#god i love teal / green / white suits so much

[nat-stimmy]

Dutch Angel Dragon by Lilymoon_Suits! (SOURCE)

#god i love teal / green / white suits so much #tw fursuits #fursuits #fav #dutch angel dragon #furry #furry stim #fursuit stim #fullsuits #fullsuit stim #blue #blue stim #teal #teal stim #white #white stim #stim #stims #stimmy #my gifs #mimiqueue

[crossbackpoke-check]

most boys could be improved with a little nail polish bit thomas bordeleau especially. like what is not clicking for him that he hasn’t done it already my god

EX 👏 ACT 👏 LY you understand. i saw this post one time and simply never looked back so without further ado here are the top ten nail polishes, in no particular order, that i think thomas bordeleau should try:

1. sally hanson xtreme wear in 140 rockstar pink

we’re starting with this one because i previously mentioned it in another post, and, while i think thom gives the vibes of a single color natural nail mani, i like this one because it’s one polish that’s multicolor—dark pink glitter with a little bit of blue to call in the sjs and the baby blue suit he was wearing. also, glitter nail polishes will last you FOREVER

2. chanel le vernis in 339 cassis

also have to start out by including my closest approximation to the nail polish in the photo that started this all. i love the sheerness of this polish, which means it can be more unobtrusive and a little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it barely-there detail or more prominent with more layers

3. gucci glossy in 715 winterset snow

personally i don’t often go for a white nail but i think borde would like something very crisp and clean (white does look nice on him). however, i think his white and/or cream needs to be a little cooler and not as much on the yellow side, which made finding this polish difficult but like. what else was i doing today (so many things)

4. les mains hermès in 85 rouge h

we have solid evidence that borde loooves a good maroon moment and i did specifically pick hermès (no idea why. fancy? would appeal to him?). love the cooler tones in this red for him and i heavily debated giving him this really deep rich purple (violet byzantin) of the same style of polish but we can work up to wearing that one

5. cirque colors x live. love. polish in puttin’ on the ritz

while i know the first color on here is literally a fine glitter, To Me thomas bordeleau is a chunky glitter gorl. it’s got artsy details, a bunch of different types of glitter, it’s iridescent, it can be layered, i’m in love with it. it will match any outfit thom i promise

6. maniology in b333 gold rush

imho i would wear more silver jewelry to compliment the cool tones he likes to wear BUT. borde almost always sports gold (honestly not bad wrt bringing out the california tan, it doesn’t wash him out) so i am giving him a boring, but very specific metallic not-too-yellow-or-light-or sparkly gold nail color. sorry. just paint one nail and use it like an accent or for french tips for spice, idk bud you’re the hand model here and i am simply an incredibly picky art director

7. àuda.b in my cactus

i love how vibrant this green is, i love the finish on it, i think we could convince thom to branch out into more jewel tones and pastels. also yes i picked this to match his houseplants

8. nails.inc caught in the nude in hawaii beach & boy de chanel in 404 black

i have a lot of shiny and glittery finishes on this list and i reeeeally wanted to throw in a matte finish so. this is a two for one because i couldn’t find a matte version of this chocolate brown that i really liked for him but also i’m giving him a special matte black polish because to me these are both neutrals

9. mooncat in millennia

this one just looks dope. i feel like he would like the chrome effect to it? it is more high effort because it’s a magnetic polish, but also given that he loves juicewrld now i think i could swing this one on that basis alone (it’s the same colors as legends never die).

10. zoya in zp797 cecilia

how could i make this list and not include a pacific teal nail polish for the san jose sharks 🦈 this also would be stunning as a pop of color to accent his grey game day suits just saying

ok if you made it to the end of this i love you ✨ thank you for coming to my ill-advised impromptu ted talk @ thom please paint ur nails and also confirm or deny whether you have pierced your ears thank you

#please take all opinions with a grain of salt #at the point where i am simply Inventing a man thomas bordeleau is not real i made him up #nail polish is soooo gender to me sometimes #i have spoken at length but i forever will say that thom = chipped mani natural nails #like the worst part of this is that i could actually see him painting his nails for a look & i want it so baddd #also you don’t escape having a little sister without having your nails painted at least once in your life like thom please what don’t u get #@ thomas bordeleau paint your nails 💅 #thomas bordeleau my worstie my hatred spirit my incorrigible terrible meow meow #liv in the replies #me haggard finally reaching the tags again after Quite Some Time like ah. fun! what was i saying at first in these? #if i were like. normal this post would not have taken me over three hours to write because i had stupid specific Visions of nail polish #i am sooooo picky so so sooooo picky akdjskndkahdi thom please take my recs i think they would look nice on you also i like them #ok also i mentioned the juice wrld thing and i’m not getting into it now but 😶 the indescribable faces i just made #also i know i made a little nail thing for trevor of nails i think he would wear but i need to find the tags so i can sort them together lol #baby blue shades 🦋🐬🫧💎🛼 #please amend my prior tags to four and a half hours and everyone pray for my sleep schedule because. she f**ked

[honeymoonjin]

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: sexually explicit content, reader suffers from poor mental health but nothing serious, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, that’s kinda it, it’s pretty soft tbh

--

The breeze is light here, broken by the gentle rise of the sand dunes behind you. It runs over your skin like water, a warm current that lasts long after the sun slips below the horizon line.

You sit for hours watching it, the tail of pinks and oranges and ochres that reflect thickly on the top of the water, the shallow crests of low tide. There’s a pull in your heart, a twitch at your fingers. The you a year ago would’ve had her paints out already, an easel with legs precariously shoved in the dry sand. The you a year ago would have been tossing up whether cadmium yellow or cadmium orange would suit the last slip of sun above the water, and whether you should wait til it was gone entirely to save making the decision.

Then again, the you a year ago would never have needed to come here.

The you today just waits, silently, you don’t even know what for. You’d been told this was a getaway. That you just needed some time to recover your muse, or some bullshit like that. But the more time you sit in silence and watch the sky blacken to navy and the stars prick the darkness with dazzling clarity, you think your therapist was wrong. How was this a getaway when all your problems were still festering inside you?

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

You groan and sink back into the sand, head cushioned on the warm piles. Just your fucking luck. “You’ve got the wrong person,” you call out with eyes squeezed shut, praying the stranger will leave you alone. The last thing you needed was a green reporter or psycho fan to spill your location to the rest of the world. You can only imagine the headline. Disgraced painter Y/n L/n found hiding away on a tropical island eight months after she ruined the Met Gala.

“Oh my god, it is you! I’m a massive fan, wow!”

Fuck. At least there was a chance they’d keep quiet. You crack open an eye, staring up at the figure beside you, cast in shadow. From the glint of moonlight, you can see a crown of ruffled hair that’s a faded teal. It reminds you of the impressionist painting of a mountain lake that threw your work into the public eye. Just as faded as the dye on his hair, that time feels worn and aged, like from another life. A reminder of how far you’d fallen. “Look,” you confess lowly to the silhouette, “I just wanna be left alone, I’m not- I’m just here for a break from...everything.”

The figure shifts his weight in the sand, raising an arm to scratch at the back of his neck shyly. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he apologises. With the slight breeze, his baggy clothes buffet around his lean figure and in the darkness he looks like some vengeful angel, towering over you with the moon behind him. But his voice is so soft, so genuine, so- so warm. Perhaps not vengeful, then, but definitely an angel. “You’re a hero of mine, I wanted to thank you for how much you’ve inspired me, saved me. Gosh, it’s crazy that you’re even here, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you force out, sitting up, wincing as grains of sand work their way down the nape of your neck, “really, I am. But I’m not the person you’re thinking of. Not anymore, at least.” You hate the way your voice rings out so thinly in the night air, nothing like the deep honey of his. You hate the way you sound broken.

He senses it too; he takes a step back, turns towards the dunes. “I should be going, I guess,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I hope I see you around. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You don’t respond, wrapping your arms around your hunched knees and staring at the silver ocean until you can no longer see him in your peripheral vision.

—

It’s over a week before you see him again. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, you keep an eye out for the boy with the teal hair. There wasn’t enough light that day to make out his face but still, with hardly any people for miles, you hadn’t anticipated he’d be all that difficult to find.

Truth be told, there had been a deep curl of regret and dissatisfaction that took root inside you shortly after you left. He was just trying to be nice, and you could use a friend. Could use someone.

You had asked for privacy when your therapist began recommending a break, a getaway, but you hadn’t expected it to this degree. The place you were staying at was a rundown bungalow just behind the dunes, tucked away in a sliver of land where sand met forest, rising up into hills. The only people you saw were the employees that ran it: a maid that stopped by every day at 1pm, even though you had already made the bed and cleaned up after yourself; an older gentleman that delivered you fresh groceries every couple of days in his ancient-looking four wheel drive; and finally, the electrician you’d had to call out a few nights prior after the power went out.

The mysterious fan hadn’t been dressed like an employee; then again, it was long past the workday when he’d approached you. Mulishly, you find yourself lugging a picnic blanket and a pillow down to the beachfront every evening, monitoring every inch of the coastline that stretches around this edge of the peninsula.

It’s only on the ninth night, when you’re folding up your rough blanket with a disappointed grumble, that a sudden yap catches your attention. You whirl around, toes sinking deeper into the light sand, and gasp as a familiar silhouette approaches, stumbling down a sand dune to your left.

He hasn’t seen you yet; so focused on the tiny fluffball that tugs restlessly at its leash. It’s a lot earlier tonight than the last time you’d seen him, and there’s enough remnants of sunlight in the sky to cast him in a warm golden glow.

He’s in baggy clothes like last time, a long-sleeved white t-shirt with a v in the center, unbuttoned and sagging over the shoulder of the arm that’s getting yanked along, and some tan linen shorts. It’s hard to tell with how he sinks to his ankles in sand with every step, but he’s barefoot, almost sliding down the steep dune more so than walking.

You can’t hear him at this distance, but his lips are moving, parted in a boxy grin as he responds to the constant yipping of the tiny dog at his feet. He’s gorgeous, tanned skin to fit the honey of his voice - the voice you’ve been unable to shake from your head - and the roots of his hair are the colour of brown sugar, lightening into the dyed teal ends, whipping over his cheeks and neck in the seabreeze.

He turns off when he reaches the base, following his dog, who pulls in your direction, short bursts of energy that get cut off by the length of the leash. Your heart jumps, and you find yourself waiting in anticipation, breath caught in your throat.

But the moment he glances up and sees you, he halts in his tracks. Stepping back, his smile falls, bowing his head to you apologetically and pulling on the leash so that the small black-and-tan puppy at his feet turns around with him.

They start walking away from you, and you don't have time to think before you're calling out to him, jogging over with your blanket and pillow forgotten behind you.

He stops walking, though he doesn't turn, and when you finally come to a stop beside him, he keeps his head down.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday," you rush out, slightly out of breath, "I was in a really shitty mood, and I had kinda come here to get away from...everything in the first place. I wasn't expecting a fan, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."

Even after standing still, you can't seem to catch your breath. You haven't seen him this close, in this much detail, and it makes the air catch in your lungs. His eyes are an intense burnt umber, dancing over your face with an unreadable depth to them. He's taller than you, but not bulky. Though his shoulders are wide, he's lean, with a narrow nose and soft cheeks. The wind plays with the ends of his hair, revealing glimpses of a strong brow. He's beautiful.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says after a moment, and you almost jump at the timbre of his voice so close to you, "I should be the one apologising. I'll leave you alone, honestly. I can find another place to go for a walk, or go at a different time-"

"Do you walk here a lot at this time?" you interrupt, the euphoria of finally holding a conversation after so long loosening your tongue. "You haven't been back since that night."

He tips his head to the side, shoulder jerking when his dog impatiently tugs at the leash, quiet snuffles and yips of disapproval ignored in the air between you. There's a flicker of something in his eyes - surprise? Amusement? "You were looking for me?"

"I-" Your voice fails you, and you realise how pathetic you must look. Your shoulders sink. "I was... I wanted to apologise," you land on finally.

That strange flicker in his eyes settles into a grateful warmth. "I normally do, yeah, but I had to go back to the mainland to pick up this guy." With a genuine smile, he glances down to the ball of fluff that's now lying over his bare foot. "I stayed there while he got his first lot of vaccinations. You can pat him, if you want."

You can recognise that offer for what it really is; an olive branch. In other words, he's apparently not holding a grudge against you for being an asshole. You smile gratefully, crouching down to pat the tiny animal. "What's his name?"

"Yeontan," he answers cheerily. "he's nine weeks old!"

You coo, chuckling at the soft fur wriggling beneath your fingertips, at the wet nose prodding at your palm for more pats. "Yeontan..." you muse. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

You hear a sheepish laugh from above. "Your, um, your painting of the old barn in Icheon? There's a kennel that's beside it in shadow, but you can just make out the name Yeontan painted on the front. I-" He breaks off awkwardly, falling silent.

Your hand freezes, and you feel yourself slump from a crouch to sitting fully on the sand, still hot from the afternoon sun. Yeontan. A detail you couldn't even remember painting, yet he'd named his dog after it. The dog continues to cover your hands in slobber and stray fur, but you just stare at it blankly.

"I'm sorry," the man winces, tone low with defeat. "You probably think it's stupid. I swear I'm not one of those crazy obsessed fans! There was just..." His voice changes then, closes up to cut off any emotion. "I shouldn't say. Sorry."

Your shoulders slacken. "You don't have to keep apologising," you say softly. After a moment's thought, you push up off the sand to stand up again, grains clinging to the skin that's damp from the dog's affections. The handsome stranger's face is stricken, reluctant as he watches you get up. You miss the boxy smile he'd held when he made his way down the dunes. You wonder if he'll ever smile that way at you. "I wanna hear. What you have to say."

Hand flexing on the leash, he looks down at Yeontan and back up at you, eyes squinted slightly as the sun glares onto his face; a radiant, sharp orange. "One of the reasons I'm such a fan of your work is the emotion you can actually see on the canvas. I don't even know how to explain it, but I feel it. And with the Icheon barn painting - I actually saved up for years to buy the original - there's something so sad and lonely about that kennel, that patch of shadow. The rest of the scene is so bright and open, it feels like a party that the kennel wasn't invited to. I don't know, it's stupid. But I thought if I ever bought a dog, I'd name it Yeontan so that it wouldn't feel so alone." He faces the horizon as he speaks, wincing into the light, and a broken laugh bubbles out of his throat once he's done. "Like I said; it's stupid."

But you don't think it's stupid at all. "Did it work?" you ask instead, nose prickling as tears build behind your eyes. The more he spoke, the more you remember the painting. It was your last work before the Met Gala disaster, and after everything went down in flames, desperate online tabloids went back to it, citing it as a 'cry for help'. You hadn't really painted it like that though, not really. You'd seen that beautifully painted barn in the countryside when you were driving between cities to visit your parents, and was taken by the dilapidated dog kennel tucked just beside it. Painting it wasn't some sort of clue to your nosedive, but more like a solidarity with that kennel, the dog that once lived there. The story that had been forgotten. And to hear this man had seen it, had wanted to ease the suffering just like you had... The emotions inside you, ones that had felt so dull and monochrome, now churn inside you in indecipherable technicolour, too many to count. But you think one of them might just be hope. "Did- did getting Yeontan work?"

He's looking at you now. He stays silent for a moment, the softest smile tugging at your lips, and it takes your breath away, watching the colours of sunset play across his skin while his brown eyes seek yours out intensely. "Yeah, it did," he answers eventually, his voice almost a whisper. It's only once he starts speaking that you realise the two of you have moved closer inwards without realising, so that it would only take a half step forward to be pressed against him. "But I think talking with you has helped more."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The whirlpool inside you settles, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in years. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you feel...sane again, but you want more of it. "I think talking with you has helped me too," you confess, voice lilting in uncertainty. "Can... can I see you again? I don't even know your name, but-"

"Taehyung," he answers immediately, and even with the fall of night, the sun well and truly gone, his eyes are bright. "I could come back tomorrow?"

Your toes flex in the sand fighting the urge to jump in relief. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that," you chime, a smile tugging at your lips. "It was nice to meet you, Taehyung."

"The pleasure is all mine."

--

You sleep well that night. You can’t remember the last time the peaceful rays of sun have woken you so gently, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

You’d spent the past week or so moping in your cabin until late afternoon and then moping on the beach. Only now, after finally meeting the boy again - Taehyung - you realise how much you’ve been wasting your time buried in your own thoughts. Now all you want to do is explore. You’d been told on the ferry over here that the island was only a few hours’ walk around the coastline, and that your cabin, a street of shops and a small village of houses were the only signs of life. No bar to drown your sorrows at. No club for finding faceless strangers to make you forget who you were for a few hours. All your coping vices had been replaced with open stretches of nature in all its colours; the cool grey rocky beaches on the southern shore, the lush greens of the hilly forests, the glinting turquoise of the sea, and open plains of pastel sky for miles and miles.

The walk isn’t particularly intensive, but it’s long, and your feet ache in their sandals by the time you reach the docks again, having marked a full loop around the island. The dock, empty this late in the morning, leads directly to the main street via a cobblestone path that weaves between dunes, flax bushes, fields and a skinny stretch of trees, and you follow it to the center of the island, resting in a small cafe.

There’s no free WiFi here, so you sip at a tall glass of homemade strawberry lemonade and watch the streets through the storefront window. From your seat, you can see the people wander back and forth, the odd few with kids, but almost all are retirement age. Slow-moving couples with walkers and canes, elderly men jangling the keys to their vintage cars (that surely didn’t have much road to drive on), women with age-spotted skin and heavy beaded jewellery.

You can’t work out how Taehyung fits in this picture. It’s almost impossible to picture him walking down the same street as everyone else; his dyed hair, clothes two sizes too big, tall and slender frame hurrying down with a dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other-

Wait.

You straighten up, eyes widening as you watch the man himself pauses to let Yeontan cock his leg on a patch of grass by the intersection. Physically, he’s entirely incongruous with the rest of the villagers, but he looks entirely at home, glancing up to smile in recognition at every figure that passes by him. One goes so far as to reach up and ruffle his hair playfully as she talks, and his face brightens with crinkled eyes and a boxy grin, greeting her warmly.

The same feeling of longing and dissatisfaction stirs you from the other time you saw that smile. You want to be the one that makes him so happy. You frown, unconsciously chewing on the end of the paper straw. It’s too hot in here. There’s not enough ventilation, and with the sun streaming in, the heat just pools inside, sticking to your thighs and arms. That’s why you leave the cafe before finishing your drink. The heat.

The lady has left by the time you cross the street, and you fake a cough noisily as you pass him, eyes cast away but face turned so he’d easily recognise you.

“Y/n!” Your heart warms, keens at the calling of your name, and you turn to him, smiling broadly. Taehyung grins when Yeontan rushes over to greet you too, whole body rocking with the force of his tail wagging. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, and you take in a deep breath of air, feeling lightheaded with his attention back on you.

“I decided to explore a bit,” you answer, eyes dropping down to the supermarket bag in his hands, white plastic taut and digging red lines into his palm with the weight of it. “Retail therapy?”

He laughs goodnaturedly, but there’s a flush of pink high on his cheekbones, standing out beside the strands of green that he’s tucked behind his ears. “It’s actually, uh, something for tonight. I didn’t know if you’d- If you still-” He breaks off his stammering with another laugh, this one more self-conscious, and the pink deepens to red. “I thought you and I could paint together. I bought us some materials just in case you didn’t bring your own.” You fall silent, mouth slack and parted in surprise, so he continues on, lifting up his hand for a moment, bag rustling, then changing his mind and letting it fall again. “There isn’t a proper art supplies store here, so it’s just from the toy store. I know you’re probably used to proper stuff, but a bad worker blames his tools, you know! Not that you would- that you’re a bad-”

“You paint?” you ask finally, ending his nervous rambling.

His whole body slackens a bit, like you’ve cut some tension from him, his head dipping down to break eye contact. “Um. I’m- learning,” he answers with an uncertain wobble to his voice.

You tilt your head to the side with an expectant smile. “That’s really cool. How long have you been studying?”

He swallows, looking up to send you a hesitant smile. “I, um, I studied the instructions on the back of a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy store. Just now.” His voice lifts at the end of each sentence like it’s a question, that same bargaining smile plastered on his face.

You let out a genuine laugh, the first one you’ve had in a while. In too long. “Is that so? I better bow down to the maestro then.”

“Hey!” he whines playfully, shoulders rocking forward like a toddler feeling sorry for himself. “I learnt everything I know so far just from your art. And did you hear that speech I gave you about The Barn at Icheon? That was pretty good, right? You have to admit, that was good.”

His hand, the one loosely holding Yeontan’s lead, reaches out to grasp gently just above your elbow as he speaks, rocking you slightly like he’s pleading for you to agree. You find a constant stream of laughter bubbling out of your throat as he does so, feeling so light in the sunny midday breeze. “Okay, okay, that was good,” you confess, “you get a point for that.”

Once your laughter subsides slowly, you find yourself looking up at him with a residual smile, the same of which is spread on his face, eyes glimmering with something fond. He waits for the air between you to fall silent, tongue slipping out just slightly to wet his lips as you hold his gaze. “Y/n,” he asks softly, your name like molten sugar on his tongue, thumb unconsciously rubbing at the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm, “will you paint with me?”

Though the thought of painting still sours inside your chest, with his skin on your skin and his smile just for you, you feel like you could do anything. There’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll paint with you, Taehyung.”

--

Painting with Taehyung is less painting with Taehyung and more staring desolately into the middle distance as Taehyung decides to make the clouds purple, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in focus.

“Don’t overthink it,” he stresses for the millionth time, glancing over at your blank canvas, “I’m not judging you.”

But it’s not about him judging you. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t think a paintbrush would have ever found its way into your hands again, certainly not so soon. It’s just that- you feel an overwhelming burden, a historical pressure of all your mistakes before. If you put brush to canvas now and create a work of art, then was your complete mindblank for the Met Gala all for nothing? Though your therapist advised against it, you had rather become attached to the idea that you’d somehow gotten artistically injured somewhere, and that eventually you’d broken completely, irreparable. It made the constant white void easier. Your first death.

“Happy little accidents,” Taehyung says lightly, dipping heavily into orange and catching a dollop on his wide-leg jeans. Not noticing it, or not caring, he swipes the orange into the canvas in a wonky line down past the horizon line, forming the neck and body of what looks vaguely like a giraffe. “And, um, happy little- happy little trees. If you want we could turn around and face the forest?”

Though a glum cloud is settling in your stomach you flick him a soft smile. “So you watch Bob Ross too? I thought you said you learnt everything from me.”

Using the same brush, he scoops out some black, using a pinkie finger to mix the colours together inside the bristles, a murky brown. “Maybe just a little,” he admits, daubing rough patches onto the giraffe, half of them overlapping the edges of its body. There’s an endearing quality to his carefree worksmanship, and you can’t deny that his painting looks good, wonky lines and all. “But don’t worry, you’ll always be my first,” Taehyung adds, not looking at you but smirking all the same.

The double entendre isn’t missed on you, but still, as you sit on a picnic table right on the edge of the village, blank canvas in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to laugh at it. All you can see is the paint drying on the tip of Taehyung’s finger, the messy pots of basic acrylics, and the warm smile that doesn’t leave his face.

He’s having fun. How long has it been since painting has been fun for you? Annoyed, you grab the clear green plastic brush from the set, dipping it into black. Muscle memory tingles across your knuckles and down the muscles of your wrist, an instinct to hold the brush in a certain way, tap off the excess, but your frustration overrides it, and you take the paintladen brush and smear it directly across the center of the canvas, a gaping maw of glossy shadow that bulges on the lower edges, gravity pulling at the thick stripe. You go completely still once it’s done. Staring.

Taehyung looks over after a moment, watching you carefully. “Is everything alright? If you didn’t want to paint, we didn’t have to-”

“It’s terrible,” you interrupt, a frown marring your face. “I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he chastises softly, pushing his canvas to the side and leaning over your shoulder. “It’s a promising start. Maybe the duck pond is black in your world.”

Your eyes slide lower, unfocused. “Maybe the whole ocean is black in my world,” you murmur.

He’s silent for a moment,  unsure what to say. “Then how will the fish see?” he asks in a light tone, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but you just let out a broken sob, tears spilling over your cheeks like they’d been triggered by his contact. Taehyung’s mouth opens in a rounded o, eyes wide, and as the dam breaks, you feel an arm find your back, rubbing soothingly, and long, warm fingers wrap around the hand that holds the brush limply, cradling it. “We can fix it, it’s okay,” he soothes in a kind whisper, “here; it’s that mailbox now, yeah? And behind it is the candy shop-” His voice cuts off while he guides your shaking hand to the green, mixing it with white in the plastic pottle to make a pale pastel. You feel the pressure of the brush in your hand shift as he moves the bristles over the canvas in a roughly rectangular shape, but you’re unseeing, crying tears that sting like turpentine into that black ocean behind your eyelids, letting him move you.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, you curled in his embrace as he quietly paints for you, commenting on each step of the process so you know what he’s doing, even with your eyes closed. At one point, your energy leaves you, and you collapse into him, pressing your cheek against the stable warmth of his chest, heartbeat audible through his thin t-shirt. He doesn’t complain, just adjusting his stance to better support you and resting his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber thickly at one point, tasting salt.

“You don’t have to be,” he assures, “just keep breathing. Look; let’s put some trees in, hm? One for you and one for me.”

You open your eyes with a sniffle, feeling your hand lower in his secure hold, and you twist around your head to watch him dip the filthy brush in a green which has already been tainted by white and red in places. Your eyes follow it up again, until he fearlessly swipes in the graceful branches of the fir trees which cover the highest points of the island. You look at the rest of the painting, and a disbelieving giggle bubbles out of you, a smile across your face despite everything.

Unlike the mental image you’d been plotting in your head with the narration, this square of canvas has a line of slightly leaning buildings stacked beside each other tightly, colours smearing on the borders. In the middle of the uneven grey strip of cement down the middle to mark out the road, two trees stand proud, mostly green but with bleeding patches of muddy purple and brown too. Entire drops of paint spatter and run, creating a chaotic but vivid daydream of the end of the street in front of you.

“A lot better in your head, wasn’t it?” Taehyung asks knowingly. You laugh again, the last few tears pressed out of the corners of your wet eyes. “It’s okay,” he replies easily, “it was better in my head too. But the one in our heads is boring, don’t you think? If I wanted to see the street in front of me exactly, I’d just look up. Or take a photo. But nobody can visit this place we’ve painted. It’s just here, brand new because of us. I think I like that more.”

You sit up, wiping your eyes with a tired smile. “There’s no way you learnt all that from me,” you deflect, voice still raw from crying. “But yeah. I think I like this one more too.”

“I’m glad,” he answers softly, letting go of your hand and removing his hand from your back at the same time. You suppress a shiver at the sudden absence of heat. “I’ll let this dry and hang it up right beside The Barn at Icheon.”

You laugh again, sniffing away the last dregs of self-pity. “You better not,” you warn playfully, “as semantically poignant as it is, it’s an awful paintjob.”

When Taehyung smiles, it’s bright and boxy. And it’s just for you.

--

Time passes, but not like in the real world. Out here on this island, you start counting the passage of time by how many occasions you’d met Taehyung. Then, once you’ve seen him too often to count, you let yourself lose track of time completely, remembering only the moments spent with him like vignettes on a fragile chain.

The two of you always meet in the town or on the beach, speaking about everything and nothing. One day, while waiting beside the blue metal mailbox for Yeontan to pee (though Taehyung still insisted it looked better black) you tell him of the time you accidentally turned all your clothes yellowy-green after accidentally putting an apron in the wash that had an opened sampler of chartruese in the pocket. On a rainy afternoon when you’d gotten caught in the downfall walking through the forest, Taehyung told you, while wringing out rainwater from his rumpled maroon sweater, that he was meant to be studying agricultural sciences on the mainland, but his grandmother was sick and so he bought a place nearby to care for her.

“One good thing about being on the island,” he’d chimed cheerily, dark teal and brown plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “is that property is super cheap here. My grandma paid half and I paid half, and now the one-bedroom I live in is all mine.”

“But isn’t that sad?” you’d questioned, feeling the ground turn to mud beneath your shoes. “Living on the island, I mean? You should be in a big city, partying with your friends, living life. This place is like one massive retirement village.”

Taehyung had just shrugged. “My grandma likes it. And I like living for someone else, you know? Makes me feel good.”

Long after you’d gone home, warming up by the radiator in your beachside bungalow, those words had stuck with you. You wonder if, with all this time he’s been spending with you, he’s starting to live for you, too. You wonder if maybe that’s a bad thing.

But still, time passes in this hazy, episodic way. Money continues to filter out of your bank account each week you stay, but you hadn’t worried about your finances for years now, enough successful exhibits from your productive days keeping a healthy sum.

Though he never pushes as much as last time at the picnic table, Taehyung keeps you creating. Backs of napkins, tourism pamphlets, the kids colouring sets at the local diner. No matter how scrawled or indecipherable, the soft-hearted boy compliments your work all the same, slipping the scraps into his pocket with a joking promise that he’s going to frame them. Somehow, every unthought, unplanned line of ink or lead or pigment that lights the page feels like one less needle buried deep inside your heart, one small salve to ease the burden. You don’t know if Taehyung knows it, but in all the ways that count he’s a better artist than you.

When he’s around you, the world is lusher, more vibrant. Your time alone is grey and muted; a dull beach, an empty bungalow. With him, you feel like the sky is bluer and the trees are greener. The bonfire you sit in front of now casts an intense orange glow on everything around it, including Taehyung’s hands as he deftly impales marshmallows onto a skewer.

It’s cooler at nighttime these days. At some point, you’d both exchanged sandals for sneakers, t-shirts for sweaters. Taehyung seems to fancy heavy cable knits and thick trousers even in mild weather, and you wonder if he’d still wear clothing typical of an elderly gentleman even if he was on the mainland in a modern city instead of around the older generation on the island.

Tonight, you’d tried and failed a traditional Korean barbecue over the open flame. While Taehyung had shoved his cut of pork right into the fire, ending up with a charred outside and raw inner, you’d diligently held yours above the flames, turning and turning until the muscles in your arm screamed and you had to give up and admit perhaps the meat from the local butcher was cut too thick, and that a bonfire was good for nothing more than toasted marshmallows.

“This is where it’s at, this is it,” the young man enthuses confidently, each skewer laden with four or five marshmallows, bunched together, “dessert for dinner. The way it should be.”

You’re content to sit back and let him work excitedly, wrapping the edges of the picnic blanket low over your shoulders and lap. Though Taehyung is always devastatingly handsome, he’s the most gorgeous like this: focused in his element and surrounded by all the colours and textures of nature, a painting come to life. The heat of the flames is curling his hair lightly, making teal ends flick at his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair was growing out steadily, but still he chose not to cut it, and you can’t deny the length suits him.

“There’s more brown than green now,” you mention softly. “Soon it’ll look like dip-dye.”

Taehyung glances back at you over his shoulder with a rougish grin, shuffling around so he faces you fully. “What; is this your way of saying it looks bad?”

“No,” you defend with a pout, reaching for the near-full packet of marshmallows. “I’m just curious if you’re gonna leave it like that.”

Taehyung hums like he doesn’t fully believe you, and he leans over to shove his hand in the packet at the same time that you’re rummaging for the soft sweets, your knuckles brushing together. You shiver at the contact. Somehow, that’s been the first time you’ve shared skin contact since that day at the picnic table. Wide-eyed, you wait til he’s grabbed a bunch and pull your own hand away, empty and white with powder.

“Sorry,” he adds reflexively, but you just shake your head. How are you supposed to tell him that you liked the feeling of his skin on yours? Taehyung pops a pink marshmallow into his left cheek, letting it bulge and slur his speech as he gives you a broad grin. “You could dye it for me! My hair, I mean. Pick a colour.”

Against your will, you smile back, cheeks puffing at the thought. “I have no idea how to dye hair, Tae.”

Something flickers in his eyes when you say that, or maybe it’s the dancing flames reflected in them. He chews quickly, swallowing with a jerk of his jaw, and licks the rest of the white powder off his lips. “I bet it’s a whole lot easier than painting a picture.”

You scoff, but there’s no bite to it. “Oh, so you didn’t want me to paint one of my works on your hair, then? Don’t fancy Jeju Dusk on your scalp?”

Taehyung grins at the name, recognising the title of one of your earlier paintings - one that had been relentlessly criticised for its blending of techniques, something that later became your signature. “That’s my second favorite piece, you know? I have a print of it at home, and I saw the original in the Leeum Museum last year.”

You remember the director of the Leeum fondly. In your beginning years, he’d fought for your works to be shown in some of the frequent exhibitions they held. Even though you’d barely made a name for yourself, and had only recently moved to Seoul, Director Kim Namjoon took you in like a mentee and gave you a job himself as his PA. The experience you’d gotten there, as well as that vital exposure, had kept you business-savvy throughout your career, and once you were in a position to give back, you donated almost all of your original canvases to the museum in his name. Maybe one day you’d return home to Seoul and tell Namjoon of the boy who lived on a faraway island, the boy who taught you to open up again. Would Taehyung still be with you then? Though it hasn’t been long, it’s hard to comprehend a life without Taehyung. All you can visualise is a great absence, a lack. You banish the thought from your mind with a shake of your head, glancing back up to see the boy himself boldly setting a skewer of marshmallows on fire in the orange heat. “I hope that’s your one,” you joke weakly as he puffs out the blue and orange that lick at the blackening lumps.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite work is?” he asks instead, ignoring your statement.

You stay silent for a moment, observing the way he discards the charred skewer in his lap and delicately toasts the other one, swivelling the base so that each side of the marshmallow stack warms to a golden brown. Once he pulls it out, he hands it to you with an expectant quirk of his brow. You take the stick with a slightly suspicious smile. “What’s your favorite, Taehyung?”

“Your next one,” he answers immediately, gaze locked on yours.

You blame the heat radiating off the bonfire for the warmth in your cheeks as you suppress a smile. “Alright then,” you say decisively.

“Alright what?”

“Alright, I’ll dye your hair for you.”

He grins broadly, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he starts eating his thoroughly-burnt marshmallows. “Tomorrow,” he announces, melted strings of pink and white pooling in the corner of his lips. “Let’s meet at the convenience store and you can pick the colour.”

You smirk at the way he devours the toasted marshmallows with childish glee. “You’ll regret that when you come out of this with highlighter orange hair.”

He chucks his leftover stick into the grocery bag you brought your supplies in, letting himself collapse backwards onto the heated sand. “I think I could pull it off,” he deflects calmly. “Just you see.”

Breath taken away by the peace on his face as he closes his eyes, your mind works dizzily, desperate to find something to keep him talking, to keep this moment between you alive. “Maybe you could get a job as air traffic control. Or a streetlight. Just you wait; it’ll be orange orange.”

Taehyung’s face warms in a lazy smile as he hums. He looks so peaceful lying there that you’re tempted to join him, but you choose instead to shuffle back from the fire so that you can see his face better. His hair’s splayed out over the sand, and you can see the warm flickers from the bonfire play over his neck, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. Taehyung’s right; orange does suit him. “I had a dream, you know. Last night.”

You feel - with the gentle breeze and the silence of the sea surrounding you - that perhaps you’re in a dream right now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his low voice hushes, barely louder than the popping of wood on the fire. “We weren’t on the island, we were in Seoul. Your wing of the Leeum Museum.”

You laugh shallowly, not wanting to make much noise for a reason you couldn’t quite pinprick. “I don’t have a wing at the Leeum.”

“You did in my dream,” he defends resolutely, the beginnings of a boxy smile tugging at his lips. “Anyway, we were in your wing, and I remember being so confused because I didn’t recognise any of them. But you told me they were all new. They were paintings of m-” he cuts himself off a beat too late, lips pressed together.

Your heart falters, a rush of adrenaline that flows to the ends of your fingers and toes. You fight to keeo your voice steady. “Maybe it was a premonition.”

Resting on his stomach, Taehyung’s hands twitch, his fingers twisting together. His smile flattens into a tense line and his eyelids squeeze shut tightly. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he admits quietly after a short pause of thought.

Looking back, you can’t remember your thought process, or where your boldness comes from. Maybe something about the way the moment felt detached from reality, a timeless bubble of the two of you that sat adjacent to your real life, separate from consequence. Maybe it was the brief glimpse of pink as he wets the inner seam of his lips. Maybe you’ve just wanted this for too long to think rationally anymore.

Whatever it is, you swallow past the dryness in your mouth, bend down, and press a kiss to his lips.

Taehyung goes completely still at first. You’re cross-legged on the sand, knees faced to his side, and when you kiss him, it’s on enough of an angle that you feel his nose brushing your cheekbone, and you can feel your hair falling down either side of your face like silken rain. He stays still, though, and you press a little harder, just for a moment, before his lack of response shatters your streak of confidence.

With a minute sigh of regret, you lift off of him, ready to sit up again and apologise profoundly. But before there’s more than a few centimeters of air between you, his hand is suddenly snaking around the nape of your neck, fingers slipping up into your hair as he pulls you back down.

When you collide again with a gasp, his mouth is parted, and his teeth scrape against your bottom lip with his urgency. Losing your balance, you throw your outside arm over him, palm plunging into the sand just beside his head, and let your upper torso rest on his his.

“Taehyung,” you sigh onto his lips, shivering when his free hand rests hotly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub maddenly over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “Oh, Taehyung.”

His lips are sticky with the remains of the toasted marshmallows, and tentatively you seek out that sweetness, kissing deeper, letting your tongue slide over the pinkened skin. He holds you so gently, like you’re made of glass, yet his mouth on yours is pure fire, and your breath comes in little gasps, bursts of oxygen that only fan the flames higher. It takes you a few moments to realise the humming in his throat and the motion of his lips are words, so softly spoken, but once you do you slow your movements to a languid stream to better hear them.

“...so beautiful, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I must be dreaming…” He speaks with his eyes half-lidded, like he doesn’t want to fully lose sight of you, uttering words between sweet kisses, strong hands cradling you so carefully. He presses his lips against yours one last time and moves his hand from your neck to your face, thumbing tenderly at your cheekbone. “God, I’m so lucky to be by your side,” he gasps. “And when you paint new works and attend exhibits, I’ll still be by your side.”

His words are sweet, but something about them strikes an odd note in your chest, and you pull back slightly, shaking off his hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and swollen lips which are parted in a confused pout. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s my paintings,” you whisper disbelievingly, “isn’t it? That’s why you think you like me. You like my paintings, and you think it’s somehow the same thing.”

He frowns, shuffling back to sit up, further apart from you than you’d been all night. “No,” he says automatically, “I like you, I just… I think you’re talented, and I want to help you-”

“It’s not your place to help me,” you snap back, and Taehyung flinches. “I’m not some- some out-of-order printer that just needs some TLC to start pumping out pages again. You’re a fan, Taehyung, not a fucking therapist.”

He lets those words sit in the air until they sour, staring at you with eyes shiny and lips trembling. “I know that,” he says, voice cracking, “I know that. I just- Just because you had issues with the Met Gala exhibit doesn’t mean you have to run away and hide, you know?”

Your mouth falls open. “I… I didn’t have issues with the Met Gala, okay, Taehyung? I blanked. Every time I tried to paint something for the exhibit, it sucked. I hated it. And then, eventually, I stopped being able to paint anything at all. It was like I just- I just couldn’t. And the Director kept calling, but I couldn’t answer him because I was so fucking humiliated, and you get the day of the Met and the walls are empty because Y/n L/n is a fucking failure. So it’s not- You can’t fix me, Taehyung. I’m just broken.”

The fire spits, crackles, as it smoulders down, nothing more than hot coals that barely light the surroundings. Taehyung, face slowly darkening to shadow, doesn’t say anything. Just sits. Waits.

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “My point is, Tae-” and you scoff at yourself for using a nickname at a time like this, “You shouldn’t like me. I have nothing to give you anymore.”

Sand sticks to your bare legs when you stand, but you make no attempt to brush it off. Though it’s nearly complete darkness, you see Taehyung’s hair shift as he tips his head up to watch you. Rather than speak back, he waits in the pitch black of the extinguished bonfire and lets you go.

Later, in the unforgiving silence of your bungalow, you find yourself gravitating not towards your bed but towards your suitcase, to the small wooden chest of travel paints you had brought never expecting to use.

It’s easier to paint than to think on your regrets and mistakes, and so you let your mind go black, your palette filling with shades of brown, ochre and beige, as well as a single swatch of teal.

--

The entire next day sees you in a sleep-deprived fervour, the entire main room of your bungalow cleared out and transformed into a makeshift studio, paintings drying on emptied bookshelves, sheets of old newspaper covering the carpet covered in stray spots of colour, the kitchen bench housing your mismatched array of paints and tools.

After finishing your first painting, you’d collapsed onto your bed as the sun began to rise, too exhausted to wash the dried paint off your hands and brow. But it only took a few moments of rest before you felt yourself sinking into a glum quicksand, sucked in by all the emotions swirling in your chest. Suffocated by the sole image of Taehyung, sitting alone on the sand in the dark as you walked away.

So, you’d gotten up, fed the itch in your hands and picked up a brush once more, and let yourself be taken by the mindless haze of work, of colours and angles and perspectives, starting to paint the knuckles on one canvas while you waited for the eyes to dry on another.

Just after 10am, your housekeeper had knocked on the door, and you’d had to play sick so that she wouldn’t come inside. If they kept your deposit or charged you damages for a stray lick of paint on some surface, what did it matter?

You threw yourself so intensely into these paintings, that weren’t art so much as sighs of relief, or buoys in a churning sea. It was all too easy to let your mind latch onto the task of mixing colours, of choosing techniques, of mastering proportions. Normally, you’d work in front of a landscape, or take a photo and paint it later, wanting to get things right, but Taehyung comes to mind with startling clarity.

Soon, your bungalow fills with artworks - some painted on newspaper, or pages of a book when you run out of canvases. Vistas of those moments with him like clustered vignettes: his eyes with orange glints reflected in them from that night with the bonfire; his hands wringing his sodden sweater the day you got caught in the rain; a boxy smile, the first time he ever grinned at you like that; and finally, just as your hands begin to shake too much to hold the brush steady, a lone silhouette walking down a dune, tiny dog tugging at the leash in his hand. The memories flow in reverse, like some sort of undoing, a wish to go back in time and do things right, to be better for him, to do right by him.

When you set the brush down one final time, fingers trembling with exhaustion, it’s nearly midnight. You realise with a dull pang that you’d forgotten to go down to the township to buy Taehyung hair dye. You realise he probably wouldn’t have come down either.

Your face is stiff in places where swipes of paint have dried, and your hair is tangled, thrown up a half-hearted ponytail that keeps threatening to slip, but as you stare around the chaos of the room, at the fevered paintings of him, only him, always him, your heart knows what to do. Whether you like it or not, you can’t go back in time and start new, start fresh. But you can go forward, and you know exactly where your feet will take you.

Well, maybe not exactly, because you’ve never been to Taehyung’s house. But shoving on some sneakers and wrappin yourself up in a jacket, you figure you can find it. The island’s population was barely fifty, and all the houses were in the same sleepy neighborhood behind the main street.

It’s after knocking on exactly twenty-six doors that you realise maybe you should just ask if the stranger knew Taehyung’s address, rather than leaving when somebody unfamiliar answered the door. Shivering, even with the thick padded jacket you’re bundled in, you decide that the next house better be the last. If they didn’t know where Tae was, you could just come back and pick up where you left off tomorrow.

The street is so silent that your sneaker soles on the gravel fill the void entirely, amplified in the chilled night air. As you went on, and the moon passed the center of the sky, less and less people even opened their doors, some that did scolding you for waking them at such an hour. You’d feel bad, only your mind’s entirely locked on one single person.

The next house you reach is small, like most of them, but looks particularly well-groomed compared to most. A gleaming white postbox with the number 13B rests beside the driveway and footpath, both of which are bordered by lush, freshly-mowed grass, almost black in the darkness. Like a beacon, a single lamplight shines white-yellow above the front door, and your eyes ache with the warm brightness as you knock.

After fifteen or so seconds, you hear muffled movement inside, and straighten your back expectantly, mentally running through your speech. A light turns on behind lacy curtains to the left, and eventually a blurred silhouette approaches in the foyer, unlocking the door.

You put on your most sympathetic smile and take in a breath when it cracks, revealing an older woman in mismatching winter pyjamas. “I’m so sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I was wondering if you knew a boy called-” As your eyes search the old woman’s face, you freeze. You know those eyes. “K-Kim Taehyung?” you finish, blinking widely at the woman who somehow looks so familiar.

Rather than grumble about the time or huff, she smiles broadly, lips tugging up in a boxy smile. “Well, of course, he’s my grandson!” The smile drops, brows furrowing in concern. “Is he alright?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, eyes widening. “I- oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you,” you gush, her eyes crinkling fondly at your words. “Sorry, uh- yes, Taehyung is okay, I just-” You stop yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. “Mrs. Kim, you probably don’t even know me, but I did something bad and I need to make it right with him and I just… I think I’m in love with your grandson.” The moment you finish, something in your heart settles at the sound of the words lingering in the air.

She takes her time to reply, letting the words sink into her with a thoughtful sigh. “Darling, am I right in assuming your name is Y/n?”

You swallow quickly. “Yes, that’s right.”

She nods with a fond smile, a glimmer in her eye. “Then I think there’s something you should come see.”

“Inside?” After she waves you in and guides you to slip off your shoes and step into some house slippers instead, you find yourself awkwardly following her down a homely, perfumed hallway. “By the way, I’m so sorry for waking you.”

She waves it off before you even finish your sentence, sending you a kind wink. “No bother to me, lovie. I’m just glad you didn’t wake the dog.”

“The dog?” you mumble to yourself, before halting suddenly as Mrs. Kim pauses in front of a door, hand resting on the glass knob.

“My grandson’s been visiting me more lately, you see,” she explains, turning the knob to reveal a room in complete darkness, nothing inside visible. “He had so much to tell me and so much to do, became as hyper as a boy on Christmas morning! He told me not to go in here, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You step inside on her indication, breath caught in your throat as your eyes struggle to adjust. “I don’t understand…”

“Lovie, don’t worry about whatever went wrong with you two. You love him and… Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but it’s clear he loves you too.” And with that, she flicks the light on and the room comes into focus.

A barn. That’s the first thing you see. A painting of a bright, sprawling barn with a tiny dilapidated kennel in its shadow, wobbly letters spelling out YEONTAN. On the wall directly across from the door rests the original painting of The Barn at Icheon, close to a meter wide and half a metre high. The question of why he’d keep this prized possession of his in a random room barely bigger than a closet dies on your tongue as you turn, seeing the other walls.

A sketch of a bird you’d seen and wanted to show him, clumsily sketched on the back of a receipt with a pen from the lady at the grocery store checkout; a smudged map of your old neighborhood in Seoul that he’d made you draw on a napkin when you were explaining to him how far away the art supply store was; a tourism pamphlet that you and Taehyung had found on a park bench, drawing little Bigfoot silhouettes on the pictures of mountains and mermaids on the beaches. Every one of these thoughtless scrawls, careless scribbles and hurried drawings are here, each one framed or mounted like in a gallery, in order of the time they were made. You turn around slowly, barely noticing Taehyung’s grandmother in the doorway, giving you a knowing look. Finally, on the last wall, the trail of pieces disappear with a final creation, a canvas.

Feeling tears gather in your eyes, you look at the black smear of a mailbox, the wonky shops, the two tall trees incongruously planted in the middle of the street. And, in the bottom right corner painted meticulously in teal, the same teal as his hair, Y/n and Taehyung.

You let out a sob, turning back to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing me this,” you make out in a voice thickened with tears, “but I really need to see him. Can you please give me his address?”

With a look of warm empathy, she steps forward to clasp your shoulders gently, maternally. “He told me about what happened, luvie. He doesn’t blame you.”

Trembling, you wipe the wetness from your cheeks and sniff. “He should,” you admit sullenly, “he’s too good for me. He’s been nothing but kind and patient and caring and all I’ve done is let him down.” Something occurs to you, and you frown in confusion. “Wait… Did he stop by and tell you?”

Her hands squeeze your upper arms comfortingly before dropping them and stepping back. “Oh honey,” she coos, and your heart stops as she steps aside out of the doorway, letting another, taller figure enter the room.

“Taehyung,” you whisper in shock, but before you can even comprehend his presence, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug. You feel thick layers of pressure and worry evaporate off of you with a single moment, lungs filling with the familiar scent of him, body relaxing with his chin resting on your head and his arms cradling you. For what feels like a small eternity, you let yourself be fully enveloped in him, an indescribable catharsis of finally being in his arms once more. As your tears dry on the soft flanelette of his pyjama shirt and your fingers clutch at his back, you feel a thought transform into a certainty. “I love you, Taehyung,” you confess quietly, and his whole body shudders with a sob, arms tightening around you even more.

“I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, chest rumbling against your ear as he speaks. “And please don’t ever call yourself broken. You’re not. I didn’t love the art, I loved you. Because the art is a part of you Y/n, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“Tae,” you breathe shakily, his name the only word on your lips.

A soft voice comes from the hallway, Taehyung’s grandmother quietly excusing herself to “leave the two lovebirds alone.” You barely notice, lost in the way Taehyung gently rocks you back and forth in his arms, soothing you.

“I missed you,” you hear Taehyung whisper into your hair, nuzzling his nose gently.

Though you shiver at the feeling, you let out a teary laugh. “I saw you a day ago.”

“But it wasn’t the same then,” he insists softly, and a slow breath escapes you weakly. “It’s okay; you’re here now. You-” he breaks off to swallow, and when he speaks again his voice is much quieter, paper thin. “You won’t walk away again, will you?”

You answer by tipping your head up to look him in the eyes warmly, rising onto the tips of your toes so that you can reach his mouth, pressing a kiss against it tenderly. “Never,” you answer surely, “I promise.”

When he smiles, it’s beautiful - that big, boxy grin you saw that day on the dunes, that day you agreed to paint with him, and so many times since. But it never fails to make you melt, lips automatically returning the gesture. “Now,” he announces with a bemused lilt in his voice. “As much as I love this makeout session in my grandma’s closet, it is 2am. Shall we go get some rest?”

Sleep comes quickly once you have Taehyung’s arm around you and your face in the crook of his neck, and you let it take you, knowing you’ll have time to savor the feeling of sleeping beside him for many days to come.

--

You take him home the next day.

He hadn’t ever been to the bungalow before, but now there was something you desperately wanted him to see. You hadn’t cleaned up before you’d suddenly began roaming the streets of the island, and as he stares around at the chaos, you kind of wish you had. “It’s pretty messy, but…”

“No,” he deflects, mouth parted and eyes wide in wonder, “don’t apologise, this is- wow.” He steps further into the room, stepping over discarded paint tubes, dried canvases and uncleaned brushes. He takes a moment to take in each work. Every single one of them a snapshot of him. “How- When did you do all this?”

You bite your lip, loitering in the entryway. “From when I got back that night until I decided to come looking for you.”

He furrows his brow, fingers gently skimming the top edge of the painting that rests on the easel in the center of the room, the first one you’d painted. His teal growouts, his uneven eyes, the moles dotted so intricately on his face. Your Tae. “You haven’t been able to pick up a brush in months, and then...all this?”

“This was easy,” you say with a shake of your head, “it was easy because it was you.”

He turns, then, glancing at you over his shoulder with eyes brimming with affection. “You really love me.”

A disbelieving grin stretches across your lips. “The midnight confession didn’t make it clear enough?”

“It’s not that, I- I can read it,” he explains, stepping back over to you. “The Barn at Icheon is filled with loneliness, and a lot of your other works talk about fear or curiosity or patience. But this is all love. And it’s me.”

“It’s you,” you confirm with a soft smile, “I love you, Taehyung. So much.”

His eyes light up, then, a cheeky glimmer as his hand reaches out, gripping your elbow and giving it a playful shake. “If I’m your mojo then, you should paint something else today,” he bargains, “I wanna see your genius in action. The black mailbox sadly doesn’t qualify.”

Your mouth drops open in mock outrage, shoving his chest with a whine. “That’s not fair! You said you liked it better black.” Looking around at the disaster zone of the bungalow, you sigh. “I also don’t think I have any paintable surfaces left. I missed the housekeeper so I’ll probably get a fine as it is.”

“Use me, then.”

“Haven’t I painted you enough?” you fire back, but Taehyung just shakes his head emphatically.

“Paint on me. Here,” he says, and his hands leave yours in order to find the hem of his shirt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it into a far end of the room. “A big old waterfall, right down the middle. Rock pool at the bottom.”

“Stop it!” You blush fiercely, hands coming up to cover your cheeks as your eyes feast on his chest, the smooth planes and taut skin, a beautiful golden bronze. “Taehyung…”

For the first time, he doesn't press further. Instead, his shoulders sag, teasing facade slipping. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll stop."

Inexplicably, you find yourself wanting to prove you aren't fragile anymore, unbroken just as he'd insisted you were last night. "I can do it," you protest, stepping away from him to fossick for some usable brushes. "Lie down, then."

Taehyung freezes. "Uh. Yeah, yeah, okay, gimme one sec, I'll just-" With the enthusiasm of a boy having his first kiss, Taehyung hunkers down on the newspaper-covered carpet, shuffling some tools and tubes and palettes out of the way. He looks beautiful like that, chest rising and falling shakily with anticipation, warm brown eyes widened on you. "You don't have to paint a waterfall, you know," he assures hurriedly. "Whatever you do will be perfect."

Heart leaping at his words, you feel a streak of confidence deep inside you, and instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his hips with a newly-filled palette in one hand and a brush in the other. "I want you to guess," you announce from above him, eying his chest and wondering how the colours might fill the space. "Guess what I'm painting. It'll be fun!"

Taehyung's throat bobs with a harsh swallow, nodding quickly. "O-okay, yeah, let's do that," he agrees weakly.

You smile warmly, and begin dipping into a forest green, coating the tips of the bristles. Bending down, you mark a single point of green on the top of his chest, just below his collarbone. The moment the cool paint touches his skin, Taehyung shudders, eyes falling shut. "Okay?" you check. He nods again, chest heaving, and so you continue tracking colour, gradual swoops downwards. Each drag of the brush makes Taehyung's breath catch, and you watch as goosebumps break out on his bare arms.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, lips barely moving like he didn't even intend to speak.

Your lip twitches, but still you focus, topping up the brush whenever the lines became too spotty. After trailing down to just above the level of his belly button, you raise the brush again, starting a new form on the other side of his chest, this one smaller. "Any idea what it is?" you question, but Taehyung just sighs airily.

Once you're finished with the forest green, you wipe your brush off on the edge of your palette and go for a deeper shade, pressing in shadows under each swipe of green. It's once you're working on the bottom half of the second structure that you begin to feel a hardness between your legs, the point where you're straddling him. Shocked, you look up, but Taehyung's covered his eyes with the back of his hand, face turned to the side with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out once he feels you stop. "Didn't mean to."

With a fond smile, you lean down, careful not to smudge the wet paint, and gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch and his lips part in surprise, but he otherwise stays still. "It's okay," you soothe, "if it's any consolation, I feel the same way right now."

Like a switch is flipped, Taehyung lifts his hand and tucks his chin, looking down at where the two of you are pressed together, then back up at your face. "Seriously?"

You laugh warmly. "Taehyung, I love you and you're currently lying beneath me, half-naked, writhing every time the brush touches you. Of course I'm turned on."

His cheeks flush hotter and he bites his lip. "You can- you can keep going. Keep painting."

Obediently continuing to fill in the shadow across his stomach, you grin. "Still no guesses on what I'm painting? I'm almost done, you know."

He cranes his neck down further, but the angle prevents him from seeing much. "Some-something green? I'll be honest with you, my focus really isn't-fuck!"

You suppress a laugh as he shudders, hands reaching out to clutch at your pants. Having finished the shadow, you'd mixed a paler green to add some light points on the tops, and one of those swipes had just happened to land across the top of one of his nipples, already stiff from arousal. You continue dipping colour here and there, smirking at the paint that covers the dark brown of his right nipple.

"You tease," Taehyung complains with furrowed brows. "Fuck, that felt good. Please tell me you need to paint the other one too."

You hum in mock thought, transferring your brush to the hand with the palette so that you can reach out, swiping a thumb over the sensitive flesh. Taehyung's whole body jerks, his hips beginning to grind under you, the dull friction pulling a pleasured sigh from your lips that's blessedly drowned by his drawn-out moan. "Why the pout, Tae? This was your idea."

"Next time I'm holding the paintbrush," he promises, hips moving slowly beneath you, eyes lidded as they focus on you, "then you won't be so cocky."

His words send a hot rush of arousal through you, and you rock your hips unconsciously, swallowing a moan. "Next time," you repeat breathily, "but for now I'm almost done."

It only takes a few more touches of pale green, followed by two vertical strokes of brown, before you're putting your tools aside, and standing up off of him.

Taehyung groans in complaint when your hips leave him, his casual grey sweatpants tented and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"Come see," you guide, tugging at his hand. "I have a mirror in my room."

He gets up, palming himself with a pout before following you down the hall, pulled along by your interlocked hands. Once in front of the mirror, Taehyung lifts his eyebrows at just how wrecked he looks. Bottom lip swollen from biting at it, hair mussed and sticking up, and a burst of green slowly drying on his torso. "It's...trees?"

"It's us," you explain softly, "like that painting we did together the first time." From beside him, you reach around to gently tap each figure, two tall fir trees, the one on his right taller than the one on his left. "One for you and one for me."

Before you can pull your arm back, his hand comes up to flatten yours against his chest, hands going cold where the paint is still wet in places.

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

"Y/n," he said slowly, head turning to look at you, eyes brimming with affection, "will you let me make love to you?"

Your breath catches, and rather than trusting your voice, you nod wordlessly.

With a deep exhale, he bends down and joins your lips with his, a hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, keeping you close. His lips are hot against yours, passionate and wanting, and your stomach warms with desire. Clumsily, your fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it as far as you can before you have to break apart from him, flinging it away once it clears your head.

"The bed?" Taehyung pants in the moments his mouth is free, and you nod, shucking off your jeans before getting onto the mattress in just your bra and panties. "God, you're beautiful," he chants, "how did I get so lucky?"

He slips out of his sweatpants and joins you sitting on the edge, but your eyes linger on his face, the way his eyes soften and crinkle when they meet yours. "I'm the lucky one," you reply simply.

You shiver when a large palm runs up your bare thigh, warm and grounding. "Can I go down on your first?" he asks with a pleading gaze.

You laugh weakly. "I'm definitely the lucky one." In confirmation, you lie yourself back, scooting so your head rests on the pillows.

Hand now having slid down your leg to rest over your ankle, he wraps his fingers around and lifts it off the bed delicately, your knee crooking and legs parting. Smoothly, he slips himself in the gap, lying on his stomach and letting your raised leg rest on his shoulders. With eyes heavy on you, he leans forward slowly and licks a strip over your clothed pussy, a dull kiss of friction across your clit. You groan, head lolling back, and he takes it as his initiative to continue, sucking at the juices that have dampened your panties until the whole crotch is wet, your thighs shaking slightly with your increased sensitivity.

"Tae, please," you breath out, "I wan' more."

A finger slips below the hem of your panties, just over your hipbone. "Should we take these off?" You nod with a needy whimper, lifting your hips to give him easier access.

He sits up to slide them down your legs, calmly spreading your thighs again when you get the self-conscious urge to close them. With only your bra on, you feel so vulnerable, but rather than scaring you, you feel at peace, so happy to be having this moment with Taehyung.

When he shuffles back into place again, he takes his time, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. At your needy wiggle of your hips, he chuckles and rubs soothingly at the top of your leg where it's crooked over his shoulder, finally dipping his head again to lick at you.

He starts out maddeningly light, the very tip of his tongue flicking slowly over your clit, tentatively venturing out to dip between your folds. You reach out for his hand, needing something to anchor you, and he smiles against you as he interlocks your fingers, keeping you grounded.

"So good, Tae," you encourage, moaning openly when his tongue trails lower and dips between your folds, over your entrance. "Fuck, so good."

Rather than answer verbally, Taehyung doubles his efforts and begins to speed up, lapping at your core and suckling your clit.

Every breath is a moan or a whimper, overtaken by pleasure, but you let yourself drown in it, letting Taehyung eat you out like a man starved. With one hand on your upper thigh and one entwined with yours, he's got no fingers free to play with you, but expertly he brings you to your peak with just his tongue, thrusting it inside you as his nose nudges at your clit.

When you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your moans heighten and your back begins to arch, hips grinding against him desperately. Taehyung chuckles, the sound vibrating against you and making you shudder, and his hand slips high to press against your waist instead, holding you in place for him. Your thighs tense around him, praises and curses and his name spilling from your lips incoherently.

It's one last nibble at your clit, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his tongue over it, your vision whites out with the force of your orgasm, jerking beneath him and crying out wantonly, overcome with pleasure. He works you through it diligently, groaning as you come down from your high with weak shivers, his tongue never ceasing until you push at his head from oversensitivity.

He lets your leg down carefully, kissing his way up your bare stomach, the swells of your breasts and your throat until his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on him, feel the ends of his hair tickling against your cheeks.

"That was incredible, Tae," you pant out, feeling boneless beneath him as he takes charge of the kiss, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth. "I need you," he gasps, and you moan throatily when his clothed crotch grinds against your bare core, the fabric of his underwear catching on your sensitive clit. He's hard, probably painfully so, and all you want is to feel him inside you.

Desperate, your fingers slip behind you, arching your back so that you can deftly release the clasp of your bra, pulling it off hastily before reaching for his underwear. "I need you too, Tae," you plea, "please hurry."

His fingers, slightly cool from the air, slide down your stomach and between your thighs, making you jump as he slips two inside, thrusting them slowly. You're still sensitive, and his mouth falls to your ear, hushing you and pressing encouraging kisses to your temple as you whimper. "Doing so well for me," he praises, "just gotta make sure you're ready, okay?"

"O-okay," you make out, sucking in a breath when he pulls out and presses a third finger inside you, picking up his pace. Gradually, the prickling overstimulation warms into pleasure again, and you rock your hips to seek more friction, free hand coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, holding him close.

With no bra on, your full chest is flat against his, and as the paint dries it drags over your nipples, making you arch your back, seeking out the friction.

The warmth between your legs tightens with the extra stimulation, and your breath begins to catch, feeling another orgasm oncoming.

"Close?" Taehyung murmurs in your ear as he widens the gaps between his fingers inside you, scissoring to stretch you even more. You nod hastily, moans getting stuck in your throat, pushed out with every gasped breath. Taehyung hums in response, and you whimper when you feel his fingers slipping out of you completely. Before you can protest, the blunt head of his cock slips between your sopping folds, Taehyung running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

"Fuck, yes, please Tae, I'm ready," you babble, legs lifting to wrap around his hips, attempting to pull him in closer.

He chuckles, but it's cut off prematurely by a hissed breath of pleasure as he lines up and begins to sink his length into you, a delicious feeling of fullness after his fingers left you so empty. Taehyung enters you slowly, letting you adjust, and you feel completely enveloped by him; his voice in your ear, his hand in yours, his cock inside you.

"Need you, Tae," you whine once he stills, bottomed out, "please move."

"Are you ready?" You wiggle your hips with a groaned yes, arm tightening around him as he pulls back. He stops when just his head still rests inside you, pauses for a moment with a moan as you clench around him, and then plunges back in with one slick thrust.

You cry out, satisfied smile stretching tiredly across your face as he finally begins a steady rhythm, favoring deeper thrusts that make your toes curl. "Yes, Tae, so good!"

"God, you're still so tight," he groans throatily, "so good for me."

On the edge before, you find yourself close after only a few minutes, and you tell him with a shaky breath. Taehyung lets out a relieved exhale as he continues to thrust into you. "Thank fuck," he huffs out, panting a word at a time, "I'm not gonna last, you drive me crazy."

You press your head against his, nuzzling at it as you unwrap your arm from around his shoulders, instead seeking out your clit for the needed friction to push you over the edge. The added stimulation has you clenching, and Taehyung swears desperately, his pace picking up but shuddering as he gets close.

The two of you pant loudly into the otherwise silent room, filling each others' ears with whimpered moans and slurred praises, until you finally catch the tip of your peak, and with one final drag of his cock inside you, you're falling apart, not suddenly and violently like the first time, but rather a slow, hot wave of pleasure that works its way out from your core, down to your toes and fingertips, clenching tightly around Taehyung until he curses and spills inside you, shuddering through his release.

"I love you so much," you whisper once you come down from your high, a contented exhaustion seeping into your bones.

"I love you too," Taehyung says with a final press of his lips on your temple.

---

"This one's gorgeous. I love the broad lines on the ocean compared to the texture of rocks on the shore. This is at the island, you say?"

You hum in confirmation, smiling at your old friend. "You should see, it, Joonie. There's this little cluster of houses and shops right in the middle but the rest is just open nature. Forests, beaches, everything in the middle. I go there every year."

Kim Namjoon, Director at the Leeum Museum in Seoul and avid nature buff, takes one last look at the landscape canvas and grins. "Ah, twist my arm..." You follow him as he moves down the line of mounted canvases, stopping at a familiar portrait. He furrows his brows and cocks his head. "I feel like I've seen this guy before, something about the face... He didn't have green in his hair though, I must be confused."

You laugh at your friend, spying a shock of red through the swathes of people. "You have seen him before," you explain, catching the figure's eye, "you would have seen him here tonight."

In front of you, Namjoon raises his brows. "Oh, really? Who is he, then?"

Over Namjoon's shoulder, you watch Taehyung approach, turning heads with his scarlet dye. He gives you a wink, and you grin back. "He's my husband."

#ksmutclub #festivefrivolity #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #kth #v #namjoon

[a-tale-of-legends]

Fashion is not my passion but it consumes my mind. Time for the fem presenting oc's of mine!

Kohaku/ Amber: Very outdoorsy. Generally hiking gear and stuff that accommodates with Hoenn's warm weather. Little personal touches like her bow and her backpack that somehow contains everything. All in all very practical for the heat and walking/ running long distances.....and getting swooped up by a Skarmory.

Aiko: OH MY GOD THIS GIRL. I have no idea what her sense of fashion is. Things that I do know: Aiko is very energetic and bubbly. She has trained under the kimono Girls to hone her battling. She has also trained in martial arts ( via Chuck and some of the Kimono Girls). What. What do I do with that. What fashion style fits that. Help-

Danica: Hm. She has this weird balance if comfort and discomfort. Obviously, she wears clothes best suit for the cold climate of Sinnoh ( black leggings, boots, scarfs) and the color I associate with her the most is brown ( especially a more deep reddish brown), so I know she can look comfy and casual. However, her most stand out feature ( other than her hair ) is her scarf. For context, I love creepy Dawn fanart, and it greatly inspired Danica as a character. Her red scarf, in contrast to the rest of her usual fashion choice, is meant feel more ominous ( also relates to her connection with Giratina). All in all, Danica fashion choice I feel would be best for her is something that wouldn't make her stand out much ( hence the brown and maybe black) but when you do see her ( or rather when she sees you), you should be.....concerned. Just a bit. ( Lol she's just gonna give you some poffins)

Elliot: " Clothes have gender? Since when?" 2 electric boogaloo. Like her brother generally, Streetwear/ grunge. Though I know for a fact she's a lot more punk in fashion. Ripped chambray jeans, fake leather jackets ( she's vegetarian btw), fishnets, boots, studs, the whole package. She isn't afraid to show off her leg, unlike her brother being self conscious about his arm ( that isn't to say she isn't self conscious about it, but she sees no point in hiding it). Like her brother, she does wear baggy clothing, but it's more towards the bottoms( which are usually ripped), and her tops are a bit more tight fit( though she has plenty of oversized graphic hoodies). Or she's just wearing a graphic tee of some kind. Wow this is getting long, whoops. Uh, she doesn't wear skirts often like her brother, but shorts are fair game.

Eva: Okay, so remember that weird art trend where people would draw a character or an oc in this specific crop top? Yeah that's what Eva wears lol. That plus some shorts and some running shoes, and she's all good to go. Eva is very much into athletic leisure since she is, believe it or not, a work out junkie. Sports bras, leggings, all that jazz is generally the norm for her. But she also sports jumpsuits, especially when she's building something ( you know for protection). She likes to be a bit flashy in her style, from her little acting career and just her vibe. Though she's very comfortable just wearing something nice and simple. She has most definitely stole some of Elliot's oversized shirts lol.

Aster: Like Yarrow, anything that is meant for the warm climate of Alola. Light blue tank top and shorts. She has little yellow flowers as a headpiece, and would either wear scandals or sneakers( generally a green or teal color). She kicks people's shins with those. Anyway, Aster is also a surfer, so they also have a full body surfing swimsuit ( both for regular surfing and mantine surfing). She would have her hair down or in a ponytail when she's surfing. All in all, she's like Kohaku: outdoorsy, good for running under the sun, or just chilling, except Aster is blue and green ( and teal) while Kohaku is orange and green.

Naomi: Naomi has recently gotten the updated fashion style of Prep-Jock ( low-key cottage core). Light purple/ lavender cardigan/ knit sweater. A simple white shirt/ blouse with blue shorts ( with black leggings similar to what the fighting gym gives you in-game). Finally, some sneakers that are comfortable and meant for running. Outside of that, Naomi does take inspo from her friends, but she's mostly wears her what's she's comfortable with :)

And that's that! Aiko is still a pain, but writing down these helps a lot ( even if I suck at describing things lol)

#the gnc ones are next #sure i could have added A and E thete but they both tend to be more masc and fem most of the time #oc: naomi einar #oc: aiko elm #oc: elliot jones #oc: eva ortiz #oc: kohaku amber birch #oc: aster mahina

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 19

The third time Dick sneezed as he went by the kitchen, he decided to take action. Enough is enough. But he definitely was not prepared for what he would get a faceful of when he opened the kitchen door.

"Too much chili! Abort, abort! This is not a drill!" he choked as he closed the inner door and darted to the back door, opened it, and inhaled fresh air. "Good god, it's lethal in there!" he exclaimed.

"What even..." Damian muttered. "Grayson, there are only two ounces of chili in that Baiwang!"

"Is that why Alfred and Jason are wearing gas masks?" Dick demanded.

"This is to prevent our breath to get into the food, Richard. And they're just masks - paper masks. I can still smell the chili and all."

"What's a baiwang?" Dick asked curiously.

"Blood pudding," Alfred replied. "I must say, it is a... rather unique dish."

"Is it too late to be vegan, now?" Dick knew his face must have turned green. But Jason rolled his eyes.

"It's technically a kind of vegetarian, except for the goat blood. Do you know how hard it is to get blood around here? We had to go to a slaughterhouse, 'fer cryin' out loud. And now you're gonna insult my cooking??"

"'Technically', 'a kind of' bloody," Dick observed the pot that Jason was stirring from a respectable distance. "...those aren't likely things a TV chef would use to describe their creation..."

"It shall be a sort of soup, and the red didn't come from the blood. In fact, cooked blood would look like meat, dark colored," Damian explained. "Mother loved this..." he continued and stopped abruptly.

Dick immediately regretted all the nasty words he has said, and swallowed the rest that he hasn't said. "I'm..."

Damian, however, shook himself out of his melancholy quickly and added. "I requested Todd to make it, and it appeared that father is aware of it being my mother's favorite as well. And its cooking method. He promised he shall take grandfather and grandmother - as well as the brute - out of the house until we are done."

The sneezing from outside the kitchen broke their reverie. "Goodness gracious! How much chili is in progress here?" Tim squawked indignantly. "Now I know what you mean by lethal, Damian..."

"Imagine waking up from a night shift to that..." Dick grumbled, still.

"Seriously, you two are the whitest people to ever white." Jason scowled at them, paused, and glared at Dick pointedly. "...and you're not even white to begin with!"

"Hey, I might have Romani blood, but I was raised in the Owl's nest and they're full of white people!" Dick protested.

"Seriously, though, don't forget to leave some for my aunt Dinah. She loves spicy food." Tim hinted. "I reminded you of that already, haven't I?"

"You did, and will do, you hear that, brat? I'm gonna set aside a portion for a Ms Dinah Drake, the nice lady who likes spicy food." Jason told Damian. The latter scowled.

"You are trying to bribe her, are you not, Todd?" Damian retorted.

"Bribe her over what--" Jason started, but Dick leaped over the kitchen counter and turned Tim around and dragged him outside.

"How about you accompany me for some fresh air here, Timbers? Feels like my lungs are on fire!" he chirped. Kind of. He was thankful, though, that he'd turned Tim just in time for the kid to spin-sneezed and missed the pot by several inches. "See? I'm not the only one..." he added, waving to Jason's grumbled 'thanks for not sneezing into my baiwang, derp!'

Outside, once he was sure he was out of hearing range of those in the kitchen, Tim groaned out loud and slumped to the ground. "Oh I'm so screwed..."

Could be incongruous, could be case-related; but Dick's gut feelings said something else. "Well, I dunno, try scrubbing up nice and you could still get..." he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

Tim threw him a dirty look, and Dick mentally patted himself on the back. "What-ever." he snarled at Dick.

"Oh come on, Timmy! It's not like anyone would be mad if you're mad crushin' on him!" Dick finally started to laugh. "Your denial is... cute. But I think someone like him would want a direct proposal."

"Annnd... I'm officially lost. I don't know what you're talking about." Tim replied, straight-faced. But Dick has read enough people in his life to know a tell when he saw one.

"About six-two, two hundred pounds give or take, a whole load of muscle enough to bring down a pair of oak doors if necessary, black hair, blue-green eyes-- need I go on?" Dick hinted.

"What about that-- that sounds like Bruce, you know."

"Bruce Wayne has blue eyes. Not blue-green. Oh, wait, lemme make it exotic-like, teal-colored eyes..."

"I'm seriously thinking about murdering you and dump your body to the Gotham harbor, but then I worry for the other mutated harbor residents if they have to face your ghost."

Dick laughed out loud. "Oooh... kitten is crushin' hard! Look, lethal gas notwithstanding, we're doing alright. Come back by like, seven tonight, bring a bottle of good red or white wine, and dress up a little, but no suit. Just like it said in Alfred's pretty invitation. If it'll make you feel better, we all get the same invitation - in spite of us living here and all. So..."

"Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"So you can eventually have a real date with--" Dick chortled as he dodged a handful of compost Tim threw at him.

#Batless!AU #JayTim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #stray!tim #Talon!Dick #RedGhost!Jason #Birds of Prey

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene II | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. yay! second chapter! hope you guys enjoy and sorry for any typos! this chapter is also a day late :/ sorry again about that. im currently going through a lot family wise, but i wanted this to come out as soon as i could get it out. in compensation, you guys have another birthday character coming out and hopefully the first i love you prompt :D anyways, enjoy!

Word Count. 2,213 words

Page Count. 6.5 pages

TWarnings. cursing 

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ previous ] [ Act I Scene II ] [ next scene ]

        You smiled as your gaze looked out the window, the eternal abyss staring back as it was littered with the misty colors of turquoise, lavender, and many shades of rose- stars littering the rest of the scene in front of you. You leaned your head against the metal framing of the window, your hair cushioning you comfortably as thoughts sat still in your mind, your body calm as well.

        How long has it been since you were on the ship?

        "Hey kid, don't sleep with your neck like that- you'll mess it up" Quills voice rang out, but it sounded far away, muffled. You didn't know if it was cause of your tiredness or your spaced out state, but you couldn't seem to care by that point. You felt thick gloves move around your neck, the other moving under your knees, before a huff and some grumbling.

        "I don't know what you'll do without us, but even then," He sighed, carrying your body to the closest area where you could rest properly under his gaze, on the plush rest area in the cabin, allowing him to navigate the stars while keeping you near- though he'd vehemently denied it at any and every comment about it, the Guardian had grown attached to you, finding a child in you where you found a father in him.

        "I don't think I want you leaving the nest so soon."

        "As we all know, poetry and language flow like the wind. There'll definitely be someone there who knows about your friends. At least, that's what Paimon thinks!" Your guide chimed, hovering in front of you as you both made your way down the side of the hill, the vibrant and thick greens of the grass and trees were only further complimented by the sun- this place definitely was beautiful. You didn't feel warm, or overheated, which surprised you, especially with how bright the sun was. The cool breeze was constant in this place, giving an Autumn chill to a Spring setting, at this rate you'd think you'd need your body suit to warm you up.

        "Whether the gods actually answer you is a different story. You never know unless you try. So let's hop to it!" You can practically feel her smile, her small head turning back to you, Paimon's small body bouncing up at how you were listening to her so intently. By the time you reached the statue, she started to cross again, having the privilege of floating while you... did not.

        "You can swim right over! Don't push yourself though!" 

        "Let's just hope I don't sink with all the gear I have... or get electrocuted." You joked, walking into the water till your hot waist level, deciding at that point swimming was best.

        "W-what? Don't just jump in then!" She shouted, still loud as ever in that tiny body of hers, floating above you with a worried look on her face.

        "I'm fine, I'm fine. My gear is all waterproof, so there isn't an issue there." You huffed, climbing onto the shore of the tiny island before shaking off the water and straining what you could, lightening your load as much as allowed. 

        "See? All good."

        "Well don't joke like that! Paimon doesn't know what she'll do if anything happens to you... Paimon doesn't even wanna think about it!" She exclaims, a hand to her head, her face still concerned. You sighed, a small smile coming to your face before you took a small hand into your own, rubbing the soft skin to soothe her.

        "Alright. I'm sorry about that joke, I won't make any of those types again, alright? I'm not going anywhere. Not without you, Paimon." You smiled, sincerity in your voice, making her smile and nod her head.

        "Good! Paimon’ll make sure to keep that in mind for the future."

        "I'll hold you to it." You smirked, walking up to the statue, finding interest in the large golden plate. You reached out, taking the glove off your hand to get a proper feel of the metal, before taking a step back in shock. The statues' indentations lit up and aquamarine, the one you were so used to seeing outside of terrestrial planes, before a deep thump resounded in your head- much like a heartbeat. A small swirl of wind danced around the statue before the orb held in place started to glow, small particles combing in the center before forming a small sigil with wings that flew straight towards your chest.

        You felt a rush of cool air through your veins, like an excitement you couldn't explain, whips of teal surrounding your body as you could only take another step back and look to your uncovered hand to see for any physical changes as well- to which there were none. But you felt something. In your chest, your heart, something that was stirring and it didn't seem to slow down.

        "Ooh! Did you just feel the elements of the world?" Paimon asked, allowing you to turn and face her, your face still showing a stunned expression from... whatever that was.

        "Seems all you had to do was just touch the statue and you got the power of Anemo! As much as they may want it, people in this world can never get a hold of powers as easily as you..." She explained, crossing her arms over the matter, an idea popping into your head at the same time.

        "I think I might know why-"

        "Ah-ha, it's because you're not from this world to begin with. If we keep heading West from here, we'll eventually reach Mondstadt, the City of Freedom. Mondstadt is the city of wind because they worship the God of Anemo." She cuts you off, making you only hum at the action, allowing her to continue.

        "So perhaps, because you got the power from the God of Anemo, you can find some clues there. There are also lots of bards there, so perhaps one of them has heard news of your friends." 

        "That isn't a bad idea, Paimon." You smiled, thankful she was so serious and straightforward with helping you find the twins, something that seemed to be floating around in your head as you took in everything from this new world. She was like an anchor to keep you grounded, and for that, you were extremely thankful to her- beyond words.

        "Let's move then!" Obviously happy with your praise at her deduction and planning, though simple, it was a good and steady start- and that's what you needed at this moment.

        "The elements in this world responded to your prayers and Paimon thinks that's a lovely sign." She finished, her gaze reaching behind you as some Slimes approached, eyes wide at the intrusion by the elemental mutants. You followed her gaze, finding the flaming creatures to be bouncing right in your direction, your surprise evident on your face.

        "Ah, shit." You grumbled, taking a few steps back, your arm starting to stir up with energy. It felt like when you drank too much coffee, to the point where even your limbs were vibrating, wisps of turquoise enveloping your palm on instinct. The small slime soon was sucked into the vortex you had made, swirling around before getting blasted away, back onto the land- over the lake and away from you.

        "Ugh, gross." You winced, noticing the slime that coated the land in front of you, and your dominant hand. Wiping your hand, you decided it was best to swim to the other side of the lake, following Paimon as you escaped the burning grasses. You could only laugh as she huffed about wanting "cool fighting powers" as well, reaching the end of the lake and making your way further in.

        "You know, it may not be a blessing. Usually powers like these have consequences..." You said, wringing out your hair as the wind started to pick up, but this time it wasn’t by your own hand.

        "You shouldn't say that! These powers are a blessing from the Archons and for that you should be grateful! They'd never allow anything bad to happen to the people they've blessed with their own two hands." A low rumble started to echo through the area, making you turn your body and look around for what was causing it as you continued your talk with Paimon.

        "I get that... but still, usually the Gods and whatever powerful beings there are have some type of plan along with it- at least that's how it worked in my world."

        "Then maybe you should consider our world works differently?" She quips her head.

        "A god is a god." You huffed, the rumbling becoming louder before a dragon caught your vision, making you gasp in awe. Six wings, four limbs, a large tail, and decorated in patterns of blues that made it almost blend with the sky if its wings didn't hold an ethereal glow, a white underbelly contrasted with the rest of its body.

        "Wow! What is that? There's something huge in the sky!"

        "You guys have dragons here?" You exclaimed, walking in its direction to where it flew, making sure to lower your output of noise due to the camps that were littered nearby with humanoid creatures.

        "It's heading to the heart of the forest, where we're going, so make sure to be careful." Paimon notes, keeping up with your pace as you jogged into the forest, collected some things along the way that could help in the future. By the time you had reached the forest, you slowed your pace to a comfortable walk, looking around and making sure not to run into anything aggressive- or the dragon you two had just seen.

        Maybe it continued flying anyways?

        "Huh? Look at that." Paimon pointed in front of the both of you, the grumbling appearing once again.

        You were wrong.

        Moving to hide behind one of the larger trees, you pressed your back against it before slowly turning your head to look at the scene in front of you, still making sure to keep your noise at the bare minimum. The dragon from before was standing before you, almost cautious of the person that stood before them, a short man dressed in turquoise and white, holding his hands outward to the dragon before him.

        "Don't be afraid. It's alright now, I'm back." He spoke gently, ignoring the dangerous growls coming from the beast in front of him. It made you worry at the sight and activate the mask that was embedded into your earpiece, still watching as Paimon spoke up.

        "Is he talking... to a dragon?" She questioned, right as your palms lit up with the Anemo power you had just gained, a glowing pattern forming as it burst with life, alerting the dragon and scaring it away with a scream of displeasure. 

        "Who's there?" The man questioned as he jumped back, his gaze in your direction before taking a few steps back, disappearing in a glow of light. Your hair felt like it was about to be yanked out as the dragon flapped its wings before taking off, leaving you dazed at what had just happened, and headache from the harsh tug. You stood there in shock for a bit, not saying anything as your hand buzzed and fizzled out, focusing on calming down your heart rate- deactivating your mask to breathe better as well.

        "That was close! Paimon almost got blown away!" Your guide yelped. "Luckily Paimon managed to grab a hold of your hair! Thanks." She smiled, handed over her heart, and you felt your energy drain immensely in the moment.

        "Good thing you didn't pull my hair out." You sighed, rubbing the aching spot to soothe your head as Paimon continued to speak, you following closely behind.

        "This definitely has something to do with that weirdo who was talking to the dragon..." She trailed off.

        "Is... that normal? Talking to dragons?" You asked, confusion written on your face, wanting to know if this was a common occurrence in this world.

        "Of course not. But what's that? There's some kind of shiny red thingy on the rock over there." She pointed out. You both walked over to look at the glowing item, her warnings falling on deaf ears as Paimon spoke about never seeing anything like this before, making unable to help in this specific situation. 

        "Let's keep this, just in case." You mumbled, your bare hands picking up the gem(?) with ease before packing it into your belt, tucked away safely and unable to escape.

        "Good idea, now let's get out of here." 

        "Agreed." You nodded, deciding to stroll through the forest for a bit, both to rest and catch up on your thoughts, maybe ask Paimon more about this world and how it worked- so you don't seem like a bumbling idiot to the locals. But before you could do any of that, a yell came from behind you, rushed footsteps following at the same time.

        "You there! Stop right there!" A girl yelled, jumping across your field of vision off the small pass, dressed in red and white with long brown hair, rolling as she hit the ground before coming back up to a stand. 

        "..."

        "Are you fucking kidding me?"

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #The Missing Guardian: Genshin Impact #genshin impact imagine #x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #gi x reader #gi imagine

[duskowithapen]

Of Flowers and Tattoo Needles Chapter Two

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

Read Chapter One

The Flowers

Luka walked into the Secret Garden. Juleka took one look at his face, sighed, and led him towards the backroom. “Be glad I hadn’t had time to take this home,” she grumbled, emerging from the freezer with a tub of caramel ice cream tucked under one arm. After a moment, a spoon appeared under his nose.

Rose looked up from where she was doing paperwork. “What happened Luka? I thought you and Marinette would get along really well!”

With a groan, Luka flopped into a chair. “We were!” He totally-didn’t-whine. “She designed the most kick-ass looking tattoo that was everything I wanted, she gave me the friends and family discount, she didn’t laugh at me when I flirted…”

“Well, that’s an improvement,” Juleka sassed from her own ice cream rub – strawberries and cream, because she was a sap for Rose, who she was intermittently feeding. “But I can’t see the issue…?”

“It was all going well until her boyfriend showed up.” Luka glared over his ice cream. “So thanks for the warning, guys.”

Rose frowned and put down her pen. “What do you mean? Marinette doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“She was moaning about it during our last girls night,” Juleka interjected. “Talking about how all the guys who came into her shop seemed to be over-muscled sissies who cried the second they saw the tattoo needle.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Him and Marinette were definitely close.” Luka was about ready to drown himself in his ice cream. Even the excitement over his tattoo had faded into abject misery. He looked into the depths of his slowly melting ice cream, recalling the last ten minutes with perfect clarity.

Marinette looked like she was going to devour him. Her eyes kept flicking between his, darting down to his lips and back. She had even started to lean in when someone coughed.

“Uh, excuse me, am I interrupting something?” It was a tall blonde, formally dressed in a pressed black suit that made his eyes stand out (yes, Luka noticed. He might have been besotted with Marinette, but he wasn’t blind.) While his question may have been innocent, the smirk that crossed his face wasn’t.

Marinette’s face lit up bright red as she jumped out of her seat. “Adrien! I wasn’t expecting you here till 4.30!”

“Look at the time, buginette. If I’d known you had another client, I would have waited.” Adrien laughed as he wrapped the smaller girl up in a hug, lifting Marinette off her feet.

Luka glanced down at his phone, while Marinette began to stutter out apologies. 4.28. He couldn’t have been a couple of minutes late, Luka thought bitterly.

“I’m really, really sorry Luka!” Marinette had come back, the blonde – Adrien – wandering away to look at dragon tattoos. “I didn’t realise how long I’d spent on your tattoo, and Adrien had been a last-minute booking, so I’d completely forgotten!”

“It’s okay, Marinette.” With an internal sigh, Luka gave her a smirk. “Gives me a reason to come back.”

It seemed to snap Marinette out of her anxious haze.

He didn’t know if it was his words or his smirk, but something snapped Marinette out of her anxious, apologetic haze. Her grin was evil when she stepped into his space. “You needed another reason? I thought you said you were fine with needles.”

Luka’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he collected himself. “I’m fine with needles if you’re the one poking me with them.”

Whatever Marinette was going to say in return was interrupted, yet again, but Adrien. “Sorry Mari, but I’ve got dinner with Pere tonight, so if I’m getting this tattoo, I kinda need to get it now.”

Adrien was now shirtless.

That’s all Luka could process as Marinette stepped away with another apology.

Adrien was sitting in one of the tattoo stations, jacket and button up slung over the top of the chair. Marinette ruffled his hair as she walked past. “Don’t go rushing an artist, kitty. Otherwise you might end up with something less badass fire dragon and more Mushu.”

“Hey! Don’t go hating on Mushu!” Adrien gasped in faux-outrage, turning away with his nose in the air. “He’s travel-size!”

“Uh huh,” Marinette sighed as she walked back over to Luka. “Anyway, ignore him.” She held out a clipboard with a form on it. “If you just want to fill in your details, I can polish your design after I do Adrien’s tattoo, and then send it through for you to look at. If you like it, I can fit you in…” She paused and walked over to the desk near the door. “Well, I have a cancellation tomorrow morning, and I can get Nathaniel to do Ivan’s tattoo… I can fit you in for tomorrow at nine, if you’d like. If that’s too soon, I have openings next week?”

“Tomorrows fine,” Luka said as he wrote down his email. “And I’m sure I’ll love whatever you send me. Your rough sketch is incredible – I can’t want to see what it looks like in colour.”

The smile Marinette sent him was almost blinding. After Luka handed her back the clipboard, Marinette said goodbye and walked back towards Adrien.

The last thing he saw was Adrien’s smile as Marinette pecked him on the forehead. “Ready to get stabbed, mon chaton?”

Luka refused to look up as Rose and Juleka digested what he just told them. They shared a glance in that way all couples do – like they can communicate via intense eye contact – before bursting into laughter. Well, Rose burst into laughter. Juleka just chuckled and shook her head.

“You’ve got it bad, brother,” She said around a spoonful of ice cream, “It’s almost pitiful.”

Rose poked her with a pen. “Jules, don’t be mean to him!”

A scoff. “I can be mean to my brother as long as he remains a dumbass.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, sister? Do I have to mention the Prince Charming incident?” That had happened back in college, when Juleka had moped for days when she thought Rose had fallen for the foreign prince who she met on his visit to Paris. There had been much relief when Rose had clarified, no, the prince was too male for her refined lesbian tastes.

Alright, Luka had been pretty insufferable then too.

Juleka snapped the lid closed on her ice cream and turned to put it away. “You said that your appointment is at nine, right? Rose, we can open late tomorrow, right?”

“Ooo, yay!” Rose clapped, gathering her paperwork. “I can’t wait to see what kind of tattoo you’re getting Luka!”

“Do I get a choice in this?” He asked with a raised brow.

“No.” And Juleka pulled away his ice cream.

Later that night, Luka opened an email from [email protected]. Hey Luka! I’ve attached the full colour layouts for your tattoo. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

He was so glad he lived alone – there was no one there to watch him blush over an email from a girl who may or may not have a boyfriend. Then he looked at the photos. His breath caught.

These are incredible. The image was flat but drawn so that when the transfer paper was wrapped around his arm, the sides would line up. The snake was coloured in various shades of blue, with a lighter sea blue down what could be seen of the spine before merging into a deeper teal green near the belly. The belly itself was a pale yellow, blending in perfectly to the ring of daffodils just above where his elbow would be. As for the flowers themselves, they seemed to pop off the page. Bright blue iris’, with the edges of the petals tinted purple, bold red gladiolus’ with a white outline, pale yellow daffodils with brighter yellow middles… they all emerged from around the snakes body, with the gaps a deep shade of brown – the colour reminded him of his mothers’ mahogany chest – and tiny flickers of pale green leaves creating little spots of calm.

Beside the larger image was a single iris, connected to the main tattoo by two deep brown branches, with a scattering of leaves ringing it. The blues of this flower were paler – closer to the colour of his eyes, Luka realised with a blush – and the purple of the petal’s edges were the same shade as Juleka’s hair. The orange streak down each petal stood out starkly from the rest of the flower.

It was incredibly detailed, and just so much more than Luka ever thought a tattoo could be. He thought back to Rose and Juleka’s tattoos, how lifelike the flowers were, and found that he preferred this saturated, brighter than life version better. It matched perfectly against the calmer tones of the snake and stood out against the dark wood and pale greens of the supporting stems.

He sent back a response before going to bed. Luka couldn’t wait to go to Charmed Ink tomorrow.

This is amazing Marinette! I didn’t think your sketch could get any better, but you’ve blown all my expectations out of the water. Should have expected that such an incredible person can produce incredible art. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow – and get the tattoo.  

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

The next day, a blushing Marinette waved Luka into the tattoo parlour, throwing a glare over her shoulder at where a red head was busy with another customer. “Luka! Hi! I only saw your email this morning – I was too tired yesterday to do much more than send you the design and go to bed.” She hopped up a little on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek, moving away before he could react.

“Rose! Juleka!” Rose was pulled into a hug that lifted the shorter blonde off the ground, while Juleka was greeted with a faire la bise, which his sister returned. “I believe I have you guys to thank for my newest customer!”

“Well if anyone deserves a Marinette Original tattoo, it’s Luka!” Rose chirped, “And he refused to show us the design – I can’t wait to see it!”

Juleka smirked from her other side, and Luka instantly felt on guard. It was never a good think when his sister made that face. “It’s something sappy, isn’t it? Mine and Mum’s name on a ship, or the score for his first song, or his guitar? Gods know he rarely goes anywhere without it – I had to convince him not to bring it with him today.”

Luka raised an eyebrow and wandered closer to Marinette. Her cheek kiss restored some of his earlier confidence, and he leaned into her space a little. “Marinette could make the most sappy tattoo concept into something that could even fit in with your Lady of Midnight, goth chic style. After all,” And here Luka returned Juleka’s smirk with his own, “She managed to turn your love song into a pretty cool looking tattoo.”

There was a hint of a blush on Juleka’s face as she pushed at his shoulder, making him wrap an arm around Marinette’s shoulders so that they didn’t both go over. Her first tattoo idea had been the Always from Harry Potter, surrounded by roses – Rose had always been a big fan of the series, and had actually cried onto Juleka’s shoulder as she read the last book – but when Juleka came back from the design appointment, it had been with the flower wreath concept. It maintained the original intent behind the tattoo – a permanent reminder of Rose’s impact on her life and of her feelings – while being truer to Juleka’s style and personality. Rose had loved it enough to get the same one.

Marinette glanced up at him, not bothering to move out from under his arm, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Ahh, so you’re one of those musicians. Any girl would have to fight your guitar for your affections.”

“With you, Marinette,” Luka said with a wink, “There wouldn’t be much of a battle.”

Another blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheekbones as she stuttered, almost drowned out by Juleka’s fake-gagging and Rose’s squeals. Despite that, it was a nice moment.

Of course, with Luka’s luck, someone had to break it.

The door of the tattoo parlour was slammed open, and a woman with black hair cut in a no-nonsense bob stormed inside, one hand curled around a wooden rapier. Behind her stood the blonde from last night – Adrien – and Luka’s stomach dropped.

“Marinette,” The scary woman started, “What exactly have you been tattooing on my fiancé’s chest?”

#miraculous ladybug #ao3 #fanfiction #of flowers and tattoo needles #lukanette #chapter two #tattoo artist marinette #tattoo artist/florist au

[eliyah-de-dark]

Two Lies and A Truth part 2

Turns out the Startrain can get a person from London to Paris in what feels like a matter of minutes. Marinette waited on the platform, alone in a crowd of commuters, with her wide brim hat pulled down low over her face. She wore her hair down, a countermeasure against any old friends who might recognize her style, and opted for an equally unfamiliar white and pink sundress. She'd originally made it for her dream date with Adrien. Now it would meet one of the only friends she had left.

The train from London pulled in, and Felix Graham de Vanily was the first off. He wore his signature dark gray three piece suit, a white shirt making his skin seemed more tanned. He scanned the crowd, forcing people to move around him as his vibrant green eyes searched for her.

She wove a path through the crowd and grabbed his hand. "Hey," she said weakly.

He froze, taking in her changed appearance before speaking. "Your hair looks nice." He touched just the tip of her blue hair, admiring the length. "What prompted the change?"

Marinette's smile dropped. "Don't want to be recognized." Her voice was almost imperceptible in the din of the station.

The pair walked out hand in hand, Felix's heart racing where Marinette's barely caught her attention. Together they wove their way through Paris. Their only pause was with Andre Glacier to get ice cream, Andre's idea not theirs. Finally their meandering brought them to the bakery where they first truly met.

Sabine and Tom waved to the kids as they went up into the apartment. Marinette noticed her mother's calculating look while Felix caught her father's questioning gaze. The young man thought their journey would end in the living room, but Marinette kept his hand in her own until they'd climbed up into her pink painted room. The walls were nearly bare, with the crumpled up pictures of Adrien in her waste basket. Felix took good note of that.

In the safety of her room, Marinette started talking. She repeated a lot of what Felix already knew: how her class had been turned, how the teacher punished her when it wasn't her fault, about how she had only 3 people left in the whole city she could trust. When she brought up the arrival of Suzette, he could tell from the stormy expression of her face that this girl did more than bother Marinette.

"What do you care if she's Ladybug?" Felix asked, waving his hand as if to present the situation on a platter. "Sounds like she'll prove herself wrong soon enough."

"But she's put the entire school in danger!" Marinette cried. She slumped onto her chaise and sighed. "If Hawkmoth thinks anyone in François Dupont is his arch nemesis..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. Felix had seen the chaos akumas caused, and if it weren't for the Ladybug Cure, everyone in Paris would be dead ten times over.

He nodded, and Marinette sighed with relief. She wanted to tell him the real reason, that she was the one suffering stolen identity here, but she couldn't. She thought of Master Fu's threat. Being Ladybug was stressful, sure, but it was one of the best things in her life right now.

Their phones buzzed simultaneously. Felix had his out first, sparing Marinette the trouble. Nadia Chamack's face filled the screen completely. "Don't be bemused, it's just the news. On this special report, we have Alya Cesaire live in our studio to talk about a remarkable post she's put on her Ladyblog." The camera switched to show the red haired girl Marinette used to call friend. As the audience applauded, the pair in a pink room sat on Marinette's chaise.

"Thanks for having me, Madame Chamack." At least she had her manners. "I'm a big fan of yours."

Nadja laughed and made a little dismissive gesture. "If you're a fan of mine, then you know here at the station we love our Ladybug, and your blog has been a key source of information on her. Let's show the audience what you posted today that's sweeping our city!"

Nadia's large screens showed Alya close up in the frame, breathing heavily. "How unbecoming." Felix scrunched his nose in disgust while Marinette laughed.

The video showed Alya rushing back to her seat where across from her sat...Ladybug? The costume was fairly well made, superior to Chloe's in many ways. There was still the glaring issue of a zipper on the back and her mask slowly dropping on the left side.

The two began talking like old friends, Alya crediting Lila for getting the interview squared away. Felix watched Marinette as her face switched from shock to horror.

Once the Ladybug interview had wrapped up, Nadja began asking questions about the whos, whats, wheres and whens of the impromptu video. "Lila, my best friend," Alya emphasized that title like she knew Marinette was watching, "promised me an interview with LB, and it turns out Ladybug is wonderful in and out of costume!" She pasted a surprised look on her face and murmured, "Oh, I shouldn't have said that." in such a perfect copy of Lila that Marinette searched for a wig line or something.

"In and out of costume? Does that mean - hold on, you know who Ladybug is?" Nadja had real shock on her face, and if the camera had turned then Felix imagined the audience would have that same look too.

Alya smiled sweetly. "I couldn't say."

The interview continued, but Felix set his phone away. Marinette was shaking now, and he put an arm around her. She leaned on his shoulder, her body slowing to matching his heartbeat. He rested his head on top of hers and took a deep breath. She smelled like strawberries, glue, and mint.

Now he jumped up and paced. Her eyes followed back and forth as he moved, pausing every so often to muse on a particular idea.

"I've got it." He smiled, a devious grin that split his face like a demon.

Marinette listened with rapt attention.

-

"Blast Master, I am Hawkmoth. You want to expose the truth about Lila Rossi and save your friend. I'm giving you the power to control explo-"

"That's a no on the name."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Then beg."

"...what is happening?"

"Listen, you're right about why I'm pissed, and I'll gladly take the explosion power, but I'm not calling myself Blast Master."

"I...suppose?"

"Excellent, glad we're on the same page."

-

Suzette Lambert basked in the attention of her schoolmates like a cat basks in the sun. Lila was right, she mused, these idiots are too easy. Only two weeks and she had near god like worship. She almost didn't regret transferring out of her private English school.

The two people who didn't immediately succumb to her will were Chloe Bourgeois and Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe made snide comments here and there but hardly went toe to toe with the new queen of the school. It helped that literally anytime she tried, either that nuisance Alya would snap at her or the teacher would gently redirect the class.

Her teal eyes caught sight of the little pariah, who'd snuck in early and taken her spot at the farthest desk in the room. Marinette never spoke. Not even when the teacher called on her. When she'd asked, Lila bemoaned, "Oh Mari? She's just the worst. She's always so mean to me and everyone hates her for it. I wouldnt even bother talking to her."

Suzette couldn't say it was hard to get on Lila's bad side, but that seemed a bit extreme. It all made sense after her little "slip-up" though.

It was the Italian's idea to say she was the heroine. "Trust me, no one will even question it." As much as Suzette hated to admit it, Lila was right. Everyone latched onto the biggest lie of her life and now the royal treatment was just a standard. The only bad reaction she got was Dupain-Cheng running out of the room. That was weird on so many levels, but Suzette ignored it.

Class was going smoothly until the volley of ringtones interrupted the lesson.

"An akuma?"

"It's just down the street!"

"Hold up Alix, let me see!"

Suzette checked her phone, lazily scanning the report of a dancing harlequin-style akuma moving steadily towards François Dupont.

"Go suit up, Suzette!"

She looked at Alya with a tired expression. "What?"

The reporter pointed her cellphone at Suzette. "Don't you need to transform? To defeat the akuma?" Her quizzical look spread like a virus through the class.

"I can't." She needed to think, quick. "The Guardian took my miraculous for safe keeping." She mentally congratulated herself for the excuse.

Nino spoke up next. "Why?"

"Repairs."

"Why would a miraculous need repairs?" And why was Kim of all people chiming in?

"Oh puh-lease." Now came Chloe Bourgeois. She sat on her desk and ignored Madame Bustier's reprimand as she continued. "Obviously she can't because she isn't Ladybug." Sabrina nodded vigorously, the nasty little cockroach.

Alya naturally spoke next, loud enough to give the queen standing next to her a headache. "No one asked you, Chloe." She snapped. "Why dont you keep your opinions to yourself?"

"Why dont you you little gossip rag wannabe?"

Wow, Suzette thought. That's an interesting shade of red in Alya's face.

Chloe turned those sky blue eyes back to her rival. "What form does your miraculous take? Or better yet, what's mine?" She leaned forward, her head tilted as if to listen for an answer.

Suzette crossed her arms. "Why would I care about yours?"

"Because you're the one that gives it to me, Ladybug. And I know for a fact if you were the real Ladybug, you would've kept your mouth closed about your identity."

No one noticed Marinette in the back of the room staring wide eyed at Chloe.

"Who are you to talk to me like that?!" Suzette yelled. Lila grabbed her arm, locking her in place. "You're just the mayor's spoiled brat who only cares about herself!" Chloe smiled at Suzette's words. The audacity.

"Maybe, but at least I'm honest."

Another insult began forming in the mind of the false Ladybug when the door came off its hinges with an explosion.

((@goblinwhoships @ml-cartoons @enchanted-nerd since you three specifically requested being tagged, here you go))

((Yeah so people really seemed to like part one. That's pretty hekking neat. Hopefully part 2 can live up to the hype))

#fanfic #ml #ml ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #felinette #felix de vanily #adrein agreste #adrien you dunce #chloe bourgeois #lila salt #lila rossi #oc #suzette lambert #part 2

[klaussicarus]

Day Seventeen: Childhood

"God, cursed Matroshka dolls, never thought that'd be a thing." Maddy sighed as she looked at the Motroshka doll in her hand. It was well made, and even had reall hair on it, problem was that it was her hair, and it was a perfect replica of her. Jack and Vlad had replicas too. Vlad had thrown a fit when he had noticed the tiny acne on it, but they were generally wary of it. Vlad's weird maybe-uncle-mentor-evil-archnemisis Daniel had given it to them. Apparently Clockwork needed a messenger. And after the whole CAT's timeline, with seeing Vladimir wreck the human world, they could bet that it related to some sort of failed timeline.

"Well staring at it isn't going to do anything. We'll have to open them sooner or later, and who knows if it's a treat?" Jack sighs as Maddy shoots him a look. "I'm just saying, no use in waiting for something to happen."

Vlad sighs, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, Maddy, do you want to go first?" Maddy sighs and twists open the body. Inside there was a teal colored something, with little orange goggles. A painted on red smile glints up at her. "Well that's not very informativ-"

A crackling image projects from the center of the smaller doll. It's an older Maddy, dressed up in a teal hazmat suit and grinning, a gun set on her hip. "Oh ew, that's just bad fashion. Why would I wear that?"

Vlad nudges Jack. "I don't know, but maybe opening all three will let us know?" Jack gets the memo and pops his open. The doll looks larger than Maddy's, orange instead of teal though. The projection shows a wall of a man in an orange jumpsuit and graying temples, he was grinning, but his seemed less malicious than Maddy's. Both of them started flickering, closer to unlocking the scene. Vlad opens his. It's pale and has completely white hairs, frowning and suited. The first thing that pops out of Vlad's mouth is "Why am I white?" Jack chuckles. But his doll wasn't projecting.

Jack leans over his shoulder. "There's another little seam in your doll. Maybe for your ghost form V-man?" Vlad looks down. "Oh" Popping that open is a white clothed ghost with green skin and black hair spiked into horns. Almost immediately it pops up another image. This one of Vlad in ghost form, decidedly with more Daniel energy than they liked. But the scene still seemed glitchy. They were missing something.

"You are missing something" Giving the trio a collective heart attack, Daniel steps in front of them in Ghost form. His solid green eyes staring at them judgingly.

He opened his hands, there was two versions just like Vlad. But instead they seemed like younger versions of himself? The ghost one looked much more monochromatic and very little green. The young one had solid black hair instead of his normal salt and pepper gray hair and scruffy goatee. Immediately it linked, showing a Daniel around their age as a ghost. The scene starts up.

"Would you look at the state of the town! It's in ruins! And all because of pesky little Phantom." Not Vlad hisses at Not Daniel. He rakes his red eyes over the landscape. Not Maddy scowls at him, but nods, N.Jack doing the same thing. "I dont like you Plasmius, but, you've offered me and Mads the opportunity to finally catch this pest once and for all." N.Maddy jerkily agrees, "Yes, we've been meaning to finally strap the malfunctive ghost down and dissect his every cell for a while now, I guess teaming up with disgusting trash is necessary after all."

N.Daniel, or rather Phantom, takes a step back. "Hey, we're probably going to not do that. I prefer all my organs inside me, thank you very much." He trips and and there's a call off scene. Phantom's eyes widen. "Guys no! Stay back!"

Another trio makes it onscreen. Weirdly enough it looks like younger versions of the school counselor, Miss Jazz, and Vlad's parents, Mr. Tucker And Mrs. Sam. They run over to Phantom. N.Maddy looks surprised. Miss Jazz shouts at the adults. "Stop! Can't you see that Phantom has been trying to prevent the damages? You're only making it worse Mom!"

Real Maddy gasps, "I'm mom to our school counselor?" Everyone looks back at the scene.

"No! Can't you see? Can't you realize that you're too young to understand? I love you Jazz, I have to, you're my daughter after all. But you have forgotten that me and your mother know what's best!" N.Jack yells back

More looks are exchanged between the the real trio. Maddy and Jack were together and the school counselor was their kid? The situation onscreen was worsening.

Mr. Tucker and Ms. Sam seemed to be pulling Phantom away discreetly. Phantom was bleeding green ectoplasm too fast to be healthy. Dubbed Plasmius teleported to in front of them. Ms. Samantha screamed at him "Why are you doing this! He's a kid! You know what will happen if they get ahold of him as he is now! They can't know yet! They'll go after you next!"

Everyone gulped, it was terrifying to see the raw terror at the thought of Not Maddy and Jack getting Phantom, why were they so violent towards the ghosts? Why were they trying to murder and dissect Phantom? Why was Vlad evil?

Plasmius seems to barely pause, a glint of fear in his eyes too. "Well, I've seen the error of my ways Samantha. I can't be so close to a ghost hunter, even if I were to marry Maddy, she would find out sooner or later, and nothing would stop her from ripping me to shreds. You, Tucker, and Danny know how much his mother is passionate about this sort of thing. And every plot I've tried to kill Jack with for making me this way has failed spectacularly. After all he is just a bumbling fool of a moron, not worth my time."

Jack winces. He knows that it isn't his Vlad saying it, but it hurt all the same. He was always afraid of being the annoying third wheel, and it hurt to have anything come close to confirming that.

Plasmius continues. "And well, I'm dearly sorry for your budding romance, but what better way to tear the family that's been a thorn in my side for years apart than have those two rip apart their own son in front of an adoring public?"

Well that was another wrench. "Your weird uncle is our son!?" Maddy looked overwhelmed, and looking around so did everyone else. Daniel seemed strangely unsurprised but still shocked, like he had come to make connections beforehand but that were still not enough to cover close to even half of what they had seen on screen. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't.

Jack was out of his depth and looked ready to cry and scream at the same time, and Vlad watched with a look of hatred for the cowardly version of himself before confusedly remapping this reality to his in a dogged attempt to figure out why Clockwork was showing them this.

Oddly enough, yesterday had a similar but vastly different event that had happened too. But Vlad's parents had just wanted to kill his alter ego off, no research based off of it, and Daniel had tagged along to generally cause problems for both sides, tripping Ellie in the same breath as flicking one of Ms. Samantha's attacks off course in a weird balance of making sure Vlad didn't die but also wasn't getting along too 'easy'.

The scene projecting in front of them died out after Phantom escaped and Plasmius turns sides, damaging a lot of hunting equipment and smashing a soup thermos before turning invisible and flying off.

And they all look up as another scene replaces it. The same room they were in, the boiler under the school. With their role replacements in the same positions, looking at them in surprise and wariness. Phantom, now as a human, nudges younger Mr. Foley at the same time Vlad nudges Jack beside them. The projection was no longer a screen, but a direct mirror. Maddy gasps, and her and teenager Ms. Manson says at the same time. "It's literally them, there's a bridge, Clockwork just opened a bridge."

They split from the same actions when Plasmius, also in human form, steps forward and holds his hand out to Daniel, "Well, I suppose you're the closest to another adult here." Daniel shifts into his normal self, dusting off his travel worn clothes, and spits onto his palm, slapping his hand to his. "And you'd be the closest to a man your world has to offer huh?"

Young Danny snorts, and the other trio starts laughing, before Jack catches the giggles and suddenly all of the teenagers are on the floor, laughing at the absolute absurdity of it all.

The two men sneer at each other, Plasmius pulls his hand away in disgust,

"What're you? An uncivilized mutt?"

"Oh, don't worry I'm house trained. More than I can see from you Cuckoo."

"I see the 'crazy' nickname theme has stayed the same" Plasmius sighs.

"I was referring to you being a cuc-"

"I prefer being called a dog than a little badger if you want my honest opinion!" Young Danny pipes up, ready to stop his older self from finishing his sentence.

Daniel smirks at Plasmius. Already there was animosity breeding.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2020 #phantom #danny fenton #fanart #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #creative writing #danny phantom fanfiction #long post #slight angst #dp sam #samantha manson #sam manson #dp tucker #tucker foley #role swap au #role reversal au #childhood #writing #writing prompt

[clockworkwhiskey]

instead of ppl asking me to do this i’m just gonna do it for the sake of being bored

Color Asks

red: describe your favorite shirt

i don’t have one but if i do, it’s prob one that makes my titties look big

orange: if you could, would you change your eye color? why? to what color, if so?

yes, to blue because that would be kinda sexy on a poc

yellow: name of an artist you think is underappreciated

billie eilish. she’s very much appreciated but i still think she deserves more. also, arlo parks is a legitimate one

green: do you have a favourite flower?

vaginas maybe i don’t really like flowers like that

blue: preferred type of weather?

idk if this is weather but las vegas at night bc its dark n still warm bitch i THRIVE

purple: a poem you think describes your closest friend

to this day by shane koyczan could make me think of everyone i’ve ever met in my whole life so theres that

magenta: do you keep your fingernails long or short?

short unless i get them did okiiiiiir

turquoise: favorite sea animal?

seals, sea otters, or sea lions omg them thangs can cuddle me at night any night i love them

fuchsia: favorite land animal?

maybe hamsters but also dogs n cats idk i love all animals that aren’t bugs or reptiles

cyan: are you religious? spiritual?

religiously and spiritually that bitch

sea green: can you fold a fitted sheet?

yes

violet: are you a part of the lgbt+ community?

yes

amber: what's saved as your phone's lockscreen?

one of billie eilish’s vogue shots LOL

aqua: do you thrift?

yes but not as much as i used to

pink: what's your natural hair color?

black in the winter but it gets sun bleached easily so probably brown to light brown in the summer if i get out enough

beige: have any pets? what're their names?

mason, kelso, keagan, and berry wherever they all are now. i’m a slut for adopting pets with others

black: would you ever try going vegetarian or vegan?

i did and it lasted 2.5 days but i’ll try again when i have my own place i just really love chicken

coral: an animal you wish hadn't gone extinct

humans before social media

grey: how many languages do you speak? do you want to learn any more?

english, spanish & asl but i’m not fluent in those last two so idk if that counts

maroon: do you care for clothing brands?

no

rose: favourite scent on a person?

pheromones

charcoal: have you ever been camping?

yes *gags*

claret: do you play an instrument? do you want to learn to play any?

yes and i’d like to be an exceptional violin player

copper: gold or silver jewelry?

silver

cream: any piercings or tattoos? do you want any?

yes n yes more peas

salmon: how many pairs of sunglasses do you own?

i truthfully don’t even know

ebony: would you ever want to play a game on television? (jeopardy, family fued, etc)

YES

indigo: have you ever lived on a farm?

no

emerald: if you had the option, would you choose to move and live in another country? which one?

yes n idk where yet but ill figure that out someday

lavender: relationship status?

i’m dating billie eilish n ashley lumba

erin: what was/is your best school subject?

math or english

mauve: any unpopular opinions?

we should all have sex with one another

fulvous: another name you think would suit you

venus 

coconut: a subject you enjoy learning about

everything

frost: a -core you enjoy

a WHAT

porcelain: an tv show you used to love

american idol or the walking dead LOL

fawn: any interesting family stories?

one christmas, the police swarmed my grandmas house cause my uncles bashed in someones knees with bats hahahahahha 

gold: do you wear your socks mismatched?

yes

honey: your thoughts on magic- does it exist?

yes

rust: form of art you enjoy doing?

masturbating

ginger: any sideblogs?

no

cherry: YouTubers you enjoy watching?

binging with babish

wine: do you have a 'type'

physically no but mentally yes

mahogany: your sun, moon, and rising signs

leo sun, aquarius moon, scorpio rising

blood: twin beds, queen, or king?

california king

hot pink: did you/do you had/have strong feelings against the color pink?

no but i have strong feelings towards the color pink we love her

plum: a food you've never tried

caviar

lilac: dogs, cats, or fish?

no fish

amethyst: do you collect anything?

yes

mulberry: earbuds or headphones?

earbuds for public headphones for private

azure: jean jackets?

sure

teal: have a job?

unfortunately

denim: kill the spider or take it outside?

die!!!!

sapphire: do you think you can sing well?

sometimes

mint: favourite flavour of gum?

mint

pecan: shuffle your playlist, what's the first song that comes up?

my boy - billie eilish

penny: icecream or cake

i dont like either unless its icecream from coldstone or that cheap chocolate cake w white frosting on it thats so sweet, u get cardiac arrest lol

ash: can you do your own makeup?

yes but not well

jade: ever written fanfiction?

i don’t think so

grape: how many blogs do you follow?

its in the high hundreds i think

umber: do you brush your teeth before you eat?

yes but i try not to within an hour of eating cause itll taste n feel weird

chestnut: type of phone you have

i think its an 11 pro max

prussian blue: what's your first choice at the vending machine

chips

aquamarine: beach or pool

beach

brass: least favorite food condiment

relish

mustard: how much sugar in your tea/coffee?

not too much

silver: ever broken a bone?

no

rose quartz: rings or necklaces

necklaces

onyx: do you still play Minecraft?

no

burgundy: ever ridden a motorcycle?

i dont think so

scarlet: favorite holiday

thanksgiving

apricot: opinion on 3 in 1 body wash/hair wash

please god no

platinum: do you follow politics?

yes

magnolia: your Instagram handle?

vincentvangoghsrightear

#Source: toasty-brain-juice

[peterxwade24]

BWYD Chapter 23

The Guardian

Falak and Terrapene landed outside Alix’s bedroom, Falak’s hand raising to knock on the balcony door when Alix threw open the door.

“Which Miraculous am I -” Alix looked at the two heroes -- two! -- instead of Ladybug. “Who are you and where is Ladybug?”

Falak grimaced, remembering that Marinette wasn’t out as a superhero. “Ladybug is indisposed at the moment. We’re Terrapene and Falak, we need your help to recover a civilian.”

Terrapene elbowed Falak and looked at the short girl. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne was taken by the Akuma in front of her siblings. We need your help to get her back.”

Falak held out the red hexagonal box and waited until she grabbed the box. “This is the Miraculous of the Snake. Will you accept this Miraculous and fight alongside Terrapene, Chat Noir and I?”

Alix opened the box and smiled at the Kwami.

“I’m Sass. Say “scales slither” to transform and “scales rest” to detransform.” The tiny teal snake deity informed the short girl. “The Guardian speaks highly of you.”

Alix slid the bracelet on her wrist and smiled. “Sass, scales slither.” The girl was hidden from sight by a teal light and when the teal light vanished the girl was a new person. She was dressed in a brown bodysuit under a white tunic. The tunic was draped in a manner that was reserved for priests and members of the royal family. She had a thin snake skin belt wrapped around her waist with a tiny gold and jade scarab beetle settled in the middle. Her arms and legs were clad in snake skin gauntlets while her feet were clad in what appeared to be dark brown ankle boots. Her hair fell around her head in tight ringlets which were held down with a gold uraeus headdress. Her hair was black which slowly faded to a dark brown and was only pink at the very tips. Her eyes, yellow with very small green rings around her pupils, were again lined with kohl and hidden behind a kohl coloured mask, however the mask faded from black to brown around the edges and had a very faint snake skin pattern to it. She sported a bow and a quiver of arrows and she gave the bow an experimental draw. She smiled before turning to look at the two heroes. “Let’s go get our civilian back. You can call me Wadjet.”

The three heroes leaped from Alix’s room, ready to retrieve their wayward friend.

---

The three teen heroes landed behind Chat Noir, who glanced over his shoulder at them.

“Thanks for joining me today.” He grinned before the four teen heroes finally managed to get out of the fray. Chat Noir looked at the three teens before he finally noticed the pink tips on Wadjet’s hair. “Who are you today?”

Wadjet smiled, her arms crossed over her chest and displaying the snake skin pattern. “I am Wadjet. My friends are Falak and Terrapene.” Her smile faltered but she pushed through her fear. “We have to rescue the civilian as soon as possible.”

Chat Noir’s ears twitched before he looked at the other three. “There was a civilian taken?”

Falak’s features darkened, as though it was a slight against his being. “Her name is Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne. She’s thirteen years old and loves baking and designing clothes. She has nine older siblings who all live at home, at least part time, with her, their father and their grandfather. She takes after all of her siblings and her cousins and her aunts and uncle.” His jaw tightened before Terrapene put his hand onto Falak’s shoulder.

Terrapene looked at the blond haired teen hero, a frown on his face. “She was taken from in front of the school, on her way in, with her three older sisters and two of her older brothers. Her classmate Alya was akumatized because she believes Lila Rossi’s claims that she’s being abused.” Terrapene’s voice grew hollow and his face remained blank.

Wadjet shot the two other heroes a shocked look. “She’d not, right? Being abused I mean.”

“Of course not.” Falak snapped, his temper rising. “She’s the glue that holds the family together. Without her the family would have fallen apart almost as soon as the eighth son arrived.”

Wadjet nodded and put a hand on his arm. “We’ll get her back.”

---

After tireless fighting, the four heroes managed to get Marinette out of the fray. Falak wrapped his arm protectively around Marinette, who happily tucked into his side.

The five teens ducked behind a couple of upturned cars and all of the, visibly, hero teens looked at Marinette. “We need to get her somewhere safe.” Chat Noir voiced to the group.

Marinette nodded, turning to look at her brothers. “Can one of you escort me home?”

Falak nodded and pushed Terrapene towards Wadjet and Chat Noir. “I’ll be back as soon as Ms. Wayne is safely back with her siblings.” With a quick motion, Marinette was held against his chest and he was flying away from the three other heroes.

---

Falak and Ladybug returned in less than ten minutes, flying through the sky like a pair of speeding bullets. They landed beside their comrades with easygoing smiles on their faces.

Wadjet let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she saw Ladybug and she rushed at the leader of the team. “Thank the gods.” She wrapped the taller girl in a hug and she relaxed. Wadjet had been wound tighter than a spring waiting for Ladybug to arrive and now that she could see her, she felt so much better.

Ladybug pulled away from Wadjet before she pulled Terrapene into a tight hug. “The Akuma is in her phone charm.” She let go of Terrapene to place a hand on Chat Noir’s shoulder. “Let’s go beat this Akuma.”

---

The five teen heroes fought effortlessly, instinctively knowing where they needed to be, and quickly subdued the Akuma. They had a group pound it before Ladybug cast “Miraculous Ladybug” and reversed all of the damage.

Ladybug smiled at her team and nodded. “I think it's only fair we all get to go out for ice cream after that fight.”

Wadjet looked at Ladybug, surprise clear on her face. “You mean?”

Ladybug looped her arm around Wadjet’s neck and smiled. “I think you and Sass resonate well. So, how about we all go back to our’s, detransform, and go out for ice cream?”

Chat Noir looked at his partner, trying to understand what she meant. “What do you mean, our’s?”

“You’ll see.”

---

The five teens slid into the apartment through Marinette’s perpetually opened window, with only Chat Noir stopping to question it.

“Wait. What are we doing here?”

“Tikki spots off.”

“Longg clear skies.”

“Wayzz shell off.”

The three siblings were consumed in bright light and pulled each other into a tight hug as soon as it vanished.

“Sass scales rest.” Wadjet called out before she joined the hug, leaving only Chat Noir still in his Kwami made suit.

“What will the Guardian think?” He hissed before Sass and Longg rounded on him.

“The Guardian trusts you enough to detransform and you can’t be bothered to show the same respect?”

“Plagg claws in.” He uttered, afraid of the other Kwamis’ pushy nature.

The five teens walked out of the apartment and had ice cream, with only Adrien still afraid of what was to come when the Guardian discovered that they had revealed their secret identities to each other.

@dast218 @toodaloo-kangaroo @amayakans @crazylittlemunchkin @marinettepotterandplagg

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #ml crossover #mlb crossover #bruce wayne's youngest daughter

[hellyeahomeland]

Things Carrie Wore This Week

TCWTW hive, last week we ate. This week, we feast. 

This is the same ensemble Carrie was wearing at the end of last week’s episode but I just have to say I totally love it. Carrie in all black is perfection. 

Her earrings are these little silver dome studs. Remember when Carrie wearing earrings was a surprising occurrence? Props to the costume department this season because Carrie has worn ALL THE EARRINGS and looked great doing it. 

~the last Theory pantsuit~

She buttoned both buttons... again. I was exasperated last week... I’m now so mellow about it all that I don’t even care. Hey, it’s waist-defining. You do you, Carrie!

She did TUCK IN HER SHIRT. I’m gasping!!! The shirt is (probably) a long-sleeve blouse, in this actually very nice olive-y green color that looks more brownish here. This is great, too! Sorry, I’m reveling in the tucked shirt. If she’d done a French tuck I would have passed through to another dimension.

Interlude the First:

Bonus ~Things Tasneem Wore This Week~

This fucking gorgeous ~eggplant~ ensemble. This is officially my favorite of the season, but purple is my favorite color so I’m not impartial. And the pearls! Which, per Nimrat Kauer, are actually her mother’s? I love that! I love this show! Thank you life, thank you love, it is true, there are some angels in this city! 

Anyway, where were we? 

Oh, right! Carrie goes to the West Bank and throws on this actually lovely dark teal Henley. This is fabulous! I love the sleeve length. The color is wonderful and looks tremendous on her. 

Here’s the full look. Her dependable black skinny jean, the black suede boots. Oh, and the gun. This is your look, Carrie. This is an A. Bravo. 

Interlude the Second:

~Bonus Things Hugh Dancy Wore This Week~

ANOTHER FUCKING KNITTED TIE. I am beyond amused at this homie and his tragique facial hair and his $10,000 suits and his Park Slope knitted tie. 

I’m just... honestly kudos to Hugh Dancy for bringing the ultimate sliminess to this role. He was overjoyed, you could tell. But these knitted ties. How many does he have? Eighteen? In different shades of blue and grey? Anyhoozles, I’m sure John Zabel landed squarely on his feet and is headlining his own Fox News primetime show. 

ARE YOU ALL READY? WE’RE ABOUT TO GO TWO YEARS INTO THE FUTURE.

How does one describe the feeling when the camera slowly pans over to Carrie Mathison, hair perfectly curled, sitting in her beautifully- yet moodily-lit Moscow penthouse at her vanity, wearing a silk robe in a lovely shade of mauve, applying mascara? Remember that other dimension I mentioned above? I’M IN IT. 

I’m... speechless. You know that meme that’s like “when you listen to your new favorite song so many times that you eventually get sick of it”? I’m in danger of reaching that territory.

She’s wearing lingerie?? She’s smiling?????? She!!!!!!!!!! 

(admittedly the lingerie doesn’t fit that well but WHO GIVES A SHIT)

(we’re all in agreement that everything Carrie wears in the last twenty minutes has been a gift from Yevgeny because he is apparently rolling in cash and loves to shower her with presents, right? and she indulges him because she loves him and she knows she looks fucking awesome?)

PAUSE to just take in this scene:

The mid-century-style vanity with all her makeup neatly arranged. Y’all, I’m wheezing!!

His and hers stools at the foot of the bed. 

The largeness of it. This bedroom is massive!! I thought Saul’s bedroom was giant (it is), this is on another level. 

“I just like how he’s always leaning. Against stuff. He leans great.”

Another smile. God, these close-mouthed smiles, I’m truly in another reality.

ANYWAY: the necklace. It’s a Dominique Cohen “diamond pendant necklace (large), in 18k yellow gold, 22-inch chain,” 0.85 carats of white diamonds. It is now officially called “the Carrie” and you can buy it for the low, low price of $3600 (really, it’s on sale).

Yevgeny being a man who knows jewelry is so damn on brand it’s ridiculous. 

Not the series but IJLTP.

Interlude the Third: Carrie and Yevgeny: A Height Difference Made in Heaven

(married couple) 

(how is he so giant)

(she’s wearing heels and still just comes up to his chin!!!!)

They’re a match made in heaven, and that’s actually where I am right now. 

THE COAT. THE HEELS. It’s hard to tell in this photo but her toenails are also painted black. In case we had any doubt that Carrie is living her best life!! 

This coat is gorgeous and so unexpected. They could have just had her wear a more standard black peacoat, but instead they went with this decidedly more elegant textured (beaded?) number. Also, Yevgeny had the coat waiting for her when she walked down the stairs. Did she pick this out beforehand? It’s very much an evening coat, I’m just wondering how he knew that’s what she’d want to wear. 

Good God the last twenty minutes of this episode are just Carrie looking stunning and radiant. It’s what we deserve, and we absolutely love to see it! 

Ok, the earrings! They are also Dominique Cohen (and therefore almost certainly a previous gift from Yevgeny?), specifically the 1.5-inch oval diamond hoops in 18k yellow gold with 0.44 carats of white diamonds. You can get them for the low, low price of $2750 (again, they’re on sale!).

Y’ALL. THEY MADE A CARRIE COLLECTION. CARRIE MATHISON HAS A COLLECTION. OF JEWELRY. NAMED AFTER HER. 

My girl’s not just surviving, she’s thriving. 

The outfit. The top is by Narciso Rodriguez, from his pre-fall 2018 collection: “matte black sequin embroidered one-shoulder silk top.” 

Given that Claire Danes’ favorite designer is Narciso Rodriguez and they are dear friends, do we think this is from Claire’s own wardrobe? ‘Twould be fitting, I’ll say that. The whole ~lewk (especially the asymmetry!) is so Claire it’s wild. 

I”m fairly certain the skirt is Narciso Rodriguez too, because why not?! 

The much-speculated-about purse is the Tango bag by Tissa Fontaneda (sells for $770, but she bought two so that’s $1540). Again, très distinct. The taste! 

CARRIE HAS A TANLINE. CARRIE A. MATHISON.

From which remote beach location did they just return? Croatia, maybe? Or Fiji? Please let me know your thoughts.

By the way, it goes without saying how fabulous Carrie looks. She looks gorgeous. The curled hair is... *chef’s kiss* It got me thinking whether this is a look (the curled hair) she goes with more often than not now... I can’t decide! 

The ring! What an unusual ring. I love how geometric it is. God, Carrie wearing three distinct pieces of jewelry is something I’ll never get over. I’m also calling that this is one of Claire’s own, since my favorite ever credit in a Claire Danes photoshoot is “rings: Danes’ own.” 

Interlude the Last: Claire Danes Wearing Eyeglasses

The ponytail.

Her Zoom username being “Le iPad (2)” is sending me. 

I had to include this because this is a thing Carrie wore. Love the (presumably white) Oxford shirt. This photo will always haunt me. This is Carrie too. No one’s just one thing.

What is Carrie wearing at the end? How about an honest-to-God smile? 

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

IN CONCLUSION: I LOVE YOU, CARRIE. 

#phew what a journey #homeland #homelandedit #things carrie wore this week #carrie mathison #prisoners of war #* #god i'm so overwhelmed #i'm getting choked up #favorite #by: sara #carrie mathison: an icon a legend and she IS the moment

[mikenewtonhateblog]

My oc’s aka too long of a gd post

The “BL” Crew (does not stand for boys love I’m just a moron who made that abbreviation before knowing what it stands for). My main crew and main series, a lot is a big WIP right now as I’m slowly redoing the first book and all the lore. Why? I love torture. Book is fantasy type but I won’t specify what.

Lacie, the protagonist. God tier idiot, bisexual bipolar depressed MESS, insomniac, former theater kid, doesn’t know what she wants out of life but currently it is not This(plot of book). Hot headed, impulsive, crude, rude, Mommy IssuesTM, would rather be taking a nap right now, rules are made to be broken, absolutely fucking FERAL, more bags under her eyes than the airport lost and found. 5’5, 130lbs, Aries, age 18, white as shit like literally the whitest human you have ever seen, strawberry blonde hair in a 2011 Hayley Willaims haircut with long bangs, the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen that stare directly into your soul. Lanky, no curves, body of a 12 year old boy but works out so she can and will kick your ass and thats a threat. Not human?

Josh. Soft boy, smart, Lacie’s cousin and only friend for like the first 18 years of her life, autistic anxious mess who’s special interest is anchient egyptian history, is in honors classes, despises math, passes out when his girlfriend looks too cute, just needs a hug. Can eat a whole carton of easy mac if left alone, whole wardobe is the same outfit just different colors/hoodies, sensory issues, seriously can someone give this guy a hug. 5’9, 150lbs, Pisces, age 18, mixed (half whatever flavor of white Lacie’s family is [they don’t even know its just some scandanavian shit and irish], and half mexican on his mom’s side), medium olive skin with freckles and moles, dark chocolate brown hair that’s a bit of a 2009 Beiber cut, warm brown eyes, not beefy, a lil thicc and self concious about it but squishy boys are GOOD. Gets bit by a werewolf so now he is one his mood on it is “thats a lot to unpack but let’s just throw the whole suitcase away”.

Zander. There is not one braincell in this man, himbo KING, pansexual dumbass with undiagnosed ADHD, no impulse control, head empty and full at the same time, PTSD, his fashion sense should be an actual crime, gets in fights to feel something, basic requirements for him to be attracted to you: kick his ass. Drinks his respect women juice, sees a folding table and must immediately launch himself on it, chaotic, cannot drive a car and will not, food aggression and eats enough for 3 people but never gains weight which is ILLEGAL, him and Lacie may be a couple.....but in this house we stan slow burn, he talks in caps and every sentence either ends with a question mark or exclaimation point, likes romcoms. 6’2, 190lbs, Sagittarius, age 19, austrailian roots and has the accent but is from [REDACTED FOR STORY REASONS], white, dorito shaped with long legs, blueish black hair that’s long and messy, dark navy eyes that match his hair, bigass neck scar from [REDACTED]. Not human

Peter. Gay dad friend who is TIRED of having to be in charge of a bunch of teenagers, only one with full functioning braincells, lowkey a genius who loves engineering, mixes magical technology with human technology because he likes to play god, is he ever sober? No one knows, will kill for a bottle of single malt, his fashion sense? Tastefully expensive suits perfectly tailored. Likes building his own weapons that no one else knows how to even use, generally non-threatening but can get scary if needed. 6’4, 140lbs string bean man, Scorpio, age 179 but looks early 30s, I know I said Lacie is the whitest human but he’s even paler like a literal sheet of paper with scandanavian roots/ancestors were vikings or some shit, blonde hair styled like 2013 Brendon Urie lmfao, light crystal blue eyes. He’s a vampire and was born one.

Danielle. Tiny, sweet, queen of girls supporting girls, comments on all her friends instagram posts with 20 emojis, LOVES fashion and has a wardrobe that would make anyone jealous, oozes feminine energy, only child and parents are in love still, gets exactly 8 hours of sleep each night and wakes up looking like a disney princess. Just because she is small and cute doesn’t mean you should underestimate her she WILL fuck your shit up. Quiet when angey which is terrifying. Josh is her bf and she loves him so much but also loves teashing the shit out of him. Legally cannot cuss, polite, used her high heels as a weapon once, speaks like 5 languages because studying them is her hobby, gardens, hugs everyone. 5’0, 110, Taurus, age 18, mixed (half french-american, half Korean-american), glowy skin always, PETITE frame aka the friend everyone can pick up when they hug, long past her waist curly brown hair, bright green eyes. She’s not fully human as she has fae blood in her and this gives her the ability to talk to and control plants. Flower crowns for everyone

Becca. Theater kid who would die to sing in Wicked and has the vocal range to do so, cannot wait to graduate and go to her dream college which she got into and a scholarship, closeted lesbian bc her whole giant family is extremely catholic and she feels like not dealing with it, “no boys allowed in bedroom” rule is her favorite joke, chill, middle child of 5 siblings and just wants some peace and quiet for ONCE. Her fashion sense is “I’m dropping subtle hints I’m gay but only to other gays”, has a black belt and took self defense classes. 5’6, 145lbs, Virgo, age 18, Latina (cuban and mexican mix), darker brown skin with light freckles over her nose, athletic build, eyebrows on POINT, bright caramel eyes, short light brown hair cut in a bob, has a tiny nose stud, always wears a blue friendship bracelet her gf made her. Human

Anika. Calling her a bitch/slut is a compliment, bisexual, a bit of a mean girl but she grows out of it give her time!!! Is always Too Much, the horny friend, favorite color is red so thats almost all of her outfits, loves to show off her body as much as she can because she’s hot and knows it and thrives in her own confidence. Her mom is literally like Regina George’s mom from Mean Girls but married a rich man 20 years older than her, Anika doesn’t know her bio dad but thats fine neither does her mom and her step dad is nice and does his best to be a dad. Becca’s gf, always hanging out at her home so Becca can get some quiet because Anika’s an only child and has a pool. 5’9, 135lbs, Gemini, age 18, white, long layered dark reddish brown hair, teal-blue eyes, swimmers body type (I normally do not mention bust size but she would want the internet to know she was blessed with big bahoogles so there you go), can sprint in heels. Half mermaid (boy was that a surprise considering her mom doesn’t know who her father is LOL)

Rex. Nb uses they/them he/him pronouns but honestly will respond to any, goth lite, only attracted to men and ace, can read minds so knows all your secrets, mischevious little shit, great friends with Zander and enjoys his dumbass thoughts and that he’s basically a human version of Jackass, wears too many rings, goth boots for kicking and fashion babey, always has the freshest memes and will not hesitate to roast in the group chat, hangs with the girls most of the time. Chaos god who loves making art, be gay do crime, skateboard and spraypaint. 5’8”, 165lbs, Leo, age 18, Native American, masculine frame, dark brown skin, blue eyes, firetruck red shoulder length hair that’s usually in a ponytail, knock-off gucci sunglasses just for judging their friends. Has magic in their blood so not entirely human and can cast spells and shit (don’t roast me its a wip and I’m doing my research)

Sam. Boho goddess, aromantic, makeup and nails are always instagram worthy, quiet and stoic type but losens up around close friends, Rex is her best friend, has some trauma and doesn’t want to talk about it, emotionally numbed out a bit and wants to purely vibe. Has seen some of the worst parts of humanity and wishes she hadn’t, finds no point in being bitter or resentful though because that won’t change anything, loves cats and once she moves out shes adopting one or three. Has wine aunt energy. 5’4, 200lbs PLUS SIZE QUEEN, Scorpio, age 18, Filipino (her parents are immigrants fun fact!), really olive skin sometimes has a grey/green tinge to it, dark brown almost black shoulder length hair, gold-hazel eyes. Sam’s the victim of a family curse that requires her to consume human hearts to survive, she can transform into a pretty scary looking being and uses this curse to hunt down pedoph*les, r*pists, murderers, and abusers. The less often she feeds the less human she looks, hence the constant grey/green tinge to her skin. 

Andy. Baby of the group, must be protected at all costs, 100% didn’t sign up to be in a friendgroup of 90% monsters but highkey loves it, trans, bi, anxiety MAXED, just wants to draw comics and cosplay spiderman, has to babysit his two younger sisters a lot because his parents are....not great, and as a result now knows all the lines to Tangled and The Little Mermaid. Big nerd energy, has to draw on everything including homework, gets inspiration for comics from his friends, awkward and socially anxious, drinks way too much tea and will accidentally steal your pens. Fears include: crowds, thunder, tall angry men, tiny spaces. Just trying his best. 5’2, 100lbs BEANPOLE BOY, Leo, age 16, white (irish and scottish roots), freckles absolutely EVERYWHERE, orangey red hair thats in desperate need of a haircut, chocolate brown eyes, braces, chronic nail biter. Human and kinda wishes he wasn’t.

That’s it for now if you read all this bless u thank u here is my whole heart. Please no discourse, literally these are fictional people I’ll never publish the books they go to.

#no i am not looking for critiques on them #i get my critiques elsewhere lmao #my ocs

[kpopisamood]

Queen’s Clan { 14 }

Summary: y/n is plagued by nightmares. She realizes that the more she runs away, the less frequently they haunt her. However, in running away, she’s also running straight into her ultimate demise. Will she be saved in time by those who would lay down their lives for her, even if they don’t know of each other’s existence?

Monsta X/Reader, Human/Vampire(s), Reverse Harem

Warnings: light smut?, violence, language

Word count: 2.77k

Tag list: @noonaduck @lovinggalaxies @elenaramos1 @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @snowythellama @stargazersara @luvthatleader-nim @sugasheart @vincent-stargogh

***

You’re a badass. You can do this. This will be a piece of cake. A walk in the park. An easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy—

“My god, Y/N, chill out before you sweat through your dress. I just had it rush delivered and you’re not about to embarrass yourself tonight.” Miss Kudrow reprimanded, tightening up the corset that surrounded your dark evening gown. You would think the appalling garment would go underneath it all, but no, apparently that was the in style dress code for Queens nowadays.

The evening gown was a deep red, fitting for the irony of the situation. It plunged down a decent amount in front and back, showcasing all the goods without revealing too much and was floor length. You had just about begged Miss Kudrow to let you wear any sort of flats, but she insisted on throwing “lemme stab ya” heels in your face and giving you a dirty look until you tried putting them on.

This, of course, was all done behind closed doors and sounded like you were being tortured to the boys who would worriedly pace back and forth in front of your door every so often. You’d been in there for hours and any time they knocked or asked to come in, Miss Kudrow would screech at them.

All while getting your hair and makeup ready, she quizzed you on all the Royals and mannerisms you had to take on around certain ones. You’d probably gotten over half right and you were about to pat yourself on the back, if not for her chastising you to study more.

When you’d finally been deemed dolled up enough, Miss Kudrow has guided you out the door and down the stairs, immediately surrounded by your Clan.

“You look beautiful, My Queen.”

“Absolutely ravishing.”

“Fuck.”

All of these comments left their lips, causing a slight blush to spread across your cheeks as you smiled at them in return. They’d looked amazing as well, all adorning their versions of suits complete with bow ties and multi-colored roses in their front pockets.

Shownu had a classic black tux, finished off with a black rose, his hair neatly slicked back. Minhyuk wore a deep gray suit, with a pink rose and hair combed straight. Wonho had a dark suit, almost black from how deep blue it was, with a teal rose, his hair straightened. Jooheon wore a similar black suit to Shownu, wearing an orange rose in his pocket and hair done in messily cute curls. Changkyun wore a dark brown suit with a dark purple rose, letting his locks fly free, not done, but not tangled.

They’d looked mouthwatering and you might have stayed to gawk more, had Miss Kudrow not cleared her throat.

Minhyuk and Jooheon took to your sides, each putting a hand out. You’d gripped them softly and let them lead you out, followed by the rest to a black SUV outside, brights shining on all your forms. They guided you to the back and ushered you in, taking the seats open next to you and in front. Miss Kudrow sat in the passenger side and gave the driver instructions to an address.

The trip felt like hours. It was probably because you were so nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel hesitant and frustrated. You’d studied for this and even made a Clan to protect you from the Royals. But still, would you be able to rise to the occasion?

“Breathe, Y/N.” Minhyuk whispered, interlocking his fingers with yours.

“We’re all here for you.” Jooheon promised, mimicking his actions and placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand.

You leaned your head back and let out a deep breath you’d been holding, closing your eyes and letting your mind wander. What would your life be like had you not met these men? Would you be alive? Would you have taken any others into your Clan?

“We’re here.” Your eyes snapped open and you saw smiling, encouraging faces looking at you, awaiting your orders.

No, you wouldn’t have taken anyone else besides them.

***

“Are all preparations taken care of?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“She will be here?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

***

Even with your amazing gown, you felt small in the room full of Royals. They all eyed you, some in disdain and others in outright curiosity. It had made you feel like a new toy in a kindergarten playground.

The Gathering was held in a huge mansion, owned by one of the Queens. From the outside, it looked like a beautiful mansion with columns and large windows. On the inside, it was more like a club; dark, with strobing lights and a bass that enveloped your entire being the deeper you went in . She’d had several rooms open for the public to use; ballrooms, dining rooms, etc. Miss Kudrow had let you know that, unfortunately, your Clan couldn’t all attend with you. As a rule to avoid overcrowding and other miscommunications, Royals were only allowed in with one member of their Clan. The other Clan mates were to help in the kitchen or watch the grounds for possible threats.

You’d wanted to go to the dining hall and get some food, but once again, Miss Kudrow had said you needed to be social and worry about food later.

You’d begrudgingly nodded and asked Shownu to accompany you. He was one of the bigger Clan Mates you had and you guessed it would make you seem powerful to others. Shownu has eagerly agreed and offered you his arm to take.

Once you were both in the ballroom, you felt naked to the prying eyes and found yourself feeling nervous by the constant whispering whenever you passed by someone.

The ballroom was grand, a glossy, wooden floor that cut off in sections to form a dance floor next to a wall of windows that led to an even grander balcony, where the night sky surrounded the mansion.

“Um, excuse me. Are you Y/N L/N?” A voice nudged you out of your reverie. Shownu smiled brightly as he slightly bowed to the Queen who had approached you with respect.

“Oh, um, yes! That’s me!” You responded, curtseying back to her.

“I’m Sonaelina Incendies! Welcome to my party!” She greeted cheerfully. Your mind immediately recognized that name. She was one of the names you wanted to ally yourself with.

She was wearing a silky, black dress. Her hair pinned up in a fancy updo and arms covered in silky, black half sleeve gloves. Her makeup was done professionally, giving her a bold, darker look that matched well with her ensemble.

“This is your house?!” You asked in awe, taking another appreciative look around.

“I don’t actually live here. This place was my parents’ and I didn’t feel right moving in so we just use this place to do events every so often.” She explained with a faraway look in her eyes. You’d remember reading what happened to her parents, losing them at such a young age and so horribly. But she shook her head and smiled at you once again, glancing at the man to her right.

“This is Jackson. He’s part of my Clan.” She proudly stated, giving him a look so loving, you felt you were intruding.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Jackson Wang.” He bowed deeply to you, still keeping his Queen’s arm latched to his.

“Oh, right! This is Shownu. He’s a part of my Clan as well.” You smiled at Shownu, him returning your look with a proud gaze.

“My name is Son Hyunwoo and I am pleased to meet you.” He bowed.

Sonaelina had asked the boys to give you some space to talk and, after reassuring Shownu he didn’t have to leave your side, just simply stay a few feet back, he’d agreed.

“So, welcome to the Queendom.” She joked, walking by your side as she said hi to the other patrons. Some nodded at you in acknowledgment while others barely glanced at you.

“They mean well, I promise. You’re just a new face and they’re not sure where your loyalties lie.” She explained, going on to meet more Royals while Shownu and Jackson shared a few laughs and followed behind you two.

“Sonaelina, you crazy bitch! I finally found you!” A shriek sounded from behind you. All at once, Sonaelina was almost tackled by a girl with short, silver hair and a white dress to match. You’d eyed Jackson to see he wasn’t in the slightest surprised and even laughed at the young girl who came running at her.

“‘Ria, I swear you’ll be the death of me one day.” Sonaelina admonished, clutching at her chest and puffing her cheeks in feign annoyance.

The girl waved her off and laughed before you caught her attention. She tilted her head in a cute puppy dog sort of way and approached you. “You must be Y/N!” She laughed, clasping your hands in her own and shaking them furiously. You saw the way her eyeshadow intensified her looks; a red, smokey color that was very different from her attire but made her features just as prominent as Sonaelina’s.

“I’ve heard so much about you—well, we’ve talked so much about you! My name is Astor Ria and if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear your backstory and all the gory details! Wait, not in a bad way, but you’re a hot topic amongst the Royals and—“

“Well, hello there,” A new voice greeted, taking your focus away from the rambling girl.

A woman with black hair down to her waist and a dark green dress approached your little group, staring down her nose at you.

“So, you’re the new Queen?” She asked, eyeing you up and down. You felt a presence behind you and you tensed up, only to relax when you felt Shownu cup your arm in comfort.

“Hyunwoo.” She nodded at him, causing his grip on you to tighten slightly.

“Your Grace.” He said, tone respectful but with a slight clip to it.

“Someone took you in after all. Elena will be pleasantly surprised.” The woman laughed, taking a drink from her champagne. She took a step closer to you two and brushed his arm in a gesture that was anything but innocent.

Your vision tinged red on the edges, prompting your next move.

He was yours.

“Excuse me, but if you so much as look at my Mate, let alone touch him, I won’t hesitate to put you in your place.” You said, tone soft but giving her your best ‘fuck-with-me’ look.

She yanked her arm away in shock before frowning slightly at you. “Right, my mistake, Lady L/N.” She said, rubbing her arm in a way that made you think your words had physically hurt her and you kept your reproachful look on her, though you were just as confused.

“Jennessa.” She called out, and a smaller girl came out to take her hand, with a “My Queen.”

The air was quiet before Sonaelina took charge. “Y/N, this is Silvia and her Clan mate Jennessa. She was just leaving, right?” She pressed, daring the older girl to fight her.

“Jennessa, it’s time for my feeding.” Silvia huffed, letting the younger girl lead her out.

“Bitch.” Astor muttered once she was out of earshot. Shownu sagged in relief next to you and you eyed him wearily. “I was wondering when she’d make her presence known.” Astor shrugged the unpleasant encounter off, but you were still focused on Shownu.

“Looks like you just made yourself public enemy number one, Y/N. I think we’ll get along just fine!” Sonaelina laughed.

“Excuse us.” You said, hastily grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the room. You’d looked around for some place private to talk and managed to find a dead hallway. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s one of my former Queen’s allies.” He looked down, guilt taking over.

“Hey,” you started, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s alright. Just as you promised to protect me, I’ll protect you be it standing up for you or fighting someone.” He chuckled and covered your hands with his own, bringing them to his mouth and kissing them tenderly.

“Yes, My Queen.” He lamented, giving you small pecks up your arm to your shoulder, then up to your neck and jaw, sucking at the parts that made you gasp out and clutch onto him desperately. “You publicly called me your Mate.” He pointed out, his lips tilting up in a teasing manner.

“What of it?” You challenged him with a smirk of your own.

“Oh, I’m not complaining one bit. Seeing you get a bit possessive and claiming me so openly is a very big turn on.”

“What, did you think I was going to let her touch you like that?” You asked incredulously.

He chuckled and said, “Of course not, My Queen.” He gave you a look that warmed your heart in a way that caught you off guard and you tried to take control of the situation.

“You know, one thing bugs me.” You breathed out against his ministrations.

“Oh?” He prodded, continuing his onslaught. Kisses would turn to brushes of his lips then to nips and he was slightly licking at you now.

“Everyone else made noises when I...you know.” You sighed as he sucked in a part of your skin where your shoulder met your neck. “You didn’t.”

“Would you like me to make noises for you?” He asked, pulling away from you slightly to gauge your reaction.

“Only if it’s alright with you.” You told him seriously.

He took a moment before he sighed and grabbed your hand, placing it on his chest. “Let’s see if you can, Y/N.” He challenged, giving you a slight smirk.

He really shouldn’t have challenged you. You were never this competitive, but these boys brought something out in you. It made you want to take what you wanted from them but also give them just as much as you took. An idea struck you and you smirked inwardly.

You backed him up against the wall harshly, not so much as getting a breath out of him. You leaned in slowly and brushed your lips up his jaw and nibbling slightly at his earlobe. Your hands wandered, one gripping the front of his suit, and the other going lower to where his belt loops were. You pulled him by his loops and ground yourself against him, watching his face. He bit his lip hard, closing his eyes in concentration.

“Ah, ah, ah. Look at me.” You demanded softly, grinding into him once more. His eyes snapped open as he started rolling his hips against yours.

Just that look alone was going to send you over. The need in his eyes and the pure, unadulterated lust had you feeling warm in forbidden places. Your instincts suddenly took over before you bite down harshly on your lip, causing a few drops of blood to spring up and pulling him into a simmering kiss.

He groaned out and gripped you tightly, returning the kiss in fervor before he turned and pinned you instead. He licked your bottom lip over and over, before opting to insert his tongue into your mouth and trying to command dominance over yours. You let your pride go and shamelessly moaned into his mouth, hips still rolling against his.

“Not that this isn’t arousing, but if you continue this here, you’ll likely fuck each other in public and give all these Royals a show. Unless, you want an audience?” Wonho asked from your side.

Shownu pulled away with a huff, a string of saliva connecting you two before being broken by the distance between you. His lips were smeared in red, and seemingly bruised from yours and you could only imagine how you looked.

“The party will be over soon, so we should start taking our leave.” Shownu stated, still out of breath.

Unbeknownst to you, another set of eyes were watching you three as you left together.

Please do NOT repost! All rights reserved!

#kpop #kpop fic #monsta x fic #monsta x x reader #monsta x x you #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #kpop fanfic #monsta x #monsta x fanfic

[kathyprior4200]

BlueRaven666 and Gray: Arrival of Adina fanfiction

(Hazbin Hotel and Zoophobia)

 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXaxReyJNiKDJQ6g75jigxg

Main Characters:

  BlueRaven666:

The main protagonist (besides protagonist Charlie and antihero Alastor in Hazbin Hotel). He is a dragon demon OC (made by a real life YouTuber who is known for his fan made theories for Hazbin Hotel). Blue Raven appears as a blonde haired man with blue eyes, white curved horns from his head and white skin. He is LGBTQ+ and transgender. He wears a blue shirt with 666 on it.

Gray:

Another protagonist. A gender neutral Exterminator who was left behind in Hell after the other Exterminators thought he was dead. Blue Raven decided to take them in and rescue Gray. This led to a temporary truce between an angel and a demon. Blue Raven and Gray each tell their stories, from roommate shenanigans to lore of Heaven and Hell to theories about other characters (See Blue Raven’s YouTube videos and collab with inSaiyans).

 Fitch:

Neutral antihero. Fitch is a dragon demon with glasses, green eyes, a pale face and dark green hair with light green tips on his tufts. After Fitch lost a battle with an Exterminator, Adina noticed his skill in fighting and using a bladed weapon. She took him in and manipulated him into joining her. He is stern and analytical, but has a good heart deep down. Fitch would only disobey Adina if she threatened to kill his brothers…which is what he eventually did. With the help of Hatchet, Gray, and Blue Raven talking to him, Fitch gradually decides to join them to protect his brethren.

 He can transform into a large dark green dragon, the largest one out of his brothers.

 Quotes: “I have three younger brothers.”

 Quotes: “Do you feel like being more talkative…”

 “I’m getting impatient. Killing you would be simple. But I refuse to do so without the information on the whereabouts of your fellow filth. I know your beasts have a safe haven…”

 “Stop talking! Tell me where I can find the others. Or I break it.” (holds a pendant with a spider on it)

 “You have been most unhelpful.”

(Fitch holds a dead moth in his hand)

 (Flashback) “I’m so sorry little one. I promise I will never hurt one of you again.”

 “Take your wretched friend. I’m allowing you to live simply out of a respect to a promise. Pray our paths don’t cross again…demons…” (Fitch spares Vaggie and Angel Dust)

 Adina: “You let them live. I am disappointed in you.”

 Fitch: “So am I.”

 Malcom:

Malcom, appears as a crazed dragon with large milky eyes, messy black hair and light green wings.

 Like his brothers, he can transform into a dragon.

 Quotes: “Malcom…I rarely think about, actually…”  - Fitch describing his brother.

  Marx:

A dragon who wears a black tuxedo suit. He has a pale face, dark purple hair and yellow tips on his tufts. Marx prefers to be more civilized to fit into demon society, while his brothers are off either messing around or in Fitch’s case helping to kill demons. Like Carl Marx, he questions everything and believes in conspiracy theories.

 Like his brothers, Marx has the ability to turn into a dragon. His scales are dark indigo and his horns and tops of his wings are yellow.

  Quotes: “My brother Marx and I are no longer in contact due to disagreeing on certain life choices we have made. He makes me sick.” - Fitch describing his brother.

 Hatchet:

A dragon demon with a white face, orange eyes with red irises and bright orange hair and tufts. His arms have markings on them. Tattoos cover his entire body. His saliva is acidic and he drools when he’s excited. He can form images by breathing fire. He is always in a good mood and doesn’t mind physical affection. (unlike strict Marx). He loves eating small creatures, especially rabbits. He has instinctual control over his fire but he often plays with it, using batons to do tricks.

Like his brothers, he can transform into a dragon. His scales are dark orange/brown.

 Quotes: “Hatchet and I see each other often. He is a handful, but admittedly, he is my closest family.” -  Fitch describing his brother.

  Adina:

Adina is an antagonist and an evil white angel with teal glowing eyes and long white hair. She wears a dress decorated with blue borders decorated with white crosses on them. She is zealous and manipulative. Leeson, the God preaching cat works for her as do Exterminators. Her goal consists of killing and torturing demons…ironically she employees a dragon demon Fitch to do her dirty work. She hired Fitch to find demon hideouts so more demons could be killed during the year. This would also make it easier for the Exterminators every year as well since they cannot go into demons’ hidden hiding places. She appeared in the deleted comic “Angels and Demons” by Vivziepop.

 Adina Quotes: “There is no mercy for the damned...” –torturing a demon

 Adina Quotes: “Just remember…it’s for the greater good.” Adina to Fitch.

 “I’m very disappointed in you.” Adina to Fitch after he let Angel Dust get away.

 “Such is the will of the Lord…so shall it be…” Adina with Fitch.

 “Goodbye, Fitch.” Adina to Fitch.

 Charlie:

Charlie is a protagonist and the blonde-haired musical princess of Hell. She is the founder of the Hazbin Hotel, a place intended for the rehabilitation of demons to combat the yearly exterminations. Her girlfriend is Vaggie, a moth demon. Her goal is to have demons, angels, and humans live in harmony, and she hopes for more demons to go to Heaven (even though Heaven is elitist).

   Vaggie:

Vaggie is a gray-haired moth demon who is Charlie’s girlfriend. Though pure at heart, she swears and gets aggressive often whenever someone tries to hurt Charlie. She was formerly a Latina human named Vagatha who died due to gang rape and a hate crime (she was a tomboy and lesbian). She used to be an Exterminator but she refused to kill Charlie and follow orders, thus she fell to Hell. She and Charlie bonded and fell in love.

    Lucifer:

Charlie’s father, a fallen angel, and the king of Hell.

 Lilith:

Charlie’s busy mother and queen of Hell. She is a singer for the Resist band and a model.

 Alastor:

Alastor is an antihero who arrives at the Hazbin Hotel to help out (though only for his own enjoyment). Alastor is a powerful demon with Eldritch powers and dark magic. He wears a red dress coat and clothing from the 1900s. He was a former radio host, cannibal, and serial killer in New Orleans. He is part French and part Creole. He died in 1933 due to being mauled by dogs and shot in the head. Malicious and pompous, he toppled powerful overlords and took over much of Hell, while broadcasting his murders. Alastor enjoys seeing others fail because it’s entertaining for him and makes him think of his higher status. Many suspect he wants to use Charlie to try and take over Hell, dethroning Lucifer and spreading chaos everywhere. Despite his evil side, he is also a gentleman who loves jambalaya, singing, dancing and telling jokes.

  Husk:

Husk is a grumpy black and white cat demon with a small top hat and red wings with card suits on them. He drinks alcohol and booze and loves to gamble. Alastor summoned him from a casino, where Husk reluctantly agreed to be the bartender after Alastor bribed him with a bottle of booze. He is a loner and is sometimes violent.

 Niffty:

Niffty is a magenta/red haired small cyclops demon. She works as the housekeeper of Hazbin Hotel, cleaning up rooms, cooking, and sewing. She is hyperactive and is obsessed with men. She enjoys reading and writing in her spare time. Alastor summoned her from a fireplace in episode one.

 Angel Dust:

Angel Dust is a white spider demon, who wears white and pink clothing and often carries weapons and drugs. Formerly an Italian named Anthony, he was a member of an Italian mafia like his family. He died from a drug overdose…presumably Angel Dust. He is gay and has six arms to aide him in turf wars. He has a brother, Arackniss, a father, Henroin, and a white spider mother Aranea (Latin for spider). He is the Hazbin Hotel’s first client, though a deviant, he has a good heart and shows some concern for others.

  Molly:

Angel Dust’s wild twin sister, also a white/pink spider. She and her brother share a strong bond, despite both of them doing drugs, being violent and getting into sexual situations with other demons. She and Angel are friends with the 80’s rebel and punk Cherri Bomb (Formerly Isabella from Australia).

 In a twist of fate, there are also a few angels who help the demons. Charlie, the princess of Hell is part angel. Molly, Angel Dust’s twin sister is not a demon but perhaps an angel in another form, but she protects her brother and fights off Fitch with Vaggie’s help after he is interrogated and tortured by Fitch and Adina.

 In addition, one Exterminator, Gray, was taken in by a (OC) demon named Blue Raven, another dragon demon. They had formed a temporary truce after Gray had been left behind during the last Extermination.

 The final battle results in the dragon demons teaming up with the other demons, Lucifer leading the fight against Adina.

 Adina tries to manipulate Fitch and Gray into working for her…and she even briefly possessed Mirage (a Zoophobia villain), Gray, Fitch, and even Alastor (who also wants to see demons fail but for his own fulfillment). Charlie frees Alastor while Blue Raven helps Gray and Fitch break free from Adina’s influence. Vaggie unlocks her super moth demon form…and it is revealed that she is a former fallen angel/Exterminator. With nothing but an angel harpoon in her hands, she had been banished to Hell after refusing to kill Charlie, thus they fell in love. (See “Falling From Grace Landing Into Love” fanfiction and Vaggie theories.)  Adina sends Exterminators after the demons, but Lucifer effectively holds them off, reminding them of their original role of killing demons once per year. Charlie knows this is not right and she’s determined to redeem sinners at the hotel even more than before.

Charlie, Alastor, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Mimzy, and Crymini all join the fight, Lucifer battling Adina and breaking free from her possession. Baxter, Vox, and Sir Pentious (The Techno Trio) make inventions and technology to aid the demons in the fight. Lilith helps other demons get to safer hiding places, including the second Circle of Hell where Tom, Tam, and Lolly Gag (Zoophobia incubus and family) appear. Adina vows revenge and eventually retreats. Fitch reunites with his brothers and thanks Blue Raven for his help.

 But Fitch is still haunted by what Adina did to him…and it takes a while for him to recover. The remaining Exterminators order Gray to kill Blue Raven…but they do not. The angels close the portal before Gray has a chance of returning. Gray sighs and is willing to tolerate Blue Raven a little longer.

#zoophobia #hazbinhotel #blueraven666 #gray #hazbinhoteltheories #youtubers

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

20 Seconds of Courage -Part 7

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2122

Warnings: NSFW. Must be age 18 or over to read. May contain sensitive content

Catch Up Here

Complete Master List

Beckett and Oriana are co-workers and lovers...But can there be more?

In the morning hours, sunlight began filtering through Beckett’s curtains in his bedroom. He blinked his eyes open, immediately looking for Oriana. He smiled softly as he saw her still asleep next to him. He gently brushed some hair out of her face before kissing her forehead. He ran his hand along the curves of her body, admiring how soft her skin feels. She began to stir.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

“Mmmm morning.” She mumbled, the corners of her mouth turning up. He leaned in, brushing his lips across hers gently, feeling how they parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He happily obliged. Her arms came around him and a moment later she’d pulled him on top of her, their kisses growing more passionate and heated.

“Beck wait.” She gasped. He pulled back immediately. “As much as I want you, I need to go get something to wear, I don’t have anything here and I need the time to go all the way to my place and then get ready and then…”

He cut her off, capturing her lips with his own. “I have something you can wear.”

“You…have another woman’s clothing here?” She frowned. She didn’t understand, why was he chasing her if there was someone else? Someone who already had personal items here?

His face flushed. “Sort of. It was my sister’s. Katrina. I have a couple things of hers, still.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister. She doesn’t miss them? Are they really ugly?”

He gave her an amused look. “Actually, I think they’re quite fashionable. And I think they will fit you. But it’s up to you. But if you wear it…perhaps we can go shower together.”

She paused, narrowing her eyes. “Alright. Show it to me.”

He smirked and climbed out of bed, making sure to show off his large erection. She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen, I want it as much as you do, but I have a whole day ahead of me, and I need to take care of my own well-being before I take care of yours.”

This time it was Beckett that chuckled, as he walked out of the room, going into one of his storage closets and reaching into the very back, where there were a few untouched garment bags. He very carefully pulled them out, and it took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath. He hasn’t seen them in a very long time, but he could never bring himself to let them go. He has exactly three different dry-cleaned outfits of Katrina’s, but he hasn’t even looked in the bags since he picked them up that fateful day a few years ago.

He never talks about her and has no idea how to bring it up to Oriana. They’re still new, and although he trusts her…Beckett realized, he really just has no idea what to say. He’s never had experience talking about it. If Oriana hadn’t spent the night, he still wouldn’t have told her he even had a sister.

Going back into his room, he held out the bags nervously. She sat up and opened the first one, which was a teal skirt with flowers on it, a teal jacket and white shirt. The second bag was a white blouse, peach coat, and green pants. When she opened the third, she grinned. “This one.”

Beckett gave a tight nod and forced a small smile. He knew Oriana would look absolutely exquisite and he was excited to see it…but part of him was also dreading seeing it. He can’t even figure out why he offered them to her. He guesses it’s because he doesn’t want her to leave. But still…he’s had other girls stay over in the past and he never offered Katrina’s clothing to them.

“You okay?” She asked curiously.

“Yes. Of course. Shower with me?” He didn’t wait for a response, simply walked into his en-suite bathroom and started the shower. She stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest.

“I can tell when you’re lying.” She murmured quietly.

He chuckled lightly. “Is that right?”

“Mmhmm.” She turned him to face her. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“How about I show you?” He whispered hoarsely, pulling her flush against him, enjoying the feeling of her bare breasts on his chest. He kissed her hungrily, diving his fingers into her hair. Breaking the kiss, he stepped into the glass shower stall, pulling her with him. She moaned as he nipped lightly at her neck, tracing his tongue along the cascading water on her skin. Something about Oriana made him feel like home. It was so much more than just sex to him. He’s never felt this way about anyone before.

She reached down between them, taking his throbbing cock in her hand, slowly beginning to pump him, causing a guttural groan to come from his lips. A moment later she was on her knees. He gasped, grabbing the back of her head, helping her to take him inside her mouth. As she worked him, he threw his head back in pleasure, sputtering on the water. Chuckling, she stood back up.

“Easy tiger. I can’t explain to our boss how you managed to choke in the shower.”

“You mean you don’t want to tell him we’re showering together?” He smirked

She began to laugh but he captured her lips again in a ravenous kiss, and this time it was his hand reaching for her center. “God, you’re soaked.”

“I’m in the shower.” She responded, not missing a beat.

Beckett grinned. “I mean you’re soaked…up here.” He slipped two fingers inside her hole, sliding them in and out easily.

“Beckett…yes, Beck…ohhh…”

He turned her around so her front was placed against the glass. “Ori…?”

“Yes” She breathed

He thrust inside her, enjoying the slickness of her juices as he grasped her hips. Oriana wrapped one arm around his neck, the other keeping balance on the glass door.

“Fuck Beckett…Fuck me hard…harder…fuck, yes!!”

“Ori…” He grunted. “Your pussy is so sweet. Fits me so well.”

“It’s your pussy” she gasped. “All yours.”

“Yeah?” He rammed into her, taking her hard and fast.

“yes, fuck yes!!”

“This is all mine?” He brought fingers to her front, rubbing them on her clit as she started shuddering around him.

“Yes!”

“My cock is yours too.” He whispered darkly as she fell apart around him, finding his own release a moment later. Panting heavily, he planted feather light kisses along her shoulder before his dick slipped out of her, his liquid running down her legs. She turned around, gazing in his eyes.

He smiled gently, brushing wet strands of hair from her face, kissing her softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

After the shower, they had another quickie on the bed before finally getting dressed. Beckett in his suit and tie, and when Oriana was finished, she took his breath away in more ways than one.

“Wow”

“Is that a good wow?” She asked, spinning around, showing him the outfit. Katrina’s outfit. It was a simple black pencil skirt with a pink silk V-neck wrap-around top, navy blazer, and a thin gold belt.

“You’re breathtaking” He assured her, not sure what to feel.

“Your sister has amazing taste. I would love to shop in her closet. Do you think she’d let me?” Oriana joked.

Beckett just shook his head. “Doubtful.”

“Well. Can’t blame a girl for trying. You ready?”

He nodded tensely. Why did he think this was a good idea? How could he let her wear something so sacred? How was he going to get any work done today? All these questions he mulled over on their drive to work. Oriana kept talking about the project and Beckett would nod here and there, pretending he was paying attention.

Finally at their destination Beckett opened the car door and got out, not waiting for the driver to open it for him. Oriana stared at him from the backseat.

“Hey, Beck…”

“You don’t want to walk in together.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that.”

He raised an eyebrow as he offered his hand and she stood beside him on the sidewalk. She leaned in, whispering in his hair. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

He sucked in a deep breath as she chuckled and strode towards the door, swaying her ass just so. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. No, he really has no idea how to feel.

When they got in the elevator, her eyebrows were furrowed. “Seriously, Beck, what is wrong? You’ve been acting funny all morning.”

“Really? I have?” He played it off.

She frowned. “Oookay. We don’t have to talk about it. Just know that you can talk to me. About anything.” She reached for his hand and squeezed, just as the door opened on their floor.

“Thank you.” He said briskly, heading straight to their joint office.

Oriana trailed after him, confused. She couldn’t figure out why he’d done a complete 180 since they’d woken up. He convinced her that the two of them were a good idea, and she was starting to get angry that maybe he really was using her for sex, and just doesn’t want her to be with anyone else until he’s done with her. So he’s going to string her along, whispering sweet things to her and then shutting her out completely when it wasn’t convenient for him.

Walking inside their office, she sighed as she turned on her computer. As the day went on, she kept catching Beckett staring at her, but she couldn’t get a read on him. Whatever emotions were floating under his surface, he wasn’t letting her see them. She’d hoped that not wearing any underwear would cause him to want her, cause him to go shut the door, close the blinds, and fuck her senseless on their desk. But there was nothing, only talk about work. Finally, Oriana went and closed the door herself, closed the blinds, and sat on his lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She murmured, kissing his along his neck and his jaw.

“Ori, please stop.”

“That’s not what you said this morning.”

“Ori!” His voice was stern, even a bit cold, and it caused her to freeze before looking into his eyes. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw pain there.

“You don’t want me?” She whispered, attempting to keep tears at bay.

“We…we really just have a lot to work on. I don’t think we need a distraction.”

“A distraction. Right.” She got off his lap and went to the door. “I’m going to the bathroom. I need a break.”

“Ori…”

But she left, keeping her head high as she beelined straight to the ladies’ room. Once there, she let a few tears fall before taking a shuddery breath and fixing her makeup. Nodding to herself in the mirror, she went back. The day was almost done anyway.

Beckett just stared at her again as she came back into the room and sat down. They discussed what they needed to and finally it was time to leave. Oriana went to him one more time.

“Um, so…am I coming over?”

He shook his head. “Actually, I have dinner plans. I apologize I did not tell you sooner.”

“Oh…” She trailed off. “What about this outfit? I have to give it back.”

“Just bring it tomorrow.” He shrugged, heading for the exit.

“Ya know what Beckett? Screw you.”

He paused. “What?”

“You’ve been so cold to me today. Again. What did I do?”

“Nothing! You did nothing, I promise. It’s not you, it’s…” He stopped himself, clearing his throat before going back to Oriana and kissing her gently on the cheek. “I promise it has nothing to do with you.” He murmured quietly. “Please believe me. There are just…things you don’t know about me yet.”

He gave a soft smile. “I’ll be better tomorrow. I really need you to trust that.”

She watched in complete confusion as he left. Gathering her things, she made her way home. When she arrived in her little apartment, she stood staring at herself in her full-length mirror. Then it dawned on her.

She quickly turned her computer back on and tapped impatiently on the counter until it loaded. Going to the internet, she looked up “Katrina Harrington.” She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock as she read the first headline…then another…and another. She buried her face in her hands. How did she not know this? No wonder he was completely off his game today. She looked back at her outfit, then back at the screen.

“HEIRESS TO HARRINGTON ENTERPRISE FOUND DEAD; FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED”

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