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emeritusemeritus · 4 months

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No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 1 2 3

Part 3

Title: No Good Deeds. Part 3.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

This one got a little sad I’m sorry, I’m in my Freddie feels right now 🥀

Arriving at the shop, you noticed that Ron was still not here yet as the shop was in complete blackout except for the window lights which remained on at all times. You pulled out your wand and recited the unlocking spell that Fred had created and personalised, as well as the counter spell for the anti-alohamora charm he'd placed upon the building. You locked the door behind you with a flick of your wand and illuminated the store, making your way straight up to the office. The store looked good and tidy, though you did notice during your ascent up the stairs that there were a few stock items that needed replenishing, something you could do once you'd set up everything in the back.

Around half an hour later, Ron burst through the office door, calling for George and immediately froze upon seeing you sat there at his brother's desk.

"Oh, thought it was George this morning," he says, running his hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at barging in.

"He had some stuff to sort this morning, said I'd cover for him," you explained with a little shrug, grabbing the floats from the safe and the morning banking book.

"Oh right, yeah okay," Ron says, following behind you as you walk down the stairs. "Think he's got a secret girlfriend?"

Ron's words make you momentarily freeze, having not expected him to say that.

"Don't know Ronald," you said with another shrug and a smile, "but if Percy can get a girlfriend then George definitely can." Ron laughs with a nod and helped you set up the shop as you work together, laughing and joking like usual. He tries to pry into George's love life a little more, assuming that you know more than he does but you successfully manage to deflect his questions, hopefully without any suspicion.

You winced as the stones of your engagement ring caught the palm of your hand for the third time since you'd been restocking the shelves and looked down to see a little imprint of the outline cut into your hand. You sighed, checking around you to see where Ron was before walking up towards the office and turning left instead, towards the flat. Approaching the wooden door, you took a deep breath in and tried to gather your courage, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed at returning to the flat you'd once known so well, dreading stepping through the door.

You huffed out a breathe and opened the handle, immediately greeted by the dark corridor that wrapped around the flat. You walked past the closet and then past what used to be Fred's bedroom, pausing only briefly to touch the doorframe as you felt your lip wobble, tears threatening your eyes. You shook them away and carried on walking towards George's room, looking for something specific that you knew he had, hoping he wouldn't mind you borrowing it.

You felt uncomfortable intruding like this, but it was the only solution you could think of. You stepped through the door and found the room to be much neater than you imagined, with only a few pieces of clothing and ties strewn on the floor in the otherwise rather tidy bedroom. You walked over to his dresser, seeing his leather watch box on top and raised the lid. Immediately you were met with a photo of you, George and Fred in your fifth year, building a snowman in the courtyard at Hogwarts. You all looked so young and happy, dressed in layer upon layer of warm clothes topped with coats and hats as you beamed at the camera, Fred's arm wrapped around you and George holding onto your shoulder, each one of you proud of the enchanted snowman you'd created. A tear leaked out of your eye and you bit your lip to try and prevent anymore from falling as you quickly wiped it away, unable to take your eyes of Fred's infectious smile. You placed the photo down onto the lid and reached to grab a silver chain that was beside the watch that his parents had given him for his 17th birthday, the same watch that sat beside an identical one in the box. You'd bought both of them a chain for their 17th birthday with a little engraved pendant attached that you had customised. The engraving was a 'w' sign with a little star at the top, the very same sign that would become the logo for the shop. Fred was buried in his chain, having never taken it off, but you noticed that George hadn't worn his much in the past few years, which you understood. You took out the chain and slipped the engagement ring through it before securing it around your neck and tucking it underneath your shirt. The last thing you wanted was to lose the ring and this was the only way you could keep it safe whilst you were at work, knowing you'd be panicking if it was in your pocket all day and you vowed to keep it at home tomorrow. You closed the lid of the watch box, casting one last glance at the photo before walking out of the flat and back down to the shop. Ron was none the wiser and you carried on restocking the love potions, no longer hurting from the ring, as Ron grabbed the skiving snackboxes in preparation for you opening the store.

You briefly thought of George as you wiped down the counter, wondering if the furniture had been delivered yet and what he was doing at home before a knock at the front door dragged you out of your musings. Verity had arrived for her shift and you let her in with a wave of your wand, greeting her before disappearing into the office for one last check over the inventory books before the shop opened.

"Morning stranger," you heard a voice say a little later as you deposited some cash into the safe. You turned around and saw George leaning on the door frame, arms crossed with a smirk on his lips, looking well rested and quite frankly, very handsome in his suit and burgundy shirt.

"Morning Georgie," you smiled, locking the safe and turning to face him completely.

"You ran off this morning," he teases, stepping forward to sit next to you on the desk, his long legs leaning beside you.

"I left a note," you countered in a mock-argument, giving him a wicked smile. He chuckles and nods, his eyes flicking over you.

"Did everything come okay? Didn't expect you in yet."

"All set up," he says with a nod before frowning gently, his mouth opening and closing twice before he says the next part, "look about last night, I'm sorry if-"

"Georgie," you said, moving to stand and place your hand on his chest to stop him. "I offered."

"Yeah not for me to sleep with-

"It's fine, actually it was nice to sleep beside someone again," you said honestly, the image of Fred's smiling face from the photograph filling your mind as you thought of the only person you'd ever shared a bed with. "Except for the snoring, that I could do without," you joked. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you into him as you let out a little squeal at the sensation of his beginning to tickle you.

"Snoring!?" He repeats with a shout, trying to look outraged but the grin on his face told you that he was far from angry. "How rude Mrs Weasley," he jokes, stopping the tickling but still keeping his hands on your waist. His eyes flick down to your left hand and his brows knit together momentarily as you follow his train of thought.

"Couldn't let Ron see it yet," you said as you both looked at your left ring finger, "I have to confess something though."

"Don't say you've lost it already," George says with a small, goading smirk which transforms into a laugh as you hit him on the chest for the little dig.

"No I haven't lost it," you say with a huff before reaching down into your shirt and pulling out the chain that sits around your neck, the ring hanging off of it like a pendant, knowing he'd recognise it instantly, "had to borrow this from you, is that okay? Please don't be mad, I tried to put the ring on my other hand but it kept digging in and it cut me and."

George immediately stops your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, a move that shocks you to your core as you stand there frozen, feeling his soft lips on yours. The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds but you can't help but stay perfectly still, more than surprised by his actions, your eyes slowly fluttering open after instinctively closing as he leaned in. George pulls away and looks at you with equal amounts of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done too. His shocked expression drops from his face after a few moments as he draws in a breath before explaining, never taking his eyes off his chain around your neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other way to stop you rambling," he says with a small tilt of teasing in his voice before his gaze flicks up to look directly into your eyes, a soft look on his features. "I don't mind, looks good on you."

He strokes your arm as he pulls away and without any other words, he walks through the office door and down the stairs, leaving you utterly bamboozled as you stare at the spot where George had just been. George just kissed you. George Weasley had just kissed you.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, with paperwork and inventory checks needing your attention and taking up most of your time. You'd run into George a few times over the course of the day and each and every time you had felt his eyes on you before you even knew he was there. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, like he was deep in thought or concentration but it only seemed to be when he caught sight of you which was strange. At one point he had winked at you as you walked through the store after grabbing some lunch for the both of you and it made you feel giddy and restless as there had seemed to be a shift in your dynamic since the kiss.

After your last inventory check was done and recorded in the files, you stepped out onto the shopfloor at 10 minutes before close to ask George about what he wanted for dinner tonight but you stopped short when you saw him laughing with an unfamiliar woman next to the till. They were stood pretty close together and she was laughing at something George was saying as he chuckled along, looking fairly animated in his reply. Your eyes rolled when you saw her laugh and reach out to touch his arm, a move you'd seen over and over again in all those tragic muggle romantic comedies that Hermione had made you endure over the years. You couldn't deny that your stomach sank at seeing the scene before you, George and the pretty woman flirting openly in the near empty shop, especially after he kissed you earlier in the day. You considered just backing away and pretending that you'd not seen what you had but that plan was immediately rendered impossible when you heard your name called out by a very familiar voice. George.

He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to join them and you willed your feet to move across the floor, trying to force a smile onto your face though inside you were a maelstrom of hurt and rage.

"This is her, y/n," George says, introducing you as you approach them, placing his hand onto your waist as you stand next to him. "She came up with these, bloody brilliant actually," George says, holding out the familiar packaging of the weather in a bottle product you'd created together in your sixth year. "Excellent diversion tactic or just a harmless prank if preferred, a rain cloud will actually follow the receiver around and it creates no mess, except for the unsuspecting victim, they'll be wet through."

Usually, George's praise would have made you blush, especially as his hand held your waist so openly, but in the current circumstance you just felt enraged. The woman he was chatting with had pulled away from him and clearly had a face like thunder at your interruption, though she tried to mask it around George.

"It seems your employees are very talented," she says with a tight lipped smile that certainly didn't reach her eyes. You didn't miss the inflection on the word 'employees' and it pained you not to roll your eyes at her purposeful goading. You shot her a sarcastic smile in return before looking around for Ron but you couldn't see him.

"Employee?" George says questioningly before looking down at you, pulling you in slightly, "my fiancée." You froze, feeling suddenly on the spot at you tried to search for any sign of Ron or Verity in hearing distance but there was no one else around.

The woman seemed to baulk at the new information and all pretence of a smile dropped from her face. She suddenly made up some excuse about having to collect something from Flourish and Botts and quickly hustled out of the store, leaving you and George alone.

You snorted as you watched her exit, "should rename the shop 'Weasleys' Wizard Whizzes, with how fast she just ran out."

George barked out a laugh before checking his watch and flourishing his wand, effectively closing and locking the door. He nudges you with his hip as he squeezes past to get to the tills, opening up the first one that Verity had manned for most of her shift.

"So fiancé Eh?" You said quietly, moving around to the second till to begin cashing it up just as George had with the first one. George gives you a little look as he counts the sickles before jotting down the total on the little piece of parchment beside the till.

"Only one more day before we tell mum, might as well start the rumours," George says with a knowing smirk. The mention of telling Molly made your stomach lurch and it was all you could think of as you counted each galleon, knut and sickle in the till.

"You ready my beloved?" George asks jokingly, reaching for your hand as he puts the last of the cash in the safe.

"What about the accounts?" You ask, looking through the inventory receipts laid out on your desk.

"They can wait till morning, I'm starving, let's go home," George says, taking your hand and begins leading you down the stairs. His use of 'home' gave you a warm, fluttery feeling that made a goofy smile want to cross across your lips, knowing that he meant both of you.

You walked out of the shop and George turned out the lights and locked up with his wand before placing it into his suit jacket pocket, never once letting go of your hand as you walked around to the back of the store and apparated back to your flat.

As soon as you made it back, you walked into your bedroom and threw off your bra just as you did everyday, followed by your socks and jeans, changing into your loungewear straight away. You threw on a big cardigan and walked back out to see George in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Made you a cup of tea Angel," he says with an absent nod of his head as he peruses the ingredients.

"Thank you!" You gush, elated at the prospect of having a warm cup of tea, "I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," you joked.

George huffed mockingly, closing the fridge as he turns to face you. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and you couldn't deny how good he looked right at that moment.

"Not my movie star good looks? Towering height? Flaming red hair?" He jokes, stepping closer to you.

"Hmmm," you pretend to think, dramatically tapping your chin, "no it's definitely the tea."

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" He teases, reaching behind you to grab his drink.

"I'd say my impeccable sense of humour and sharp whit but we both know it's for a savvy business move," you replied with a sarcastic grin that falls from your face as you watch George's face sink. He recovers quickly but you definitely saw the stricken expression on his face and you immediately regret your words, though you were of course only stating facts.

You start tea as George nips in the shower and as the rice begins to boil and the chicken comes out of the oven, the kitchen heats up exponentially and you have to take off your cardigan due to the heat, casting it to the wind to land somewhere on the sofa behind you. Just as you reached for the jar of sauce from the cupboard, you saw the bottles of daisyroot draught you'd bought for George a few days ago and pulled it out for him before adding the sauce to the chicken.

"Georgie, I got you some daisyroot, if you want it," you said, turning to face him as you stir the bubbling pan. He's wearing his pyjama bottoms and a black T-shirt as he rubs his hair with the towel, walking barefoot into the kitchen. He opens his mouth to reply but he seems to briefly pause, focusing intently on something around you before snapping out of it a few moments later, looking bashful.

"Great, yeah great, thank you," he stammered, stuttering through his words as he avoided eye contact with you and walked past you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You frowned at his peculiar behaviour but decided not to question in, realising that it might be an adjustment thing from him moving in with you, after all the only person he'd ever lived with as an adult was Fred. Perhaps you shouldn't have bought him the daisyroot, thinking that somehow you might have overstepped.

"Tea's nearly ready," you say, perhaps a little delicately in hopes that you wouldn't upset him but his reaction is normal so you try to put it out of your mind, putting it down to a bad turn.

"This is amazing Angel," George says, taking huge forkfuls of the chicken curry and rice you'd haphazardly thrown together. You smile appreciatively at him and scoop up some of your own food, admittedly taking much smaller bites than George. "So, you ready to tell Mum tomorrow?"

Your eyes shoot up to his with a glare, seeing him smirking at you and you roll your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat and nerves at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah can't wait," you mutter sarcastically, already anticipating what could happen in your mind, picturing her utter elation, or her outrage.

"You know she'll be happy right?" George says, scooping up another forkful of rice.

"You think we can actually convince them?" You ask, changing the direction of the conversation slightly, not realising how much that question had been playing on your mind. George is quiet for a minute as he considers his answer, taking a sip of the daisyroot before picking up his fork again.

"Don't see why not," he says with a little shrug before turning to look at you with a little smile, "not exactly unheard of is it? Falling for your best friend."

George's words make your stomach flip and roil in numerous ways, the smile on his face only furthering those complicated feelings within you.

"Guess not," you reply, trying to act neutral as you absently eat your food, though you couldn't deny that your appetite had waned dramatically from the topic of conversation. "So, do I wear the ring tomorrow or do I put it on after work?"

"Whatever you want Angel," George says, reaching for his glass again, "Ron's off tomorrow and I doubt Verity would notice anything even directly under her nose, it's just you and me." When you don't reply, silently considering your options, George leans over and grabs your hand on the table, stroking where your engagement ring should be. "Keep in on my chain tomorrow, around your neck and then put it on before we get back to mum's," he suggests, a softness to his voice that made it seem like a hopeful request. You nod and smile at him, still feeling a little conflicted as you tuck into the rest of your meal.

When you climb into bed later that night, your thoughts are consumed by your situation, of your impending engagement and your future after that. Truthfully, you hadn't taken much time to process everything since that first initial day, getting caught up in George moving in and all the things that came along with that. You were already anxious at returning to the Burrow tomorrow, having only been back a handful of times since the war, once for Harry and Ginny's engagement party and a few other dinners that never quite felt the same as before, like something obvious was missing, as it always was these days. Your thoughts were plagued with what ifs and nervous thoughts of what lies after but mostly all you could think of was Fred.

You had to remind yourself that you were doing this for George and for Fred's memory, to keep the business exactly as it had been created, to honour Fred. They were your oldest friends, your best friends and you'd give anything for them to succeed and to be happy and if that meant sacrificing your own life and happiness temporarily, then you'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of the emotional strain.

You felt shame at lying to the people that had become your second family, that had housed you and welcomed you into their home like one of their own. You felt sad that you were holding back George from finding someone and even more conflicted that the idea of George finding someone else caused you to hurt in ways you couldn't explain. And most of all, you felt immeasurable guilt at your arrangement with George, namely because it felt like you were disrespecting Fred. Moving on, even though you were never officially together, seemed to imply that you had chosen George over him, that you could be so selfish and heartless that you'd marry his twin brother after his death, casting all of your memories away and rendering them insignificant. In your heart, you knew Fred wouldn't see it that way and he'd be proud of you for doing what you were doing for his and George's sake, though your mind wouldn't listen to a word of that, instead choosing to attack you.

As soon as the idea crossed your mind, you pulled back your covers and hauled yourself out of bed to crouch on the floor, reaching for a large shoebox that was stored under your bed, filled with your most treasured items. The top of the box had scribbles all over it in both in pencil and quill ink, with writings and drawings of Weasley products all over in a mixture of yours and the twins' handwriting. You sat and chuckled at the difference between everyone's writing; yours was the neatest and most consistent with cursive tails and joined letters. George's writing was small and a little 'curly', though it was quite neat for a boy's writing. Fred's writing however, fluctuated between indecipherable scribblings and various levels of darkness as if he's taken too much ink on the quill. You ran your fingers over the markings, smiling to yourself, before opening the lid to the shoebox. You didn't do this often, only when you needed to feel him, to be surrounded by memories, like right now.

You pulled out a stack of photos front the top, some magical and some not, seeing you, George and Fred at various ages and places during your Hogwarts years. You looked through them with fondness before coming across a photo of you and Fred at the Yule Ball in your sixth year, both of you dressed in your fanciest clothes. Fred's rust coloured waistcoat matches his vibrant, long hair perfectly and you looked at the photo carefully, thinking of how handsome he looked. Memories of dancing and laughing through the night entered your mind, both with Fred and George after George had stolen you away for a dance when Fred had stepped out to get drinks. Fred had walked straight up to the pair of you pretending to be angry and had tried to steal you back, both of them never missing a step of the waltz choreography as you were passed back and forth between the brothers, their matching red hair just a blur as you spun around.

You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and steamed down your cheeks as you looked at the photo of Fred, trying to remember every little detail about him, the scar on his eyebrow and the light freckles on his cheeks, his smell and his laughter. You put down the photos and picked up the button that was underneath the stack, one of the buttons from your dress that night that Fred had unceremoniously ripped off of you, this singular button popping off and rolling underneath his bed, only for you to find it two months later. You placed the button down onto the photos and pulled out a stack of letters that you'd saved, some from Fred and some from George, not feeling strong enough to be able to read them at the moment.

Just as you pulled out a little stuffed toy of a Niffler that Fred had bought you in your third year and cuddled it into your chest, there was a gentle knock at the door. You called out for George to come in, trying to stash the things away before he could see them and get upset as well as quickly wiping away your tears before looking up to him.

Whatever he wanted from you disappeared the second he saw your tear strained face, crouched over a box he recognised immediately.

"Angel," he says quietly, which only makes more tears fall. He moves like lightning over to you and immediately wraps his arms around you, sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace so that you were near enough sat in his lap. He holds you, rocking gently as you cry, no longer seeing any reason to hold back your emotions.

"Your T-shirt's all wet," you say in a weak, apologetic voice with a sniffle a few minutes later, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm so sorry, it's not fair of me to do this with you," you say, noticing that his own tears are working their way down his face.

"Not fair? What do you mean?" He says gently, allowing you to pull away but not completely, keeping a comforting hand on you.

"He was your brother, your twin, I-"

"Enough of that," he says with a shake of his head, reaching down to wipe away a tear under your eye, "he meant everything to both of us."

His words make you want to cry all over again but you don't, trying to stay calm as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hand strokes your back as you try and calm your breathing, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst after you'd got it all out of your system.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, you and Fred were together for-."

"It doesn't matter," you say, cutting off George, not wanting to explain that you were never really together, "it's not that, not really, I just really needed him."

George gives you a single nod that holds all the weight of understanding, clearly knowing exactly how you felt.

"I remember this," George chuckles, pulling something out of the box delicately. It was a piece of parchment with the ingredients for the ageing potion you'd found in an old potions book that the twins had used to try and enter their names into the triwizard tournament. You'd warned them that it wouldn't work against Dumbledore's age line but they hadn't listened. Attached to the sheet of parchment with an old paper clip was a photo you'd taken of the twins in the infirmary, both of them sporting wild white hair and beards, including bushy eyebrows, their arms around each other with cheesy smiles.

You watched as George reached down to touch an old, faded T-shirt of Fred's that was tucked down into the bottom of the box, an old quidditch T-shirt that had outgrown him by his third year, golden thread stitching up a hole in the collar and another smaller one on the seam of the sleeve. You wore it to bed nearly every night for years, the softness and the smell always so comforting to you.

George's fingers ran across the Gryffindor logo for a moment before catching sight of a keyring he'd bought you from the Quidditch World Cup, the green shamrock dangling from the binder ring, the Ireland logo on the back a little scratched up now but the green, white and orange colours were still as vibrant as ever.

"I bought you this," he said with a smile, placing it into his hand as he inspected it. You nodded eagerly, remembering it clearly. You'd painted the boys faces before leaving the tent with the face paint you'd taken with you and when they'd been to look at the merchandise with the limited money they had, they'd both returned with matching green and white scarves, Fred decked out in an obscenely large hat and George had nervously held out his hand to you, passing you the keyring as he moved you to stand between the twins.

"Knew you would want a momento from the trip but I didn't think you'd appreciate one of those hats like Fred and Ginny had," he says, a fondness in his eyes as he looks at the metal keyring.

"I used it everyday for five years," you said, giving him a little smile. "I caught it on the door one day and I thought I broke it, had to reattach the shamrock and then I switched it out, it means too much to me to get broken or lost."

George looks up at you with emotion filled eyes, a look shared between you both that held so much depth that it stole your breath for a few moments.

"Feels like another lifetime," George says after a few minutes of silence. You made a noise of agreement, flicking your eyes down to look at the box filled with distant memories that were now bittersweet and a little twisted.

"You're wrong, you know."

George looks up at you with a puzzled frown, confused by your words. You breathe out a puff of laughter and smile at him, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding the keyring.

"Fred isn't the only one who means everything to me."

Your words seem to affect George in a way that you hadn't anticipated as a tear comes to his eye, his hand tightening around yours before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You hug him back without question, feeling his soft (and now dry) T-shirt against your skin, his arms around you and the comforting smell of his hair and skin taking over your senses.

He pulls away ever so slightly and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours but he doesn't, slowly releasing you from his hold until you climbed off of him, a little disappointed.

"Right, enough mushy shit, we need a plan, for telling your family," you say, standing up and pulling your pyjamas back into place.

"That was what I came to tell you," George says, moving to stand as well as you bent down to slide the box back under your bed. You turned around and looked at him expectantly, wanting him to elaborate. "Mum sent an owl, said something about a gnome infestation, apparently they're vicious this time of year, dad's been bitten twice just walking to the car."

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could meet them at the leaky cauldron or get a meal out? We'll need to tell them soon," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Invite them over! I can cook, might need to leave work early to prep everything though," you reply, trying to save the plans you'd made.

"Really? You don't have to but,"

"They need to believe we're really together, what better way then to show them that we're living together," you say before reaching a bump in the road, "your stuff will probably need to move in here though, can't have it look like we're sleeping separately, we're not exactly priests."

George nods, following along with your train of thought. "I could bring more of my stuff over? Litter it about, just for a couple of days?"

You shrug in reply, "I don't mind."

"I'll write to mum now and offer them to come here, take the day off tomorrow, then you won't be rushing around, like I know you will," he says with a knowing smirk that you roll your eyes at.

"But you'll be on your own."

"I'll send Ron an owl."

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#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley x you #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley smut #George Weasley fluff #weasley twins x reader

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munchkinlatte · 2 years

Text

I would’ve made it neater and more detailed but I can feel my thoughts wandering and I know Ill get bored, so here’s this goofy thing, it’s not perfect, but it’s THERE

Reason wise I made these is because these are the look Im doing for the au I have been slowly making; as much as I love Mk and Mei’s outfits in the show, I wanted to add a little more because I just did IHUSD I should hopefully draw the others later on :)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid au #monkie kid mei #monkie kid mk #lmk au #lmk mk #lmk mei

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thereigning-lorelai · 7 months

Note

Please oh please share with us how you did the effect in your latest Nancy drew set, it is truly so gorgeous I cannot stop looking at it!

hi nonny, sorry this took a while. so you're looking for the effect from this post:

i made it fairly easy on myself for this one because i am lazy and impatient as hell, so hopefully this is a rather short tutorial.

there's a neater and tidier way to do this that would require frames instead of timeline but for the effect i was aiming for, the slightly sloppier and faster way actually worked fine.

preparation: you'll need a gif with the overlay effect that you like and want to use. i'm giving you the one i used for all the gifs in this set (just slightly altered for each individual gif):

then, of course, you need two gifs — one that'll be your base gif (the coloured one in my example) and one that'll "bleed into" the other one (the black and white one here).

base gif: i just did my regular preparation and colouring, added some yellow and red brush strokes here and there to add some colour and that was it.

i also added some text at this point and i positioned it on top of my base gif but underneath the overlay layers (because i wanted the text to vanish with the overlay):

second gif: i did a quick and very basic black and white colouring for this one.

for the overlay effect to work properly, i set the blending mode of this gif to multiply.

overlay: now the fun part. i added my overlay effect gif and changed its size and position to my liking and so that the important parts of my base gif were visible long enough (aka the kiss).

i set this layer to screen and clipped the b/w gif and the adjustment layers to it.

the thing is, as you can see, the overlay part is way too transparent to be efficient. you might get away with this if your base gif is dark enough but for the scene i wanted to use as a base it just didn't look right.

so i duplicated the overlay effect layer, dragged it underneath my original one, inverted it and set it to darken. et voilà, this worked wonders:

before saving, have a look at your timeline and whether everything lines up. you can change the starting point of your overlay effect (having it come in later or earlier) or your other gifs. whatever looks right to you and also fits into the size limitation.

and that's it. if something didn't make sense or you want to know anything else, just let me know. hope this helped, nonny. ♥️

#asks #kind nonnies #usergif #tutorials #*resources #*tutorial

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legendofzoodles · 9 months

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Who I think signed their name in this LU Chapter

Here buddy, lemme help you out (hopefully I got these right). From top to bottom:

Time

Figured he'd go first. They probably all went together to sign their names once the dust settled. His handwriting looks elegant, you can tell he used to practice a lot.

Legend

Could also be Warriors, Wild or Hyrule. Hear me out, the writing is big and not in the lines, but the pen strokes are really refined and pretty. Legend has been glued to Twi's side since he woke up, likely he rushed to sign his name and ran back up to finish the conversation they were having. Probably about fishing.

Four

Could also be Wind, but the pen strokes look a little more refined, what you'd expect from a professional blacksmith. Maybe he had to write notes with the swords he made explaining their quirks, what materials he used etc. Also didn't he go to school?

Warriors

Could also be Legend, Wild or Hyrule. But come on, guys look at how small that print is, indistinguishable from that inked by a typewriter. Captain's got his neat report font down to a science.

Wind

Could also be Four, but the pen strokes are bold, like he was pressing too hard, not familiar with the type of pen they had. He also wrote all over the lines, like the gremlin he is.

Hyrule

Could also be Legend, Warriors or Wild. I was torn between this being either Hyrule or Wild- question is who'd have the neater handwriting? I felt like Hyrule would, on a day to day basis, not be writing as much as Wild and probably has never had a reason to be neat in his life. So long as it can be read it's fiine.

Sky

Has...surprisingly unneat handwriting for a schoolboy- the pen strokes are pretty but he didn't stay in the lines at all! Maybe he just really wanted to go to bed.

Wild

Could also be Legend, Warriors or Hyrule. The pen strokes are refined- muscle memory from when he maybe wrote reports as a knight- and it would be in the lines had Sky not hogged too much space.

Twilight

I know Wild probably brought up the book for him to sign in the comfort of his bed but holy hell that is neat! Seriously, he barely escaped death, give him a whole page! Boy is clearly ambidextrous, no way he did that with the arm that almost got gnawed off by a shapeshifting lizard. Maybe he sharpened his calligraphy while in the Resistance?

~~~

Thanks for reading! Any of these could be swapped around, and I probably got some wrong but I just did what worked best with my headcanons.

Masterlist

9th place in the LU character design ranking

Character analysis posts:

Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors

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dumplingsfordays · 6 months

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sparks on a cold night

gepard x drunk!reader

summary - drunk reader (who hates gepard) crashes at gepard's place bc they really have nowhere else to go.

cw!: swearing, enemies to lovers, mentions of alcohol + drunkenness, reader wearing a dress, otherwise fluffy :)

note - aaaa gepard brainrot go brr. also tysm for 80 freakin followers this is insanity <33 ily pookies so much y'all are so sweet!! thank you all again soso much for the support and hopefully you enjoy the content <3

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

He just finished signing some paperwork at his desk in his room upstairs when he heard the knocks.

The first was a rather quiet and weak knock, so Gepard didn't hear it, but fortunately the second one was much louder. He then checked his watch. 11:37 PM wasn't really a time when people usually knock on others' doors, so whoever was at the door must've had some important business with him. He hurriedly adjusted his robe around him and walked over to the enterance to his house, looking through the peephole when he stopped in front of it.

This must've been some sort of mistake, he thought, recognizing your face staring right back at him.

But nevertheless he decided to open the door - you looked a little flushed and cold and Gepard couldn't bear to leave a poor soul like yourself shivering in the cold all alone, especially if you needed urgent help, but if you were going to treat him the same way that you did when you delivered paperwork to his office, he was going to shut to door right then and there.

Opening the door, he saw a lazy smile blossom across your face at the sight of his taller figure.

"Heyy -hic- Geppie," you slurred, hiccuping as you spoke. "I know that I -hic- totally hate you and everythin' but I kinda need a bit a help."

Were you drunk?

"You see, I kinda fucked up. I thiiiink that I -hic- had a little teensy tiny bit too much to drink and I locked myself out of -hic- my house."

"And you don't have any spare keys or anything?" asked Gepard, leaning on the doorframe.

"No spare keys s'or anythin'."

As much as Gepard wanted to slam the door in your face for the nasty rumors about him that you whispered in your friends' ears and the hateful, cold stares that you gave him from time to time for absolutely no reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. You looked, well, almost pathetic. Slightly disheveled hair framed your face like a (slightly neater) bird's nest and your lip gloss was a little smeared on the edges. The chilly night breeze caused a shiver of goosebumps to crawl across your skin and your cheeks to redden even further. You sensed warmth and comfort emanating from Gepard's frame, and subconsciously leaned forward, closer to the pleasant air about him.

You tugged the hem of the black dress that you wore down and crossed your arms, waiting for a reply from the blond man, which he gave in the form of a sigh.

"Alright. But only for one night. And you owe me."

You nodded gratefully, eyes widening and lips stretching into a thankful smile. "Mkay, thanks so much. You're vvvery sweet, y'know?"

Gepard leaned back to let you in, and you daintily stepped inside. The warmth of his figure was also present in his house, which isn't too large but also not too cramped. It's a little dim, because most of the light around this time of night here is produced by candles, but you don't mind - in fact, you really liked it. It was a nice break from the sharp neon lights of the bar and later the uncomfortable haze of the streetlamps. He, like a true gentleman, closed the large oaken door after you and beckoned you to take off your coat, which you gave up with a grateful nod and half-lidded, delirious eyes. Your cheeks glowed a soft pink.

While removing the coat from your shoulders, leaving you in that skimpy black dress that was basically 40% skin, the blond clearly noticed the scent of alcohol emanating from your neck and lips, and it finally settled in his brain that you were only acting this friendly because you were drunk. His earlier suspicion was correct.

He hung up your coat in a closet while you made your way to the fireplace in an adjacent room, the one that just so happened to be Gepard's favorite. Paintings sparingly covered the walls, bookshelves below them contained a gigantic variety of books, and the best part of it all in his opinion was the lit fireplace and the couch in front of it, on which you so happened to snuggle up into a ball.

"Do you want a blanket?" he asked. "You must be rather cold after being outside."

After a couple of seconds you answered, turning your head to meet his gaze.

"Yes -hic- please."

With a small sigh, he grabbed the heaviest quilt that he could find from the closet beside the door and walked back to you. He draped it over your shivering frame and sat down beside you, deciding to abandon his paperwork for now. He could deal with it later anyways.

You were too busy staring at the flickering flames licking against the logs in the fireplace to notice him, but when you felt the couch shift downwards at his weight, you didn't mind - in fact, it was much warmer (thus better) when he was beside you. Gepard, on the other hand, had many more thoughts than you did right now. He was specifically thinking about why you came to him instead of one of your friends' places, and why you were acting so nice to him all of a sudden, so he decided to just ask.

You replied in a low, hushed tone. "Feel like you're more... y'know, reliable."

"Thank you, but wouldn't your friends be? You hate me, after all."

"Hate? When did I -hic- say hate?"

"Well, judging by the fact that you spread rumors about me and glare at me when you bring me paperwork, I'd say you do."

At this you laughed airily, like the tinkle of wind chimes in the breeze. "Noooo, I don't hate you. I'm just a little jealous. Because you're so braaave n strong n responsible. How -hic- could anyone not be jealous?"

You didn't see, of course, but the blond man blushed a little at how you blabbered on about how courageous he was. Never, in all his years working with you, did he ever expect you to confess this.

"I still think you owe me an apology, though," he mentioned, gazing at the fire with you. "For all the dirty looks and everything."

An amused flicker in your eyes told Gepard everything he needed to know. Lips quirking up into a grin, you leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on the apple of his ruddy cheek and then curled up into your previous position on the couch as if nothing happened.

And this time he really, unequivocally, full-on flushed with a previously alien to him mixture of embarrassment, shyness, and self-consciousness.

"What- what was that?" he managed to stammer out.

"My apology," you winked back with that same gorgeous grin. "You -hic- accept it though, right?"

Oh no. No, he couldn't look at you any longer after what you'd done, because then his brain would probably short-circuit and he'd embarrass himself even further by accidentally blurting out how pretty you looked in the amber light of the fire, hair messy, eyes lidded, lips reddened-

No. Any direction but that.

He coughed and cleared his throat.

"Fine," he choked out. After a moment's silence you spoke up.

"Geppie," you started, using his nickname absentmindedly, "what do you think -hic- about me?"

It was probably best to say as little as possible, but Gepard decided against it. If you were this drunk, you probably wouldn't remember anything from this night tomorrow. "I, um... I think that you're, uh, a hard worker. And you're nice to everyone." He almost added 'except for me' but changed his mind. "You're also, um, smart. And funny sometimes. And helpful. So I guess that I think you're a good person overall."

"Aww, -hic- thank you." Your lips turned up into a smile.

Fire is an interesting thing. While it can burn (and probably did the cavemen that first discovered it), it can also evoke a feeling of comfort and perhaps even safety, provided that you're sitting in a large mansion, on a couch, in front of a magnificent white-brick fireplace with a man who, unbeknownst to you, is sort-of starting to warm up to you despite his earlier grudges. It's funny how something as dangerous and potentially lethal as fire can do that.

The same applied to you - you were also realizing that being jealous of someone doesn't automatically give the person permission to insult or gossip about them. Should you admit your mistakes to Gepard out-loud and swear to change like the villain at the end of a kids' storybook? Definitely not. But should you apologize, for real this time, just to make this situation less awkward? Yes.

"Gepard, look. I'm -hic- ssorry that I kinda treated you badly since I started working. Is there anythin' that I can to do make up for it?"

You hear him sigh beside you.

"No, nothing major. But there is one thing."

It was now or never, Gepard thought. Either you're going to hate me or you won't care at all tomorrow morning.

Leaning over to your side of the couch, he reached out a hand to cup your cheek and glided his thumb over the smooth skin. You inhaled sharply but then relaxed - he used this moment to gather himself, and finally, after a brief moment of internal panicking, he kissed you.

He kissed you.

He kissed you, a now much-more-sober-but-still-pretty-drunk-person-who-he'd-hated-up-until-now who looked infinitely prettier with their face illuminated with a soft golden glow emanating from the fireplace and with their lips on his. He felt you jump a little when he finally did it but you settled down again after (and perhaps even leaned in a little). And when you parted, both out of breath and eyes locked on each others', he moved his hands to cradle yours.

"I-I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry, I-"

"No." You tilted your head to the side slightly. "Don't apologize. That was nice."

You were going to be the death of him. Gepard flushed even harder at your statement if that was possible. You? Saying that was nice? He must be in heaven.

"So, um, does that mean that we're, uh..." he trailed off, too embarrassed to say 'dating'.

"Enemies?" you ask. No.

"No, no, um... dating."

"What?"

"Dating."

"Dating?"

"Please don't make me repeat it..."

"I won't! It's just funny seeing you embarrassed."

"Oh, y/n, you-"

"Just kidding! But I think so, yes. Unless you're aiming for, y'know, something different." You jokingly winked at him. "I know you aren't, I'm also kidding on that last part."

Gepard fully turned away from you now, hiding his red-as-a-tomato face in his hands. You, however, had already stopped teasing and slowly pulled his hand-covered face back to you.

"Geppieee," you cooed, "Come on. I'm just joking."

"I'll only forgive you if you accept to be my partner."

"Who said I won't?"

His fingers moved to reveal one eye like a ray of sunshine peering through the clouds.

"So you would?"

"Of course!"

"You really would?" He put his hands back down to grasp yours in a warm embrace and leaned in again, eyes shining a little with relief.

"Yeah, I just said so!"

"Oh, that makes me so unimaginably happy..."

"..."

"Wait, isn't it weird how we hated each other like twenty minutes ago?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's kinda weird, now that you put it like that."

"Hm."

"Hm indeed."

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #gepard #gepard x gender neutral reader #gepard x you #gepard x reader #gepard x y/n #gepard fluff #gepard landau #hsr gepard #honkai gepard

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writtenonreceipts · 9 months

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Five: A Bad Date @rowaelinscourt

Link to my Rowaelin Month Masterlist

~3K words—welcome to cliché hell. Enjoy your stay.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

The Words We Share--Part One

Sam Cortland was the absolute definition of asshole and Aelin Galathynius could make her point in three simple facts. He didn’t tip well. He spoke for her. And he consistently forgot when they had dinner plans.

Which was how Aelin found herself sitting at a table alone at one of the nicest restaurants in the city trying not to look at the final roll sitting in the bread basket. She’d already scarfed down the other three, she really shouldn’t eat the third. Especially not now as she could catch the looks her waitress and others were passing her way. She’d at least only gone through one glass of wine and was nursing a water.

Aelin would have owned up to the idea of eating alone, she was a confident woman--she didn’t need anyone’s validation. By now, it was too late. Nearly an hour had passed since she’d been seated and she’d told her waitress she was waiting for someone else. That combined with the fact that she look sexy as hell with a tight green dress, her hair perfectly curled and her make up sharper and neater than any awards show actress.

She’d have to live up to the fact that she’d been stood up.

Hell.

She wished she could say this was the first time Sam had done this. Wished she could say that he would make it up to her later. Wished she could say that it didn’t really bother her.

Aelin glanced at her phone. One missed text but that was from Elide.

>>Elide: anything?

<<Aelin: no. I texted him twice. It’s been forty-five mins. I’ve well and good passed the pathetic mark.

>>Elide: ur not pathetic. Imma report his insta for porn hold on

Aelin rolled her eyes at the message. Elide had been her friend since college when they were first paired together on a project. It had turned into a mess of over caffeination and potential misuse of school property but they’d been inseparable ever since. It was Elide who had helped Aelin get the job she had now with Terrasen Publishing as a content creator. She had a full social media platform where she could share books, reviews and all the likes. She even hosted the company's podcast on a bi-weekly basis.

As far as Aelin was concerned, she was successful. She was capable. She was well on her way to reaching so many of her goals.

Sam, it seemed, couldn’t care less about her.

This was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate her promotion. Dorian, the actual CEO of the company had allowed her to open her own department as Lead Content Creator. She’d be her own manager, get a pay-raise, have more liberties with what she could do, get an office credit card, hell she’d be able to hire her own assistant. She’d told Sam she wanted to celebrate by coming here to her favorite restaurant no matter how expensive it was. She’d worked so hard to get here after all.

And how here she was—alone.

She knew Sam was busy, he was a lawyer after all, but after nearly eight months of dropping everything for him, she’d thought he would give her just one night. One night for her.

Aelin felt tears begin to prick that back of her eyes and had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of this restaurant. Hopefully no one would see the silver lining her eyes, the growing flush of embarrassment to her skin.

It was made all the worse when Aelin noticed a familiar person walking towards her. Someone she wanted to see even less than she wanted to admit that Sam was standing her up.

Hell.

Kaltain Rompier had been hired after Aelin by a few months and ever since decided she was the one who should be in charge of everything in the office. To the point of undermining and condescending everything Aelin did. In the end, Aelin was the one with the promotion and the office but Kaltain still made her life a living hell any chance she got.

“Aelin,” Kaltain crooned as she came to the table. And it wasn’t even to give a brief pass by, no, Kaltain had a look of feral delight gleaming in her black eyes and Aelin could feel the attack coming. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Behind Kaltain was her date, a man Aelin had never seen before and average enough looking. He didn’t seem to be even paying attention to the drama Kaltain was eager to whip out.

“Kaltain.” Aelin offered one of her own beaming smiles in return. Despite the tension radiating through her body, she was determined to be civil. She would not stoop to the other woman’s level. She would not stoop.

Kaltain didn’t bother waiting for the kill. “All alone tonight?”

Her full red lips pouted sympathetically, but Aelin had spent enough time around the woman to know how much delight she was taking in Aelin’s potential misery and embarrassment.

She could lie—her date was in the bathroom. She could own up to eating alone. On a Friday night. At the hottest restaurant in Terrasen. She could use Aedion as a scapegoat and have him come by the office on Monday and make a big show of—

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep, accented voice cut through Aelin’s wall panic as a giant, stupidly attractive man slid between Kaltain and Aelin’s table. “Traffic was impossible tonight.”

Aelin stared up slack jawed at her savior.

Rowan Whitethorn in all his glory stood before her. His silver hair was coiffed back out of his face, chin riddled with stubble, and a black suit that fit his broad frame perfectly. His green eyes gave her a significant look, one brow raised meaningfully.

Aelin pulled herself together and let out a relaxed, charmed laugh. At least she hoped that’s what it sounded liked because this was Rowan Whitethorn. The company’s biggest author. One of the most sought-after writers at conventions who had multiple Hollywood deals piling at his feet.

He was also the biggest ass Aelin had ever worked with.

“Let’s hope you're not this late for your next deadline,” she said, voice light and easy. Or as close to it as possible. But Aelin could see a muscle tick in Rowan’s jaw and watched as a smirk drew across his face. Savior of the night or not, she wanted to punch him.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Rowan drawled, his thick Scottish accent low and hard. “We know how punctual you are.”

“It’s a good quality to have,” she said. She narrowed her eyes to which Rowan grinned. He was insufferable. An ass. Arrogant. And—

Rowan flicked a lazy look at Kaltain. “Was there something you needed Kaltain?”

The dismissal was clear and left no room for argument. It was such a fascinating sight to see Kaltain at a loss for words that Aelin forgot her disdain for Rowan. Kaltain had always been a busy body around the office, always gossiping and looking for a way to undermine everyone else as long as she came out on top.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Aelin,” Kaltain said, her cold eyes cutting into Aelin. And with that, she turned away with her date.

It was far too satisfying watching them go. Even Aelin had to admit that. Though, she’d be damned if she admitted so to Rowan.

She finally, reluctantly, turned her attention to him.

He leaned in his chair looking utterly at ease with himself and the situation. With his features as stoney and impossible to read as ever it would appear the last five minutes hadn’t even occurred. But Aelin could see the subtle gleam in his eyes. Sharp and calculating like a hawk.

She’d had five years to get to know him, he was Terrasen’s biggest client and she’d been the one to personally promote his first book on her review blog, not to mention act as a beta reader for early drafts of his work.

He was talented. Remarkable even. She’d never seen anyone wield a metaphor or create an image as he could. It was a shame they hated each other.

It had started innocently enough. In her critiques early on, Aelin hadn’t held back. She’d given the early drafts of his manuscript’s hell. She wouldn’t apologize for it. Wouldn’t he want his book to be the best it could? To have enough feedback to work with and accept or decline? Hell, he didn’t even have to take most of her opinions if he didn’t want to, but she was on the team of readers.

Well, he hadn’t taken well to most of her words and Aelin found a giant box of red pens waiting on her desk one morning from him.

Seems like you ran out last week.

Asshole.

She didn’t hold back though. Not at all.

Between overly marked up pages, passive aggressive notes, and blissful ignorance—they’d never known harmony in all their time of working together. The closest they’d gotten was in the last seven months while Rowan was finishing up a new manuscript and had avoided the office all together.

Aelin could hardly admit it to herself, but it had been a strange few months. She’d found herself looking up to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway in all that time. She hated herself just a little for it.

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” she asked, she did her best not to glare, knowing their table was in direct line of sight of where Kaltain was now sitting.

Rowan raised a brow as he leaned forward and took Aelin’s wine glass. He took a long sip, never breaking eye contact.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he asked, accent a low rumble that Aelin could feel straight in her belly. “By my accounts, I saved you from a rather embarrassing conversation.”

Aelin raised her chin. “Kaltain is harmless.”

Rowan only grinned. “Oh, aye?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Aelin insisted.

“She’s never been an easy person and I doubt my time away has changed anything,” Rowan said. He spoke with such sincerity that Aelin could only stare at him.

In her silence, the waitress came back by their table with a new glass of wine for Rowan. The bastard then went ahead and ordered for her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We’re on a date, are we not?” he asked.

“Not.” She stared at him; his eyes sharp even in the low lights of the restaurant. His tattoos peaked out beneath the collar of his shirt. She’d never seen them in their full glory and now really wished she could see just a little bit more.

“Shame,” Rowan sighed. He glanced idly into the bread basket and took the one remaining roll for himself. “I really was going to pay.”

Aelin sighed and leaned back in her chair. As she looked at him, she tried to understand what he was trying to accomplish with this. He’d chased off Kaltain and saved her from feeling like a fool…but why?

They’d always played a game like this--one of touch and go, of give and take, of hate and hate some more.

She decided to try and approach this from another direction.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked, fingering the stem of her own wine glass.

That grin of his returned, a flash, but impossible to miss. Aelin tried to reel herself in. She couldn’t let him rile her up like this.

“Was out with some friends.” He nodded to the bar behind her.

Aelin turned in her seat, catching sight of two other men, one with curly blond hair and the other with a cut of shaggy black hair. The blond gave her an enthusiastic wave when he saw her looking. Aelin scowled.

“We were celebrating my finishing another book and getting Havilliards seal of approval,” Rowan explained, drawing Aelin’s attention back. “And I saw you sitting by yourself when Kaltain showed up. I know the two of you don’t really get along.”

And how long did you wait before stepping in? She wanted to ask. But she knew she wouldn’t want the answer. He’d probably been there since the beginning watching as she slowly spun into madness.

She glanced at her phone but didn’t touch it. It hadn’t lit up or vibrated or given any indication that anyone was worried about her. She tried to not let it sting. A full hour at this point. Maybe she should break it off with Sam. Officially this time.

“I figured you’d rip my head off if I came over sooner,” Rowan continued, his voice softening just a touch. “Figured it was none of my business.”

Aelin didn’t need his pity, didn’t want it either. “Yeah, well it’s not.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond as the waitress returned with their food. A steak for Rowan, salmon for Aelin. Exactly what she would have wanted for herself, even with the side of risotto.

Her stomach growled just loud enough that Rowan definitely heard. She grabbed her fork and started eating. Angrily.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Aelin pointed her fork at him.

“New book have a title?” she asked.

“Why would you care?”

“So I can figure out all the puns to call it on my podcast,” she said.

Rowan smirked. “I’m on your podcast now?”

“You? No. Your book? Sure.” She took another bite of salmon and sighed. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Right,” he said. “‘Course.”

She watched him as he cut his steak, medium rare, and dredged it in a bit of peppercorn sauce. He wasn’t at all uncomfortable with the act they found themselves in. Not at all concerned over the fact that his friends were leaving (Aelin couldn’t help but check). He was focused on her.

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“So, the book?”

He paused before shrugging just barely. “Nothing special. Ancient weaponry and the likes. You’ll hate it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. Rowan had written several historical nonfiction novels surrounded with ancient lore, weaponry, and conspiracies. It all seemed interesting when you thought about it--but Aelin loved the fantasy. She loved the whimsy. The strange. And while Rowan's books were well written and captivating, they never quite captured her.

“Are you finally going to write a book about kilts? You said you would.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. His first book had been a look into early Scottish history, connecting the Old Language and how it shaped fairy tales and other shared stories. She told him it needed more kilts; he’d told her it wasn’t that kind of book.

Ever since, the same question had been asked.

“Not this time,” Rowan said, returning the smile.

“Shame,” Aelin said, “I would have given you an excellent review.”

The rest of dinner progressed in somewhat amicable silence. They only exchanged a few words about what the next few weeks would look like for Rowan’s new manuscript. And Aelin of course ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go.

When the waitress returned with the bill, Rowan swept up the little black book and deposited his credit card all before Aelin could ask for a split bill.

She raised a brow in silent questioning.

“I told ye I’d pay,” he said, accent slipping just a bit deeper than he usually allowed it. Something flashed in his eyes that kept Aelin from arguing further.

So she allowed him to pay for the meal, which couldn’t have been cheap, and help her stand and put on her jacket.

It wasn’t until they were outside in the warm summer night that Aelin stepped away from him, eyes narrowed. She fully expected him to turn back to the grumpy old writer she’d always seen him as, but as she took him in she noted that smoldering look remained in his eyes.

The sun was close to setting, casting them both in the soft golden light of dusk. Despite how it was nearing nine, it was still warm. Though, Aelin felt more than just the lingering effects of the summer heat rolling through her.

She had no idea what to make of the last hour with Rowan. No idea what to make of the look that he still held her with.

“You’re going to give me hell tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked.

Aelin grinned, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, I guarantee it.”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed this subtle game of theirs. The verbal sparring had been the only thing getting her through the work day on most occasions. He was aggravating, certainly, but the only one who hadn’t dismissed her, who would take her shit and return it just the same.

Rowan flagged down a cab for her and opened the door for her, resting a hand on the small of her back. The action was so unlike anything she’d experienced before. All the other men she’d dated, or known casually, would have simply left her on the side of the road to flag her own cab or just toss her in the cab and be done with it.

Aelin remembered her dad treating her mom well and how he would always open her doors, make sure she was taken care of, buy flowers and chocolates…but then Rhoe had died. It had been ten years since the accident, but Aelin would never forget the kind of man he’d been.

“Thank-you,” she said. She even managed to muster up a sincere smile, even knowing that as soon as the cab pulled away, she’d be lamenting over the embarrassment at being stood up and found out by Rowan Whitethorn.

His expression was unreadable even as he made sure she was tucked into the back of the cab. Then he leaned in, close enough that she could see the cool green of his eyes.

“Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Galathynius.” He pulled back before she could respond and shut the door firmly before patting the top of the cab.

The cabbie shot off into the street before Aelin could even register Rowan’s words.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tag are not working 😕 please reblog! It would mean so much!

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #tog #fanfiction

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spruzu · 2 months

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Little rant about drawing/asking for advice

>So my main thing is how do i make my art look ''neater'' and stay in one style (my style).

-So i use reference photos whenever a draw a sonic character or I just copy a screenshot from a game or Tv show to practise/analyse but when i use say, a Sonic Boom photo it will always have the look of Sonic Boom and the same with Sonic prime or Frontiers. They always look similar and never in my ''own style''. I put my own style in quotations because I'm still trying to find my art style and it's starting to seem like copying/using reference photos doesn't help. However, when i use many different references from different games for sonic it never feels like MY style, i never end up liking fully there's always a part i want to change but have no clue what.

My question for that paragraph is: Do i need to experiment more? And do i need to stop using as many references?

-My second point is: I want to be a digital artist but don't have the money for it yet (hopefully in the future i'll get an ipad or drawing tablet). But, how do traditional artists make their art look like it's done more ''digital''. For example, with the shading or the colouring or the outlining.

What is the best way to improve and find MY artstyle? What's the best stationary to use, do i need to experiment with that to?

Just to add on to this, the characters are mostly Sonic, Shadow and Tails not so much Knuckles (I don't really draw Amy or Rouge). Any advice would be really appreciated even if it's small :]

#Drawing #Sonic #sth #asking for advice #advice #drawing advice #sonic the hedgehog #sonic art #sonic fanart #sonic drawing #artstyle #fanart #my fanart #my artstyle #my art #questions

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lxvebun · 1 year

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Buns notes: I'm glad the the itto one made you happy, hopefully this one does as well! I hope you don't mind that I kept it in a slightly neater version of my braindump format. Reposting because comments were flooding with bots

Content: Childe x chubby!gender neutral reader. Fluff+comfort. Slight mention of violence and unhealthy eating habits. Kissing. Tummy kisses. Cheek kisses. Thigh kisses. Affectionate biting. English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Dark blogs, k!nk and ed blogs do not fucking interact. This is not for you.

♡-Ooh, dear Ajax, he's so hopelessly in love with you and everything that you are. To think that a harbinger, let alone a harbinger of his status was able to pull such a cute soft thing like you in... he thanks the tsaritsa every day.

♡-Let me make it the clear, Childe is with you for much more than just your body. Your mind and soul are just as beautiful to him. You're his person, the love of his life, and everything that's worth living for. Don't ever doubt that. That said, Childe adores the fact that you're chubby. You're just so ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) everything about you just radiates comfort to him. + He is an affectionate biter<3 It's really just cuteness aggression you awake in him. every time he sees you he just needs to take a lil nibble from your cheek, or if he's resting on your lap, a lil bite from your thigh. Don't worry it's never painful or hard enough to leave a mark. it feels like a ticklish kiss, to be honest. You just look so good he could eat you up<3

♡-Don't get me started on when you wear his fluffy cloak nggggh you're making his heart beat out of his chest is what you're doing. give him a kiss.

♡-He shows you off A LOT. When walking through Liyue you're always tucked safely into his side with a protective arm around your shoulders (while he gives a death glare to anyone that looks at you for a lil too long). All the harbingers know about you at this point. Against their will because Childe doesn't know about shutting up when it comes to you. (They now secretly all have a small crush on you but ssshh)

♡-You don't need to worry about clothing sizes with Childe. He has enough mora to buy you the fanciest clothes made of the finest materials in perfect measurement for you, all he asks is that you give him a Lil fashion show<3 (be prepared to be showered in kisses with every single item you show off)

♡-He definitely carries you a lot, just because he likes feeling the weight of you in his arms. from twirling you around the kitchen late at night, to picking you up and dipping you down to sneak a little kiss in. It's become a little habit of comfort for him

♡-It's the same when it comes to cuddling. He needs you on his lap or chest at all times. You're soft and warm and so so dreamy. brush your hand through his hair and he's asleep in no time. The moment you move off of him, his arms will quickly find you again and wrap themselves around you. even when he's asleep, he needs to feel you.

♡-Childe is slightly (ha) possessive over you. You're your own person of course but also his lol, if anyone forgets that, or someone makes a rude comment about you, he'll knock their teeth out<3 even when someone looks at you in a way that he believes is wrong, or archons forbid catcall you? You need to hold this man back (don't) his vision is getting awfully flashy

♡-He tries his best to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together with you each day. Firstly because he wants to spend time with you of course. He's a harbinger, so there are times when he disappears for hours, maybe even days to weeks if its a big mission:( So sneaking out of meetings or going slightly off route while on a mission to spend those precious meal times with you is the least he can do. And 2) he knows that eating can be tough for you. Feeling like you don't deserve to eat sometimes or being afraid of how you'll look while eating. Him being there during mealtimes helps ease the nerves a little, and he can easily charm you into a conversation that will take any attention towards the negative thoughts away. It's also so he can make sure you eat enough. Can't have his precious angel hungry now, can he?

♡-your stretch marks? *chefs kiss* he traces them all the time. He can't help it! Every time he sees one peek out from under your shorts or shirt when you stretch, his hand is automatically making its way to your skin to trace over the little lightning bolts. He gives a few kisses to them for good luck as well<3′

♡-To put it short, Childe loves his chubby partner. You're so divinely beautiful, such an amazing person and all his to love.If anyone has a problem with that he'll knock their teeth out and then go right back to pressing kisses to your cheeks, tummy, and thighs being in his own little piece of heaven.

Normal font under the cut if it's difficult to read<3

♡- Ooh, dear Ajax, he's so hopelessly in love with you and everything that you are. To think that a harbinger, let alone a harbinger of his status was able to pull such a cute soft thing like you in... he thanks the tsaritsa every day

♡- Let me make it the clear, Childe is with you for much more than just your body. Your mind and soul are just as beautiful to him. You're his person, the love of his life, and everything that's worth living for. Don't ever doubt that. That said, Childe adores the fact that you're chubby. You're just so ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) everything about you just radiates comfort to him. + He is an affectionate biter<3 It's really just cuteness aggression you awake in him. every time he sees you he just needs to take a lil nibble from your cheek, or if he's resting on your lap, a lil bite from your thigh. Don't worry it's never painful or hard enough to leave a mark. it feels like a ticklish kiss, to be honest. You just look so good he could eat you up<3

♡-Don't get me started on when you wear his fluffy cloak nggggh you're making his heart beat out of his chest is what you're doing. give him a kiss.

♡- He shows you off A LOT. When walking through Liyue you're always tucked safely into his side with a protective arm around your shoulders (while he gives a death glare to anyone that looks at you for a lil too long). All the harbingers know about you at this point. Against their will because Childe doesn't know about shutting up when it comes to you. (They now secretly all have a small crush on you but ssshh)

♡- He definitely carries you a lot, just because he likes feeling the weight of you in his arms. from twirling you around the kitchen late at night, to picking you up and dipping you down to sneak a little kiss in. It's become a little habit of comfort for him

♡- It's the same when it comes to cuddling. He needs you on his lap or chest at all times. You're soft and warm and so so dreamy. brush your hand through his hair and he's asleep in no time. The moment you move off of him, his arms will quickly find you again and wrap themselves around you. even when he's asleep, he needs to feel you.

♡- Childe is slightly (ha) possessive over you. You're your own person of course but also his lol, if anyone forgets that, or someone makes a rude comment about you, he'll knock their teeth out<3 even when someone looks at you in a way that he believes is wrong, or archons forbid catcall you? You need to hold this man back (don't) his vision is getting awfully flashy

♡- He tries his best to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together with you each day. Firstly because he wants to spend time with you of course. He's a harbinger, so there are times when he disappears for hours, maybe even days to weeks if its a big mission:( So sneaking out of meetings or going slightly off route while on a mission to spend those precious meal times with you is the least he can do. And 2) he knows that eating can be tough for you. Feeling like you don't deserve to eat sometimes or being afraid of how you'll look while eating. Him being there during mealtimes helps ease the nerves a little, and he can easily charm you into a conversation that will take any attention towards the negative thoughts away. It's also so he can make sure you eat enough. Can't have his precious angel hungry now, can he?

♡- your stretch marks? *chefs kiss* he traces them all the time. He can't help it! Every time he sees one peek out from under your shorts or shirt when you stretch, his hand is automatically making its way to your skin to trace over the little lightning bolts. He gives a few kisses to them for good luck as well<3′

♡- To put it short, Childe loves his chubby partner. You're so divinely beautiful, such an amazing person and all his to love.If anyone has a problem with that he'll knock their teeth out and then go right back to pressing kisses to your cheeks, tummy, and thighs being in his own little piece of heaven.

#genshin x reader #genshin x chubby reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #childe x reader #childe x gender neutral reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin comfort #genshin fluff #chubby!reader

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