in Skywalker’s voice was grating – and Kenobi sighed.

“Currently, having you running in different directions is no option for me.”

He gestured towards his waist, a small smile playing around his lips, and Skywalker huffed.

“Good point, Master.”

They spent the next hours trying to escape from Hondo Ohnaka’s cells, only to found themselves back there. Dooku just shrugged, mentally, not overly worried and secretly impressed when Kenobi pulled that mind-trick on the stupid Weequay sentinel.

“You don’t want to stand guard. You want to deactivate the cell bars and… go out drinking.”

They watched the guard turn to a mindless puppet and set them free, and Kenobi muttered:

“Almost too easy.”

They had been prisoners together long enough for Dooku to recognise the small frown between Kenobi’s eyebrows as a sign of worry. He was not projecting anything into the Force, his signature surprisingly mild and gentle, but Dooku had already learned that his former Grandpadawan’s mind never stopped running.

They left the cell for the second time, running towards the exit, and suddenly Kenobi was pushing him behind a crate, palm splayed on his shoulder, body shielding him in an unconscious, protective move mirroring his earlier one.

“Hurry along, Dooku.”

His sharp, focused grey eyes darted around, and Dooku realised just how strong and dangerous his Grandpadawan could be, even without a lightsaber. Obi-Wan’s sleeve was brushing his, and he had adopted a defensive Soresu stance, but his hand was trailing behind, feeling for Skywalker in the Force, attuned to his reactions – and this was Qui-Gon’s training.

Qui-Gon had perfected the dual Master-and-Padawan technique along with Feemor, and brought it to completion with Obi-Wan, who had mastered the skill himself along with his own Padawan.

Dooku could have invaded their bond through the Force – but such was a crude, dirty thing reserved for the ones like Maul, whom Dooku abhorred and despised. Instead, he focused on the quiet signs: Obi-Wan’s small tilt of the head, the way his shoulders relaxed once Skywalker shifted his own position, and the quiet smile in his eyes when they started to run in sync.

Their bond was not closed, clearly, and this was so very interesting – but it also tugged at something Dooku had though to be long purged from his very system.  

Something reminding him of a vibrant green blade, of Qui-Gon’s quiet, casual shrug whenever Dooku ordered him around – but his Padawan had been dutiful and strong, truly skilled in the Force and so very warm. Until Feemor had died. Until Dooku lost Qui-Gon’s friendship and goodwill for good – because his Padawan had always been too headstrong, and too tender-hearted.

“Jump!”

They were still bound by the waist – Obi-Wan linking them together, and Dooku heard his gasp when Anakin grabbed the fence, leaving them both hanging below him.

“You’re too heavy. I can’t do it.”

They were slipping, and suddenly the link between him and Obi-Wan snapped – and then Dooku felt warm, strong hands grab his.

“Are you crazy, Master?! Just drop him!”

But Obi-Wan’s hands just tightened around his, eyes narrowing in steely resolve even as the bound tugged at his waist, drawing another pained exhale from him.

Never.

The small word echoed in the Force with quiet determination, and Dooku almost winced in pain, because the dedication within sprang from something so old, so long forgotten it burned, around his chest and in his very mind.

Ohnaka’s men somehow managed to knock Skywalker out and drag them both up in one fluid motion, and they soon found themselves back in their cells, finally separated but still unable to flee.

Dooku’s wrists hurt and he was somewhat short of breath, and so was Obi-Wan, who was bent above Skywalker’s unconscious body and had yet to straighten fully, arm wrapped around his waist.

“You should have dropped me”, Dooku stated, but Obi-Wan just huffed, with a small, annoyed shake of the head.

He fumbled through his utility belt, and managed to unfold a small Bacta patch, placing it against the welt on Skywalker’s brow, then he splayed his fingers, pressing them gently against his head.

Skywalker let out a soft moan, then his limbs seemed to relax and Dooku watched Obi-Wan’s face soften, his features still focused but appeased as he guided the boy into a healing trance.

“Rash, and unbalanced.”

This got Obi-Wan’s attention, and Dooku soon faced those calm, grey eyes, watching his Grandpadawan straighten, Anakin’s head still cradled in his lap.

“He might be skilled with machines. Wires. Even lightsabers”, Dooku dropped. “But he has not mastered anything in the Force, and he will disappoint you, if he hasn’t already.”

“Anakin will never disappoint me.”

“Don’t be so sure…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, but then his Grandpadawan shook his head.

“I know what you are trying to do. And it will not work. You want to sow distrust and hatred between us. You want to belittle Anakin in my mind, and in my heart. But you cannot. Because those faults you point out are known to me, and known to him. Because I did not seek to raise a perfect machine, or a droid, when I took Anakin as a Padawan.”

“Did you? Take him as a Padawan? Or was it something more complicated? A promise to the one who had raised, and forsaken you?”

“Qui-Gon did not forsake me.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. He was not a small man, but he was definitely smaller than them both. Thin. A small reed, Yoda had always called him. And Dooku knew just how very fragile he was, how insignificant the Dark side of the Force made him – their duel was only months old, and he had brought him down within seconds.

Yet, just now, there was a conviction and a power radiating through him that seemed to dwarf them all. Obi-Wan raised bright grey eyes towards him, and Dooku realised, then, that the boy had worked hard towards balance – and that his efforts had not been vain.

“Qui-Gon believed in him. And, when it came to choose between Anakin and myself, he chose him because he saw, and realised, that Anakin needed him more than I did.”

“You do not resent him? For calling you only stubborn, and capable, in front of the whole Jedi Council, when you gave him twelve years of your life?”

It still irked something in Dooku. It had made him want to shake Qui-Gon until his teeth rattled – but Qui-Gon had died before Dooku had even known the full extent of the mess he had made with Obi-Wan, and then… Then Dooku had realised that the Jedi Order was nothing like it should anymore – nothing like it could.  

“And what kind of a Padawan would that make me?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was just a whisper, and his face had turned very pale, but the resolve had not left his eyes. On the contrary, something warm and light had begun to seep through his shields, permeating the Force around him, and it was searing open that small, long forgotten spot deep into Dooku’s chest.

“What of the years Qui-Gon devoted to me? What of Qui-Gon choosing me? Of helping me understand the Force, and myself, and the world around us, every single day of my apprenticeship? What of the love and care he provided, for my mind, body and soul, giving me all he had and even more? What of the devotion he inspired in me – strong enough to help me come back to him when I almost fell? How could I resent him for caring for a boy who deserves the world, and who was unwanted by most, yet who holds such promises?”

His Grandpadawan was facing him, features pinched yet glowing so brightly in the Force – and there was no contempt in Obi-Wan’s words, just genuine truth and belief. And it was painful.

“Qui-Gon taught me to be gentle with the faults we can find in others, because he was not perfect and never sought to be. He simply sought to improve himself. And this is something Anakin does as well – which is why he will never disappoint me.”

“Such meekness…”

“Call it whatever you want. I do not care.”

“Have you no pride at all?”

The question was genuine – almost taking Dooku by surprise. Obi-Wan however just raised his eyebrows, hands finding Anakin’s shoulders.

“And who am I, to place myself above so many others? We are a whole, Dooku. And just because I have no interest to dominate or best others does not mean I do not seek to improve my skills, and my way of understanding the Force.”

“How can that be enough?”

Dooku was laughing now, but it sounded cold and foreign to him.

“Because it is.”

There was sadness, and compassion in Obi-Wan’s eyes – and Dooku realised then, that this conversation had to end. That he would not gain the boy to his side that day – that he would have to wait for the war to extinguish the light into Obi-Wan’s eyes, for the battles and losses to harden his heart, for the despair to invade more of his mind, until he would be ready to hear some of the truths Dooku had come to embrace.

“I wish you would see it. I wish it would not be you we had to fight, day after day and night after night. But if I must, I will – because it is worth it.”

“What is…?”

Skywalker’s quiet mumble brought them both back to the small, grey cell they were still stuck in, and Obi-Wan’s eyes instantly searched for his face.

“What’s worth it, Master? Why are we back here with him?”

“Because your Master would not take your advice to drop me”, Dooku quipped.

“’Course not.”

The childish surety in Skywalker’s voice was surprising, and the boy lifted a hand, gently patting Obi-Wan on the arm.

“I’m the evil one here.”

“Hush now, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s hand had not left his brow, and his eyes met Dooku’s again. Steely, with a hint of sadness and unshakable resolve. His Grandpadawan wrapped an arm around Skywalker’s chest, and gave a curt nod.

And despite of himself, Dooku nodded back – because Obi-Wan was definitely worth a conversation. His Grandpadawan also had the means to defend himself, and to get himself – and Skywalker – out of this mess. And so, when Ohnaka’s men went to fetch them, leaving him alone in his cell, Dooku wasted no time preparing his own escape.

When the power died down, he killed the guards and the men facing him without any remorse. And he did not look over his shoulder, not once – determined to leave Florrum as soon as possible, and return with enough forces to burn it to the ground.

Just like he would burn the small part of himself Obi-Wan had brought back to life, because it was not part of Dooku’s plans and schemes.

Some bounds were better severed, and Dooku was honing his blades.

But not just yet.

#The Clone Wars #star wars #starwars fanfiction #Obi-Wan Kenobi #dooku #Anakin Skywalker #lineage feels #foreshadowing #i love them all

[darklingduke]

Finding the Write Words

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Author Note: So, I originally wrote this fic back in July/August of 2019, but I wanted to revamp it with my updated writing style, show my growth as a writer, etc. (And I’m in the process of editing it in order to get it bound in a physical copy because I’m still really proud of this fic) And I figured I would share it here. The original blog I wrote this in was @/probablynothumanish, which has been since deactivated and someone else has that blog title ^^

Summary: In a world where everything that happens on your soulmate’s skin, happens on yours, Virgil Sinclair hides as much of his skin as he possibly can. He believes that it is too good to be true that any one person could be meant to be with him for life. 

Ships: LAMP/CALM, Demus/Intruceit

Chapter One: Ink

Virgil was ten years old when he saw them for the first time. He was sitting at the back of the classroom, staring out the window rather than actually paying attention to the lesson - not that it was anything important. It never was. 

He felt a tingling warmth rise to the skin on his arm, and his first instinct was that his arm had fallen asleep from propping his chin up, his elbow pressed to the hard top of the desk he sat at. But when he moved his arm to try to regain feeling in the limb, something caught his eye. Brows pulling together, Virgil watched as a patch of pink appeared on his skin. 

It looked like…

Paint?

But that didn’t make any sense. 

When was the last time he had painted anything? Art class was yesterday and he didn’t have it again until next week. And even if it had been today, he usually tried to steer clear of pink, not wanting any of the other students to pick on him for using such a “girly” color. 

Deciding he was most likely imagining it, Virgil shook his head and tugged his sweater sleeve over his arm, covering the offending mark before turning his attention to the front of the classroom. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he’d spent too long daydreaming, and he was imagining things in real life now. 

He would ask his grandma about it when he got home. 

The tingling warmth persisted, despite the fact that he was no longer looking at the skin, for another half hour before it ended abruptly, and Virgil found himself freezing without it. He pulled his arms further into the sleeves of his sweater, seeking out some sort of warmth to soothe himself. He bunched his shoulders until his hands disappeared into the soft, warm fabric, but even that wasn’t enough. 

The rest of the school day went by even slower than usual, which was really saying something. It normally dragged on at such a sluggish pace anyways that it was hard to imagine it being even slower. Virgil had a hard enough time under normal circumstances concentrating on what the teacher was saying, but with the memory of the mark fresh in his mind, it was nigh unto impossible. 

By the time he was called to board the bus, he was absolutely certain that he was going to go insane. The entire bus ride home, his eyes scanned his arm, trying to see the mark through his sleeve, as though it was some magical thing that was going to be visible in any circumstance. About halfway home, he caved and pulled his sleeve up, only to see that there was nothing there. 

What?

So… he had been imagining it, after all. 

He was a little disappointed, to say the least. A part of him had hoped that he was special and had magic powers or something. Maybe he would ask his grandma about it anyways; just explain what had happened, rather than showing her. 

When the bus pulled up to his stop, he ran off of it and right into his grandma’s arms. She was one of the very few parents or guardians who actually bothered to wait at the bus stop; most of them didn’t want to stand out in the cold, so they would either wait to drive up until the bus left, or they would simply have their kids walk home if they were close enough. 

“How was school today, sweetie?” his grandma cooed in a voice that felt like honey. It was always able to wash away his worries, and as they walked home, he was able to forget about the ever-pressing worry that he was hallucinating. 

“It was okay!” he chimed, jumping over a pile of snow on the sidewalk, only to slip on a patch of ice when he landed. His breath caught in his throat as he anticipated his butt hitting the sidewalk full-force, only for his hand to be grabbed in an instant by his grandma, catching him before he fell. 

“Are you alright?” she cooed, though she didn’t stop walking, having been confronted by Virgil last month about babying him out in public. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, heat rising in his cheeks as he hunched his shoulders until the lower half of his face was hidden behind his scarf. His shoulder hurt a little from being yanked, but he was glad that she had stopped him from falling. His pride hurt more than anything, but he knew logically that it wouldn’t last. 

It didn’t take long before they walked into their house - a small two bedroom ranch-style house that somehow always managed to give Virgil the same feeling as eating a home-cooked meal or drinking hot chocolate after a long day of snowball fights. It was just… warm. 

“Gramma, can I talk to you about something?” Virgil asked as he hung up his coat and scarf, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. 

“Of course,” she replied simply. It always amazed Virgil how she never got anxious when he started a conversation like that, but as soon as she did the same to him, he was filled with an undeniable, inexplicable sense of panic. 

“Earlier today,” he started, taking a seat on the couch, “when I was in class, I saw this… thing on my arm. It looked like… almost like… paint?” He rolled up his sleeve to show his grandma the spot where it had been, even though he knew it wasn’t there anymore. “My arm got all tingly and stuff, but then when I looked again later, it was gone.”

“Ohhh,” his grandma nodded in understanding, taking a seat beside him. “Virgil, sweetie, that’s just your soulmate. I guess now is as good a time as any to give you that talk,” she chuckled, such a sweet sound that brushed away his worries. “You know how I told you not to draw on your skin?”

He nodded, remembering the conversation they had had last year when Virgil had doodled all over his skin rather than paying attention to his homework. 

“Well, that’s because everything that happens on your skin happens on theirs, too. Every time you fall and skin your knees, every time you get marker or paint on your hands, every time you get a bruise. And it’s there for them as long as it’s on your skin. Since the paint is gone from  your arm, that just means your soulmate washed it off. No big deal. Their art class probably just ended is all.”

“What’s a soulmate?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. He had heard the word before, of course, on television and in movies, but had never had it explained to him and was always too nervous to ask. 

“It’s one person - or multiple people - that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. Normally it’s as partners, you would get married to them, but sometimes it’s just as friends.”

“But…” His brows pulled together. That made him more confused than he had been before he had known. “I don’t get it. Someone meant to be with me? How do I know?”

“Well, you see, the universe - or God, if you believe in that - saw that person, or those people, and thought that they would be a perfect fit for you, so you were paired with them.”

It seemed almost too good to be true, and he had learned in his short years on this earth that if something seemed too good to be true, it most likely was. After his parents had died in a car accident a few years ago, leaving him to be raised by his grandma, Virgil had stopped believing in the fairy tales that claimed happily ever after. 

That was all they were, he came to realize. 

Fairy tales. 

“Were my parents soulmates?” he asked after a moment. 

Sadness flitted over her face at the mention of them, and Virgil inwardly cursed himself for bringing them up. He hadn’t done so since shortly after the funeral. It was just better - easier - to not talk about them. It caused less pain in the long run. 

But she nodded, the sadness dissolving from her face as she forced a smile to her lips.  

“And you and grandpa?”

Another nod.

“Then… then how come he died if you two were perfect together?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, dabbing at her eyes before they had the chance to fall. “I don’t know, Virgil. But I’m sure it was for a good reason.”

He didn’t believe it. 

He couldn’t.

There was no way he would believe that any of this could be real.

Soulmates - the idea that there was someone who was supposed to be perfect for you. It seemed insane. The fantasies of a child. There was no way that whoever this soulmate was was going to be perfect for him. There was no way. People had differences, and they argued, and they fought. And if they didn’t, one or both of them died. 

Virgil didn’t want anything to do with the person who was supposedly “perfect” for him. 

He didn’t want to chance the pain his grandma went through when his grandpa died. 

He didn’t want to get his heart broken the way she did. 

Virgil decided right then and there that no matter what happened, he didn’t want a soulmate.

#finding the write words #fic: ftww #ftww #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts au #sanders sides #sanders sides au #soulmate au #soulmates #human au #human sides #poly sides #lamp calm #lamp #calm #ts lamp #ts lamp fic #snake writes #darkling writes

[zer0desuu]

Dance of Flames Until Death

Note: Flamebringer x Unspecified Dokutah. My first completed work in a long time, so please be nice! I only recently got into Arknights cuz of my crazy friend @veedraws. I have yet to bring Flamebringer home, so I’m not super familiar with him, so all this is based on his files and Vee’s fangirling XD. Also, sucks that he’s terrible in the game meta, but he’s supposed to be super OP in the story :c

-------

Night has now fallen in the outskirts of Lungmen. The battle has gone on forever. The squad barely made a dent in the enemy army. Everyone was at their wits’ end.

I chew on my lip, frantically trying to come up with a strategy. The squad was exhausted and being pushed back by the enemy forces. 

“Doctor… It’s time.” Flamebringer’s low voice comes through the comms. “Send me out there. There’s no other choice. I’m the only one who can take down this many enemies.”

I hesitate, looking into Flamebringer’s eyes. Flamebringer is notorious for losing control of himself, at the cost of his health. But he was right - he was the only one capable of dealing with this many enemies and surviving.

“...Alright, prepare for deployment.” 

Flamebringer salutes me and exits the control room for the helipad. Moments later, Flamebringer drops down from the deployment copter right in the middle of the frontlines. 

“So…” Flamebringer draws his dual blades from his scabbard. He readies himself, pointing his katana at the hoard in front of him. The katana blade glows like a flame, illuminating the shadows with an orange glow. “Who will be my next opponent?”

Flamebringer lunges at the enemy front lines, blades reflecting the soft light from the full moon above. The glow from his katana and the strips of cloth hanging from his broadsword swirl in an entrancing dance of blades. Each and every swing and stab is meticulously accurate, something only a master of their art can do.

All the other operators on the field are frozen in their spot. Once Flamebringer starts, he cannot be stopped. He will cut down anyone who gets in their way, even allies. The air of the night is filled with Flamebringer’s howls, growing more and more wild with every enemy reduced to ashes. No matter how many times I see Flamebringer fight, I am always stunned by the beauty and carnage. 

Blinking to clear my head, I yell a command to everyone in the field, “Flamebringer, lead the charge. Snipers and mages continue supporting him from behind. Defenders, brace for any enemy charges that leak through!”

The squad puts their all in the fight, their morale renewed by the arrival of reinforcements. The hoard of enemies gradually dwindles. The enemy frontline begins to retreat. We were winning.

“Doctor! Flamebringer’s vitals are reaching dangerous levels! Heart rate is exceeding normal values, blood originium levels have increased sharply.” Ansel shouts from his post in front of the the medi-screens. 

As if on cue, Flamebringer collapses to the ground, one hand clutching his chest. His other grasps his blade, using it as support, struggling to keep himself upright. He gasps for breath, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Perfumer rushes to his side, hands quickly reaching for him, ready to use her healing magic.

“Flamebringer!” I shout into my comm. “Retreat now!” 

“N-No…” Flamebringer swats Perfumer’s hands away. He pushes up off the ground using his sword, his body swaying. Flamebringer brings one hand up to his face, swiping the blood away. The black crystals embedded in his skin had spread further up his neck. “Not until you…”

“There’s no way you can continue in this state. Retreat immediately! This is a command!” 

“No…” Flamebringer’s voice trails off as his knees give way. He drops to the cement, unmoving. 

“Deployment choppers, retrieve Operator Flamebringer immediately!” 

“That idiot!” I hiss, slamming my fist into the desk, seething with anger. Flamebringer always pushed himself to the brink, as if he didn’t care whether he dies. But I cared. He is one of the most valuable Operators on the team.

I try to push thoughts of Flamebringer to the back of my mind while my squad finishes off the rest of the enemies. It goes smoothly due to Flamebringer greatly thinning the numbers. 

Once the rest of my squad boarded the choppers back to Rhodes Island, I run down to the medical centre. Flamebringer lay in a medical bay, with his eyes closed, not moving. A medic-droid removes the final electrode stuck onto Flamebringer’s bare chest. Another droid stands near his bed, tapping away at his medical log displayed on a holoscreen. My heart sinks, bracing for the worst of the news. 

There is some silence as the medic-droid finishes up filling in his information. Finally, it spoke, “We managed to stabilize him. His blood originium-crystal density has increased by 0.03 u/L and his cell-originium assimilation level has increased by 0.06%. Recommended actions include rest from battle to slow further increases. This concludes Operator Flamebringer’s medical report.” 

“Thank you.” I say to the medic-droid. It flashes its eyes in acknowledgement before gliding out of the medical bay. 

I slowly sit down on the stool next to the bed. Flamebringer’s face looks peaceful as he sleeps, different from the scowl or the smirk he usually has. The crystals have grown, some new growths emerging from his skin. 

Flamebringer stirs and slowly opens his eyes. He starts to sit upright, but I place a hand on his chest to stop him. “You need to rest, you idiot.” 

He lays back down, frowning at me in protest. 

I sighed. “You did it again. You pushed yourself way too far.” 

“It’s nothing new to me.” He gives a small shrug. 

“But the more you do this, the worse your health will get. What if you lose yourself again but the infection progresses too much for your body?!” I catch myself, realizing that I had raised my voice. I took a shaky breath, my throat unable to say the next words. “You’ll die…” 

“I don’t care. I already know what will happen to me. I don’t have anything left in this world anyway, so why not go doing what I love?” 

“But what about your plants? Who will take care of them if you’re not here?”

“I guess they’ll just die with me.”

“W-What…What about me…?” My trembling voice was barely a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. The tears in my eyes threatened to fall. I look down at my hands clenching the hem of my jacket. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around, you idiot.” 

Flamebringer’s eyes instantly shot in my direction. His face was frozen in a state of shock as he processes what I just said. He slowly sits upright. “What…?”

"I can't imagine what it would be like without you!” Tears slide down my face as I look up into his eyes. I was always so irritated about how he treated life with such nonchalance. I knew it was dumb of me to feel this way for someone who was dying, but I couldn't help it. "Stop running towards death, you idiot."

Flamebringer's expressions change rapidly as he made sense of what I am saying. Finally, his face softened into a small, sad smile. He reaches for my face, brushing away a tear with his thumb. I lean into his hand, grateful that it's still warm, like a fire is still burning in him. 

He leans forward, pulling me closer to him. His lips brush against mine hesitantly, as if I would shove him away. It seemed like he had a bad relationship with me prior to my memory loss. When I don't protest, he kisses me with more strength. 

"Doctor…" Flamebringer pulls away and rests his forehead on mine. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I will always be by your side, even when I'm gone." 

"Idiot." 

#flamebringer #arknights #my writing #fanfic #flamebringer x doctor

[wordynerdygurl]

All Wrapped Up

Author’s Note:  Happy Holidays everyone!  I decided to do a sexy little story for Christmas.  I know that’s not everyone’s holiday tradition, but aside from the idea of giving gifts, it’s fairly secular!  I’d also like to say Happy Birthday to my friend Samantha!  She’s a true champion of my “art” on here, and this is a belated, but loving gift for her!  Happy Birthday, Lady!  Enjoy! As always, I’m an attention whore, so comments, notes and love are always accepted!   Summary:  What do you get a God for Christmas?  How do you keep him from finding out about it?  Keeping it under wraps is really all you can do! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  Fluffy, holiday SMUT!  Honestly, just good old fashioned sexy times!

Tony had been promising a holiday party like no other and he was delivering in a major way this Christmas Eve.  Too much food, piles of sweets, and oh the liquor!  By the time Clint started singing karaoke, “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”, you had already downed three eggnog martinis with no plans on stopping.  

Feeling loose as a goose, you half listened to the chatter around you, nodding along with the shouting singer.  Swinging your hand in time with the music, your cocktail glass swirling,  you and Wanda were sitting with Natasha.  She was talking about her gift to Bucky, silky rope and a knife, and it was those words caught your undivided attention.  

"He's gonna look so cute all tied up!"  She gushed to her girlfriends, “And he’s going to beg me to cut him loose!  I can’t wait!”  

"Oh, Nat!  Really?"  Wanda snorted a laugh before turning to you, “So, what did you get Loki?”  “Urm… well…”  Biting your lip, you debated how best to respond to your friends interest.  There was a gift, a bow, all the trimmings.  But how to describe it?   Looking away, which Wanda read as guilt, had her frantic.  “You did get him something, right?”   Natasha, shaming you, “It’s Christmas!  You have to give him a gift!” “Shh!  Yes!  Of course… that is, I do have something special for Loki.”  Your eyes darted around the room, making sure your Mischief Maker wasn’t lurking close enough to hear.  So far you had been able to keep your private plans from reaching him and now that you were so close to giving him his prize, you didn’t want to spoil it.  Leaning tighter to the girls, confirming that Loki was too far away to hear your chat, you whispered your plan. Loki was watching you.  How could he not?  You were adorably tipsy, laughing in that sexy sweet way that make him swallow hard.  You couldn’t stop talking with your hands, barely keeping your cocktail in its glass with every gesture, almost splashing the creamy concoction onto Natasha more than once.  Loki found it all endlessly charming.  When you clustered closer to the girls in a conspiratorial way he just knew that you were talking about him.   Curiosity wasn’t a strong enough word for his interest in your conversation.  All of your whispering and sneaking around was adding another layer of intrigue to this whole holiday season.  One that Loki's trickster persona found particularly challenging. 

Usually the one scheming, Loki was more than impressed by your secret squirrel skills, but he really hated not knowing what you were planning.  There were so many mysteries this time of year and you were particularly good at keeping gifts, hiding places, and recipients to yourself.  It was maddening!  Pushing aside the itchy need to learn what was so important that you needed to keep it from him, Loki found himself drawing closer to you, navigating the Avenger filled crowd.  Ignoring his brother's bellow, he kept you in his sights.  Each step bringing him near enough to learn what you might be hiding.  

Struck by your face in profile, Loki saw that in the glow of twinkling lights, you were luminous.  Lit from within by the love of everyone around you and the vodka in your martinis, you were gorgeous.  When he was close enough Loki gently brushed a warm hand over your arm drawing your attention where it belonged… on him. “Darling…” Turning your wide eyes his way, “Loki!  Hello!”  Your murmur is quiet, soft, playful.  Loki is decidedly less soft.  Not with the way you’re looking at him, as if he is the only thing in the room that you need, the only thing you want.  Wanda and Natasha chirp mockingly, “Loki!  Hello!”, teasing you.  You wave them off as you rise, just a bit wobbly, reaching for Loki to steady you.  Laughing, “Ignore them… please. They're drunk!" "Gah!  We are not!"  Natasha slurred.

Wanda, hiccuping, "Maybe a little!"

Smiling down at your friends he acknowledged their presence but Loki only had eyes for you.  His arm wrapped around your middle, hugging you to him gently, letting you lean into his solid strength.  Rising on your toes, giving him a little peck in passing, you whisper, “I’m ready when you are…” “Shall we say goodnight then?” Nodding yes, you turn toward your girls.  “Alright ladies!  Merry Christmas!  I hope Santa is good to you guys!” There are hugs.  So many hugs.  And as Natasha grips you in a final, painfully tight one, “I hope Loki LOVES his gift!” You giggle, “Me too!” --- “Tonight was nice, little dove.”  Loki has you snuggled into him as you head toward the street, the tower elevator slipping smoothly downward. “I think so too… Tony went all out!”

"Hmm… you were chatting with Natasha and Wanda for a while… anything you'd care to share?"

Giggling, "I know what Bucky's getting tomorrow… and… he won't be able to return it!"

Laughing with you, lifting a quizzical eyebrow,  "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not!  But I'm sure one of them will talk about it too loudly next time we're all together!"

Realization hit Loki like a ton of bricks.  Groaning, "Oh god… we have to do this again next week.  New Year's Eve?"

"Why, Loki… it's almost as if you don't like associating with other people!"  You couldn’t help teasing him a little.  He was too easy to mess with at times like this.

"Christmas is one thing, my dear.  That's a large holiday.  I understand that but we are always with the team.  It's a never ending cycle of birthdays, events, parties and…"

Lifting a hand to his mouth, you silence him, "Yup… it's why I always enjoy our time together.  When it's just the two of us, those moments are… extra special."

Loki, taking your slender hand in his with a resigned sigh, kisses each fingertip.  It's one of his old fashioned, high court, moves that makes you melt.  "Yes, dove.  I love spending time with you.  Just you." Smooshing closer to him, your head tucked under his chin, “Speaking of that… I was hoping that we could exchange our gifts tonight.  Would that… would you be alright with that?”

Before Loki could answer, the elevator dinged its arrival at ground level.  Stepping into the lobby, Loki grabs your hand, twining it with his.  "But tomorrow is Christmas, shouldn't we wait until then?"

Shaking your head, "Well, we always opened up one gift on Christmas Eve as kids.  And, if I give it to you now…" You push against the revolving door before looking back at Loki, "you'll have more time to enjoy it." ---

Shagging out of your jacket, you hang it quickly, spinning around to Loki with a wide smile.  Excitement is an understatement.  You’re bouncing on your heels, already a little Christmas Crazy, wondering whether Loki will truly like his present or not.

"So, I want to give you your gift but I have to… set it up first.  Can you keep yourself busy… and out of the bedroom for say… fifteen minutes?"

Slightly dazed by the request but beyond intrigued, Loki agrees, "Yes… fine.  Should I open a bottle?"

You pause at the bedroom door.  "Yes!  There's Prosecco in the fridge!"

Once you've shut the door behind you, and, on second thought, locked it, preparations start in earnest.  From your drawer you grab the over sized Christmas tag that reads:  To Loki with all my Love!  Next comes the ribbon.

How Loki spent his fifteen minutes is a mystery to you.  Mostly, he sat and drank wine.  His mind ran through as many different scenarios as he could think of, starting with a train set and ending with a telescope.  What else could require so much groundwork?

He could hear some shuffling around, heard you bang into something… the wall maybe?  But he knew better than to rush in while you were working so hard.  Hard.  There was a word that didn't do his current condition justice.

Tonight you had some special energy that Loki couldn't shake off.  It was as if you were walking on clouds, graceful but giddy.  You were sparkling, like the bubbles rising in his glass, and Loki was intoxicated by it.  He adjusted himself through his trousers, growing frustratingly firm and missing you.

"Ahem… Merry Christmas, Loki…"

Whatever Loki had been expecting, the sight of you surpassed it at warp speed.  You were his gift.  A black satin bow wrapped over your naked, heavy breasts.  It's long tails dangling to your hips, a thin strap over your shoulder ran between your legs, keeping the shiny fabric in place.  You were a completely wrapped package, hiding all the good bits, although Loki couldn’t help noticing that your ribbon barely covered your dampened core.  

Heels, ebony and higher than anything you'd ever attempt in real life, gave you an extra four inches of height.  You'd fluffed your short hair, exaggerated your eyeliner, glossed over your crimson lipstick.  The only other thing you wore was a pair of silver chain earrings, thin, shiny and light.

Standing swiftly with a gut punch groan, Loki's knees almost gave out with the force of his body's reaction.  You watched him wobble before catching himself, his wine glass almost missing the table, that disinterested facade faded.  For the smallest of seconds, he had to look away, afraid to trust what his eyes were seeing as real.  Loki used that moment to regain his slipping composure before raising his desire filled stare to yours.

Silent seconds ticked by.  You fidgeted, suddenly nervous, your fingers lifting to fluff your bow.  "Don't."  Something dark in Loki's tone froze you solid.  "Don't move."

You watched his Adam's Apple drop with a hard swallow.  He licked his lips slowly.  Adjusting his tie with those long fingers, Loki exhaled quietly, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.

"Can you walk in that… outfit?"  Loki's voice was a wrecked whisper of wanting.  Running a shaky hand through his dark locks, he was coming undone, all because of you.

"Uh huh… a little."  

With a raised eyebrow, Loki husked, "Gifts belong under the tree, do they not?"

You nod.  "That's true."  Stepping boldly out of your boudoir, swinging your hips, you stride past Loki staying just out of his grasp.  In front of your Christmas tree, white lights shining, you lowered yourself onto the plush carpet.  

On your knees, exposing your nearly nude backside to Loki, you stretched.  It was showing off, but hey, this was his gift and you wanted him to enjoy every minute of it.  Mission Accomplished, you thought when you heard him exhale loudly.  Rolling to your left hip, left arm bearing your weight, you bit your bottom lip and risked a glance at Loki.

His eyes were as dark as his voice, sinful and smoky, but also playful.  "Shall I open my present now?  Or must I wait until Christmas morning?"

"Have you been a good boy?"  It tumbled out of you making you sound like a vintage vixen.

"Oh yes… but I have to tell you darling, I don't plan on remaining a good boy.  In fact, I think I'm going to be naughty.  Very, very naughty."

It was your turn to swallow dryly.  The hot, hungry, look Loki was sporting made your breath catch.  Excitement made your body flush, heat rising, and there was no way to hide any of it from Loki.

Making his way to your side, moving in that slow, slinking way of his, Loki knelt next to you.  Leaning past you to look at gift tags, ignoring your for the moment, "Now, let's see… which one should I open first?"

Brushing his arm across your back as he snatches a small parcel, shaking it gently, humming, "A tie…?" before returning it to the pile.

Snaking a hand over your thighs, the faintest wisp of a touch, he picked up a box testing its weight.  "Sweater… definitely a sweater."

"This one says 'To mom'... not for me… but what is this?"

As a gag you had pinned the large gift tag to the band of your bow.  Lifting it gently Loki read aloud, "To Loki, with all my love… Well… this one does have my name on it."

Tipping your head back with a frustrated sigh, eager to feel him release you, you couldn't help the small sound.  Part of you wanted him to rip the ribbon to shreds, tear into you, take you fiercely and fast.  But another side was loving the slow paced game Loki was playing.  Even if it drove you half mad.

When his broad hand slid along your calf you jumped.  Not out of fear, but electricity.  The reaction wasn't lost on Loki, "Hmm… what could be in this package?  It seems very sensitive."

A sugary sigh slipped out as his knuckles grazed your exposed hip.  Loki's fingertips fluttered along the underside of your breasts, skirting the satin that bound you, making you moan with need.  He was so close to you now but still not touching you where you craved him most.

Loki wrapped his arms around your open back, toying with the strap there, pulling it up firmly.  Sliding it between your bottom cheeks and your tender lower lips.  He was near enough to kiss, yet his focus was on the rise and fall of your clothed chest, your nipples straining against the silky material.  You leaned into the strength of his right arm as his left hand stroked your full bow.

Tracing the tails downward, over the rise of your mound, Loki snapped his gaze your way.  "Open your eyes."

You watched as Loki pressed the pretty ribbon tighter to your soaked skin.  The satin, rubbing over your bundled nerves, made you shiver.  Loki, still only touching the fabric, traced over your parted center.  Urging a finger inside of you made the bow string grind along your backside deliciously, what little slack there was now saturated with your own slick.  The texture of the smooth material gliding into your opening blocked the warmth of Loki's finger but made you shudder just the same.

"Is this also part of my gift?  Because you are so wet, darling..."  It was a statement of fact.  All of this was meant to be for Loki, but damn, you were really enjoying yourself.

"Yes…"

"Tell me, dove, do you enjoy being all wrapped up for me?"

"I do… but…"  

His hand slipped under the thin band, resting on your belly, warm and waiting.  "But?"  Pausing his gentle attentions made you whimper with want.

Searching his sensual stare you answered swiftly, "But I want you to open me up, Loki."

That's when his mouth found yours.  Driven to a frenzied passion, Loki's tongue swept into you, taking your breath.  Slowly lowering you down, lying you out on the rug, Loki toyed with your shiny wrapper.  

Skimming up your sides, his hands are rough compared to the silky satin, but your skin craves the friction.  Arching into his touch your body begs for more.  Soon your words follow, "Loki… please…"

"Oh, kitten…"  Loki husks at you, pressing hot kisses along your jaw, his fingers tickling along the ribbon between your legs.  You cross them, hoping to ease the increasing exquisite ache at your core, squeezing your thighs tightly together.  A sight that makes Loki salivate.

Without being told, you had kept your hands off of Loki, and to yourself.  As a gift to be unwrapped, you assumed a role of inanimate play thing, Loki's to do with as he saw fit.  But when his shirt and tie were removed in a magical golden haze your frisky fingers danced across the definition of his chest unbidden.  

Gripping your wrist, Loki stalled your southward progression, "Touch yourself, little one."  Setting your hand down along the shiny fabric, watching you caress the edges, those places where your smooth skin met the black film covering made Loki harder than before.  

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, dearest."

Lightning quick, he stood to drop his trousers and toss them into a chair.  A wanton wail at the sight of Loki, long and lean, painfully hard in his own hand, echoed in the stillness of your shared space.  Stroking himself, standing over you, Loki wore an expression of elation.

You purred at his obvious pleasure.  "Do you like your gift, then?"

Smirking now, "Dunno.  Haven't open the thing yet!"

Crouching at your side, Loki took the trailing ties in each hand and slowly, so slowly, dragged them apart.  Your breath caught in your throat.  Pulse beating wildly, it felt as though Loki would be seeing you for the first time, as if you were a precious and rare gift for him to enjoy.

With one hard yank your bow was fully untied, baring your tightened nipples to Loki's hungry gaze, spreading goosebumps down your limbs.  His warm mouth licked across one peak lavishly as his fingers flicked and twisted the other.  Burying your hands in his black tresses, you cradle him to your chest, suddenly starved for his affection.

On every inch of freshly exposed skin Loki left a love token.  A sweet kiss, a blissful bite, a naughty nibble.  From your collarbone to your waist, Loki samples you in nips and sips, stopping only to hover over your fluid folds.  Without hesitation he licks your straining bud roughly, curling his lips around it, sucking it into his mouth.

"God!  Loki!"  It's a shriek torn from you in unbridled pleasure.  Reaching for him, wanting more, you both groaned when two of Loki's long digits entered you.  He was bathed in your overflowing ardor, your elixir pooling for him, welcoming his invasion.

The slippery stroking of your velveteen walls had you panting in moments.  Internally, your body wanted nothing more than Loki's fingers locked inside of you, nudging you closer to your release.  "Loki… I'm so close, babe!"

Whipping his face towards yours, grinning foolishly, "I know, darling!  You’ve given me all of yourself.  Give me your pleasure too."

With a driving thrust his fingertips scraped along that secret spot only he could find, sending you skyward.  Loki trapped your mouth in a thrashing kiss, tangling your tongues, taking your satisfied sob as his own.  You clung to Loki as your body was reduced to sensuous spasms.  

Loki hadn't stopped kissing your spicy skin.  Cinnamon, that was it, your flavor.  Tangy and almost heated, the aroma filled his senses, making him hungry for more of your delectable body.

Centering himself between your spread legs, Loki lifted your parted knees, your already aroused slit sopping.  Pressing his lips along your calf, across the thickness of your thigh, he spread your yielding body wider.  Coaxing your hips off the rug, raising them so that your pelvis rested on his lap, Loki took half a second to squeeze your bottom.  His fingers brushed against your tight hole sparking a fresh wave of vulgar thoughts to burst through your sex drunk mind.

"Another time, love.  Right now I want to delight in this gracious gift of yours."  Hands roamed all over your body, "After opening your… packaging, I want to play with my lovely toy.  Make all the other children jealous.  Think you can keep up?"

Managing a nod, your head tips back in happiness when Loki palms both of your breasts roughly.  Loki's solid steel length bumped pleasantly against your pearl.  He did it on purpose, just to see your body buzz with bliss, hopeful that you'd come undone again.

Taking himself in hand, Loki focused on your engaging entrance, piercing you deliberately.  Slowly.  "Gods!  You are snug!"  It was his surprised whisper that made you giggle. 

"Is that funny?  How your tight body is surrounding mine?  Ah!"  He had met the resistance of your cervix, crowding your canal with all of his unwavering manliness, making you stutter.

"No… not funny!  Just cute…"

Narrowing his brooding stare, "Cute?  Oh, now you're in trouble."

Accelerating his attention, Loki bore down on you with each punishing plunge, urgently seeking your climax.  Naturally your legs locked around Loki's hips.  You lost a stiletto when he snapped into you suddenly, the shoe dropping with a thump beside you, Loki never breaking his stride.

Around his intrusion your body flooded.  The delectable friction Loki created had you humming and too soon the telltale signs of your delight were coiling inside of you.  "Loki… Ah… Hmm… Loki…"

"You. Want. To. Cum. Again?  Already?"  Each word was punctuated with a piston like punch pulsing through your overly aroused person.

"Yes!  God, yes!"

"Go on then.  Cum for me."  And his words pushed you into a pulsating pleasure filled paradise.  

Your body, grappling with the gorgeous God grinding into you hard, and the aftershocks of your grand euphoria, was in flux.  Barely recovered from the last, you could tell another release was nearing, so could Loki.

He was relentless, pursuing his own passion now, caging you between his muscled arms.  Dipping low for a fervent kiss, "Wait for me, darling…"

Biting your lip with a bob of your head, you steel yourself, fighting your body's organic impulses.  It's just that Loki fills you so completely.  He is the center of your world, the person you love most, and he loves you right back.

You grab for him then, gripping his shoulders, twisting his long hair in your fists.  He drops lower, his chest on yours as he rocks into your trembling tunnel, "Angel… please!"

You know exactly what he's asking for and your body, past the point of stopping, obliges.  Loki comes apart inside of you just as you reach your own pinnacle.  The world shatters into twinkle lights and shag rugs, kaleidoscoping colors and sounds, but in the end there's Loki.  Grounding you, guiding you, holding onto you.  Losing yourself in his hot flood, muscles melding him to you, your form unwilling and unable to be parted from his.  

Stroking through his mussed mop of raven hair absently, breathing hard, Loki's cheek is pillowed on your breast.  His eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, as post coital drowsiness wraps around him.  A small tremor from your overworked sex squeezes him.  It's enough to rouse him and he rises to his forearms.

Nosing along your jawline, "I like my present very much.  I don't think I'll need to return it."

A hoarse laugh leaves you, "Good, because I lost the receipt!"

Caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, Loki catches your eye and holds it.  "This is the best gift I have ever received.  Ever, little one.  And… I find myself more in love with you than I was before."

"I love you, too." 

This kiss is sugar cookie soft, sweet and simple.  Loki, pressing his forehead to yours with a smile, "Merry Christmas, dove." ---

"So?"

"So?"  Your innocent act isn't fooling Natasha or Wanda.  Since Tony's holiday party no one had seen or heard from you or Loki.

Rolling her eyes, Nat grumbled, "Did Loki like his present or what?"

"Umm…"  You stirred your gin and tonic, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"Of course he did, Nat.  She's the only person here with a high collar and long sleeves on.  I bet there's bite marks and hickeys all over her!"

A laugh did bubble out of you then, "Well… let's just say that Loki had a good Christmas.  Can we leave it at that?"

In unison, "NO!"

Sliding to your side, Loki intervened, "Ladies, perhaps I can help here.  I was given the most exquisite, precious and perhaps thoughtful gift a man could receive."  Loki paused here to bring your hand to his lips in a chivalrous kiss.  

"And as anyone would do after getting such a present, I have hardly put it down since.  It is a constant source of delight… and yes, Wanda, she's marked as mine from her collarbone to her core.  Now, kitten, let's ring in this New Year!"

With a shrug to the girls and a smile, you let Loki drag you towards the crowd already starting the midnight countdown.  Another year with your God of Mischief all wrapped up, a new one starting now... What could be better than that?

Tags for love:  @archy3001​ @iamverity​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​

#loki x you #loki smut #loki x reader #loki christmas #loki holiday #loki fanfic #marvel smut #marvel christmas #marvel fanfiction

[legallyharrie]

BERLERMO ALTERNATIVE UNIVERVE : ART GALLERY IN PARIS

Hello,

I’m sharing with you my first Berlermo AU in wich Andrés is the owner of a art gallery in Paris. He met Martín who came to buy some paintings for his new place.

Sorry for the mistakes, I was tired when I wrote it and english is not my native language !

***

Since his primary childhood, Andrés has always been in love with art. It is the only way he has found to express his feelings. Art helps him to feels love, joy, sadness. Painting and sculptures are the only things to which he let his true self exposed. Even if Andrés is now in is forties, he never said “I love you” to someone. Not even to his parents, or to his little brother, Sergio, or to one of the five women he married. The fact is that Andrés is also extremely ill at ease with shows of affection.

After running the world for fifteen years as a consultant in Renaissance art, Andrés decide to settle five year ago in Paris and open his own art gallery. He found a little gem in the heart of the Marais, a fancy neighborhood of the French capital. Andrés decided to name it “La Galerie Berlin” in reference to Berlin, a city full of artists and in which is sell his first drawing.

In a lovely spring afternoon, a green-eyed man opened the door and cried out in a broken French “ Bonjour !”. A big smile was now invading Andrés’ face. The man was slightly younger than him and seemed very dynamic. He also immediately recognized his Argentinian accent.

“ Buenas Tardes amigo !” Andrés said.

« I’m Martin Berrote. I am an Argentinian engineer sent to Paris for a one-year mission. I lost myself in the neighborhood and then I saw your store front. Could you help me to select some painting, I really need to garnish my apartment! “

Martin was a very talkative person. During his speech, he looked Andrés straight in the eyes with his two-sapphire iris. His accent was also very melodious, and you can hear Italian intonations.

It needed some seconds for Andrés to come back to his senses. He coughed in his fist before answering to Martin.

“Nice to meet you Martin. I’m Andrés De Fonollosa. I’m a Spanish art expert, established for five years in Paris…” without stopping talking, Andrés moved with a rare elegance between the multiples sculptures, glass boxes and showed to Martin every painting.

Even if to them it seemed like only ten minutes have passed, the two men talked about lives for two hours straight. Martin’s childhood in Buenos Aires, the violence of his father, Andrés’ travels, and his unperishable memory of Argentine, his history of art studies. They found a lot of common in each other.

After this long discussion, Martin choose three paintings all of them were abstract art. Vivid colors. Anarchic paintbrushes. It was a pretty realistic representation of his mindset and his thoughts. As nature gifted him with a great intelligence, it was also born with a brain fill with ideas and unable to rest for more than thirty seconds.

“Are you free tonight?” Martin asked.

“Hmm. I just divorced from my fifth wife some weeks ago and I have only a cat at home. So, I guess that I have nothing planned. Why?

“Would you do me the favor to take a drink? Some friends told me that The Marais was full of bars and places to go out.”

At this moment, Andrés was not able yet to put words on what he was feeling but he was mesmerized by this Argentinian guy. It was a magnetic force, something that no one could see. It was unusual, unique, for Andrés to be this confused.

“Of course. Just give five minutes to close the gallery. Let me store your paintings there and I will help you later to grab them to your place.”

A soft wind was now diving into the streets of Paris. The two men were giggling in their way to a little bar. It was crowdy and filled with pride flags and rainbow crosswalks. Even if it was a fancy neighborhood, Andrés preferred the chic of Saint-Germain-Des-Près. They both sat inside a little pub and ordered tapas with a pricy bottle of wine that Andrés recommended to Martin. If he had had the choice Martin would have only ordered a regular beer but he could not disappoint his new friend. They continued to talk about themselves, the highs and downs of each other lives. Martin confess to Andrés how disastrous and toxic was his last relationship with a Sicilian guy. Andrés reviewed his five weddings, all of them sold by a divorce. He admitted to Martin that he really loved women but in the end that he never understood them. He covered them with flowers, luxurious hotels, and jewelries but it seemed that it was not enough for them.

At several moments, they both stopped talking and stare each other in the eyes. But at no time, it became weird. They both needed calm. In these silences, both of them could red the other thoughts. It’s been less than half a day since they met but is seemed like they have known each other for years. Martin understood Andrés. Andrés understood Martin. They were born in different continents, shared a different culture but they shared the same point of view on most of subjects. For the first time in his life, Andrés opened up to someone, naturally. It was like a flood barrier had been broke.

Shortly after midnight Martin asked Andrés if he was not too tired to go back to his gallery and pick up home the paintings. Martin’s flat was 2 miles away from there. As the engineer he was, Martin had a secret plan in mind.

During the way back to the gallery and his place, Martin became quite touchy with Andrés. He touched his arm and then he started to put a hand on his back. Andrés didn’t objected and didn’t moved either. He thought that the feeling was pleasant and showed a knowing smile.

After climbing the four floors which separate the street from Martin’s place, the little Argentinian offered to Andrés a tour. Immediately, Andrés argued with Martin about which walls the paintings should be hang on. At the end, they decided that two of them would be perfect in the hall. The largest one will take its place upon Martin’s bed.

Martin was leaning to the framing of the bedroom’s door staring at Andrés four feet away. Now, they both had sleepy eyes. Today had been intense but none of them have the intention to end it now.

Even though Martin was not a shy person, his arms were full of goosebumps. On top of that, the little butterfly he started to feel sooner did not stopped to grow in his stomach. In fact, thousands of butterflies were now flying in his body. Before, Martin never believe in love at first sight. He was a bit misogynistic and, in his mind, it was for girls and for fairy tales. What he did not know yet is that the supposedly straight men, five times married to women, was also devoured with strange butterflies. And he that he was submerged by the same sensation even if he tries his best to burry it. In any way, Andrés thought that he was uncapable to have feeling for someone. To genuinely love someone.

Martin inhaled a big bowl of air and made a step. He looked Andrés straight in the eyes, smiling.

“Andrés. I wanted to thank you for this wonderful evening. Since I left my country, I felt very alone. But then, I met you and your crazy passion for art and beauty. I never get along so fast and so well with someone.”

“ I have to admit that it’s a first time for me too. Sorry if I bothered you with all my problems and everything. I never felt that connected with a total stranger. But I find in you someone who listens to me and who understand my point of view on life. “. Andrés said with glazed eyes. This, was a first time for him too. He never cried in front of someone. Maybe he even never cried since is childhood.

“ Cariño, you didn’t bothered me.”

Martin made a new step towards Andrés. Then, another one. The distance was now quite close between them. Martin gently wipe Andrés eyes with a comforting “shhh”. His hands were now wandering on Andrés’s cheeks and he brushed the back of his hair. For sure, since the moment he saw Andrés when he first entered in the gallery, Martin thought that Andrés was a very charming and seducing men. Now, he was staring at him and the distance between them was only of twenty centimeters. This close, with the moonlight transpiercing the curtains, Andrés was even more sexy and Martin craving to taste how soft was his lips.

In order to finally break the distance, Martin slowly approach his nose to Andrés’. Andrés raise a eyebrow at first, surprised by Martin boldness but then, they begun to rub each other nose. It was pure, it was soft, it was new. Time was frozen around them. Andrés closed his eyes; he was one hundred percent confident in Martin. He puts his hands on Martin’s hips and pull him closer to break the distance once and for all.

Shortly after, Martin gently kiss Andrés lips. As he imagined they were beautifully soft. Andrés responded to the kiss and their lips began to move synchronically and it became less and less innocent. No words were needed and like they both already learnt today, they didn’t had to speak to understand each other.

“There is no accidental meeting between soulmates”

#fluff #berlermo #la casa de papel #palermo la casa de papel #palermo #berlin #they are so cute 😥 #AU #BERLIN #andres de fonollosa #martin berrote #what do you guys think about it ?

[parkeraul]

boyfriend — prologue | s.m & t.h

warnings: cursing, smut, angst, drinking.

prologue | part 1

The term that describes exactly what’s in between the boys is quite a mystery. 

They’re far from being friends, but they’re also not declared enemies. Well, that’s what Harrison or Brian would probably answer if you ever ask them what’s the problem between your best friends? 

Around the college, it’s rare to see them actually arguing or coming for each other by the corridors or in the few classes they have together. But if you want to see things heating up, make sure you attend to the ‘friendly’ football match the guys from the Empshire University every friday after 5pm — when classes are over and the pitch is ready. It sounds childish, just like any regular boyish action if you may, but the atmosphere gets immensely heavier whenever both of them are playing in opposite teams. With that, you cannot say that Tom and Shawn aren’t exactly very similar, actually. Both competitive, both popular among people in college, both intelligent and passionate about art and its different forms. Oh, both annoyingly handsome in a way it gets most of the girls angry for not having a slight chance to trap them up onto a tightrope and call them boyfriend.  They both love going to the beach, having two or three bottles of beer and spend the rest of the day watching random sports on the TV when the day is free. 

But there are certainly lots of things that drifts one away from the other. 

Tom is a golf stan while Shawn is head–over–heels for hockey, for example.

Shawn is a helplessly romantic type of lover, might show up at your door and promise your parents he’ll drop you back home by 9. Long walks by the seashore under the moonlight — after buying you your favourite ice cream and complimenting your beautiful sundress, how amazingly well it fits you and highlights the colour of your skin. Shy touches, random love quotes and mentions of beautiful poems. Talks with you about dreams, about life and family, plans for the future. Wanna know the bands you like and what’s your favourite song ever. ‘Where’s your last name from?’ ‘What’s the class you like the least?’ ‘Do you love what you study?’. Timid & indirect flirting phrases — so he knows if it’s mutual by the way you either melt or step away — and wears his best cologne, hoping it’ll spark something inside of you. Typical Shawn Mendes. 

Tom, however, seems to be a lot more direct. If he wants you, he’ll sure let you know — probably through a joke, with a playful tone that carries all the sincerity. Festivals and crowdy — yet cozy — hangouts where you can both have an amazing time. Wants to get to know you better, making sure you know he’s paying attention to every word that comes out of your mouth by the way he looks at you so deeply, eyes shining as his irresistible smirk draws his lips. Laughs and happiness are priorities; soft but assertive touches on your hand as he walks beside you so you can notice he wants to hold hands with you; takes you to watch the city lights and goes crazy with you as your favourite song plays on his car’s radio. Stares at your lips intensely and dies inside whenever you poke your tongue out to lick them. Such a sucker type of lover, but you’ll only find it out if you stay long enough for him to trust you. Will make up dramatic scenes out of random situations to earn a laugh and wave you goodbye at your door, watching you disappear inside as he hopes your perfume is stuck on his cloth. Typical Tom Holland.

In between so many similarities and differences, there’s still a thing that connects Tom and Shawn more than football games and college classes.

Her.

When her frame crosses the rooms, it’s game over for both of them.  It’s ridiculous the way that she gets two grown–up men drooling for her effortlessly doing nothing more than just being herself. Call her a liar, but she swears she doesn’t sway her hips more intensely whenever she walks in front one of them. But it doesn’t matter, she could walk steady like a rock and it’d still light up a fire inside their boxers — to avoid saying heart because feelings aren’t part of the deal. It took a good while for her to surrender and stop messing around, finally step up and  give them a try. She always found funny the way they’d always try to impress her or melt her heart with their most incredible skills and stronger personality characteristics during the parties, or outside class begging to walk her home — getting nothing more than just her number, and then getting nothing more than a quick single response. 

No wonder why Tom enjoys reliving so much the day she finally softened up. 

“I’ve never imagined you’d be like this.”  “Like what?” Tom asks, moving tortuously slow as his grip strengthens.  “Kinky.”  She’s smiling so devilishly that he can’t help but do the same, squeezing the back of her thigh as he bends it more until the front part clinges to her boob. Like this, he gets more space to thrust into her deeper while he does his best to move closer, eyes glued on hers and lips brushing together with every push of his.  “Does that mean you had wet thoughts about me?” Tom whispers, feeling his mouth tickling hers as he rolls his hips unhurriedly. She gulps, enjoying the sensation of taking him inch by inch easily, once he’s getting soaked by her wetness and it makes his cock slide in and out deliciously.  Everything’s so deliberately intense that he can feel her core gradually swelling more, his length completely tightened inside of her warm heat holding him so delightfully. Even in his wildest dream, he’d never pictured this moment so perfectly with her looking so messily gorgeous under him. He’s sure amazed by her beauty, and now it seems to increase more his crush for her, if that’s even possible. She’s taken by surprise, noticing her throat going dry and chills taking over her entire body even though the temperature is hotter than hell. Tom never thought he’d see her weakening, but it’s not only real. It’s also priceless to watch her lips parting and eyes widening softly, pleasure mixing with the awe as he hits her g-spot with a forceful shove — which makes their skin slap together so loudly that it wouldn’t be unpredictable to get a knock on the door soon after.  “You’ve never answered my question, darlin’” He says sexily, capturing her bottom lip in between his teeth and sending her another hard stroke. She moans desperately, feeling the knot forming deep back in her pussy already supplicating for relief as it pulsates vigorously.  “Fuck, Holland,” Closing her eyes, she exhales sharply and takes a handful of the hair right above the nape of his neck. The other hand flies to his chest, scratching his flesh as it gets embellished by burning stripes of red. The strands of his chocolate hair are already a mess, making him look even more wrecked and sexy and his eyes are so dark that it matches with the atmosphere of the bedroom. “I just—”  “Just what?” And the bad thing is that his accent makes it all even worst. It’s impossible for her to resist the unmistakable sound of his voice — so unique and so sweet, but now washing her with desire as his tone falls one or two octaves and becomes low, raspy. Tucked deep inside of her, he makes quick and strong movements, knowing that he’s massaging her sensitive spot mercilessly by the way she starts squirming helplessly. Her moans turn into frantic cries, and Tom follows her because he can’t control himself and because he knows she loves when guys are loud also. He feels his cock throbbing just like her soaked walls around him and her hands instantly grab the headboard, while his fingers release her leg to curl around her throat. “Can’t even form a decent sentence, can ya?” He laughs under his breath and she swears she’s seeing stars beneath her eyelids. “Open your eyes, I wanna see you while I make you squirt all over my cock,” Tom demands, pressuring her throat a little bit more and as soon as she opens her eyes, it’s authomatic: they roll to the back of her head and flutter close again. “Open. Up.” 

With a huge effort, she does it lazily and finds his eyes already glancing at her. The moonlight breaking through the window is enough to illuminate their features enough for them to watch each other insanely dissolving in pure pleasure. There’s a glisten of sweat highlighting his defined abs and his hairline just like it’s also showing up on his lips, and she wonders if his tongue never gets tired of licking those pieces of plump skin everytime she clenches around him suddenly. Unexpectedly, Tom kisses her with a fiery craving and proves her wrong. From afar or licking inside her mouth, his tongue won’t ever get exhausted of teasing her. And she’s thankful, because the taste of sex stuck on their lips is insatiable. 

“Want to cum?” Tom breaks the kiss to ask through gritted teeth, feeling her gulping underneath his palm and she looks so damn beautiful all fucked like this.  But she only nods.  And he shoves his dick strongly at a point she thinks she’s never been hit this deep before, consequently letting her jaw fall in a silent scream.  “Betta use your mouth before I do.”  “Yes, daddy.”

That was such the perfect way to start the summer vacation, and that’s something they both know for sure. The bikini marks on her body contrasting with the rest of her tanned skin would remind her daily of a steamy week on the beach, definitely warmer in bed than on the sand. 

But by the end of the hot days — not naughtily speaking this time — the summer rain came to say and brought her a calming mood. A calm someone. 

She’s barely audible with the heavy rain pouring outside, drops hitting the ceiling harshly as she shivers  totally overpowered. Shawn’s tongue is lapping at her cunt devotedly, massaging her clit carefully, but not less intense at all. He’s savouring her like she’s his last meal, not believing his own eyes and, well, mouth too. It had never ocurred him that she’d taste this sweet and when he tries to reach her eyes, they’re closed and her face is serene. She’s got a defeated smile adorning her pretty face and her chest heavens beautifully, her hips moving delicately towards his wanting lips. 

It was hard to adapt herself to the softness at first, considering the feverish beginning of the season. But Shawn knew all too well how to ease her nerves with his skilled mouth, eating her out slow and passionate. She opens her eyes slightly to see Shawn’s lips moulding her pussy smoothly, taking her aching clit into his mouth and he looks like an angel down in there — flushed rosy cheeks under his hazel eyes, completely compelled by the sight of her splayed all over the bed so fucked for his mouth sucking on her now. Letting out a louder whimper, she takes his curls in between her fingers and rolls her hips provocatively. It obviously sparkles something inside his briefs and inside him, which leads Shawn to put one of her legs above his shoulder and circle her entrance with the tip of his forefinger. 

“Please, Shawn,” She begs under her breath, immersed in pleasure as her pussy swells under his control. “I need more.” 

And he can’t even pretend he wants to deny such a graceful requirement. 

In seconds, he inserts his finger all the way until it’s disappeared inside of her. He watches closely, forgetting to lick her purposely so he won’t miss this amazing moment. 

“More, baby.” 

He pushes the finger back and replaces it with his middle finger.  She thinks he might’ve probably understood it wrongly, but it’s just pure care.  He alternates fingers, one by one thrusting inside her soaked heat individually and she’s in the merge of losing her mind for fucks sake. Every move is too much and she’s not sure how long she can wait. 

When she considers sitting up to take the goddamn control, Shawn shoves the two fingers in a swift movement, making her back arch and a cry escape past her lips. This makes him smile, and he pumps the fingers with a certain strength as it gradually increases the wet sounds filling up the room. Every shove echoes throughout the space with smacking sounds and if she had ever felt her legs before, she doesn’t even remember. They’re trembling unstoppably as his mouth goes back on her sensitive bud, applying a heavier suction and flicking it with his tender, wet tongue. 

“Gon’ make you cum so good for me,” Shawn mutters against her, eventually switching from suctions to licks — from licks to suctions —  from suctions to kisses — from kisses to pumps. “So fuckin’ pretty taking me this well, eh?” 

And a lifetime would never be sufficient for him to compliment her enough. Even though he’s speechless to the view of her tanned body shaking more and more as she gets closer to her so–wanted high.

The thing though is that none of them had a single idea of what happened before the college days were back. And it’s true that the walls do have ears. Well, not all walls are made of concrete or bricks. Sometimes they’re ginger and tall, sometimes they’re blonde with blue eyes and a british accent.

“Dude,” Haz elbows Tom as he holds his beer still. “Don’t you think that there’s something wrong?”  “Nah,” Tom scoffs, taking a sip of his drink as they both watch her on the dance floor of Eryka’s party. By dance floor, it means large living room filled to the raftors. “She said ‘no strings attached’, so what? All the beginnings are fucked like this.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders like he’s got nothing to worry about.  “I’m not talkin’ ‘bout this,” Harrison says close to his friend’s ear and Tom follows his sight when he tilts his head back, catching the sight from all the way across the room. “A blue little bird told me she’s been seeing someone else too.” 

“If you keep staring they’ll know we’re talking about him,” Brian jokes, taking a single mouthful of his tequila shot.  “So what?” Shawn asks absentmindedly, toying with the empty beer bottle hanging in between his long fingers. “Maybe I’ll ask him to join us on some beer pong shit and finally check if what you said is true.”  “Wait, I didn’t say anything,” The ginger lifts his open hands in defeat. “Osterfield told me that. He could easily be fooling around.”  “Guess we’ll have to see, right?” This time, Shawn laughs. Maybe he doesn’t believe it at all. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe it might be true.

In between, there’s Eryka dancing with her to the beat of the music as she notices the fixed glare of the guys switching between her to each other.  “Don’t you wanna clear this up for these guys?” Eryka asks, grabbing her phone to check a message as she takes the last gulp of her drink.  “You know what do I really want?” She responds with another question, feeling the alcohol shoot some dirt and honesty to her intentions.  “Hm?”  “I want to suck him,” She comes closer to her friend and points to the left. “While he fucks me.” Pointing now to the right, she winks at Eryka and takes the empty cup from her hand, walking to the kitchen and hoping to be stalked by a very specific british guy and a very specific canadian boy.

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀: @lostinspidey — @goldenmndes — @shawnsunflower — @jawnjendes — @itrocksmysocks — @emilyxkate — @itrocksmysocks — @tell-me-when-ur-ready 

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

#shawn mendes #tom holland #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #shawn mendes serie #shawn mendes series #tom holland serie #tom holland series #mine #ficsofmine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfics #shawn mendes and tom holland

[bumblebet-20]

What we left behind

5sos x reader

warnings: swearing, divorce, angst (oh so much).

A/N: GUYS OMG THIS IS MY VERY FIRST SERIES AND IM SOOOO EXCITED :3

Couldn't have done this without my boo @aspiringwildfire

-FLASHBACK-

“Happy Birthday, Enid!” Everyone yells after I blow out the candles, tossing up confetti they held in their hands.

“What did you wish for, Ed?” Calum asks, face covered in frosting from the chocolate cupcake.

“You know I can’t tell you, Cal!” I giggle slightly, turning towards the slice of strawberry cake in front of me.

“I can’t believe my baby is 7 today!” My mum says, suddenly behind me and nearly squeezing the life out of me.

“Hey, Ed! Let’s go play!” Michael exclaims on the other side of the yard, holding a yellow ball in his hands. A quick giggle escapes my lips as I quickly move out of my mum’s arms, running over to where he stands, followed by Calum and Luke.

“Be careful of your dress honey!” My mum hollers as we chase the ball, her words barely reach my ears as I focus on beating the other team.

We played football until the sun set, the only time we took a break was when people left and I had to say goodbye to them. Daryl came out and brought us inside for dinner, only us four and our parents remain to finish the celebrations.

“Eat up kids, we’ll set up the tent in a bit.“Liz says, setting down a box containing a large Cheese pizza in front of us.

-After finishing the pizza and getting the tent set up, we settle in our sleeping bags, the only source of light being the lantern in the middle of our circle.“Did you have a fun birthday?” Michael asks, stopping his game of ‘Crazy Eights’ with Calum.“

I had a blast! You three made it great” “

Aw, Ed! We’ll always be here to make your birthday awesome” Luke exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug. The others soon join, causing a dog pile and loud laughs to erupt from all of us.

Once the laughter calmed down and we resumed our previous games, a thought ran through my head “Hey guys? Can we all agree to remain friends no matter what?” 

“Of course! Nothing will tear us apart” Calum says, earning agreement ‘yeahs’ “We’re gonna be best friends for life!” Luke hollers

.-10 years later (2012)-“Come on,Becks! We can’t miss this!” I exclaim, grabbing the hand of my best friend, weaving through the crowd outside the building and stopping in front of the stage, waving at the boys while they are getting their instruments ready.

“Oh! Here are our seats” She points to a round table filled with chairs right in front, our names scribbled on paper. 

“Hey girls,”Joy says, taking a seat in her designated chair, Mali following right behind her. 

“Everyone else is right behind us, “Mali says, motioning to the door where the familiar heads of the Hemmings’ bobs over everyone else.

-

Once everyone got settled in their chairs, Luke taps the microphone lightly.

“Hello, we are Five Seconds of Summer and welcome to our show!” Luke says into the microphone, earning a round of applause and a ‘whoop’ from me.

“1,2,3,4!” Ashton exclaims before the music begins, filling the nearly empty space with the beginning of ‘Unpredictable’. My foot starts to tap at the beat, unable to contain my smile when Lukes’ voice fills the room.

“She sit at home with the lights out” Rebecca sings lowly next to me.

“Seeing life in different colours” We finish together, pretending our hands are microphones.

-

“Thank you for coming! This has been Five Seconds of Summer! Good night!” Luke exclaims into the mic before walking off stage.

“Alright, let’s go see our boys,“Liz says as she stands up and heads to the doors where the boys went off from.

“Mum!”  Luke exclaims, running to her once we all enter their changing room. All the boys greet their families before I’m swiftly picked up by Ashton and spun around.

“Alright,put her down before you hurt someone, “My mum says, stopping Ashton from spinning my brains out and gently places me on solid ground.

“So, food anyone?” David receives shouts of agreement in return.The parents walked ahead to the cars while we took our time heading out.

“Oh boys! I made some gifts for you” I dig around my bag before finding the plastic baggy, taking out four bright bracelets, each one having a letter for each boy. Rebecca takes two and puts them on the right boy’s wrist.

“Are these friendship bracelets?” Michael asks, twirling around the orange one on his wrist.

“Yeah. I just thought that you boys are gonna make it big someday and I just- don’t  want you to forget about the little people” I awkwardly shuffle my feet across the concrete floor, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I even did this.

“I love it! What better way to signify our friendship than with a bracelet!” Ashton tugs me into a hug, squeezing me tightly.

“Alright you kids, let’s go!” Liz says from the end of the corridor, motioning with her hand to come.

“We better go, don’t want an angry Liz on our hands” Calum comments as we all walk towards the door.

[1 month later]

I hum quietly as I braid Becks hair, the two of us deciding to have a sleepover at my house.

“Have you been watching the videos they upload? They’re gaining a lot of views” She says quietly, busy drawing in her sketchbook.

“I know, it's about time people realize their talent”

A knock on my window makes us jump as we turn to it and see Calum’s face pressed against it.

“Cal, what are you doing?” I question once he’s inside.

“ You won’t believe the news we just got” Becks and I share a confused look before returning our attention to the bouncing boy.

“Well? Spill dude” Calum gives her an unamused look, but continues to bounce.

“Okay so we’ve been getting a good number of views on our covers and earlier we got an email asking if we’d be interested in opening for this group-”

“What group?” Rebecca asks, curiosity getting the better of both of us.

“One Direction” Both our jaws drop at the name.

“That’s amazing Cal! I told you you boys would get famous one day!”

“We sign the contract tomorrow and start working out a setlist”

“When do you guys leave?” Calum nervously swallowed at the question.

“Three months” I feel my heart drop at how soon they’ll be leaving.

“Senior year starts in three months…”

“We know, but this is such a great opportunity and this is the boost we need to become famous”

“I’m so happy for you guys!”I exclaim overly eager, earning an odd look from Rebecca.

“We just knew you would be!” He flashes us his award winning smiling before slipping back out the window.

“Alright, spill. That was such a fake congratulations.”

“I’m- I’m happy for them”I fiddle with the brush I was holding.

“Bull. Shit. I’ve never seen more forced joy than right there.”

“What’s gonna happen when they leave for tour? We’re gonna stay behind while they go off and make a name for themselves.” 

“Aren’t you happy that they got this opportunity? This is what they want” I sit on the edge of my bed and she joins, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah but- I can’t help but think that it was supposed to us 6. Forever. No one and nothing can come between us”

“They’re still your boys. Now-” She stands, grabbing my hands on the way. “Let’s go get some ice cream and watch movies.. We can deal with this later” I laugh but follow her out to the kitchen.

[5 months later]

“Any response yet?” I simply shake my head at my mum’s question, returning to the book I was reading. “They’ll text back. Just got to be patient honey.”

“Yeah” I reopen IMessage and all texts to them since they left have all been left on read and I can’t figure out why. “I’m going to hang out with Rebecca for a bit” I say after reading her text, receiving a simple ‘mhm’ from my mum.

<

“And they haven’t even said a simple ‘hi’ or ‘ thanks’?” Rebecca questions, popping a crisp in her mouth.

“Nothing. Did- Did I do something? Should I have sent mail or-”

“Ed stop. You did nothing wrong, okay? They’re hormonal teenage boys, we should really expect this behavior.. But that by no means excuses their rudeness.” I go quiet, opting to play with my sandwich.

“They’re performing in Sydney in two weeks.. I was thinking of stopping by” I casually say, not looking up from the food.

“Alright.” I look up at her, shocked by her response. “I don’t agree with this idea but I’m not not gonna let you do this- definitely not alone.” She puts her hand over my own, offering a soft smile. “Now. About this Art assignment”

\night of concert\

“Okay, the plan is as follows: we go to the concert. Park where we see tour buses and wait. Find the boys and talk. Ending the night with pizza, candy and scary movies at my place.”

“Sounds like a well thought out plan.” I take one last look at myself, adjusting my top before turning to my brunette friend. “Ready?”

“Ready” We loop arms, skipping the whole way to her car.

..

“Damn, they are loud” Becks jokingly says from our position against the car, listening to our boys play.

“They sound good (feels good hehe :D)” I comment, pushing some of the gravel around with the toe of my combat boots.

We remain in a comfortable silence until the doors swing open and familiar voices fill the air. I look over at her, wide eyed.

“Now or never babe”

“What do I-”

“Hey boys!” She screams, making them all turn around, alarmed looks on their faces.

“Uh- Hi” Luke says, waving awkwardly in our direction.

“Enid here would like to talk to you boys. In private”She nudges me forward and I take timid steps to them.

“Let’s go in the bus” Ashton opens the door for everyone before closing it behind him.

“So-”

“Why’d you guys do it? Why did you just up and ignore me?” They nervously look at one another before Calum steps forward.

“We- uh got busy?”

“If you wanted to still be my friend you would’ve made an effort” I state, crossing my arms across my chest.

“We do it’s just that-” Luke begins but I cut him off, anger starting to run in my veins,

“What happened to ‘remain friends no matter what’”?

“You don’t understand, our life is so crazy now! We still consider you a friend, not best friend but, friends. Why are you still upset about this? It’s not like we completely abandoned you” Michael says from his position in a chair.

“ You couldn’t say ‘hey thanks!’ when I congratulated you?”

“Yeah bu-” Ashton tries but I cut him off.

“You could’ve tried.. But you ALL decided I wasn’t worth the effort!” I take a few slow breaths to try and keep calm “I tried to keep this friendship when you guys left but, not much I can do when you won’t even try”

“We still want a friendship. It’s just gonna be a little different now” Ashton says, taking timid steps towards me.

“No. If you wanted a friendship you would’ve kept up with it. None of you even reached out when my parents went through a horrible divorce. I really needed my best friends support but I got nothing.”

“We didn’t know your parents divorced Ed” Michael explains, all four of them clearly looking distressed.

“Stop. Stop right now. Our parents all still talk so you would’ve been told about it but sure, let’s play dumb. Also, that nickname is reserved for close friends and none of you are that.”

“ Alright,let’s all calm down and think about this rationally.” Ashton says, trying to mediate the best he can.

“I’ve already said everything that I wanted.Goodbye” I quickly leave the bus, practically diving into the passenger seat.

“How did it go?” At the sound of her voice I immediately break down in tear, sobs shaking my whole body. “Oh honey no shh” She brings me into her side, rocking us slowly. “They didn’t deserve your friendship. You’re too kind and you need someone who will love you for yourself and not make you cry like this.”

“I’ll never trust them again” 

- 

AND THAT’S PART 1 HOLY SHIT I’M SO EXCITED. please let me know your thoughts but be nice cause I’m a small bean :3

#5sos #series bitchessss #yasss #calum hood #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #loml #ty for reading <3

[84reedsy]

10 Weeks Later - Matt Brown Steam

After watching him pop out of a box, I felt like we could all use a little Matt Brown smut - enjoy!

Characters: Matt Brown/OC

Word Count: 1914

Warnings: Smutty goodness

Louisa’s face hit the bed. Her back ached with relief as the mattress became the main support rather than her tired feet. It was only two. Two tiny, squawling, adorable, exhausting babies. She’d never known that she could be this tired and her eyes still be open. To be fair, the babies were mostly happy, easily contented. But when they were not, they were united in the attempt to wear their parents to within a thin line of their sanity.

Soon the bed dipped as Matthew joined her, flopping on his back groaning.

“The bed has never felt so nice.” His arms flopped over his chest. Louisa had to will her head to turn, resting on the opposite cheek as she turned to face him.

“I know what you mean. I don’t think I can move any more muscles. I’m so tired.” She tried not to whine, but some of the words just couldn’t help to carry the sound of slight complaint.

“You ever wish I’d pulled out?” Matt’s crass joke made him chuckle and though Louisa tried to be offended, it tickled her a bit.

“Matthew Jeremiah, you watch your tongue. You know you love those babies. I do, too. I just wish...they were so much quieter.” She closed her eyes, resting them, but her ears were still alert for the sounds of any discomfort from their tiny infants.

Both Prim and Jeremiah had been borderline colicky, but multiplying that fate by two was teetering on too much for either of the new parents. Matt had his fair share of helping raise children; being the oldest of the Brown children, he’d spent plenty of nights walking the floor (or ground) with a fussy baby, changing diapers, feedings. But it was different, now that they were his own. He turned to meet Louisa’s eyes.

“I do love them. And you.” His hand brushed her cheek, “You know….the doctor said 10 weeks.”

“It hasn’t been 10 weeks.” She said, counting the days in her head, knowing some seem to run together into a blur.

“Oh yes it has. It was 10 weeks four days ago.” Matt hummed matter-of-factly.

Louisa sighed. She did desperately miss Matt as her husband. They’d barely pecked lips since they’d come home from the hospital. Nursing was taking a toll on her with two babe stomachs to fill and Matt had been running himself ragged between helping with them, trying to keep Louisa taken care of, as well as the household chores and work that needed to be done. How he’d managed to chop wood while barely being able to pick up an axe had been nothing short of a miracle.

But the cabin was warm. Bellies were full. And all was peaceful for the time being.

“I want to Matt. Believe me. I want us to have that time together. But I want to be as present as I can. I’m afraid I’d lay there like a slug.” She crawled up the bed a little more, letting her face crash into the pillow as she turned to her side, facing Matt.  

“Girl, don’t think I’m pushing you...that’s the last thing I want.” He followed her, taking her hands in his, kissing along her knuckles, “I just miss my wife...I want you to know that I still want you, I still desire you.”

Louisa blushed. She could feel the softness around her middle, the remainder of her pregnancy and immediately felt self-conscious about it. What if it moved too much, what if she couldn’t turn him on? These questions were not new. In fact, every time she bathed or changed, her mind was consumed with such thoughts.

“What? You think I wouldn’t still be insanely attracted to the love of my life? To the woman who changed my heart? Or is it me?” he grabbed a little of his pooch, jiggling it a little, “ Has my daddy weight made me an undesirable slob?” His self deprecation was in jest, knowing she would immediately defend him.

“Matt!” it worked, she perked up immediately, but hushed her tone afterwards,” Don’t you even think that. You are the most beautiful man.”

“And you are the most gorgeous woman.” He sidled closer to her, kissing the tip of her nose. She relaxed now, his hand resting on her hip. If anything, this man knew how to make her feel love and contentment. The love was wonderful, but the contentment? It had been then thing she’d pined for the most in life. To be enough. To be ‘it’ for someone. And through her disbelief, this man had spent many an hour showing her, convincing her, proving that she was those things and more.

“Tell me what you loved about me first.” He mumbled as he moved even closer. His lips brushed hers, dropping to her chin and kissing down to her neck, waiting for an answer. The kisses were like whispers of wind, the sensation intense for as light as it was.

“Matthew, you know what it was. “ She surrendered herself to the feeling, opening herself to him more. She’d said it a billion times. He wanted to hear it a billion more.

“Tell me….” He breathed the words over her skin.

“You’re laugh, that crazy, maniacal laugh. And the way those blue eyes of yours...just...lit up.” She managed to finish speaking even though his tongue licked a trail across her neck. It was amazing to her how such a short time of abstinence had made her so sensitive to his touch. His stubble across her jaw was excruciatingly enjoyable.

His lips and hands were patient, careful in his caresses, knowing she was sore and healing still. What he did touch he was soft and tender. Goosebumps cascaded down her skin repeatedly as he didn’t leave an inch of her unattended.

Against her leg, she felt his arousal, rigid and throbbing, even through his pants. She’d known he’d been yearning for relief for some time, but had been nothing short of a saint when it came to patience. And for the first time in weeks, she felt a need arise in herself. Not one of nurturing or mothering, but one of a primal nature. She felt the beast of desire stir itself awake as she felt how much he needed her.

His fingers gently played her pussy lips as if they were a gentle harp melody. His finger soon slick with her wetness as he hushed her cry of ecstasy with his lips. The release burned through her like a slow, smouldering blaze. The edges of her vision blurred and time was meaningly as her body quivered with the sexual thrill.

“Oh, my girl needed that bad didn’t she?” He hummed as he kissed her flushed, heated skin. Her eyes were a little wild now; her panting a sign of her thirst for him. She perched on her knees now, pawing at his pants, pushing them below his hips to free the strain on his manhood. He tried to quell his own aching desire, his instincts threatening his level head. More so when her soft hand encircled him. Even more when he lips were around his tip, the insane heat of her mouth enveloping him.

She grinned at the animalistic groan that he attention elicited from him. He was putty in her hands now. She knew the torturous pleasure of her slow movements was driving him to the brink of his self control. She had to admit, wielding such power over him was self-indulgent, but it also made her more submissive to her own wants.

His hands guided her head, careful to not let her bring him to the point of no return in which he would be lost to his own instinct. His eyes were glued to her as if her performance was art itself. Gently he stopped her, his eyes closing as he willed himself away from the edge of his impending release, his chest filling with deep breaths, his libido calming only slightly.

Matt lifted her face to his, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

“Tell me...tell me if it’s too much...I’ll stop.” He spoke softly and she felt as if she’d melt right into him.

“Of course, Matthew. “ She turned her face to kiss his palm, laying back in against the bed, drawing him with her. His hips settled between her thighs with such a natural ease, it seemed as if they’d been built to fit each other. With a fluid movement of his hips, he found her entrance warm and wanting for him. He slid in with painstaking slowness, his eyes open though, watching for any hesitancy from her eyes.

Louisa gasped. It was obvious that it had been a while, but she was relieved that she could feel him, and feel him as much as before; her anatomical worries quelled, she relaxed a bit, letting herself feel more and more pleasure. She gripped her thighs a little tighter around his waist, her silent plea for more. He moved again, rhythmically, studying every expression for any suggestion of discomfort. When he found none, he moved again - and again. His pace quickened slightly as her hands slid along his ribs to his back, her fingertips gripping him.

“Lulu….love….you feel incredible…” he praised her, feeling her wetness surround him even more as his compliments erased any apprehension still lingering. As his movement intensity increased, so did her vocal appreciation. His lips had to quiet hers often. His hands slid under her shoulders, using them as leverage to delve deeper within her heat.

“Matthew...I want to watch….you…” She breathlessly begged. She didn’t want to risk another little one so quickly, but she really did enjoy watching him. He put on quite the visual spectacle.

He understood and knew that she could feel his grip of control slipping as much as he could.

“Anything...for you.” he grunted as he kissed her roughly, driving himself to the brink. He barely stalled his hips in time, withdrawing from her. His head fell back as his hand replaced the pressure of her, his seed spilling out repeatedly up her torso, the force of it spreading it farther than normal.

“Yes...Matthew...oh yes.” She panted watching him, getting almost as much pleasure from watching him experience a climax as she got from feeling it.

As he came down from the plateau, he watched as her fingers drug across her skin rubbing his seed in, making it a part of her. The scene was a perfect compliment to the pleasure waning within him. He hummed watching her.

She loved the feeling of him on her. A way of marking her as his. She didn’t mind if it seemed a little barbaric, she liked feeling like his. He made it no secret that he enjoyed feeling like hers either. He pulled himself back to the bed, his arms shaky now, the expended energy catching up to him now.

“My darling girl….” His words rushed out in a whoosh of air as his arms pulled her into a tight embrace, the slick heat of his sweaty body a comfort. Her giggle was raspy, her voice diminished from the sounds she’d made. She peppered kisses along his strong forearm, cuddling back into him. By some miracle the baby monitor still was quiet.

The fell into an effortless sleep as the light outside waned, wrapped in each other’s arms and love.

#alaskan bush people #alaskan bush people fan fic #alaskanbushpeople #alaskanbushpeoplefanfic #ABP #abpfanfic #abp steam #abp fan fiction #abp fan fic #abpfanfiction #alaskan bush people fan fiction #matthew jeremiah brown #Matthew Brown #matt brown

[speckeh]

Speckeh’s 2018 Book List

It’s 2018! Last year my book list was a decent size but I didn’t read a lot of sparkling novels! So this year I’m focusing on decent books with the occasional textbook thrown in!

1. Cappiello: The Posters of Leonetto Cappiello: 5/5 stars. I haven’t had time to sleep more than 8 hours let alone time to breathe to read book this semester. I’ve never been busier which has been a nice experience, but boy do I miss reading books! I found this at Tuesday Morning 40% off and it’s huge and beautiful and needed it. I love this book! Cappiello has a wonderful drawing style. He draws multiple body shapes, various commercial posters, and GINGERS. HE DRAWS SO MANY BEAUTIFUL RED HAIRED LADIES. I’M SO FUCKING THRILLED. If you find this book hella cheap and have the shelf space for it, it’s a great art book to have! 

2. The Elements of Rhetoric - How to Write and Speak Clearly: 4/5 stars. This is for my Proposal Writing and Development class. Everything this book states, I’ve already read or learned about in Argument Writing during summer last year so nothing really jumps out as me as amazing or eye opening. The writer does some relevant story telling with the different styles of rhetoric to use and how to use them effectively, but it’s not the greatest read. I’ll probably keep it as it’s a great little book for quick glossary terms or brushing up on information. If this is your jam, this might be a cheap book you can add to your academic shelf!

3-4. Kamisama Darling Vol 1 and 2: 5/5 stars. 

5. Namae mo Shiranai Machiawase 4/5 stars

6. Star Trek Cats: 5/5 stars. I hung out with one of my quickly growing best friends yesterday and I saw this book when we were in the humor section. My heart MELTED. I read this as B&N and even though it’s short, I needed to buy it. It’s one of my favorite art humor books I’ve flipped through recently. It’s full of episode jokes and just fucking ADORABLE cats that make the weirdest faces.

7. The Prophet: 5/5 stars. Another book I bought with one of my best friends. It was recommended to me by the really nice (and very sweet) worker there who complimented me on my outfit. I was going to ask we could trade numbers and hang out and gain a new friend from her, but she was very busy. Anyways. The friend I was with told me he absolutely loved this book and it spoke to him on a spiritual level. And I have to agree. Having been raised in a mormon household and then realizing I was hella queer and questioned E V E R Y T H I N G about organized religions, this book was excellent. Because The Prophet isn’t any certain religion, he’s just giving people a way of life and he never condemns anyone or anything. The Prophet and the Siddhartha are essentially my religion. The whole belief there is no “set path” for a religious life and happy ending, that no one is right and no one is wrong in their religion, and that it depends on how you treat others and how you service others but also how you serve yourself. An excellent read for the beginning of the year for me. 

8. The Non-Profit Narrative: 2/5 stars. It’s the same for the Elements of Rhetoric book I read, I’ve read all of these terms before in my nonprofit management class so nothing was very new or interesting to me. I skipped through 70% of the book. If you want a short, short ass book on how to run nonprofits and social media, this is a great little read. If you’re already familiar with the contexts of nonprofit, don’t waste your money. 

9. When The Body Says No: 5/5 stars. This book is.. just wow. This is the first time I have ever marked up my own personal book with highlights, pens, and pencils. I only ever do it to copied school books on computer paper. It’s no secret I’ve been going to a counselor off and on since I’ve been 13. And I’ve seen and confronted death for a long time. I’m very traumatized from my experiences and I have a lot of issues I don’t really deal with. My counselor told me to read this book because I am the post child of when your body says no for you when you can’t. And I am. It’s.. amazing how well he knows me and my experiences I’ve been through. I learned amazing facts about myself how my childhood forced me into emotional repression, that children who lose a parent before 17 are 40% more likely to develop cancer, that the underlying stress of never being able to say no to your family because you don’t want to disappoint them causes a turmoil in your body that can turn deadly. If you have anger issues, stress disorders, genetic diseases, autoimmune disease, any sort of illness you developed later as an adult, read this book. Because I promise you, you’ll find something about you you never knew about.

10. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao: 3/5 stars. This was a book I had to read for my intro to English literature class (I’m changing emphasis so I have to take more entry level classes BLEGH). While I did devour this book so fast, I wasn’t particularly impressed with this book. I guess I’m kind of sick of the narrative of “geeky boy is a virgin and hates himself and the world,” and people around him either patting his back or deciding to take it upon themselves to fix him, no matter what cultural background they are. While I’m thrilled I could read about a Dominican cultural and have a non-white narrative and characters, this book didn’t sparkle to me. Maybe it’s because this book wasn’t written for me, or maybe I don’t really care for Diaz’s writing style. Either way I barely earned a 3 stars from me.

11. Pictures of the Gone World: 4.5/5 Stars I bought this book at a liquidation sale. I either find amazing poetry books at random, or duds. Luckily this was a fantastic one that held a lot of elements I love in poems: historical themes and humor. He helped pushing and defend one of my new favorite poets, Allen Ginsberg so you know I have mad respect for him. This was his first poetry book and he quickly became famous in the beat poetry world. Compared to other poets, he’s definitely a easier one to get into for beginners but the words still hold beauty and harsh truths. Definitely a great way to introduce yourself to beatnik poetry!

12. I Capture The Castle: 5/5 stars. Do you ever pick up a book that’s been calling to you for ages and by the fifth page in you know you have a new best friend? I’m not one for first person narratives, it takes a special way of writing it to keep my interest. I Capture The Castle with repressed and writer’s voice of a 40 year old woman from 17 year old Cassandra just melted my heart. I have a soft spot for Dodie Smith and she won me over with this book. From the beautiful scenery of a decaying castle, to a 17 year old’s first encounter with love, it’s just so so captivating. it hasn’t been since the Shadow of the Wind that my heart literally raced and I couldn’t read fast enough to know what happened next. And the last sentence of Cassandra’s journal of “I love you, I love you, I love you,” keeps playing over and over in my head. If you want to get lost in a old English castle and a young girl’s narrative, you will not regret picking this book up. 

13. A Concise History of Hawai’i: 3/5 Stars. I’ve always wanted to know about my birth state since we moved away when I was too young to remember anything. I’ve always been called a island girl and have had a fascination with water. I stopped being interested in calling Hawai’i my birth state because I was so young and my family memories are bitter sweet. But I finally returned to Hawai’i in May 2016, and I was shocked to feel like I was Home. I’ve been missing Hawai’i like crazy and have been trying to read this book forever. I bought it on my trip there. Well I finished it. It was pretty interesting, it’s concise, and quick and I learned a lot. But the book also brings up an important question.Can a white man write about a cultural history on Hawai’i? I’m not sure and I was somewhat bothered by that question throughout the book so that dampened my star rating. I feel like a history of Hawai’i would be so different and way more vibrating if a Native Hawaiian had written it. But, if you want a general and quick history of Hawai’i from the formation to 1999, it’s a decent read.

14. Wyoming Poems 1994: 5/5 Stars. I really like this short poetry book. It’s only 26 poems and all about Wyoming and the life there. It’s from 1995 so you know it’s more of a modern take on Wyoming. Definitely a great little book. Really debating on joining the Wyoming Writer’s mailing list ahah!!

15-21: Various Manga. between 3-5/5 stars.

22. Secret Garden: 10 minutes classics: 2/5 stars. I love the Secret Garden. It’s one of my top 5 books of all time in my life and will always be in the top 5. The 10 minute classic books is great for a reader wanting a short synopsis of the Secret Garden and it has lovely pictures, but it really loses the magic, the world building, and the characters’ relationships in just 10 minutes. I’ll probably keep the book just because of lovely pictures, but it was a let down!

23. Lovers Legends: The Gay Greek Myths. 4/5 stars. My love for reading and history can be pinpointed exactly to D’Aubaires’ Book of Greek Myths. It planted the seeds of my career ambitions, the types of research I love to conduct, and the person who I am. I always knew the Greeks were more gay than society teaches children, but this book really paints it simple for you. First off, it uses a poem by one of my favorites Allen Grinsberg, and then the author reiterates the gay greek myths in clear and easy stories, and shows how they all connect. The symposium style chapters were long and tedious and I ended up skipping them, and the book really only has 110 pages of stories with the next 80+ being sources, research, and a bibliography. Either way, love me some truth bomb gay ass greek myth!!

24. Colonel Brandon’s Diary: 4/5 Stars. I’m a sucker for Austen continuations or different perspectives. It comes from a personal reason from childhood memories with one of my parents. I’ve read 2 other of Amanda Grange’s diaries of Austen men. Brandon is not my favorite Austen hero and while the book I liked him enough, he doesn’t sparkle as much as say Knightley for me. I’m sure as I get older I may like him more, but for now it was nice to read a 300 page version of Sense and Sensibility that is a great companion novel for like.. better spark notes. If you need a quick summer read to last you a day or two, I highly suggest Amanda Grange’s books! (Except for Pride and Prejudice and Pyramids. That was just… bad)

25. Reunion by Fred Uhlman 5/5 Stars: I really started to enjoy World War II stories, but fictional ones about non-American centric stories. Reunion is a beautiful, fast read, about a teenaged Jewish boy who meets a handsome and captivating Lord’s son at his school. It really is about a first love. Hans is obsessed with Konradin; he thinks he’s handsome, educated, and lonely like him. The two go off on trips, Konradin often comes to his house, they read poetry and discuss coins together. It’s very easy to think of Konradin and Hans sharing firsts. It’s a beautiful little story that wrenched my gut with the very last line, and the descriptions had me drawing little scenes in the book. If you have 3-4 hours to spare, this is a great read if you can get it.

26. Instructions to a Young Bookseller: 5/5 Stars. As someone hoping to enter the book world after graduating University, this was a great little read. Obviously any sort of written conference has an edge of boring to it. But the book is full of gem quotes and advice that can be used for anything and not just young booksellers. If you’re able to find this book (most likely in the Heffer bookstore at Cambridge) give it a read. It’s a short 46 pages but a great way to pass the time and to give you advice that transcends passed 1933.

27. Among the Janeites: 2/5 Stars. I wasn’t impressed with this book, which is a shame because I desperately wanted to like this book. I loved when Yaffe described and told the stories of her fellow Janeites, but I really couldn’t stand her narration. I don’t know if it’s because I’m annoyed by the “I’m an elite Jane Austen fan because of these reasons” or I just don’t like the way she writes her narratives. Sometimes, you just don’t clash well with a author. I applaud her efforts to write this book, but I have to admit I was disappointed that she admitted she only focused on white North American Jane Austen fans. What a waste!! How amazing would it have been to have read more diverse fans? Hear about their efforts, their stories? Instead I found myself reading some of the same stories over and over again. I didn’t even finish the last two chapters because everything was the same rhythm and nothing was interesting any more. I wanted to put down the book many times, but found I couldn’t whenever I read the stories of those who did amazing things with their Jane Austen passions. But other than that, kind of disappointed I brought this book on my trip to England. :/

28. Tea with Mr. Rochester: 4/5 Stars. Sometimes a collection of short stories takes me awhile to read, this was not one of those!! I have had my eye on this book from Persephone’s for at least 2 years now, and I finally got to go to the shop two weeks ago! I really enjoy the literary metaphors and the descriptions are beautiful, but Towers has a way of writing that has you go: “..did.. did I skip a page?” Often the story would jump and you would feel confused of where the characters are now, how much time had passed, and how did these two characters meet. The lack of background, time, and setting is discombobulating, but not too distracting from enjoying it! If you have the pleasure of going to Persephone’s Book, definitely give this book a try!

29. For Your Eyes Only: 4/5 stars. I think I’m now a little more than halfway done with the original James Bond series! For Your Eyes Only is very different as these are short stories. Some of them are action pact while others are Bond at dinner parties listening to stories. It was an entirely new take and very interesting for sure! Some of the stories were hard to get through, slow, which is why I dropped it down to four stars, but a lot of them were really fun. I especially loved Quantum of Solace which explained the title and now I’m wanting to rewatch the film now knowing the definition of the phrase. I can tell that Ian Flemming is now aware of his homoerotic writing with James Bond and is starting to cut it out, which is a real shame since they’re so beautiful. But his obsession with eating eggs for nearly every meal is back which made me happy! I’ll have to see in the next book if the homoeroticness comes back!

30. This One Summer: 4/5 stars. Ranted and raved about since the debut of this comic, with one of my favorite illustrators who drew SuperMutant Magic Academy, an awarded comic! And I can’t help but feel disappointed in the story. I know this is directed at teens and if I had read this when I was between 13-16 it would have BLOWN my mind. Now at 23, this isn’t the most poignant story. I think it’s important for teens but it isn’t really for me. I’ll probably gift this comic to my friend Ramona because I think she will like this comic a lot. But for me it’s just.. beautiful artwork. But nothing much more than that. 

31. The Alchemist: 3/5 stars The Alchemist was suggested to me by my BFF and my other friend told me he hated it. I’m in between. While I understand why some people absolutely LOVE this book and I appreciate that the author had a passion for his story and didn’t settle for rejection, I think the story is lacking a lot of magic and luster it could have had. It’s kind of like a book trying to follow after The Little Prince in an Arabic/South American story with a christian spin to it. I enjoyed reading it and experiencing a well loved story, but I gave it to another friend and I kind of regret buying it from a story and not borrowing it from a library.

32. Omae no Koi wa Ore no Mono: 5/5 stars. Good manga. Lovely characters. Story is good. I enjoyed it thoroughly!

33. The Fall of America: 4/5 stars. Allen Ginsberg is my second favorite poet right behind Billy Collins. After reading Howl and falling in love with everything, this book was a let down. A lot of the poems were loooong run ons that seemed to forget what he was trying to talk about. My favorites were when he was un-ashamedly GAY and talking about sucking cock and having sex with guys, and a very real Vietnam war poem, but the rest was very on the fence. If I didn’t love him so much I would have skipped a lot of the poems in this book. But I also know this is a similar complaint from other readers. It’s hard to follow after such a massive success and nationally known poetry book of Howl, but he did his best. Not all of your own poems will be sparkling and rich in something new and world opening. 

34-36. Various Manga: 34 5/5 stars, 35 4/5 stars, 36 4/5 stars. 

37. Twisted Romance Volume 1: 2/5 stars. While some of the stories were beautiful and drawn amazing, I felt like the collection was disjointed and didn’t go very well. It was weird to have a comic book also be split up between stories with a written novel. I’m sure this would be someone’s cup of tea, but not mine.

38. My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness: 4/5 stars. My dear friend Ramona put the first and second novel in front of me to read while we spent like 4 hours at Barnes and Noble today. It was super fun to be with my sweet sweet friend and just, decompress. I read this book and so much of it I could relate to. Not only am I a Queer female, but I also struggle with mental health, depression, and feelings of abandoning my mother. Not to mention being touch starved. But I docked it down from a perfect score because Kabi’s narrative was so frustrating. That never ending cycle of getting so close and then self-sabotaging herself is so frustrating and makes me mad. I put the book back after I finished reading it, and then decided I had to buy it at the last moment. 

39. My Solo Exchange Diary (Sexual to My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness) Vol 2: 3/5 stars. Unlike the first book, this was even more frustrating and was hard for me to be empathetic to her. Someone who obviously struggled hard with her mental health and struggle against her parents, I felt like her Solo Exchange Diary was just an excuse to not do what she wanted. I didn’t think Kabi grew much between the two volumes which is super disappointing. As a reader you want her to be better. Though when she mentioned how her happiness is tied to abandoning her mom, OOFFFF. THAT SURE IS MEEE. 

40. Close Range: 2/5 stars. I actually stopped reading this book entirely. I started off reading the Brokeback Mountain story in this anthology, and it hooked me! Sadly, the rest of the stories didn’t capture me as much as BM. Eventually the characters bled to be the same: stoic, struggling with family, very Wyoming. That was it. It was all men, white men who struggle to be “men” and then proceed to do stupid shit/hurtful things that you want them to die over. I lost interest and I’m sad because I wanted to love this collection, but I couldn’t do it anymore. 

41. Bond By Design: 5/5 Stars.  Back in 2016, Shennelly gave me a mini version of this book and for Christmas last year I got the full version. It’s fascinating to see the drawing progression and what the art team focuses on drawing. It’s a shame to see the Daniel Craig films not having as much hand drawn art, but they were created more in the era of computer art and less relying on storyboard sketches. Needless to say, it was pretty awesome to see all the thumbnails and knowing a lot of them came to life in the films I watched! P.s. I went to the museum and Turner painting features in Skyfall over the summer! 

42. The Hobbit Comic: 4/5 stars.  This is a comic I’ve had on my shelf before I started uni so around 3-4 years it’s been sitting on my shelf waiting to be read. I picked it up because I was going on a car trip and I wanted something light and easy for the 4 1/2 hours it took to reach our destination. While the art was awesome, this was not a light read. It felt like reading the Hobbit all over again with how exact dialogue and scenes were written out. And I docked this comic down a star because I felt like I would be so overwhelmed by the reading I couldn’t enjoy the art. That’s a big problem with direct story comics. They’re so much dialogue and story they want to use, they don’t realize how tedious it becomes for a reader. Other than that, if you’re a die hard LOTR fan, this is a great edition fo the Hobbit to have! 

43. The Adventure Zone - There Be Gerblins! 5/5 stars. I started listening to The Good Brothers after Percy told me to back at the end of 2016. I started to their The Adventure Zone podcast right before my trip to Norway. I have great memories of listening to the first 3 adventures, nodding off on the plane, during down time at our various hotels, on the way back home, desperately trying to download as many possible while I had wifi. I love TAZ and so when they announced a comic book a year ago, I’ve been waiting ever since! It isn’t a let down! Where the Hobbit had issues with too much dialogue, TAZ There be Gerblins didn’t run into that issue! Also I love that even though the characters have never been officially designed, there was opportunity for diversity, AND THEY DID A TON OF DIVERSITY. Also the Director was exactly how I envisioned her and that made me so fucking happy. Please support the good boys and buy the comic if you like it!

44. Monstress Vol 3: 5/5 stars. While the art is dynamic, the plot hella feminist, interesting, so many cool female characters! The plot is still confusing volume 3 in. I might have reread the other two before reading the 3rd since it has been a year since I’ve read the book. But the darkness and “real” themes of disabilities and responsibilities is just great!

45. The White Cat: and two other stories: 5/5 stars. The art for this children’s fairytale book is gorgeous. Though some of the pictures feel like they’re a few pages behind or ahead of the events that actually happened. But JEEZ you guys! These are some fucking dark stories. A cat behead, Jack the Giant Killer, Rip Van Winkle just being lazy as FUCK. We don’t get children’s stories like this. It was an awesome edition I found that was originally 30 dollars that was for sale for 5 dollars due to a liquidation sale. It’s great. 

46. The Young Visitors or Mr. Salteena’s Plan: 5/5 stars. The Young Visitors is such a treat. I first found my copy in England in a discount shelf and loved the frayed pink cover with interesting illustrations. And then at another going out of business sale, I found a red cover and bought it without thinking much of it. I absolute LOVE this book. This story is written by a 9 year old Daisy with the themes of a true Victorian novel. An older man chasing after a young woman who falls in love with a rich young man and the older man cries at his defeat. It’s an excellent little read that is amazing from being written in 1919! I have plans to eventually see the manuscript in the museum it’s held in! I’m using my second copy as a lend out to my friends to make sure they’ve read this story!

47. What Makes My Cat Purr? : 5/5 stars My friend bought this for me at an antique mall because it melted my heart. Reasons why little kittens purr???? Mostly because you show them love??? UHHH HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE THIS NOVEL?

48. Sock Monkey - The Glass Knob: 4/5 Stars. Sock Monkey and his friends ned to replace the door handle with glass and a random assortments. Silly, but sweet.

49. The Paper Doll Wedding: 4/5 Stars. Fun. That’s all. 

50. Spot’s Favorite Colors: 4/5 Stars. Bought this for my nephew. We used to have matching cards with this!

51. That’s Not My Dinosaur: 4/5 Stars. For my nephew! He loooves it. Touch and feel.

52. The Mitten: 5/5 Stars. This book was read to us each winter in elementary school. I bought it for my nephew!

53. Toot: 4/5 Stars. For my nephew! A book about farts!

54. Erte Art: 4/5 Stars. Erte’s art which was dazzling and seemed to be something from the 2000s rather than the 1900s. Loved the different designs of his work and that he included women of color and not just white models throughout his work!

55. Sea Prayer: 4/5 Stars. Everyone was ranting and raving about the poetry, but I love the watercolors. It was an impactful story, but I felt the story was a bit rushed. Over all beautiful.

56. The Prince and the Dressmaker: 5/5 Stars. I’ve had this comic book in my shopping cart for a year! I finally asked for it at B&N and bit the bullet. UHMMMM. GORGEOUS. 

57. HeartStopper Vol. 1: 5/5 Stars. UHM WOW. I funded this on kickstarter without really knowing much about the comic. It then sat on my shelf for a couple of months and a friend, randomly, asked me if I read it. I finally read it and goooood, I loooooved it!!!

58. Fuddles: 3/5 stars. A fat cat gets out of the house and lost, I hated it but loved the illustration.

59. Birdsong: 5/5 Stars. All the different birds and songs they sing, silly, fun. 

60. Santa’s Snow Cat: 4/5 Stars. A silly Christmas story about how Santa loses his most beloved cat in New York. 

61. The Tiger: 5/5 Stars. A dialogue-less comic about a tiger in the jungle, living its life, trying to hunt prey (unsuccessfully), and other predators. Beautiful art, I would recommend!

62. The Angel’s Game: 2.5/5 stars. Sadly, this is the second time I’ve been disappointed by Carlos. Angel’s game had a slow start. A writer being worked to death by underpaying publishers until he develops a brain tumor. He meets a mysterious man after much travesty and agrees to write him a book with no money as an issue. But as the story progresses, the narrator becomes distressed and stupid to discover the truth. He loses so much, and by the end of the book it feels like a bad fever dream. It really seems the hype after Shadow of the Wind is so hard to defeat. Hopefully his newest, final, and largest book in the quad series will be like the first. Let’s hope it’s not like the middl two!

63: Ore no Omawarisan: 5/5 stars

64: Goriyou wa Keikakuteki ni: 4/5 stars. 

65. The Shotgunner: 3/5 stars. As I was trying to compile my favorites of 2018, I realized I completely missed three books?? Shotgunner was finished the last day of 2018 and I think I was just totally exhausted from everything. The book was extremely silly but fast paced. A man wanted for murder runs back to his home town to find his brother has been murdered and his widow (an old fling)  needs his help to get out of town. It doesn’t end how you think it would and it seemed to move in a very fast paced way. It wasn’t my favorite western book I’ve read, but it certainly had layers to it I wasn’t expecting!

#2018 books

[hsoeoks]

as we are all in pain and struggling to deal with jonghyun’s departure, everyone is trying to find their own way of overcome the pain: i’m not good at drawing, i’m not good with poetry, i don’t have people to talk with without thinking i’m bothering them or to sound silly, but i’m good with words (i’ve been said hahah) so i just decide to take all my emotions and pour them in writing something and i can say it helped me. unexepctdly, it helped me a lot. they say that pain can be transformed in art. jonghyun was art himself so i thought this was the best way to... i don’t know... say goodbye.

i hardly (or not at all) believe in life after death, in paradise and stuff like that but for this time, for just this time, to let my pain heal i will let myself believe that. i want to believe this will reach him somehow so...

hey there jonghyun, i hope up there someone is going to translate this in korean for you, it’s a mess since i was sobbing like a crazy while writing it hahah and now this mess is all yours. know you are a star and you will forever and ever be shining, you will live forever in my memory and hey... there’s a video on youtube called ‘jonghyun playing kazoo on loop’.... know i’m blasting it since this morning. fuck harps, kazoos are way more cool.

"It's difficult, but you have to deal with it. Why do you suffer so much? Why do you care? Life goes on anyway. You didn’t even know him."

Why in a moment of such fragility, when all I want to do is let some tears fall from my eyes; when all I want to do is pretend this is just a horrible and frightful nightmare; when all I want to do is to wake up in a different world; I have to receive only hard and empty emotionless words? Why my tears and pain must be diminished by those who are around me? The heart is a fragile thing and it can’t receive too many injuries at the same time and continue to beat, in a moment like this I would like to be surrounded by sweet words and light caresses. I wish for solitude and at the same time I would like to feel the warmth of comfort.

Yet if I think about it, the only comfort that would make me smile once again, in this exact moment, is your voice, to be able to see again, for the last time, only one last, your smile, to hear you say “i’m fine”, and I wouldn’t need anything else. How selfish such thought can be?

At a time like this, I think of my comfort that seems never to come, how selfish can this be? You too, in turn, deserve your comfort and your rest. I wanted this world to be able to give you someone, something, that could give peace to your soul, that would close all those thoughts, all that pain, in a tiny box and keep it aside for as long as necessary, that would hush all those tormented thoughts for a few hours, for a few days, in the same way you were capable with me. A unique ability that is rare, singular in its purpose, and so few have been donated with this particularity.

Thinking of your pain, of everything you were feeling, of the fiction where you fit in front of the others: my heart can’t help but tighten, my throat contracts and stays dry, the stomach turns against my own will and my breath stops. This is therefore, pain.

There is no more need to pretend, you no longer need to put on a smile that you don’t really mean, you can let yourself go; sometimes, it's okay to be sad. Sometimes it is right to be sad, it is right to not being able to stop the tears and to just let them go. However terrifying it is to say, it's human to suffer. I wish someone would have whispered these words as softly as you were able to do with me. I wish your pain had been understood. I wish ... I wish ... That’s right. Not everything we desire can become reality.

I feel guilty. Strangely I feel a sense of guilt that slowly seems to devour me and I don’t do anything to fight it, to stop it. Why should I feel this way? Why I put the blame on me? Maybe because I shared your pain. Maybe because your help was vital. Maybe because you saved me and I couldn’t do the same. I don’t know how much sense this feeling of responsibility can have, me bearing this without a valid reason, but we both know very well how the mind sometimes works, without us being able to stop it.

It is difficult to face such pain alone, it is heartbreaking to live in the belief that you have no one by your side, it is exhausting to believe how lonely you are and no matter how many times they can say “you are not alone”, “you are loved”, we will believe always and only to a single truth: solitude, cold and disconsolate solitude.

Maybe that's why I can’t deal with your departure, because I too, would had that end. I too would had to give in to that wearying thought. By this time, I too would have had left this world, and yet what managed to give me peace was you: your words, your music, your thoughts, your assurances. Guilt, again.

It is hard to believe that this world has lost you, I still can’t realize what has happened, the world has lost color. Somehow the red is no longer flaming, the yellow is no longer bright, the green has gone dull and the light blue has lost every shade.

Many people associate you with a warm red rose but I wish to remember you as a beautiful pink rose. When you look at it, don’t you think of something with astonishing beauty and moving fragility? A pink rose seems so shy yet full of love to give, its soft color makes me almost terrified as if, at the slight touch, even by just brushing it with the tips of my fingers, I would hurt it inexorably. To this beautiful flower I associate your memory.

Fragility shouldn’t be considered only a weakness: it’s knowing how to express emotions and not being afraid of showing them , it’s to have a boundless unique sweetness, it’s not being afraid of knowing how to cry and doing it, and it’s also a force in its particular way, fragility requires strength and shows it like no other. In my life, the most fragile people I met were also the strongest, not afraid to open their hearts even knowing they could get wounded; isn’t this the way life should be lived? Being ready for the fact that we could end up wounded but throwing ourselves into that something that, maybe, will give us the best years of our entire life. For me, your soul consists of this.

I’ve been asked "did he disappoint you?", how could you ever do that. Even if a goodbye always hurts I can’t help but accept your decision, however much I wish your life didn’t have to end like that, however difficult it is to deal with this, I can only adapt to the path you have decided to undertake.

You gave me peace even when it was impossible for me to find it. I hope you found that same peace now.

You worked hard. You really did.

#shinee #jonghyun #hello i'm crying like a crazy... but somehow this gave a smile ...... please everyone stay safe we can overcome this together !!!

[cookieswriting]

Something More than Love - Pt. 2 (SSC/Rosvolio)

Please forgive how long this took...life got abruptly crazy this week.  This turned out very differently than I originally planned, but please let me know what you think!

Awareness returned to Benvolio slowly; he knew not how long he’d slept, only that it was not nearly long enough.  His body ached, and the sweet call of sleep tried to draw him in once more. He very nearly obeyed...until he opened his eyes to the overwhelming beauty of Rosaline Capulet, still wrapped in his arms.

Propriety would have him distance himself from her immediately.  Propriety would have him wake her, apologize, and remove himself from her presence.  Well...propriety would not have seen them sharing a bed to begin with, but he was not one to deny the earnest request of his betrothed.  

Formerly betrothed.  Now that so much had happened, it would stand to reason that the Prince would end the betrothal; likely already had.  This would be the only opportunity Benvolio had to see his beloved such: untouched by the worry and cruelty of their lives, vulnerable, serene.  He could not resist the temptation to reach out and trace the lines of her jaw, as if to commit them to memory for drawing or painting once they return to some semblance of normalcy...once she is surely whisked away from him forever.

A soft hum alerted the young Montague to Rosaline’s own return to waking, and her warm eyes fluttered open slowly.  As he watched, a myriad of emotions played across her face, most too quickly for him to identify.  Just as he began to wonder if she regretted lying beside him, though, she settled on undeniable contentment.  “Benvolio…” Her gentle smile grew when he simply made a noise of acknowledgement, eyes returning to his fingers as they moved into her hair.  “You are still here.”

“It will not be willingly that I abandon this moment with you, Rosaline,” he admitted, surprised by his own candidness.  “Not when we have at last found a moment of peace from all of it.”

“All of what?” Her tease was little more than an exhale; she knew as well as he what they deserved peace from.

“Besides...the moment we step back into the presence of our Sovereigns, everything will change.  The Prince will not likely allow our lives to continue as they had been going.”  Rosaline’s face fell, and she reached out to place her palm against his cheek.  Benvolio nuzzled into her touch, grief tightening his chest.

“And if the direction our lives had been taking were the direction I wished to pursue?”

Hope warred with helplessness, and he drew her closer to press a kiss to her forehead.  “My heart is yours, dearest Rosaline...but we have been subjected to the Prince’s command once before.  We do not know what he will do once this war is over...if we survive.”

The soft candlelight reflected in the sheen of her tears before she closed her eyes and pulled him against her for a desperate kiss.  It took Benvolio only the space of a heartbeat to surrender himself to her whim; as she led, he followed, teeth clashing near-painfully as both grew more hungry.  Rosaline pulled at him, guiding him to hover over her on the mattress.  Benvolio hesitated, soaking in the sight beneath him and committing it to memory.  “What is it?” Rosaline questioned, suddenly self-conscious.

“I…” Trepidation threatened to silence Benvolio’s thought, but he refused to allow it.  “I cherish you above everything else in my life, Rosaline Capulet.  I know not what the future holds, but so long as there is breath in my body, I will be at your service...in whatever capacity I am permitted.  As husband and lover,” he breathed, dropping open-mouthed kisses down her neck, grinning as she tilted her chin to provide better access. “Or...as a friend and confidant.”  His heart ached and smile faltered at the thought.  As he pressed his face into the crook of her neck and Rosaline’s hands carded through his hair, Benvolio offered up a prayer that they would be granted the freedom to finally be together at the end.  Now that he knew her wishes, he could not fathom returning to a life without her by his side. “I will not truly taint your honor as so many believe I already have.”

Rosaline held him in place for a moment, fingertips gentle along his scalp.  “Even though it could be what ensured our future?”  Benvolio pulled back abruptly and stared at her in shock.  His beloved sent him a bemused look and rolled her eyes.  “Do not tell me the thought has not crossed your mind, Montague.”

What did he ever do to deserve the affection of such a fierce, beautiful woman? “It is not the honest answer, Capulet,” he murmured affectionately, settling himself down beside her on the bed.

“Can we not pretend for a moment that you are the scoundrel you were once reputed to be?” Her melancholy smile belied her serious tone, and Benvolio granted himself one more indulgent kiss before removing himself from the bed.

“We cannot wait any longer for the Venetian support to arrive, Your Grace.  We must prepare for battle.”  Isabella looked up as Mateo entered the room, and then glanced over to Rosaline and Benvolio.  The pair, looking only slightly better rested than when they’d been sent away hours before, were standing alongside the Prince’s bed, conversing quietly with him about rescuing Livia once they won the war.  Benvolio processed the steward’s words first, and straightened.  Rosaline’s eyes widened, and she looked to him with a soft gasp.  Avoiding her gaze altogether, the Montague bowed respectfully to Escalus and then Isabella as he left the room with Rosaline immediately behind him.

        A sigh drew Isabella’s attention back to her brother.  His injury forced him away from the fighting, and the Princess could not find it in herself to feel guilty for the relief that brought.  Here, he was safe.  “She loves him,” Escalus muttered.

        Isabella leveled a bemused look at him.  “Are you truly surprised, brother, knowing how hard she fought for his freedom?”

        “Benvolio…”

        “We have already discussed why I need to go with them, Capulet,” Benvolio murmured, drawing her into a quiet room.

        “You are no soldier! You…you are an artist! You do not belong in this war,” Rosaline insisted.

        “Artist? I’m hardly an artist, and I’ll have you know I am considered one of the best swordsmen in Verona!”

        “Oh, so when it is beneficial to you to be humble about your art skill-” As she spoke Benvolio’s affectionate grin widened at her petulant grumbling, until he could not contain himself and drew her against his chest for a tender kiss. Rosaline squeaked against his lips, but responded quickly to the embrace.  

This time, no bars separated them.  This time, no guard interrupted as they breathed in one another, explored and tasted and possessed.  Just as before, though, the threat of death loomed over Benvolio’s head, and he knew there was nothing that he could say to ease Rosaline’s worry.  When her tongue traced along his bottom lip, he knew he had to stop before he lost all self-control.  Her fingers tightened their hold on his tunic and she chased his lips until Benvolio reached up to cradle her face in his hands.  The pounding of his heart was so loud in his ears that he was sure she could hear it as well, and when he dropped his forehead to hers, Rosaline released a shuddering breath.  

“Promise me that you will come back safely.”

The childlike plea sparked a deep ache in his chest.  I will never lie to her.  That is why she trusts me.  He shook his head and watched tears fill her eyes.

“I cannot make such a promise…but I will do everything in my power to see this battle through.”

“I cannot bear the thought of losing you again…”

Benvolio brushed a stray tear from her cheek.  “You, Rosaline Capulet...you gave me something to fight for.  You were able to see past our prejudices and my reputation to the man buried so deep that I’d forgotten that he even existed.  You brought him back into the light, and gave me purpose and direction for the first time in a very long time.”

“Be careful, I beg of you.  I have grown rather fond of my fiance.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Benvolio teased with far more gusto than he truly felt.  Before he lost his courage, the Montague pressed a kiss to Rosaline’s knuckles and bowed out of the room.  As he joined the men preparing for battle, Benvolio once again found himself praying fervently.

#still star crossed #ssc fanfiction #rosvolio #benros #rosaline x benvolio #rosaline capulet #benvolio montague #prince escalus #princess isabella

[underthefullmoontw]

Perfect (Chapter Twenty)

Under the Full Moon {Teen Wolf Fanfiction}

Mainly Scott centric, features Sterica, IsaacxOC and DerekxOC

Sophie's POV

"And I'm just saying that you should've offered." I finished, glaring at Stiles.

We had been bickering about whether or not he should have driven Erica to school the entire car ride, to the amusement of Scott.

"She has her parents." he snapped back, stopping the car. 

"Look, it's like opening doors for her. You don't have to but it's still nice to get the offer."

Scott helped me out of the car, keeping his hand in mine.

"Thank you. See, Stiles? Scott is being a good boyfriend." I cooed, wrapping my arms around him and giving him a kiss.

"Ugh, don't do that in front of me. Seriously, you two have been dating for like a week and you're already making me feel sick." Stiles grabbed Scott's arm and pulled him away from me as Erica walked over to join us.

"Hi Sophie."

"Hi Erica. Stiles wants to know if he can pick you up for school tomorrow." I saw Stiles shoot me a glare, that I happily ignored.

"Oh, that's okay. My parents usually drop me off."

"See? She has a ride!" he yelled, walking into the school.

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Well, I'll see you guys in class." She waved and gave Stiles a hesitant kiss on the cheek before running off to her locker.

"Scott, kiss me. Jackson's looking." I leaned over to give him a soft kiss, feeling his smile against my lips.

"I love that you do that."

"That I kiss you or that I kiss you in front of Jackson?"

"Both."

I laughed and gave him another quick kiss before grabbing all of the things I needed and heading to class. Scott was close behind me, his fingers intertwined with mine. We of course passed notes and whispered to each other, holding hands whenever the teacher wasn't paying attention.

Next was art. We were assigned to draw things around the room, anything that caught our interest. I chose a camera that was tucked away in a corner, a visible cobweb hanging off of it. I walked over to pick it up, smiling as I blew off the dust.

"You like cameras too?" a chilling voice asked as I turned and faked a smile in Matt's direction.

"Yeah. Photography is amazing. I love it."

"Me too. Maybe we should could meet up and talk about cameras. I know a guy who can get the latest lenses for ridiculously cheap."

"Um, sure. But for right now, I have to get back to my boyfriend." I nodded and started to walk back, eager to get back to Scott.

"I still don't think he deserves you."

"Well your opinion matters so much to me, doesn't it? I'm the one that's not good enough." I turned back, feeling the anger start to boil up. What was it with this kid?

"Never say that. You're perfect." He rushed forward, grabbing my wrist.

"Don't touch me." I warned, yanking my hand away.

"I...uh, sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Insanity is a pretty good guess."

He looked up at me in shock, nearly dropping the brushes in his hand. "I'm not crazy."

"Soph, what's taking you?" Scott asked, finally walking over.

"It's nothing. Come on." I took his hand, leading him back to our desk.

"I don't like that kid." he muttered, glaring at Matt over his shoulder.

"I don't either. But it doesn't matter."

"Did he hurt you? I saw him grab your wrist." He lifted up my hand gently, holding it as if it were a piece of glass. It reminded me just how different Scott was from Matt.

"I'm fine. If he had somehow managed to hurt me, he wouldn't be standing upright."

Scott chuckled, looking at me with a look of awe in his eyes. "You're amazing, you know that?"

I smiled and leaned over to kiss him, keeping my gaze on Matt, who was staring at us with a burning glare. I kept my eyes locked with his as I pulled Scott closer.

"According to some people, I'm perfect."

Lunch came soon and then Scott had to go to lacrosse, the first practice of the season.

"I'll come watch." I said, jogging to catch up with him.

"No, stay inside, it's warmer in here."

"I have your jacket, I'll be fine. Besides, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't support my boyfriend?" I teased, giggling as he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

"Again, you're amazing. Stiles, come on!"

Stiles looked up in surprise, his eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

"Lacrosse."

"Erica, do you want to come watch with me? It'll be fun." I offered, still wrapped up in Scott's warm arms.

"Sure. Only if Stiles wants me there though." she hinted, looking over at him.

"I mean, if you want to, you can-do you...want to?" he asked, stuttering around his words.

"Are you inviting me?"

"Yes?"

"I would love to."

He grinned at her before reaching his hand out to grab hers. They walked out first, smiles stretched across their faces. We followed after, Scott's arm tossed over my shoulder.

"You still smell like apples." he muttered, tightening his grip on me.

"I thought you liked the apples? I can change shampoos if you'd like." I joked, smiling up at him as we walked out onto the field.

"I love it. We'll be out soon. We just need to get changed. Here, take my jacket. Keep it on, okay?"

He handed me his warm hoodie, giving me one last kiss before jogging off to the locker room. I slipped on the dark red hoodie, sitting down next to Erica, who had Stiles's jacket wrapped around her as well.

"Aw, look at us, supporting our boyfriends and wearing their jackets." I pointed out, linking my arm through hers.

"Hey girls." Lydia called, sitting down next to me.

After I'd guaranteed I wasn't interested in Jackson whatsoever, she'd become somewhat friendly. Another brunette girl sat beside her, smiling a greeting at us.

"Hey Lydia. Welcome to the girlfriend squad." I linked my other arms with hers, earning a wide smile from her.

The team came out onto the field and I instantly spotting Scott, talking to Isaac.

"Since when does Isaac do lacrosse?" I muttered to Lydia, watching the two of them carefully.

The brunette looked up at his name, her eyes following our gaze over to him.

"Who?"

"Isaac. Number fourteen."

"Hmm. I don't know. He's never been on the field before." She tilted her head, pursing her lips before returning her attention to Jackson.

"Alright. McCall! Get on the field!" the coach yelled.

Jackson and Scott stepped onto the field, waiting for the whistle to blow. Scott stole the ball and started running, leaving Jackson in shock before he started going after him. Scott dodged past most of the players, flipping over a few of them when they ganged up before throwing the ball into the net.

I laughed in amazement, standing up and clapping along with the other girls. "He's really good!"

"Yes. Surprisingly so." Lydia murmured, very obviously checking him out.

We sat back down and watched the rest of the practice, cheering on Scott and Jackson, because Stiles was on the bench pretty much the entire time. But when he did go out, we cheered his name just as loud.

Then I got that funny feeling. Like I was being watched. I could almost heart a clicking noise. It had been there since the start of practice but now it was louder. I looked around, biting my lip and shivering in the cold breeze. I froze as I saw a hooded figure with a camera covering most of their face. Once I saw whoever it was, they ran off.

I didn't have much time to think about it because soon, Scott came out, showered and ready to go back inside.

"Guess who's the new co-captain?" he bragged, lifting me off of my feet and spinning us around in circles as he pressed his lips to mine.

"You were great out there today, Scott." Lydia smiled, walking over.

"He did, didn't he? But I thought Jackson did pretty good too, so why don't you go congratulate him?" I snapped, tightening my grip on Scott as he smiled back at her.

She gave me a look before running off to Jackson.

"You know, you're cute when you're jealous." Scott muttered to me as we started to walk back into the school.

Stiles and Erica were going on about how Stiles would one day play on the field in an actual game, walking a few feet ahead of us.

"I am not jealous. Of Lydia? She has a boyfriend."

"Don't worry, Soph. I'm all yours."

After another class, it was time for gym. I walked out with Erica, my hand in hers to keep her next to me. I saw Scott and ran over to him as Erica went over to Stiles. Scott's arms went around my waist instantly, his head leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.

"Alright, break it up, you two. For today, we have the rock climbing. Who wants to go first?" Coach Finstock called, ruining the happy moment.

I quickly raised my hand, running onto the mat, pulling Scott with me.

"Alright." Coach shook his head, obviously not used to students being enthusiastic about gym. They hooked us up and then we started climbing.

"Come on, wolfy. Keep up." I teased, a few feet above him.

"I'm just observing the view." he joked back, his head titling back to look at the flattering shorts I’d put on before taking another step up, his hands gripping onto the make rocks to pull himself up.

I shook my head and continued climbing, looking down at my feet and hands to make sure they were in the right places. When I looked back down to tease him again, he wasn't there. Now, he was above me, paused to see my reaction. He shrugged, smiling and showing his dimples again.

I really focused on it, climbing faster and faster until I reached the top. I reached for the bell to signal I'd gotten there first when another hand beat me to it. Scott was right next to me, the smirk still visible on his face.

I bumped my hip into his, sending him flying back towards the ground, his harness catching him before he could hit the floor. I gasped and bit my lip on my laughter as I slowly lowered myself back down.

Erica's POV

Stiles and I were forced to go next. They hooked us up and Stiles started climbing, making it seem easy. The more I climbed, the more my heart raced. My palms started sweating, unable to grab onto the rocks anymore.

"Stiles, I can't do this." I whispered, freezing up.

"Yes you can. It's only a few more feet."

"Stiles. I can't!" I felt the seizure started up, that ever familiar metallic taste rising up in my mouth.

"Whoa, are you okay? Um, Coach, I think she-" he broke off as the seizure took over, sending my shaking body flying to the floor.

I heard the snap of the rope supporting me before I blacked out.

Author's Note:

Hopefully you guys are liking it so far!! It does get better in my opinion, this writing is a couple years old (I do try my best to edit it though so that it’s not too bad) so I hope that my writing has improved since then but this is still kinda nostalgic to edit

I'll see you in my next chapter. BYEE!!

Chapter 21 Preview: “What just happened?”

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fic #tw #tw fanfic #tw fanfiction #tw fic #scott mccall #teen wolf scott mccall #scott mccall fanfiction #scott mccall scenarios #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall fanfic #scott mccall fic