#no erasing no planning! just ink all over your hand!

[snoriangray]

some assorted dip pen drawings. really fun to dive in without a sketch and just see what happens! Jamie, Peri, Two (dressed up very nicely as Salamander) and Zoe <3

#classic who #doctor who #jamie mccrimmon #peri brown #second doctor #zoe heriot #aka my BABIES!!!!!! #two's era has me by the throat right now #these arent the greatest but thats honestly the point #theyre great practice in just going with the flow #no erasing no planning! just ink all over your hand!

[blueberryarchive]

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention. 

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again. 

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one. 

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago. 

Two, to be exact. 

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes. 

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words. 

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand. 

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour. 

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other. 

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

#taehyung smut #taehyung #taehyung x reader #jk #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts #jimin imagine #jimin smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts x reader #kim taehyung smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #cottagecore #bts v #v x reader #bts taehyung #tae x reader #taehyung core #tumblr #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung fem reader #jungkook seven

[luveline]

can i pls request a hurt/comfort eddie drabble with hugs and reassurance? maybe someone did something that’s been on their mind and upsetting them. thank you!

i love comforting eddie so much and after make up i cant help remebering how good josephs hugs look so we know eddie gives the best ones ever <3

Eddie climbs through your open bedroom window and your heart rockets, startled at his sudden intrusion.

"You really need to start closing it if you're gonna react this bad every time," he says, dropping his beat up jansport by the sill and kicking off his shoes. "Move over." 

His appearance makes you feel much less miserable than you had, though it still lingers as you push your back to the wall. You and Eddie don't fit comfortably on your twin bed but that's never stopped him from trying, crushing in by your side, his arm pressed to yours. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says finally, lolling his head toward you. 

"Hey, Eddie." 

"What were you doing? Sleeping?" he asks. 

You nod though it's not true, turning on your side to steal back a fraction of space. Eddie has this way of drawing the truth from you and you're not sure you wanna talk about it tonight. 

"You look sad. You wanna hug?" he asks. 

And that's your plan for space gone. It would be more suspicious to say you don't, because you always want a hug from Eddie. He gives the most amazing hugs, all strong armed and caring, his hands rubbing over the plane of your back slowly like he has nowhere else he'd rather be. His hugs are so good that you could believe it; that he loves them just as much as you do. 

You nod and he sits up, arms open and reaching for you. You sit up the same, enough to wrap your arms around his ribs and back. 

"You weren't really sleeping," he says. 

"No." 

"Mm," he hums, working his face into the side of yours, his lips skipping over the shell of your ear. "What's wrong, huh? Tell me." 

"Nothing serious," you confess slowly. 

"But it is something?" And there, his hand rubbing over your back, working away the tense ache. His rings are missing. Usually you can feel their weight, their ridges as they push over your spine. 

"Not really, Eddie." 

He groans quietly, almost good-humoured. Very much, I don't believe you. He's so nice and he smells beautiful, soft and warm, his arms strong as a cage but never that cruel, and his asking, all of it makes you want to cry. 

"Not really. I'm feeling a small chance that it's something. I mean, you don't have to tell me. But I wanna know, so…" 

You're limp to his solid, mild to his fierce. He pats your back a few good times and then holds you at arm's length. 

"Do you have, like, a stomach ache?" 

"No, I'm alright. Just…" 

"Artist block?" he asks. 

Not quite. You shake your head and then change your mind, deciding that artist's block sounds less pathetic than, 'someone saw my sketchbook and rolled their eyes and I've been sad for two days'. And not normal sad. Can't eat, don't want to move, sad. 

"Yeah," you agree, smiling weakly. "Yeah." 

"I noticed…" Eddie says, standing from the bed to retrieve his backpack before returning so fast he half sits on you. "That you haven't been doing your portraits lately." He unzips his bag and pulls out a smaller bag, made from a white paper with blue writing over the sides. "And I remembered how your nice inks all ran out. So, I went out to Indianapolis," his tone shifts, like he's listing something totally boring, "all the way down to that place behind Freeman's Ice Cream with the glass storefront, and the lady was totally pissed with me for getting all this Hawkins dirt," he grins deviously, "on their nice rug." 

He passes you the bag. "Anyway. That's for you, sweetheart." 

"Eddie…" 

"Don't sound too mushy yet. I don't know if they're the right ones." 

His shift from cocky to nervous is endearing. 

You shake the bag's contents into your lap. An assortment of things fall out. A big inky pen for portraits, a refill. Two pencils with blue wood. An eraser. Four markers, four colours. 

You slide your finger over the barrel of a marker. It's a dark red.

"I know you don't use much colour," he starts. "I thought it might help. Well, I asked one of the assistants. About, like, art block. And they said to try something new.

I liked the colours. I don't know if they're useful. But. I don't know. They suit you." 

A dark red, blue, green. A buttery yellow orange. 

"Eddie, you didn't have to." 

"I kind of did. If you think about it." 

You get what he means. The same way you get him a pack of cherry twizzlers everytime you see them, or always have a hair tie on your wrist. 

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to hide how embarrassed you feel. How overcome with affection for him. 

He yanks your wrists. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Don't cry. Hey." He scowls at your watery eyes. "Hey, don't. What's wrong? It's only a couple of pens." 

"You don't think I'm awful?" you ask quietly. "At drawing?" 

"No. Of course I don't. I love your art." His scowl softens. "Did someone say something? I can get violent." 

"It's stupid," you say. 

He's quiet. You take the red marker in your hand, turning it over and over and over. He's kept a hold of one of your wrist, his thumb pushing into your pulse then upward, into the meat of your palm. 

"The piece you did for my last campaign? You know how fucking amazing that shit was? All in black and white but everyone could tell how emotional it was. You made it something so dimensional and gory and crazy without any colour at all." He sews your fingers together. You meet his eyes. Brown, edged in a burst of dark, long lashes. "If you can do that shit in graphite I'm genuinely scared of the stuff you could make with colour. And when I say scared I mean I'm salivating. Like a dog." 

You scrunch up your nose and squeeze his fingers. He squeezes back. 

"Not that I'm expecting a thank you, but I am." 

"Yeah?" you ask, sniffing, grinning wide enough to hurt your cheeks. 

"Yep. It involves your hands." Your eyes jump to his and his laugh is golden. "A hug, sweetheart. Why, what were you thinking?" 

"Shut up, jerk." You crawl over the art supplies, paper crinkling under your knees as you hug him tenaciously. 

He rubs your back and says, "That's better." 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 3

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I've had a hectic week. Thank you for all the support with my writing, I love you all ahhh.

@lilianelena39 Thank you for asking to be tagged! I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Part one Part two Part four

The days that followed were filled with shy touches and hidden smiles. It’s only been a week since you went on that date with James, and it hasn’t left your mind since. 

After eating, he’d ask you to read to him, you spent the rest of the date muttering the love story to James as he lay on his back, making comments now and then. 

The awkwardness of the first date was long gone, and you found yourself growing comfortable around him. He seemed more comfortable around you too, with the way he gripped your hand tightly in his or the way he relentlessly teased you. 

You were still quiet, barely muttering a few words but James filled in the silence. 

He was holding your hand now, you two having run into each other whilst you were on your way to the owlery. James had decided to ditch Sirius and Remus, claiming you were much nicer than them- earning a giggle from you and a scowl from Sirius. 

“You never finished that book,” James muttered, breaking the peaceful silence. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to know the ending,” You said honestly, James looked genuinely offended and you had to bite back a smile. 

“Of course I do, the letter was heartbreaking.” 

You grinned, “Well if you must know, he proposes again and she accepts.”

He let go of your hand, placing his hands over his ears as if it could erase what he just heard. “Spoilers!” 

You couldn't help the laugh that burst out of you, “The book came out years ago! There are spoilers everywhere!”

“Yes, but I was trying to hint at another date where you read to me again but I guess that’s not possible since you’ve told me the ending.” He grumbles, feigning anger as he reaches for your hand again. 

“Well…I never told you what happened to the others.”

He took the bait, “I am dying to know what happens with the others, so maybe if you’re up to it we could go on another date, say, this Saturday?” 

You pretended to think for a moment, “Saturday, hmm, I’m not sure.”

You both stop at the entrance of the owlery, James pulling you into him slightly. You couldn’t stop the blush painting your cheeks.

He’s never touched you like that before.

“I’ll beg if you want,” He whispers, laughing when you playfully hit his arm, cheeks redder than a tomato. 

“No begging is needed. Saturday is fine.” It left you three days to plan your outfit and mentally prepare. 

James grins triumphantly, following you around the owlery, hand still gently placed on your waist. 

—

You stared at the wobbly heart drawn on the inside of your wrist. You hadn’t noticed when it appeared but your eyes can’t look away. 

Not all soulmates are together romantically, sometimes they are platonic soulmates, hell, on rare occasions they’re enemies who despise each other. 

But there’s a part of you that hopes you and James are romantic soulmates. There’s also a part of you that’s still unsure about him. You two are complete opposites, you’re quiet, he’s loud, and you shrink away at any attention on you whereas James thrives in it. 

“Opposites attract, it’s basic science in the muggle world.” Lily had reassured you when you voiced your concerns. Maybe she was right. Merlin, you hoped she was right. 

But you push those thoughts away for now, noting you only have half an hour to finish getting ready. You’ll talk to James about your thoughts. If there’s one thing you hate most in romance books it is the miscommunication trope. 

You hastily draw a sloppy heart back before returning to your makeup. You keep it simple, applying a couple of coats of mascara and some concealer before adding lipgloss. 

Your outfit is simple, black jeans and the top you feel most comfortable in, paired with a thick coat to keep out the cold weather. 

You reach The Three Broomsticks in no time, relishing in the warmth. Noting James isn’t here yet, you find a secluded table in the corner.

A minute later James walks through the door, nose red from the cold. He perks up when he spots you, smiling warmly and he takes the seat across from you. 

You notice the heart on his wrist as he sits, his coat pulled up like he was staring at it just a moment ago. 

“You always seem to be here earlier than me, perhaps on our second date I’ll arrive an hour early to beat you.” Your heart flutters at the thought of him already planning a second date.

You’re silent, mind racing for something snarky to respond with. James doesn’t seem bothered by your silence, instead asks you if you’d like a butterbeer and you nod your head gratefully. 

You take the time he’s gone to calm your thoughts. It seems as if you haven’t pushed those thoughts from before down far enough.

“The weather has changed drastically since our first date, don’t you think?” James asks as he sits back down. You nod your head. Just two weeks ago you were wearing dresses but now it seems as if it’s going to snow at any moment. 

 “Climate change.” You respond dumbly. 

“I hope you brought the book with you, maybe we could find a quiet place for you to read for me. Or we could head back to the common room and you read to me there.”

You shake your head, “I couldn’t bring it, I didn’t want to risk bending it by putting it in a bag but didn’t want to risk getting it wet either.”

James seemed disappointed, “Later then, when we get back.”

You nod your head dumbly. 

“Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.” James’s eyes shine with amusement, a hint of concern peeking through. 

“Do you think we’d be happy together?” You blurt, taking a sip of the butterbeer to busy your fidgeting hands. 

“Yes,” James answers honestly, with no hesitation. “Do you not…think we’d be happy together?” He asks rather nervously. 

“We’re quite different from each other.”

He ponders for a moment, “Different isn’t always a bad thing, Love. We balance each other out.”

“Oh.” You’ve never thought of it from that perspective. Awkwardly taking a sip of your drink, you meet James’s eyes. “I just… I’m not used to attention- I hate it actually- and you’re popular so I can’t help but think once everyone finds out we’re dating they’re going to pay more attention to me.”

You’ve only met a couple of times since the first date, and besides the walk to the owlery, it was in secrecy. 

“We don’t have to tell people straight away- whatever this is. It can be our little secret, for now, Love. Is there anything else worrying you?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not very secretive if we’re sitting together in broad daylight in one of the most popular stores in Hogsmeade.”

He drains the rest of his drink, “I guess we’ll have to find somewhere else to go. Come with me.” You don’t miss the glint of mischief in his eyes but go to follow him anyway. 

“Where are we going?” You whisper, desperately trying to catch up as he runs through the snow. He stops a few minutes later and you attempt to catch your breath as you examine your surroundings. 

“Where are we?” You ask when you don’t recognise the place. There's nothing and no one around, just the path you came from.

“You’re not going to murder me are you?” 

James laughs, stalking closer, “I don’t plan on it, no. I’m rather fond of you.” 

Your heart skips a beat, “Even if we’re so different?” 

He nods, a small smile painting his face as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Of course, my Love. It would just be boring if we were so alike.” 

You nod your head in agreement, “It would, wouldn't it?” Ever so slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as one of his hands go to hold your jaw. 

His lips touch yours and like last time they’re soft and warm but unlike before, the kiss is filled with hunger.

He pulls you closer against him and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. James immediately deepens the kiss, tongue swiping across yours and you pull away in shock. 

He doesn’t let you go far, nose burrowing into your neck, “I’m sorry, Love. You just taste so good.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, breathless.

He laughs, “Yeah, Oh.”

—-

“That's how it ends?” James asks you, peering up from where his head lays on your lap, your hand threading through his soft curls. 

You’re laying on your bed. The common room was too busy and James stated the boys would just bother them if they went to his room so you shyly offered to read to him in your room.

The girls were all doing their own thing tonight, thankfully giving you and James time alone. 

You immediately thought of other things you could be doing alone but James seemed determined to hear the rest of the book and you weren't sure you wanted to do those activities with him yet. 

“I don’t get why that’s your favourite book,” At your offended look he continues, “Sorry, Love, but that's such a bad ending.”

You laugh incredulously, “It’s not a bad ending! They end up happy and in love.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” He jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“If you’re not a hopeless romantic then I want you to leave right now.” You point to the door playfully and James leans up, face inches from yours. 

“I’ll become a hopeless romantic for you,” He mutters, looking at your lips. 

“Good.” You push him off the bed and he groans in fake pain. “Go to bed, the girls will be back soon and I’ll never hear the end of it if they spot James Potter in my bed.”

“Fine. I want to see you soon though, maybe after the Quiddich game next week?” 

“Won’t you be too busy celebrating the win?” 

“You think we’re going to win?” He asks, happiness and shyness clear in his voice. His cheeks turn red when you nod, “I can think of other ways to celebrate the win with you, Love.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Go.”

He taps his lips and you can’t help but blush. You mean for it to be a quick peck but James has other ideas, tilting your head as he kisses you deeply. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck before leaving with a quick wink. 

As soon as the door closes you let out a squeal, kicking your feet as you hug your pillow to your chest tightly. 

“I heard that.” James’s voice resonates through the door. 

Your cheeks flush, “Go away.” 

His footsteps fade and you relax into your bed.

It’s only until the next morning that you notice the words on your wrist.

I’m kicking my feelings and squealing about you too. Not so different after all.

#james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter hurt/comfort

[sixosix]

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness. 

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it���s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

[ravolix]

keys to my fragile heart

synopsis: on a late evening, you find yourself sitting on the balcony of wangshu inn with the infamous adeptus there to accompany you. eventually, your eyes get drawn to the unkempt and messy nature of xiao’s teal-streaked hair.

content: gn!human reader, canon universe, fluff/comfort for days, xiao not being the best at self care, no established relationship, plausible platonic/romantic undertones

Nights like these were rare, much less with Xiao at your side. The pale moon shines down onto your bodies, small in the grand scheme of Teyvat.

In your hands lays a simple plate of peeled and sliced oranges, the two of you taking turns picking a wedge from the ceramic dish and eating it. The citrus taste in your mouth makes up for the awkward silence.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much to bear and you find yourself glancing over at Xiao.

He sits on the railing, looking out at the scenery as he absentmindedly chews on his slice of the orange. Judging from his demeanor, he doesn’t seem to notice you looking at him— or if he did, he doesn’t show it. So, you keep looking.

Your gaze find themselves drawn to the intricate design of his tattoos, markings inked by deep aquamarines that only seems to glow more under the moonlight. From what you're able to see, his amber eyes read of something akin to a faraway look. Perhaps if you were braver, you'd be more willing to ask the adeptus about what's on his mind.

Instead, your eyes are drawn to Xiao's hair. Looking at it closely, it's not hard to realize a certain feature of the disheveled locks.

To put it simply, his hair was a mess. Knotted and matted, you wonder how the yaksha even got it to the point that it was that bad.

"Xiao," you call softly. You place the plate of oranges to the side.

His head turns around to look at you with a curious expression.

"Come here," a gentle motion of your hand beckons Xiao. He cautiously stands up from his spot on the railing and hops down to settle next to you.

"What do you need?" his voice sounds just as indifferent as ever, but there's a hint of interest laced in there that's easy for you to recognize.

"Mm, nothing. Just let me..."

The way Xiao flinches as you reach out to carefully place your hands on his head makes you wonder how used to gentle affection he is.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes darting between his feet and your own gaze.

"Just trying to fix your hair. Are you...?"

With a tender motion, your fingers find a grip in his hair and you try your best to straighten out the locks as a silent finish to your question.

After you finish speaking, Xiao seems to pause. His expression goes from confused and wary to almost thoughtful. You consider asking him the question again, perhaps he didn't hear you? But, before you can even open your mouth to repeat your words, you feel a weight press against you.

"Fine. Just this once, mortal." he murmurs, his forehead resting on your shoulders. Though you can't exactly see his expression from this angle, the way his posture relaxes as you quietly run your digits through his unkempt hair makes you think he doesn't mind it as much as he lets on.

In all fairness, it's clear that simply doing this isn't enough to help the hair situation. If anything, you made a mental note to show Xiao how to have a self-care day and give him a proper bath.

But, as the astral glow of moonlight continues to cascade onto your silent forms, you allow yourself to forget about the plans for tomorrow and even the distant future.

And Xiao, for all the pain and suffering he's been through, allows himself to simply exist in the moment with you. Though your hands aren't enough to erase the lingering clouds of agony in his life, letting them in, letting you in, helps a bit.

Just for tonight, he'll let your fingers be the key to his fragile heart.

notes: random idea i had at midnight! there's very slight shade thrown at xiao and his lack of self-hygiene, but i love him he's so sweet!!

also, in case you couldn't tell, i'm a really big fan of writing stuff that's borderline platonic or romantic lol - i think it's just a fluff thing

oh, and i have a lot of drafts of just blurbs so that's why my posting schedule is going brrr

taglist:

@aphroditesswan @rainswept

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #xiao fluff #xiao genshin impact #xiao genshin x reader #gn reader

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The Kidnapper [ 10:00 AM ]: ink or Grey?

The Kidnapper [ 10:00 AM ]: *Pink

The Kidnappee [ 10:30 AM ]: ink is good.

The Kidnapper [ 10:35 AM ]: i despise everything you currently stand for.

“Who’re you texting?”

You subtly place your phone screen-side down, turning to flash Nicole a bright smile. “No one,” You shrug, lying through your teeth. She hums for a moment, thoughtful eyes trained on you before she decides to pass over it. 

“Have you finished your essay yet?” 

“I’m almost offended you asked.” You pull out your essay with a scoff, placing it on your table as your phone buzzes with a new notification. You check it out of curiosity, inhaling sharply.

- [ The Kidnappee ] has changed your name to [ Anti-Hero ] -

Damn. He really got you there. 

Anti-Hero [ 10:37 AM ]: this is a forcibly implemented stereotype.

- [ Anti-Hero ] has changed [ The Kidnappee ] to [ :/ ] -

:/ [ 10:37 AM ]: :/

“Can I have a look?” Nicole takes the completed assignment from your table once you nod, scanning through it. You had barely gotten enough sleep last night, having scrounged up just enough motivation to hand in this assignment early so that you could focus on other things worth your time, and thanking the gods for thesaurus dot com.

For instance, there was a new cafe you’d been wanting to try out lately. You’d heard that they had this new pastry – croffles, as they call it. Fortunately, you happened to have a little spare cash in your rapidly depleting bank account, but as one says, life is only lived when you eat good food. 

Plus, who else to go cafe hopping with than your best friend?

“Oh, I can’t make it today.” You stare at Nicole who cooly informs you of her sudden withdrawal from today’s plans. “My mom asked me to pick something up from her, and it’s pretty much on the other side of town. Plus, don’t you have to babysit tonight?”

“Well, yeah but-”

“I’ll pay for the next cafe.”

“Have fun!” You grin, overjoyed at the prospect of a free meal. One can never turn down food, especially when it’s for free. Nicole rolls her eyes with a slight smile at your response, though you can tell that she’s amused. 

“What about Michael?” 

“He’s got basketball today,” Nicole says, handing you back the essay and sending you an odd look when she notices your raised brows. “What?”

“Looks like someone’s been keeping tabs on him,” You tease lightly, leaning over and nudging her shoulder. She pushes you off with a grunt, lips tugged down into a frown. 

“That’s because he never shuts up.” 

“Sure, sure,” You dismiss with a lighthearted sigh, already starting to text on your phone once more. If Nicole wasn’t free, and Michael was busy…it didn’t leave you with many alternative options. It’s not like you didn’t have many friends per say, it was more of a social network. 

Plus, it never hurts to make connections either. 

Anti-Hero [ 11:00 AM ]: are you busy today?

Anti-Hero [ 11:00 AM ]: or does spiderman have somewhere to be?

:/ [ 11:00 AM ]: i dont think so, dont really have anything on after school. 

:/ [ 11:02 AM ]: why?

:/ [ 11:30 AM ]: ?

You place your phone back into your pocket with a slight grin, paying attention to the teacher who had just started her lesson. The phone continues to buzz, probably more new messages from Miles questioning the sudden enquiry.

Guess you have someone to go with to the cafe after all. 

— — — — — 

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“This is an English paper,” Nicole points out. You frown at the paper on your desk, your name scrawled at the top left along with today’s date. 

“That’d explain it,” you mutter, going back to your sketchbook where your half-finished artwork remains. The pages are wrinkled with multiple attempts to erase any mistakes, but the familiar sight of Spiderman leaning back against a bench and chilling is the picture of peace. 

On an empty page is where you’d just started doodling, ideas beginning to flow through you from mind to paper. You’d doodled a rough outline of a bouquet, having lightly sketched two hands holding them out. The flowers were a mix of different types, each with a common meaning - peace. The idea had occurred to you during class, the serenity of the first sketching session with Miles ingrained in your mind. 

It was nice. And that made you wonder what other things were nice and peaceful too. Going on walks counted, didn’t they? Granted, you don’t really go on them often but when you did, it always helped clear your mind of whatever thoughts were plaguing you. Usually you’d head to a nearby park to just walk around aimlessly. The trees were nice during autumn, its leaves turning all sorts of colours and curling up as they withered. 

It’s fun to step on them and hear the soft crunch, the sound oddly satisfying. The flowers were nice too, different types blooming in various seasons throughout the year. Flowers were always given during graduations and ceremonies, especially in the form of celebration and congratulations. You’d heard from Michael that each flower had a different meaning. Roses typically signified love, but it could get as specific as white roses meaning purity, while red roses were a profession of love from one person to another.

You wonder which flower signifies peace. Upon a quick google search (away from the laser-like gaze of your teacher of course), you find out that such flowers included lavender, violets, white poppies, and peonies among the many that did. 

You prop the phone up against your pencil case, grateful for the fact that you’re seated in the back with a lower chance of being caught by the teacher. Pencil meets paper, and you soon find yourself with a half completed bouquet, with incredibly detailed petals of each flower.

However, you’re rudely interrupted by the bell, Nicole having set down a new assignment the teacher had handed out at the end of her class. Your next period was art and you bid Nicole with a hasty goodbye before rushing down the crowded hallways to the classroom. 

Once you open the door, you sit down at your usual spot and open your sketchbook in one fluid movement, continuing to draw while you’re still in the zone. You could feel your productivity practically shooting through the roof, knowing that if you stopped here you wouldn’t be able to continue for quite a while and inevitably end up procrastinating.

But not for this piece, no. It’s something solid. You can feel it.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally look up from the sketchbook, wincing when the stiff muscles in your neck protest from the sudden movement. Taking a moment to look around you, you notice that it’s almost the end of class. Miss Dawson is seated at her desk, looking through homework submissions other students had handed in a while ago. 

She senses your gaze, meeting yours with a knowing smile. You shrug simply, holding up your sketchbook with a smug smirk. Her eyes scan the page, acknowledging the work with a single satisfied nod. Delight blooms in your chest at her approval, setting it down and admiring it for yourself. 

To think that your first serious work after your drawing slump is something that you’re more than satisfied with. 

Looks like this muse thing is working out well for you after all. 

— — — — — 

You don’t run into Nicole and Michael until the last period before the bell rings, the both of them leaving as soon as its shrill chime echoes through the school. You wave goodbye, Nicole shoving Michael away as soon as he tries to drape his arm around her shoulders once more. 

You snicker at the sight, shaking your head fondly at his antics. It’s only a matter of time till they finally get together. You’re more than willing to help, only if they’d just voice it out, the idiots. 

You finally open the unread messages from Miles, but don’t reply even as you exit the school and make your way to Brooklyn Visions Academy. A cool breeze greets the exposed skin of your arms, having taken off the thin cardigan you’d worn to school in the chilly morning. 

The familiar building soon comes into view, and you spot Miles exiting the gates. You check the time on your phone. 2.30PM. Perfect.

“Come on loser, we’re going shopping!” You greet him enthusiastically, waving energetically. The bright smile on your lips only grows when you see the pure confusion and panic in his eyes.

“Wh-What’re you doing here?” He asks you as you skip merrily towards him. Sensing a few eyes on him, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you to one side, away from most of the crowd. 

You spot the beads of sweat forming on his brow, and the visibly distressed frown on his lips. Although you took great pleasure in seeing him become so unnerved by you, now isn’t the time for such pleasantries to be exchanged. You remove your hand from his grasp, lightly patting his back instead with a charming smile. 

“Calm down, I’m just here to pick you up. We’re going to a croffle cafe!” Miles pauses, looking down at you in disbelief. He takes a moment to stare at you, before sliding a hand down his face as his brows furrow, trying to process your words. He exhales, eyes squeezed shut while you wait patiently, utterly amused as you watch him go through the stages of acceptance. 

“Croffle?”

“A cross between croissant and waffle,” You clarify, tugging on his sleeve. “C’mon, we gotta get there before everything’s sold out!”

He starts to walk, allowing you to drag him along to wherever the cafe is located. He falls into step beside you, matching your pace. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“So, you didn’t have anyone else to go with?” He questions, still bewildered and slightly taken aback by your sudden appearance at his school. 

You frown, shaking your head. “Nah, my friends were busy so I decided to bring you along since you said you were free today.” The subtle glance you throw his way doesn’t escape his notice, looking down at his uniform you had given a once-over. 

“What’s wrong with my uniform?”

“Nothing, it’s just…Aren’t you hot or something?” You question curiously, surprised by his tolerance to the sudden sweltering sun that decided to make its presence known to everyone under it a short while ago. 

He shrugs, smirking as he secures the blazer around his waist, unbuttoning it and letting it fall to his sides. “It’s a choice.”

“Like your shoes?” You point out, eyeing the way his untied shoelaces land into a small puddle on the pavement. He nods casually, seemingly having accepted that his afternoon was now going to be spent accompanying you.

“I have choices,” He defends with an emotionless smile. You roll your eyes playfully. Thankfully, the apartment buildings around you provide plenty of shade from the heat, though you were still sweating a rather moderate amount. 

An array of buildings and trees pass by in a colourful blur, the cafe finally coming into view. The interior is both modern and sleek, the doorbell attached to the top of the door chiming as you open it. The workers inside greet you with a cheerful hello, and you nod back with a shy smile, flustered by their warm greeting. You make your way to the second floor without hesitation, setting down your bag on the chair that faces the ceiling-to-floor windows, offering a beautiful view of the bustling junction. 

Miles quickly makes himself comfortable in his own seat, curious fingers pulling his phone out and scanning the QR Code that had been laminated onto the table. You do the same, scrolling through the extensive menu the cafe had. 

“What’s a cherry-ade?” 

“It’s kinda like a lemonade, just cherry flavoured and usually more fizzy. I heard this cafe is known for their savoury croffles, but I really wanna try their croffle and ice cream combination. Plus, I saw that they sell plum-ade here too.” You explain, already placing an order on your phone and setting it down on the table after.

“Chicken and croffles,” Miles hums thoughtfully, glancing back down at a menu option. You lean over the table between you both, peeking at his phone. He instinctively moves it away, but your inquisitive gaze makes him relent, showing you the screen where an order for the chicken croffle and plum-ade is placed. 

“So you’re a savoury person? I bet you like mint chocolate chip ice cream too,” You remark, shifting in your seat and getting comfortable. 

“What’s so bad about mint chocolate chip ice cream?” Miles takes offence to that statement, narrowing his eyes at you. You squint back at him, already gearing yourself up to put forth your stance.

“You’re basically biting into toothpaste,” you state with complete and utter certainty, undeterred by the shock in his eyes when he hears your words. 

“Biting??”

“Okay, I mean it’s not any of my business as to what you get up to in the mornings but if getting little gunky bits stuck in your teeth is your idea of a wonderful start to the day, be my guest.”

“Wait, no. Biting? You bite your ice cream?” He repeats, completely baffled by this discovery and forgoing everything else you’ve said. 

“Yeah, and it’s seriously like biting into chocolate toothpaste bro,” You answer coolly with a disapproving shake of your head.  

“Do your teeth not hurt?” He asks curiously. 

You pause for a moment, looking down at the folded hands on your lap before answering. “Not really, but I’ve never really thought about it before. Also, it’s just way more convenient all ‘round.”

“But you wouldn’t get to savour it!”

“And you’d rather have it drip onto your hands and let them become sticky?”

“Use tissues then?”

“God, you’re so weird,” You grunt out through an annoyed huff, though the smile on your face suggests otherwise. Before he can retort however, a sweet voice interrupts you both. The waitress arrives with the tray of food, setting it down on your table and leaving after you both give her your thanks.

“So, this is a croffle.” 

You look down at the freshly made croffle on the plate, the vanilla ice cream on top already beginning to melt as steam wafts from the hot pastry. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply, warmth blooming in your chest from the prospect of a delicious lunch.w

You’re already starting to salivate. 

“Wait.” 

Your fork and knife are inches away from cutting into the croffle, looking up at him with a frown. Who is he to stop you from digging into your well-deserved sweet treat? 

“Bite into it,” Miles smirks, using his own fork to gesture to the ice cream that was surprisingly maintaining its shape after being scooped. 

“Whatever you say, bug boy,” You shrug, using your fork to scoop a huge portion of the ice cream and instantly bite down, chewing calmly. The vanilla is just as sweet and as velvety smooth as you’d expected, eliciting a blissful hum from your throat.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” Miles purses his lips, taking a sip of the plum-ade. You copy him, the refreshing tang of the plum extract only making you want more whilst the fizziness of the soda water cools you from the earlier heat. The air conditioning helps too, you suppose. 

“This…isn’t half bad,” He muses with an approving hum, taking another look at the glass with an impressed gaze. 

“Love me a good plum-ade.” You nod in utter seriousness, unable to hold back a smile from his short laugh. He looks away and takes another sip, relaxing against the chair and watching people pass by below them.

“So, you found out who I was after you saw me climb up the window? Are you really sure about that?”

“You’re kidding.” You say incredulously, shooting him a dubious look and gesturing to the opposite building. “Like, I almost did a double take just seeing you crawl up the wall and into your dorm. It was as obvious as if you did it right in front of us, right now.”

“Seriously?” 

You almost laugh at his flushed cheeks, spotting the tips of his ears slowly turning a light red. “You really gotta get better at this, Morales.”

“Says you, Ray Paynt,” He shoots back instantly, and you avoid his knowing stare by looking down at your glass, taking another sip. You can feel his eyes on you, taking your time to drink your beverage.

There’s no way he knows that your name is fake…right?

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, nodding at his chicken and croffle drenched in maple syrup though one third of it is already gone. “Is it good?” 

He nods,, taking another bite. “It’s decent.”

It grows quiet for a while, the both of you taking your time to eat and relax. There’s not much to say either. You anticipated that Miles might have some burning questions for you, but he doesn’t voice them out at all. 

Besides, it’s not like you’d answer all of them even if he asked.

The sun starts to set, golden rays peeking through the small alleyways of redbrick buildings. You check your phone, surprised when it shows that it’s 7PM. You pick up your backpack and clear the trays, getting ready to leave.

“This wasn’t half bad,” He acknowledges, shrugging on his backpack. You grin, crossing your arms smugly. 

“Told you being my muse would be a good thing.”

“You never said that.”

“Well, now I did.”

— — — — — 

- [ Anti-Hero ] has changed [ :/ ] to [ Bug Boy ] -

Bug-Boy [ 10:00 PM ]: you owe me $7.50

Anti-Hero [ 10:00 PM ]: ???? for what?

Bug-Boy [ 10:00 PM ]: my time is expensive

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: says who

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: ?

Anti-Hero [ 10:02 PM ]: ??

— — — — — — — — —

taglist:

@oh-kurva @brunnettiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas @horologiumwise @ken-zah @sockgoblin @itstooearly-its3am @anuncalledbridge @ditto737 @sophipet @mirophobic @dilucpegg3r @urmotherswhor3 @arraxthatsonjah @ameliabs-world @superiorbyfar @swaqlover @janyiahsucks-blog @choco-malk-blog @akemiixx01 @a-cult-leader @berryunderscore @scarletrosesposts @stargirlhayven @bellstwd @edgyficuselastica @psyche404 @sukisprettyface

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

[demonichikikomori]

My Queen’s Command

BIRTHDAY REQUEST

Yan!S!Vil x Yan!M!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k+

Art is by MAKA on Pixiv!

I apologize severely to my sweetest @raven-tales ! This is a late birthday gift with some Vil lovin'! I did mark reader as a Yandere, but... She's more just super obsessed in this versus Vil who is... You'll see... Please forgive me for such a long wait, and I hope you had a Hellishly Happy Birthday!

SUMMARY:

It was pathetic, sickening even… How desperate you were for Vil to give you the smallest sliver of attention. You even went as far as to dig in the garbage for failed tests to beg him to tutor you. And tutor you he did.

Tags: Reader is an M/Also She's Super Pathetic/But In A Yandere Way/Slight Choking/The D in Devil is For Dark Content

“Speak.”

The voice was powerful, elegant, and always placed you beneath its spell. You stood in the doorway to Vil’s bedroom, gripping tightly to a small stack of papers with a pale purple coat of paint on your fingernails. Dressed in the smallest, pleated denim skirt you owned, the thinnest white blouse with puffy mesh sleeves you owned, the fluffiest pair of white bunny slippers you owned, and the tiniest pair of silk purple panties you owned, you prepared to enact your desperate plan for Vil to spare you a single glance. 

In your hands were old tests you had stolen from the trash after classes had ended for the day. But the man sitting at his large and extravagant vanity had no idea. By erasing the names on top to replace them with your own, he had no reason to look over it further. After all, the tests in your hands were all flunked. Large red marker ink circled numbers below forty percent, some of the grades didn’t even make it into the double digits. “Um-“ A pale, perfectly manicured finger was lifted. Instructing you to stop speaking before you had the chance to even start. “Come in. Close the door.” He commanded again, not even honoring your existence with his sharp amethyst gaze. His blond hair was wrapped up in a braided bun as he looked himself over in the large mirror. Seeking out imperfections that no one else could see but him. 

You did as he asked. Obedient as always to please him in any way possible. People always referred to Rook as obsessive, but you were far worse. 

You had come to this world from your own, and once your presence was graced with that of Vil Schoenheit... You had changed. You abandoned Ramshackle and its inhabitants, pleading and begging to be transferred to Pomefiore without Grim tagging along. You changed the way you dressed based on the fashion magazines you found when raiding his room. You begged Crowley to adjust your schedule so you could attend all of the classes Vil took. You memorized his daily routine, his lifestyle, his habits. You knew everything about him. He knew this. And he was absolutely ecstatic to see your dedication to your queen. No matter how poorly he treated you, you were like putty in his beautiful hands. It amused him how desperate for his attention you were. He enabled your pathetic behaviors, and you always crawled back for more.

From an outside perspective, you were like a filthy stray who followed him around in hopes of being pet. And when Vil was in the mood? You were given what you craved. 

“You’re disturbing me. What is it that you need that requires you to come to me directly? Is Rook not in the dorm?” He demanded an answer, sounding agitated by your mere existence. You were swift to give the answer he needed as you looked down at the flooring tiles. You could feel your inner thighs becoming wet from excitement. “Rook is watching Leona right now. And since he’s not here… I was hoping you could tell me where I went wrong on these papers? I guess… I failed.” You struggled to remain calm, your heart was throbbing as things continued going according to plan. You knew where Rook was because you had orchestrated this entire situation. You informed Rook of Leona’s location, knowing he would head there immediately to admire the royal beast. 

You needed him out of your way for a while. He was too close to Vil too often for your liking. 

Vil glanced at you through the glass of his vanity mirror. His expression was stone, and he didn’t look at you longer than two seconds. But anything from the Housewarden was enough. “Kneel.” He commanded and slowly stood from his fluffy stool. You sank quickly to your knees and fought back your overjoyed smile. He sauntered up to you slowly and you could feel your face becoming hot, your heart threatening to explode in your ribcage. His apple red heels clicked against the floor, and he sighed in annoyance with his arms crossed over his firm chest. A white silk shirt, black dress pants… Even the plainest of clothes looked amazing on him. You kept your eyes lowered to the floor as he stopped in front of you. The tips of his rounded heels only inches away from your knees. He tapped his heel against the floor impatiently as you raised your arms to show him the failed scores. 

You swallowed excitedly as he took them carefully, shuffling through the papers with a disappointed hum. “Honestly… Trying to fool me like this? Are you testing my intellect? Or was this an honest attempt to get a rise out of me? Perhaps you’re looking into comedy?” He asked teasingly as the papers went fluttering carelessly into the air. Vil didn’t buy it. You had a feeling he wouldn’t. But no one can say you weren’t creative for trying. “What is this about? Wasting my time with this prank?” He asked, demanding another answer as you nervously looked up at him. Your eyes met his, and his gaze was far more lustful than you expected. 

But that was the relationship you both had built the longer you followed him day-in and day-out. The humiliator and the humiliated. And neither of you would prefer to have it any other way. 

Before you could speak, his heeled foot pressed into your chest. Rough and hard. You were now pinned to the bedroom door with a ‘thud’ that knocked the air from your lungs. “I asked for an answer, I didn’t say you could look at me.” He snapped, even more agitated by your behavior as a smirk appeared on his face. Your cheeks burned as you looked down at the shiny red heel digging into the center of your chest cavity. Your reflection revealed your pathetic expression and the smile spreading across your burning face. “I wanted to see you… I haven’t been in your room since last month.” You admitted sheepishly as he pushed harder into your chest. Like you were an insect he was trying to crush. “So, instead of being honest about what you want… You dug in the trash like some heathen and brought me random test papers? Thinking you could fool me into believing you're this idiotic to score a seven percent in Magic Pharmacology? Someone, rescue me from second-hand embarrassment.” He scoffed with a laugh following. 

You made him laugh, he thought your idea was laughable. “This was your most pathetic attempt yet. I’ll give you a three out of five for trying. The two points are docked simply because you assumed I would be dumb enough to believe the class I am best in, you’ve failed.” Vil’s voice smoothed out as he pulled his heel from your chest. “I suppose I have time for you since Rook is busy.” The Vil Schoenheit had time for you today. And you couldn’t be more grateful. “Hands and knees, and follow me.” Vil instructed gently as you quickly got to your hands and knees. “What do you say?” He asked as you looked down at the test paper in front of you. A small face was drawn in the corner beside a heart and a small cartoon crab holding a basketball. 

It represented someone who’s name you couldn’t be bothered to remember before erasing. “Thank you Vil for paying attention to me. I’m very grateful!” You barked with your eyes now watching his red heels. The blond chuckled in amusement as he walked slowly around the room. He looked back to watch you crawl after him on your hands and knees. The Housewarden could only compare you to a lowly animal in heat. Your skin scraping against the carpet and the floor as he hummed with his arms crossed. “Such a good pet you are. Do you like following me around like this? Do you like when I give you attention?” He asked and you nodded vigorously, your panties growing wet and soaked with arousal the longer you followed after him. Wishing that he would speak to you more. To give you more and more of his attention. “I love following you! I love when you pay attention to me!” You chirped, nearing a state of breathless excitement as he sat on the edge of his expensive chaise longue. His legs were spread as you awaited the next set of instructions. “Is that the skirt from one of my magazines?” Vil asked and you nodded, feeling your chest flutter knowing he remembered. “It fits wonderfully on you.” He complimented as you squeezed your thighs tightly together. Attention and praise? You must’ve seriously amused him with your idea. 

“I’ll allow you to ride me today. Don’t bother undressing, once we’re finished, you are excused. Do you understand me?” Vil watched your face grow redder and redder in shade as you nodded happily. “Yes Vil, thank you Vil.” He was so kind and thoughtful towards you. Maybe he would cum inside this time if you asked? You wouldn’t mind walking back to your room with his cum deep inside of you, keeping you warm and filled with a reminder that he still cared for your existence in his tight knit orbit. “Stand.” The blond commanded and you were swift to respond. You looked down at him patiently with your hands curled into fists at your side. You couldn’t keep your thighs from rubbing together, your body was starved for affection. Vil’s affection. 

You could see how hard he was, how much the both of you really wanted one another. With his hands tugging you closer with his hips and your hands relaxing against his shoulders, you felt truly rewarded with the skin on skin contact. Your bunny slippers dangled from your feet as you sat in his lap, your knees dug into the expensive velvet of the imported chair. Shyly looking up at Vil, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You were trained well, no need to look down for this part. One of Vil’s hands left your hip to relax around your throat once you pulled his member free and began slowly stroking him. “Who do you love the most? Speak.” He instructed as you refused to break your gaze from his. He was finally looking into your eyes. “I love Vil Schoenheit the most.” You whispered honestly as he tilted his head, his eyes shifting as he accepted your response. The purple in his eyes seemed to darken as he asked you another question. “And your friends?” He spoke softly, curiously, as always he was demanding an answer as you blinked in surprise. “What friends?” You asked with honesty, curious as to what he meant. What answer were you supposed to give? You didn’t have friends. No one ever stood out to you enough to care about. None of them were Vil.

His hand squeezed your neck experimentally as he smiled. “That’s right. ‘What friends?’ is the answer.” Vil cooed happily as you felt your lungs grow tight from the new restriction to your airflow. You loved it. “You have no one but me. No one will ever love you more than me. Isn’t that right?” He whispered your name as if it was the name of his favorite candy. You nodded, carefully bobbing your head as your hands stroked his throbbing cock with a slowed rhythm. “Good. Very good. Now, up on your knees. You may ride me until I cum. When I’m finished,” Vil’s grip tightened suddenly. The lack of air led to blood rushing to your brain as his lips grazed yours. “get out of my sight. And I don’t want to see you for the rest of the week. A little punishment for your stunt today.” His voice was graveled as your heart stuttered in your chest. You won’t be allowed to show your face around him for a few days… But after that you could admire him once again. 

He was so fair when it came to discipline. 

You pressed your knees into the expensive chair, tugging your panties to the side as your thighs trembled. His hand relaxed around your throat as he looked up at you, watching your face twist with struggle as you rubbed the mushroom shaped tip of his cock against your hardened clit. He didn’t say you couldn’t. And the way his hips jerked upwards told you the feeling wasn’t unwelcomed. As you rested your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sank down on his length. Your expression twisted with pain from the intrusion and you gasped from the fullness you felt. Without any real preparation, it was a painful struggle you forced yourself to endure. All for the sake of feeling Vil inside of you. For pleasing him. For pleasing yourself. You held back the sounds that threatened to escape your lips as his member throbbed and pulsed deep inside of you. The rounded tip bumping into a soft and spongy bundle of nerves that he hit each time you had sex. Even after a month of no attention, he was always a perfect fit for your body. Your walls constricted and convulsed around his cock as you shook from the stretching. You couldn’t move, your body was already too sensitive. 

“What are you waiting for? Do you need me to give you instructions for everything?” Vil asked as he grew annoyed from your lack of action. “If I needed a cockwarmer, I would’ve said that. What did I tell you to do?” He asked and you struggled to form a sentence. You felt like you might cum already. “You… You said…” You trailed off, a whine slipping out of your mouth as he rolled his hips into yours, rough and quick as his hand on your hip tightened. “Clearly you are useless without my guidance. This is why you cannot live without me. You would die on your own. Am I wrong?” Vil snapped as your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt tightly. Your brain turned off as you struggled to answer. Nothing coherent came up anyway. 

His hands left you for a moment before he hugged you against his body. His hold so crushing you were forced to sob and moan against the sensitive skin of his ear as he snapped his hips up into yours. The wet smacks and lewd sounds of your pussy sucking him deeper and deeper inside of you made you cry out with pleasure. Vil was giving you the attention you wanted. The attention you worked hard to earn. When the crown of his cock smacked into your cervix a choked sound left your throat as you shook your head and thrashed. If he hits it again you would cum. And you knew he wouldn’t stop until he came next. “Is that how you thank me, whore? Apologize and I’ll spare you.” He growled as his thrusts stopped. You let out a weak string of apologies for him to allow you to hang on a little longer. For the sex to last longer. To feel him against your body longer. 

“Pathetic. You can do better.” He whispered and rammed his hips into yours. Your cervix was hit again as tears spilled down your cheeks from the pain you loved. Vil did it again. And again. And again. You gushed around him, crying out and whimpering for him to ‘stop’ and ‘slow down’ but you never used the safe-word. Because you loved the painful feeling of overstimulation. How he used your body to feel good, how he moaned and grunted in your ear from the pleasure your body gave him. The rhythm Vil held soon grew erratic and with a familiar hiss, he slowed to a stop as your pussy was filled with thick cum. Hot, sticky, and messy, the semen trickled out of you as you fell limp against Vil’s chest. He held you tightly to keep you from falling over with a soft sigh.“Next time… Just see me when Rook isn’t busy. You’re ridiculous.” He scoffed in your ear as you smiled. Coming up with excuses was way more fun.

Tagged Accounts: @fortunatelyburningaphrodisiac @spiritanimals64-blog @raven-tales

#hellishly. happy. birthday #vil schoenheit #vil x reader smut #vil x y/n #vil x yuu #vil x you #vil x mc #vil x reader #yan!vil #yan!reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere reader #masochist reader #dark content #demonic. requests

[jq37]

I'm really glad you've seen Starstruck, because it means you have the context for this. Every disastrous decision made this episode, were THOSE the stupidest things these people have ever done? I thought 'my farts smell awesome' was the lowest they could go, but look at that, they collectively found another layer beneath that. This has to be the biggest L the Intrepid Heroes ever took. Outside of a TPK, losing a Mcguffin is as rough as it gets. The RNG giveth and the RNG taketh away.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OK, now that I have that out of the way, holy hell that last episode took a full year off my lifespan I think. Murph saying that it was like Fabian's Bad Day on a loop was right. I've never watched an episode of a ttrpg and thought, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" so consistently. Even after watching the Adventuring Party I'm not 100% confident I understand what some of those moves were about. I am going to try and break down by thoughts on each interaction, roughly in order from least to most baffling to me.

*Red and the Beast*

If this was as crazy as things went, it would have been a pretty normal episode. I fully understand why Ylfa would want to talk to the Beast being a monstruous princess and all. And Emily's side-motivation of wanting to maybe get some potions that would help them travel without freezing to death made sense as well. Sure it was a little awkward, but in the way that all pre-teens are sort of awkward around people who they think are cool. She didn't spill any serious beans or burn any serious bridges. This one gets a pass from me. 

*Ger and Elody*

It probably feels like I'm ranking this pretty low. And I am if we're talking in pure terms of cause and effect. Because loudly and weirdly spilling the beans the way that he did was a TERRIBLE move tactically and DEF alerted the princesses to their plan. BUT I wasn't CONFUSED about why it happened. Ger had a thing to do that made sense--find out if his wife was in on the erase everything plan and fill her in if not/try to convince her to switch sides if so. He had a reason to get frustrated and do something stupid. This was, in my eyes, a good plan that went poorly because of bad dice rolls and Murph's commitment to character. So while it was VERY unfortunate, I'm not actually confused about why the desperate frog man who is known for being awkward was weird and awkward to his wife in a dire situation so it didn't really frustrate me in the same way that some of the other scenes did. We also got one of one only pieces of new information in this episode--that it doesn't seem like Elody is in on the plan (though with his trash Insight rolls, who even knows). I wish he'd taken Roz with him to back up his story right away (and give him advantage of dice rolls). I also wish he'd brought Roz with him so she wasn't able to do her own solo mission. Speaking of...

*Roz and Snow*

This is not a conversation that needed to happen tactically. I was like, why is this going on? Just because everyone is having a little chat doesn't mean you have to have a little chat too. I will admit that by the time I got here, I was feeling so much second hand cringe that I missed a bit of the conversation. But I do know that Roz told Snow that she told the entire group about their chat and that they were fine with it. WHY TELL HER THAT??? The plan was clearly told to Roz with the understanding that it was for her ears only. Why immediately be like, "So I talked it over with the squad..." You're showing your hand! You're telling Snow you're not really aligned with the Daughter's of the Crown. If you were going to talk to Snow, why not try to figure out what the actual plans are wrt the erase the world endgame? They really don't know anything about the specifics of the plan. Just some nebulous talk about spilling ink. Why is no one asking questions about this? How are they supposed to stop a plan they don't understand?  Anyway, I think this conversation didn't need to happen and while it wasn't as disastrous in effect as Ger's convo, his had a good reason for happening while I don't think this one did which is why it frustrated me more. 

*Pinnochio and Cindy*

OK so this one frustrated me a TON because it had so much potential for getting information and moving the story forward but that's not what happened at all! As a sidenote, I was surprised but excited when they showed up at the castle and the Snow Queen fight was already over offscreen because I was like, "Man! We're going to get so much good information next episode!" Haha, nope! This conversation started off really strong with Pinnochio saying that they're kinda step-sibs which I thought was a great opener and something I hadn't really considered. I thought he was going to maybe bring up how the stepmother's goal seems to be fucking with stories (in a similar way to what they want) and seeing how she reacts. Or maybe following the thread about how she ALSO feels like she doesn't have agency in her story because she's a puppet of a narrative without even a name. And I don't want to assume but seems like Brennan was giving him the opening to go there like when Cindy was talking about "her own story" and Pinnochio was like, "She doesn't have one" Cindy seemed willing to talk down that thread but it was dropped really quickly. And this whole conversation had such a dissonant vibe where it was like Cindy was in Crown of Candy and Pinnochio was in Fantasy High or even Starstruck in terms of seriousness. Which, from a comedy standpoint, was extremely funny but from a narrative standpoint was like, Pinnochio...I'm begging you...please...ask her one direct question. Lou said he was playing up Pinnochio's childishness because he's a child in a weird situation which, sure I guess. But man. It was a very funny scene but not very narratively fulfilling.

*Pib and Cindy and a Window*

Pib readying the horses? The most competent move of the session! Pib unilaterally deciding to try to push her into her book? Why???? Like, OK. I wouldn't have told her about the book if I was Pinnochio--at least not without consulting the group. BUT once the proverbial cat was out of the book, why not let her have it? It might give her some perspective she doesn't already have and you might be able to sway her into being an ally. I feel like Cindy and Snow while true believers in the plan, aren't beyond reason. They don't strike me as gung ho about the entire situation. They give me the energy of people who are exhausted and on their last resort. I honestly feel like there is a world where this is all salvageable if they'd let her have her book without going full hostile. Maybe it's not the most LIKELY option. But I think there was a chance. But nope. Initiative. Even if they'd gotten her in, what's the next move? You're in a palace full of her allies and none of you have rolled more than a ten all session! Were you going to hold her hostage and run? Like, bruh. If they wanted to leave, they should have just left! Why did they make a whole production about it? I swear, they stayed in the castle the exact worse length of time. Not long enough to get any info, but too long to leave gracefully. Anyway, I thought this was a wild decision to just make. 

*Princess Interlude*

This isn't a part of the breakdown. This is just something I wanted to talk about. We really don't know how much the princesses know about The Situation and that's a big piece of the puzzle for us to know how BAD of a plan this is with the info they have. Because one of the few things we learned this episode is that Cinderella is surprised that the Stepmother doesn't have her own book. If they think that each person has their own book and they can write themselves out of existence without it affecting anyone else then this is actually a suicide pact and not a murder-suicide pact which still isn't GREAT but it's not WORLD ENDING which is decidedly less selfish. I still think it's an insane thing to try without having a full understanding of their world but if you're only playing with your OWN lives, then that's your right. 

And wrt to the PCs, since they were spilling the beans left and right, why not be like, cool. Ink spilling. Great plan. Now what about the Auroratory?  Because their stories don't just exist in ink. They're oral tradition, baby. I'm sorry you don't like your lives but ink spilling isn't going to solve everything. 

Finally, I need to go back to past episodes where the princesses are lamenting to be sure, but I'm honestly not 100% sure what it is they're so distressed about. There is an element of fighting for free will but I'm not sure what it is they think they don't have control over. Because surely if they had no free will, they wouldn't be able to fight their stories at all, right? And if it's just that they're stuck with all their memories from all their lives, Witches do that all the time, right? Can they just not handle the Everything, Everywhere, All At Once lifestyle because they're not inherently magical and they're cracking under the pressure? From what I remember from the previous episode, it sounded like Cindy and Snow were distressed over the *existence* of dark versions of their story which is why they wanted to destroy everything completely. But also, isn't darkness just a thing you have to accept if you're going to have free will? And also, I don't know that it makes sense to destroy the entire world just because there are timelines where bad things happen (especially when the worst things don't even happen to them). Who awakened these princesses in the first place? Based on the introductions, we're led to believe it's Cindy and Snow who were the first ones, but now that we've met Rapunzel, I have my doubts. And speaking of her, back to the list.

*Tim and Raps*

Tim what were you THINKING?????????

God, where to begin. Ally said they weren't sure if Raps was in on it or not two APs in a row which is baffling to me because I thought Brennan telegraphed it pretty hard that Raps was both very clever and very fake. We first hear about her trying to deceive the Baba Yaga (one of the SCARIEST NPCs who even DEATH doesn't fuck with) and getting away with her tongue intact. Then, on a really high insight check, the party learns nothing about her, except that she's so shiny you can't really read her. Suspicious as hell. THEN, we learn that she has hair that's everywhere that can potentially be used to spy on people. And when she describes murdering the Snow Queen, she says it in the most politician-y, obfuscate-y, side-stepping culpability way possible. YEAH. I THINK SHE'S IN ON IT. I am floored that it wasn't obvious that she was full team nuke everything. The twist to me would be if she was secretly GOOD. I was wondering if the was the actual mastermind, I didn't even realize we were discussing whether she was IN ON IT.

But like, OK. That aside. Whether you are going in thinking she's good and misled or fully in on it, THIS WAS AN INSANE WAY TO HANDLE IT.

DIRT IN THE SHORTBREAD???? TIM!!!!!!

If she's GOOD and just awkward from how she was socialized you're being weird and aggro to her. 

If she'd BAD and being manipulative you're being super clumsy and antagonizing her. 

AND THEN SHE STOLE THE BOOOK!!!!!!!

My heart SUNK when Brennan revealed that. Like, GOD I didn't think that could have gotten worse and then it did. 

And it's made worse because this is 100% a conversation that didn't need to happen. If I walked in and Raps was there, at most I would ask her about how her hair worked so we maybe knew for tactical reasons. That's not a crazy question to ask a person with magic hair that's everywhere so she wouldn't necessarily have a reason to be suspicious. And then guess what? I'm GONE. Just, based on second hand embarrassment and mechanical effect (LOSING THE BOOK), this is by far the worst conversation all episode and that's saying something.

(Also, RIP Mira who's going to wake up to a VERY different situation than when she went to sleep.)

The last thing I want to say about this episode is I kind wish that either Roz or Ger or both had died in their rescue plan. Not as a punishment mind you. While it was a tactically bad move, I think it's totally in character that Ger would have tried to go back for his wife and that one of his friends would have joined him. But we haven't had that many deaths this season and I feel like some more death exposition might give us more about what's going on. Because I feel like we only have a small piece of the puzzle, and there's not that many eps left to go. You know how in Stranger Things, the plot always ends up split between three groups and none of them actually know what's going on until they all communicate in the penultimate episode? That's how I feel right now except it's the PCs, The Princesses, The Faries, and the Librarians.

It's also potentially illuminating for Elody if the princesses are willing to kill Roz and Ger (I assume they'd bring back at least Roz). And if they were split up from the main party, that's an interesting place for them to be story-wise.  (Also, if they brought back Ger but were like Elody he's in the dungeon, don't talk to him he'll fill your head with lies. But she visits him anyway, just like when he was a frog at the pond...but I'm just writing mental fanfic now.) My point is there was potential there for us to get interesting info (and story beats) there which is why I was kind of rooting for it. This whole episode was a big bust with regard to moving towards any sort of goal and they really just made their situation severely worse to no real end. And now the princesses who want to end the world have the most powerful device in all of story. 

Yay. 

(Coda: Where is Scher with her "We're real enough" energy to talk the princesses out of their spiral? For the love of story, I am losing my mind here.)

#dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 #neverafter #neverafter spoilers #d20 #d20 spoilers #asks #farmer 10 #this turned into a whole ass essay #did not mean for that to happen #for the record I'm not mad at the players or wagging my finger at them or anything like that #i've done my fair share of dumb shit in dnd #ask any of my partymates and they will tell on me #I'm just looking at it from the POV of wow they did not go how they planned #i can't resist a good dissection #i do not know how they're going to solve this #they mentioned the baba yaga but I don't think they can handle her lol #scher would be a better option if they could reach her #or maybe they could do an enemy of my enemy with the fairies? #we'll see #'my farts smell awesome' is one of the funniest things that happened in d20 #i would take ten of those over one of these any day

[mithclearwell]

Just out of curiouse, do you have any tips for beginner artists? I would really appreciate one

Of course! ^-^ I'm more than happy to help!

Let's see...without the ability to have a conversation, I'm not sure where exactly you are in skill level, so I guess I'll start with some basic quality-of-life tips.

General:

You don't have to go to college to get good at art. I didn't go to art school!

Watch youtube videos from good artists, or those you admire!

What kind of art do you ultimately want to produce? This isn't an instance of "I can only pick one thing", it's more like...each type of art requires different skills, and if you know ahead of time what you want to do FIRST, you can narrow down what you have to learn.

learn proper sketching and use of circles and other shapes to build the figure, don't just jump in making the final lines right away! It's not a "cheat", it's proper technique. It's "caring about your work".

Same for references. Google up some images of what you want to draw and look at them while you draw your own picture. It's not only okay, it's what professionals do. You need to train your EYE as well as your hand.

It's okay to mimic styles you like! But be aware that each artist may stretch or squish or exaggerate proportions to fit what they personally like to see. This is why it's IMPERATIVE that you learn realism alongside any manga style you want to try. Once you learn where the eyes sit on the face, the different facial planes and what bones they relate to, and different sizes and builds for the face, you can then manga them up to any style you want!

For real paper:

Use a protector sheet, or wear a glove on your drawing hand. You want to make sure you don't get graphite or colored pencil on the side of your hand, and then smear it on your drawing. Placing a piece of paper under your hand will protect your work!

Don't touch your art with your fingertips. Fingertips have oil and gunk on them, and will smudge your drawing. (If you're working with charcoal, this could work to your advantage! But you're probably not using charcoal. It's messy and usually limited to college art students.)

Get the right tools! You can buy a small eraser set in the art section of Wal-Mart for like $3 -- it has a polymer eraser, a smaller white eraser, and the all-important KNEADED ERASER. This thing can be squished and torn apart and it'll pick up graphite like a champ! Do not bother with hard pink erasers, they're trash.

You don't need special paper to learn. I used to draw on the backs of my dad's extra math photocopy papers. Copy paper is smooth and not too fussy and I like it. "Sketch pads" usually have a rougher grain, and I hate the way the paper feels. Also there's a lot of ugly white spots when you try to shade or use colored pencils. Only use that if you're keeping a cute little book or using pastel crayons or something (or it's all you have). Don't fuss over it too much while you're learning. It won't make much difference until you're ready to specialize!

Blending stumps are cool and even pros use them.

Get a small electric pencil sharpener. They're less than $10 at places like Dollar General, and those stores are literally everywhere.

If you get a manual sharpener in an "art set", that's fine, too, but it hurts my hand to do it manually. I like the ones that have little covers.

It DOES matter what kind of ink pen you use. Gel pens will smear. Most markers are washable, and you better believe they will run at the first hint of moisture. India Ink also smears and runs with water. I recommend Sakura Micron pens, Zig Mangaka pens, or my favorite --- the Kuretaki Bimoji felt tip brush pen. You can get all that on Amazon, and it's like $6. I got the superfine tip.

LET YOUR INK DRY BEFORE YOU PUT MARKERS OR WATERCOLOR OR ANYTHING AT ALL OVER IT. It takes maybe 20 minutes.

If you don't plan to color it, you CAN draw with a ball point pen and it'll look just fine.

Do a tiny little water streak test with any markers you plan to use with watercolor. Just brush a tiny bit of water over the mark after it's dry to see if it bleeds. I use that bleed to my advantage sometimes, but you just gotta be aware of what's what.

Digital:

You can buy a small, cheap tablet from HUION for less than $40. MAKE THE INVESTMENT. IT'S WORTH IT.

Clip Studio Paint is EXCELLENT. Well worth the $50-$60 price tag. I think you can try it before you buy it, too. It gives you access to the Asset Store -- which is the single greatest artistic sharing tool I have EVER seen, and I've used SAI for ...probably a decade... I've used dozens of custom brushes and even made my own, and I just can't even believe what is available with CSP. Do yourself a favor and get it.

"But I can't use a tablet! I can't look at a screen while I draw!" Yes you can. YES you can. Yes you can, if you'll just try it. "but I tried once and it didn't work" Well YEAH, if you only tried a handful of times, OF COURSE it didn't work. Do you know what practice is? HUION screen tablets are over $300!!!!! Do you have that kind of disposable income lyin around? (plz donate some to me if you do lololjk =u=; )

Start saving a folder full of refs.

Ask people to tell you what to draw. Let them request something for free. This makes you draw things you wouldn't normally draw, and there is INCREDIBLE value in stepping outside of your comfort zone. You will level up in no time.

Whew...that covers most of the basics, I think. If you have something specific you want me to go into more detail on, please let me know! I love helping ;w;

#mithart #tips #art help #asks

[nelapanela94]

Hey Nelaa😁😁 Congrats on 1k followers🥰🥰🥰 you really deserve it and those which are to comee. I wish you the best

I'd like to request a fluffy drabble from nos- 24 and.. 9??( I forgot the number but it was- "Come here") I'm really sorry😭😭

For some reason- I'm always wearing a jacket and sweater because I'm just cold everyday so yes🥰😁

Ignore if you don't want to write it lol

Hey Anon!!! tysm <3 🥰🥰🥰

Let's warm ourselves with a cup of tea and a hug from Levi.

This is a fluffy one, so no warnings.

WC: 1k

“I’m cold.”

“Come here.”

Nela's 1k event

The sky is an ink pool littered with stars, the moon tapered into a playful smile.

The night softens you both with banter and wine. Furtive glances, secretive smiles, and stolen laughter. Levi tilts the bottle and pours more crimson in your mug. His eyes are black as an abyss you would jump into without a second thought.

“What’s your plan? To get me drunk?” You snort. You hug one knee to your chest as the other leg dangles over the ledge.

“Busted.” He sets the bottle aside and you bring the mug to your mouth, the fruity notes flooding your lungs.

“You look pretty, Levi.” Your lips curve against the rim as your eyes skim his features. His brows, the bridge of his nose, his dewy lips, the contour of his rosy cheeks, puffy by the alcohol.

“Wow, I see my schemes are working.” A chuckle rolls on his tongue, and you jab a finger on his chest.

“I’m just warning you; you’re not taking me to bed tonight.”

“Hey.” He yanks his palms in the air. “I’d settle for a kiss.”

What the fuck?

You should stop drinking before…

Scratching his temple, Levi cranes his head away, bees buzzing angrily under his cheeks, the booze draining away from his system. You look away too, sucking on your bottom lip, and fidgeting with your bracelet, trying to dust off the cloud of ethanol fogging your thoughts. Levi and you are just friends. Good friends. But no more than that. You remind yourself. And this conversation was pushing the boundaries shamelessly.

Maybe you want to push his and him to push yours.

No. That wouldn’t be ethic. You were recently promoted to squad leader after working under Levi’s command for months, and rumors crouch in every corner already, suggesting that the decision was influenced. You lever the scarf to your chin and jam your hands in your pockets, the nippy air is lashing your cheeks.

“Sorry about that.” His voice swerves into a curlicue of awkwardness. “I didn’t mean, I mean–“

“Forget about what I said.” You mumble, your cheek tucked on your knee. Embarrassment stirs in your chest, and you wish a lightning bolt strikes you right there and turns you into coal. But the night is cloudless.

The heart jumps blindly into the void, and the brain can’t catch it on time. So, everyone else suffers the collateral damages. It is jackhammering in your chest, trying to move the strings so you come closer to him. Yet you defy it. Even if it hurts worse than needles pricking under your nails.

“Thanks for the wine and the company, Levi. I’m going to bed.” You stifle a fake yawn on your palm and spin around on your butt, your feet landing on solid rock. He nods, but doesn’t dare look at you, his hands cling to the edge of the ledge until the blood drains from his knuckles.

“Good night,” he blurts tightly, as if coaxing those words scorched his throat. He’s always been good at fighting against his urges, why all of the sudden it feels wrong? Every inch of his body burns as he tries to contain himself from stopping you.

Oh, fuck he wants to kiss you.

And much more than kissing you.

Levi shakes his head, biting his lips as his heart crumbles. It’s hard to walk through life with such sensitive heart that amplifies everything. That’s why he switches it off, pretending to feel nothing.

The door squeals, and your light steps dwindle down the tower.

To the whisper of the night, Levi quaffs the rest of the wine on his own, hoping it will erase the pain. But his body doesn’t yield to the intoxicating effects, the best he gets is a fizzle through his veins. Cold starts to slash his face, and he pulls down the knitted cap to cover his ears. The bare branches rustle, scraping the night with their claws.

He decides is time to get inside.

Before skidding to his room, Levi darts down to the kitchen, the flickering torches embedded on the stony walls guiding him through the winding corridors. He finds the door open and skids in, the flames dancing in the hearth sputtering scraps of fire.

“I thought you were going to bed.” He clears his throat and puts the mugs in the sink. You scramble down from the counter and he catches your glassy eyes and tear-streaked face. You turn away from him, but it’s too late.

You are shivering, teeth clattering too, your arms holding your frame in a pathetic self hug.

“Hey.” A worried Levi swerves around the counter, and gulps, his trembling hand reaching out, hesitating. But you don’t peel away. Lazy strokes fondle your back, and you brush your tears away with your sleeve. “I’m cold.” You sniff. “My room was too cold.”

A feeble smile graces his lips. Levi shakes his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders. You flinch and snap your face toward him, gaping, and he bites a chuckle, looping an arm around you, drawing you to his chest. “Come here.” He whispers. “You can keep it as long as you need.”

“But—“

He groans. “Do you want me to be an asshole and let you freeze?”

“Thank you.” You mutter, and your shoulders relax in his embrace. The wool is soft, impregnated with his scent, like spices and oak, so masculine, inebriating more than wine, and your body warms, though you can’t tell whether it’s the jacket or the blood surging excitedly through your veins, your hear bouncing in your chest merrily, a wave of joy creeping over you.

Levi holds you tight, his cheek nested on your hair so you can’t raise your head and see him blushing, he can feel the annoying tingles grazing his cheeks.

“better?” Fire dances on his eyes. He tries to control his breathing, but he’s certain you can feel the frenzy of his heart against your back. Why does it have to be so reckless and act on its own accord? He sighs and gives up.

You close your eyes and snuggle against his chest. “Much better.”

Nela's 1000 event

#levi ackerman #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #Levi ackerman x oc #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan levi

[bubblefina]

King of Hearts chapter 26

Masterlist

Summary: Reader and Tom meet during their years at Hogwarts, but as the years pass a rivalry grows between the two of them, which leads from soft beginnings to tragic endings.

What the characters look like!

“A cold kiss on the forehead, and both of them depart to their dorm rooms.“

Pairings: Tom x f!reader

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.

Chapter 26- New paths

Trying to gain control over your powers seemed to be a task that you could just not do. No matter how many weeks had passed, you could barely lift an ink cartridge off of a table. 

The amount of concentration you had put into your work seemed futile when you noticed that the bottle was barely even shaking.

The end of the term was nearing, so you couldn’t continue your lessons with Dumbledore after classes. Before your sessions with him ended, however, he suggested that your background may have something to do with it. You had mentioned that your father told you a story about your ancestors. 

Subspecies of humans, angelic like creatures named the Fahaada. They used pure magic, which included a form of light magic. Sang songs which could bring people back from the dead, all fascinating things to Dumbledore.

“I still think it’s rubbish. There is no evidence out there that this species of subhumans exist.” you murmur, packing up your things in your back. The sun, which was now setting, shined through the tall windows onto the multiple rows of furniture, creating a warmer atmosphere.

“So you think that because there is no evidence, then it does not exist?” Dumbledore asks you, sitting down at his seat, hands on his desk.

“It’s more complicated than that. If there was just one record of these people existing, then I’d have something to go off of. Maybe that would help me find out how I was able to do what I did to Lela.”

“Y/n, have you ever taken a second to think that perhaps the reason there are no records of these people, is because there were others who didn’t want any records to be left behind,” Dumbledore reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small, old piece of paper, “Here is a small article from a few years ago of vampires being prosecuted.”

You walked up and took hold of the small paper, it was a bit torn, but you could make out some words. 

“Vampire hunters are now at a disadvantage with vampire protection laws being planned. Outrage throughout the wizarding world as others begin to show compassion to the living dead. Despite the initial violence against wizards which was carried out by the vampires, the ministry will try to bring peace for the greater good”. 

Your heart stung for a second, remembering your adventure time traveling in the 20s. You remembered Kieran, and how he was brutally ripped away while trying to save you. Your eyes showed sorrow, and Dumbledore took notice.

“Thinking of something?” He asks.

“N-no. I don't, I mean I’m not thinking of anything. Why did you show me this, professor?”

“I’m showing you this because this piece of paper is one of the few records left of the mass vampire hunting excursions carried out decades ago. Many important wizard families wanted to wipe out the race, but when their crimes came to light, they made sure that any and all records of their actions against vampires were erased. I managed to snag a piece before everything disappeared.”

You stared at the paper one last time before looking at Dumbledore once more.

“Are you suggesting that the people who supposedly prosecuted my ancestors wiped out all records?” 

“Not every record can be wiped out, y/n. There will always be something, or someone that will have a recollection of what happened, you just need to find it.”

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

Sure, there may be some record of what happened to your ancestors, but who could possibly have a record from thousands of years ago? It seemed like you were just walking yourself into a dead end if you were to continue searching, but it’s not like you had anything better to do. 

There was a night where the library was nearly empty. Only a few people were left. Your eyes began to droop from looking at long pages of words that you couldn’t comprehend anymore. Looking through pages and pamphlets of different types of magical creatures felt like a chore of an assignment, even if you were doing it out of your own will.

Suddenly the library went silent, not a word was being spoken, nor a footstep heard. Closing the book you were reading, you slid out of the hardwood chair, walking around the shelves looking to see if you were really alone, and you were.

Looking ahead of you, you made eye contact with the doors of the restricted section. How ironic would it be if you actually did manage to find something there. It was as if your feet acted on their own, slowly walking towards the rope that blocked the doors. Your hand extended outward to touch the rope, fingertips barely touching it.

A hand gripped your wrist, making your head spin around to see who it was.

“What are you-” 

“Are you aware of where you’re trying to enter?”

The face you would least like to see, Tom. Him in gracing you with his greater than thou attitude, hand still on your wrist.

“Are you aware that I don’t want you to touch me?” you retort, allowing him to let go of your wrist.

“What are you trying to plan here, y/n? The restricted section is restricted for a reason, after all.”

“Haha, you’re one to talk. If I recall, didn’t you enter through these doors years ago? Or has your memory truly gone to waste.”

“You shouldn’t mess with my authority much more, I am being favored to be a prefect next year. Any misstep from you, and who knows if you’ll be here much longer.”

“Misstep? From me? You should think about the missteps that you’ve taken Tom, or better yet, take action for the missteps of the snake you call a girlfriend.”

You couldn’t possibly enter the restricted section now, so you turned on your heel and went out the door. 

It was really hard to comprehend how south you went with him after all you’ve been through. It was just an up and down cycle over and over again. Would it be better to just ignore him completely? You had wonderful people in your circle already, people that actually care about you and wouldn’t stab you in the back by dating a girl who made your life miserable.

No use worrying over something like this. Summer break was about to start soon, and you have bigger fish to fry with asking your dad about his side of the family. Which itself would be hard considering he was practically disowned when he hurt that girl doing a spell. 

This would just have to be another obstacle you’ll have to get through to understand how you did what you did.

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

It had been 2 weeks since you had arrived back in London. You hadn’t had the chance to ask your dad, or you didn’t have the courage to. How would you go about telling him that you almost made the same mistake as he did, except Lela didn’t end up in the hospital.

Your father took notice of your spacing out, especially when you kept poking at your meals rather than eating them. Your mother noticed too, but she only saw what was happening on the outside. Simply “stop poking at your food, dear” and any line that was similar to that. Her words went through one ear and out the other, which did irritate her. She felt as if you were purposefully ignoring her.

“Young lady, will you stop poking at your dinner. It’s not polite.”

“Mmm…” you said through closed lips.

“You have been spacing out ever since you came here, it’s as if you’re not even willing to participate in any family activities.” She set down her utensil and looked at you firmly.

“What family activities have I not been participating in?” you stop poking and look back at her.

“Activities don’t have to be physical. You don’t sit with us, nor do you indulge in playing with your little sister.”

“I’m sorry… other things have just occupied my mind.”

“That is still no excuse. That wizarding school seems to be at the center of your attention these days.”

“Well, that's obvious, I spend most of my time there.”

“Not for long. After you graduate, you’re better off getting married, our family could use the extra money.”

Your eyes did a double take at her after what she had said. You’re barely even 15, yet she’s thinking of selling you off to someone.

“M-marriage? Mom, I'm barely 15. I haven’t even experienced life yet, you’re thinking of marriage already?” 

“Because of the war, money has been scarce. You’d be doing us a favor, marrying into a good family.”

“Do you hear what you’re saying right now? I could earn money by being a wizard, marriage won’t solve everything.”

“We will not argue at the dinner table. Save it for later.”

Later wasn’t going to happen.

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

You managed to snag your dad to talk alone without the disturbance of your mom. Asking him about the apparent genocide of your ancestors wasn’t exactly an easy conversation topic.

Unfortunately, it was a dead end. He didn’t know anything that he hadn’t already told you. It’s as if you had built up this hope for nothing, only to be crushed by the weight of reality.

“I’m sorry, you know.” He says.

“It’s not your fault, dad, not the easiest subject to talk about.”

“So you were able to cast magic without incantation nor your wand, that’s pretty impressive, I’ve got to say.”

“That’s what’s confusing about it. I don’t know how I did it, nor do I know how to do it again. Which is why Dumbledore said to ask you.”

Your father looked at his lap for a few stray moments. Feeling rather useless that he couldn’t even answer a question his own daughter asked him personally.

“Don’t mind your mother…” he trailed off.

“What do you mean?”

“I know the both of you aren’t the best of friends, but times are stressful. She’s only looking out for you, what's best for you. At this time, we won’t know if we have a tomorrow, so we must plan for today.”

He embraces you in a hug, which you return.

“What’s this all about, dad. You’re acting strange.”

“Tell you what, I’ll try to get in contact with my family. Maybe they’ll have an answer for you that I don't have.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Well, if my daughter has special powers, I’d like for her to know about it. Of course y/n, anything for you.”

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

Back at Hogwarts already for your 5th year. Telling Dumbledore about how asking your dad was a dead end, but he told you that he’d contact his family to ask instead. 

If your family was native to the wizarding world, wouldn’t it be easier if you tried to contact them instead? Would they hate you because you’re the daughter of their son who was shunned by the entire family, hard to think about?

Undoubtedly, Tom was right. He had been chosen as a prefect, much to your dismay. It felt as if his ego had grown tenfold, which stung a bit. This was really the boy who saved you from being killed by a maniac vampire, and stood by your side as you recovered.

“Earth to y/n, y/n!”

Snapping you out of poking your breakfast pastry, you look up and see your friends calling out to you.

“What's gotten into you, it’s like a habit for you to torment your food.” Naomi comments.

“She’s just lost in thought.” Melissa adds.

“Thoughts about what, the term started only a few weeks ago,” Azalea cups your cheeks in her hands, “What's on your mind y/n”

“Azalea! Don’t treat her like a child. If she wants to tell us, she will.” Melissa unlatches Azalea’s hands from your face.

“It’s nothing special, I just…people are annoying.” You continue to poke your food.

“I think she’s talking about a certain Slytherin,” Naomi whispers to the other two.

“Who, Tom?” Azalea asks, quite loudly. 

Melissa clamps her hand over Azalea's mouth to keep her from talking any further. Afraid of attracting attention, unwanted attention.

“Can you blame her? The both of them seemed to be close last year, but ever since he started dating Lela, things just went downhill.” Naomi continues to whisper.

“I’m right here, you guys, I can hear you.” You tell them.

“I thought she had a crush on Archer? She’s too good for Tom.” Azalea, whose mouth had been freed from the grasps of Melissa’s hands, now talked a bit more timid than she had initially.

“I did not have a crush on him, or Archer-”

“Lela is her mortal foe, maybe it felt like Tom backstabbed her when he didn’t stop Lela from antagonizing her. We remember how that fight went.” Melissa giggles, the other two gasp.

“Lela went flying back, y/n, you are truly amazing. Ten out of ten.” Naomi claps her hands and the other three join in. 

It may have seemed like they were teasing you, but it was just their way of making you feel better. A true friend isn’t a friend if they just leave you hanging.

“We can’t spend all this time talking about Tom,” Azalea made a gagging face, “What about Corrin. How have you two been keeping in contact since the ball?” 

A slight blush appeared on Melissa’s face.

“We’re doing as good as we can. Not easy when there are eyes everywhere looking at us.”

“True love always has a way of coming back, remember what professor Merrythought taught us.” Azalea waits for a moment, looking to see if the others have caught on.

“The most powerful magic of all…” Naomi continues.

“The power of love.” You finish.

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

Love, the most powerful magic of all.

It's a hard contradiction to what Dumbledore told you back when you were in the 20s. Hi words still rang in your head.

“Never put your full faith in love, especially if that person has darkness in their heart”

He was talking about Tom at that time. When he said it, you couldn’t really believe it. Sure Tom was a bit of a snob, rude, but evil…

However, seeing as he could fall in love with Lela, anything is possible at this point. 

If there is a sense of darkness in him, then why do you feel a sense of longing towards him? As if you wanted nothing but to talk to him again, even a few snide remarks.

You two may have had ups and downs in the past, but this felt different. It felt odd to say, but you missed him.

Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice that someone was approaching you.

Under a giant tree, you were just thinking to yourself. Maybe a little too hard.

“Isn’t there somewhere you should be?”

You whip your head around, speak of the devil himself.

“I asked if there’s somewhere you should be.” Tom clasped his hands behind his back.

“No, I have a free period and decided to spend it here.”

“Staring at a tree?”

“Is there something wrong with staring at a tree?” 

“I suppose not.”

An awkward silence, felt as if you were suffocating. You needed to say something to take the edge off, anything.

“How have you been?”

“Well, the position of prefect suits me well. I have more authority over these bumpkins who don’t know their left from their right.”

“Ah. Glad you aren’t my prefect.”

“Yes, what a shame it would be if you were caught by me sneaking out of your dorm late at night. It Won't end very well.”

A smirk creeped upon your lips, surely he didn’t forget all the things that happened between the two of you.

“Don’t act like you haven’t snuck out late at night,” you walked up to him, “but don’t let me stop your supposed stainless reputation holding you back.”

Perhaps there was something in the air, but it felt like you couldn’t hold onto hatred for him. Did he start dating your arch nemesis during a grace period between the two of you? Yes he did. But there was nothing that can change that now, better to live worry free.

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

Later that night, Tom strolled the halls. It was a part of his prefect duties. He had found some 2nd years attempting to enter the kitchen, but was quick enough to stop them and send them back to their rooms.

Later, he went back to the Slytherin dungeons where he was greeted by a friendly face. Lela had been leaning against one of the stone walls, waiting for Tom to finish his patrols so they could do boyfriend girlfriend things.

“You’re back” She walks towards him.

“And you’re waiting.” 

Tom slides past her and continues to walk towards the common room, which wasn’t too far away from where they met.

“Of course. I didn’t get to speak to you much today so I thought we could use this time to catch up.”

“Catch up on what exactly.”

“I saw you talking to her today, that ravenclaw girl.”

Tom stops for a moment, his handle on the door to the common room, “She has a name you know.”

Both of them enter, the room completely silent. No one was there.

“Since when did you care about her name?” Lela raises a brow, sitting down on one of the couches.

“I prefer to talk about people using their name, not some petty code words that you and your friends use.”

Lela scoffs, “I can use whatever name I want, she hurt me.”

“You hurt her first, if I remember correctly.”

“You’re taking her side now? What exactly did the both of you talk about under that hideous tree.”

“I asked her why she was there, she explained, and then went on her merry way.”

“You shouldn’t be talking with her in the first place,” Lela stands up and walks closer to Tom, her voice turning into a whisper, “If you want to fit into high society with the pure bloods, you shouldn’t be fiddling with filthy half bloods like her.”

Tom takes a piece of her hair and twirls it with his fingers, a soft smile appearing on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she won’t pester you. As long as I’m here.”

A cold kiss on the forehead, and both of them depart to their dorm rooms.

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚✮

The war in the muggle war became more serious. Young men alike had begun to be drafted to join the fronts to fight. You had been keeping in touch with your father through owl messages. He says that sometimes late at night helicopters would fly overhead.

It made people fearful, to the point that they began to sleep every night in the bomb shelter. He says that letters may be hard to get out, so if there are less as time goes on, don’t worry about anything.

It had already been early November, and you had around 5 letters from him, but nothing about what he had promised to do. To reach out to his family and ask about the shared heritage with the Fahadaas. There was no hurry, but it would be nice to learn a little bit more. 

The letters came less and less frequently, you didn’t notice that much because classes kept you so busy.

In DADA, Merrythought brought in a large thin snake. It was one of the creatures that she had been covering for the past week or so. It looped around her arm and around her neck, but she showed no fear.

“Hogwarts has a very special connection with snakes, as you may know. Slytherins especially, Salazar Slytherin himself was able to communicate with serpent like beasts through a language known as parseltongue.”

She moved around the classroom, the snake of course following her as it was laying upon her body. Students tried to avoid her range, fearing that the snake would bite their noses.

“However, parseltongue is not a common thing to know. It's to be said that only the descendants of Salazar himself can speak this language, so for those of you who want to communicate with snakes, I am truly sorry.”

“Ms,” a boy raised his hand, “Do we know where the descendants of Salazar Slytherin are today?”

“I’m afraid that line has run very dry. Last known trace of them was from a family with the name of Gaunt. However, not much is known about them since they have practically been erased themselves.”

“Talking with snakes, talk about creepy.” Azalea whispers.

Melissa overhears and turns towards her, “You have futuristic visions in your head, if anything that is more creepier.”

Azalea began to pout, but quickly stopped when Merrythought stopped next to her. 

“Anything the matter, Miss Ravens?” She asks.

“O-of course not professor, please continue.” Azalea laughs awkwardly, trying to admire the snake that was looking straight at her. Its eyes were so brightly yellow, it felt like it was blinding her, yet she could not look away.

Melissa elbows her seatmate, “You okay? You look like you’re in a trance.”

Azalea blinks a few times before turning towards Melissa.

“That snake is weird, I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something up with it.”

She grabs her ink pen and begins to scribble onto her note paper. The page was soon filled with blank ink, except for one spot that was left perfectly untouched. It was shaped like a circle. She kept staring at it, as if what she had created was supposed to make sense, but it didn’t. 

At least not at this moment.

Taglist <3

@omotan​ 

@namaiinotashi

THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PATIENT. Idk what happened through the course of this year for me to take this long to update this story, but I came through!!! Managed to get a burst of creativity and finish this. Enjoy my luvs <33333

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #voldemort #king of hearts #ravenclaw #fantasy #fanfiction #voldemort x reader #horcrux

[arsonistsam]

Good Luck, Sam Winchester for @seasononesam

Read on ao3

It’s cold in the night and there’s 50 minutes until the bus comes to whisk Sam off to California. He cups his hands together and blows into them, wishing he had thought to take a pair of gloves or even mittens before he ran. Sam stuffs his hands in his coat pocket.

Paper crinkles in his right hand.

He pulls it out, holds it up to the street lamp light. It’s wrinkled and slightly water-stained, almost beyond disrepair. Sam doesn’t recognize the power, he sure as hell didn’t put it in his pockets. He’s been too preoccupied with setting up a plan to get a car ride and then a bus ride all the way down till he gets near campus. It’s late July and should be warm out but the desert is cruel and the dry coldness chills Sam’s bones and joints. His head hurts.

Sam’s hand trembles as he looks at the paper. There’s an Internet Café watermark at the bottom and a date- June 19th, 2002- over a month before last night, before he told anyone he was leaving.

It’s not to say he hid it very well. Dean and Dad are so wrapped up in their own crap, feeling sorry for themselves, chasing Mom’s ghost like if they catch the thing that did it they’ll be happy again. News flash, they’ve never been happy. Sam’s never been happy. So yeah, he left the admission packet for a week or so before mailing it off on the motel counter or lazily stuffed flyers and road maps in his duffle, knowing Dean is a snooper who snoops through people’s bags and steals their hoodies.

The printed image is shit quality, Internet Cafés ‘round these parts don’t have color printers. Just black ink that eventually runs into a river when the machine gets worn down and cuts through your text or loved one’s face.

Still it’s clear as day to tell what it is. Sam doesn’t want to guess how many times he’s stared at the same image in a library book or a pamphlet he found in a counselors office. Stanford’s Campus Map. It spreads from the enrollment office to the dorms to every student center around the bend. Even small shops and bars and restaurants in the general area. It’s tiny, trying to fit so much on a letter size page but there’s highlighter over certain parts, libraries and the mess hall. Even a small winky-face drawn next to one of the girls dorms in Dean’s obvious penmanship.

Sam let’s his eyes stray to where they really want to go, Dean’s shitty chicken scratch scrawled all over the top of the paper. Dean holds his pencil all wrong, sometimes in the grip of his fist and he chews on the eraser-ends when he gets frustrated. A habit Sam’s sad to admit he took on too. He wants knaw on his nail beds right now. Rip Dean out of his DNA and his life by sharp teeth.

Be safe at Stanford. I’ll miss you. Text me if you get in trouble, which you will.

Sam brings the paper down from the light for a second. He rubs at his eye, rough and careless for how red his face his gonna be, and wipes away any evidence that he’s tearing up. If Sam sniffles, well, he’s the only one around this late at night.

The fluorescent glow of the street lamp winks at him, highlighting the paper as it shutters in and out. Someone's gotta put in a request to get that fixed. The street’s in disarray with all the potholes and weeds populating it.

Sam smiles at no one but himself and folds the paper back up, stuffing it and his frozen hand back into his coat pocket. In his other pocket he finds half a chocolate bar, already melted, and a few jerky sticks. The spicy kind he likes with the sticky glaze. There’s a few coins, a loose cigarette and a lighter buried way down deep between the two. It smells warm and old, like home.

Dean had been furious after Dad finally stormed out- just repeating the same shit he’d said. If you wanna leave us so bad why don’t you go do this already. And God help me if you go, I don’t wanna see you around.

He’d armoured himself in Sam’s cracked coat and ran out into the night, leaving Sam in the cold dark room by himself. Simmering full of righteous anger and grief. He was on his own now. Still is.

It’s 3:45 am. Four hours since Dean came back and collapsed, drunk, into bed. Three hours since Sam stole back his coat and left like a thief in the night with a packed duffel and a note not to bother calling. He wasn’t coming back.

He’s not gonna come back. He’s gonna go on to Stanford like he planned, catch this bus at 4:30. Too early for anyone to be awake and aware, much less Dean in his hungover state, to know he’s gone.

Sam’ll get a better map when he gets into town but he may as well keep the little note. He entertains himself with the thought of using it for fire. He shuts that thought down quick. His phone doesn’t ring with a call asking where the hell he is. No cars pass him on the road. The wind whistles through whatever plants survive out here. His breath fogs in the air.

Sam wraps his jacket tight around himself. He shivers in the cold but holds on.

#s1sam1k #sam winchester #spn ficlet #stanford era sam

[addisonryder]

was it just me

spotify wrapped series, part I. bakukami. 1.3k.

tags: fluff, crack, copious amounts of beth crowley worship, mild vulgar language because I can't help but swear like a sailor

written based off song 37 from my Spotify Wrapped, with the pairing bakukami. song is here if you're interested

written for bee. thanks for the prompt 💙

I became a footnote in your life, but you were in the final draft of mine. As I watch the ink bleed off the page, I’m wondering how I was so easily erased.

“Denks. Please. You know I love Beth Crowley as much as the next girl, but this?”

Denki glared at Jirou from his upside-down position on his bed, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as she searched his battered wit for some sort of retort. The day had been too damn long. 

“You do have your own room, you know,” he muttered, devoid of any real heat. 

When did you become this cruel? We were really something, weren’t we?

Jirou arched an eyebrow at him. “What, and let you cry yourself to sleep listening to a heartbreak playlist over a boy who has the emotional range of an inverted blood blister? A boy who fucks your brains out and then treats you like shit? This is the boy you’re crying over?”

“You don’t understand,” Denki pushed himself into a seated position, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“I will never understand men,” Jirou sighed, her tone fond as she tossed him a hairtie to get his bangs out of his face. 

“Yeah well, I’ll never understand women. Are you and Momo still planning on living together over the summer?”

“She has an internship close by and it just makes sense to - no!” Jirou pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re not distracting me! We’re taking about you and our resident angry pomeranian.”

Denki chuckled, the shadow of a smile on his lips that faded instantly with his next words. “There’s nothing to talk about. He made that clear.”

How do I remember us so differently? We were really something, weren’t we? Or was it just me?

“Nope! We’re done with this.” 

Jirou stood swiftly, crossing over and slamming Denki’s laptop closed, silencing Beth Crowley’s beautiful, plaintive voice before the song could repeat again. Denki glared at her, twisting his bangs up away from his forehead and securing them with the tie. 

“I’m not letting you cry for one more minute over Katsuki fucking Bakugou -”

A knock sounded at the door and Denki flinched, shrinking deeper into his blanket pile on his bed. Jirou watched him for a moment, until she realized he wasn’t planning on answering the door at all. She patted his head before she moved to pull the door open.

“What are you doing here, earphones?”

Denki peeked up, his stomach twisting when he saw Bakugou, his hand still raised as if he meant to knock again. Jirou let out a long sigh of relief.

“Thank god. I don’t know what you did, but fix this before he plays this song again and ruins any chance I have at a hero career.” Jirou rubbed at one earphone jack, glancing over her shoulder at Denki sympathetically. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Denki muttered before Jirou ducked out of the room. 

She shoved Bakugou in behind her and slammed the door, leaving them alone. Denki had half a mind to turn the music back on, but not even Beth Crowley could fix this now. Katsuki stood in the middle of the room, taking in the sight of Denki on the bed, of the smudges of eyeliner under his eyes, and even the damn ponytail his bangs made over his forehead. Katsuki’s eyebrows knit together with concern before his eyes darted around the room again.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

That was his Kacchan. Always on alert for any potential threat, and missing the true issue right in front of him. Denki huffed, tugging the hairtie out and trying to hide behind his bangs once more. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.”

“When the hell did you start lying to me, Sparky?” 

“You were mean to me, Kacchan,” Denki huffed, wrapping one of his many blankets around himself like that could hide him from how pathetic his words were. “And not just mean to me. You were mean to me on the same day that I failed our history exam and had to make up this week’s practical in place of lunch, and really it’s my fault. It’s my fault for thinking that just because you had your dick in my ass, you might stop hating me for maybe even two seconds. I should have known better.”

For once, he’d actually managed to silence the explosive Kacchan. Denki sighed, crawling out of his blanket fort and moving over to his dresser, staunchly avoiding his reflection in favor of dabbing makeup remover over the eyeliner smudges. He didn’t know why he bothered; it wasn’t like Bakugou was going to be impressed no matter what he did. Today had made that perfectly clear.

“I don’t.”

Denki paused, eyes darting to the mirror where he could see that Bakugou had turned to face him, even if he kept his eyes on the floor. 

“Don’t what?”

“Hate you.”

Denki let out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head slowly, and when he spoke, his voice came out darker, more bitter than he’d allowed himself to feel in years. 

“Yeah. Sure. I can definitely tell, especially when you call me dunce-face and volts for brains.”

And there was the real hurt, under the layers of Beth Crowley’s gorgeous vocals - because yes, Katsuki had listened to the songs Denki had sent him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that out loud any time soon. He had to keep some secrets.

But the hurt was real. Denki had taken his words to heart. Every venom-laced barb that Katsuki wished he could take back two seconds after he said them, Denki had taken to heart. Denki thought he didn’t believe in him? He thought he didn’t see?

“Fuck, Denki.”

A thrill ran up Denki’s spine at the sound of his name on Bakugou’s lips, giving him a shadow of hope. But he’d learned - he’d learned where he stood to Bakugou. He was a convenient fuck, but - 

“Denki, I like you. Fuck. Fuck, I like you. And I respect you. I’m damn glad you’ve got my back in a fight, you hit like a - a fucking power station. You’re an asset, Denki. You’re an asset, and you’re gonna be a great hero, and fuck. I like your eyes. I like your eyes, and your laugh, and I know I can be a bitch. I know I’m gonna stay stupid shit and you’re going to end up hating me in the end, because I am incapable of not pushing people away when I start to care about them. But I’m trying. I’m sorry.”

Denki turned, and horror twisted Katsuki’s stomach when he saw the tears in Denki’s eyes once more. How had he fucked up that badly? 

“Shit. Shit, Denki, I - fuck, what did I say? I’ve been practicing that speech, dammit. Yeah, I didn’t expect this to be the way I said it, but I’ve been trying for fucking weeks, and I’m - fuck, Denki, that’s about the best words I’ve got, and I don’t -”

Denki shut him up before he could ramble any longer, throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck and kissing him hungrily. Katsuki was frozen for all of two seconds before he lifted the smaller boy off the ground, coming alive under his touch. 

“You could have told me -” Denki panted out in between kisses. “-that you liked me before you fucked me, you know.”

Katsuki snorted. “Oh yeah? When? Before or after you slipped your hand down my shorts during movie night? If I remember right, you didn’t give me much of a chance to talk…”

Denki let out a strangled moan, wrapping his legs around Katsuki’s hips. “Even then?”

“Even then, Sparky.”

They’d work on his terrible communication skills later. Right now, Denki had those calloused hands gripping his ass to hold him up, and nothing could possibly have been wrong in the world.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bakukami #kamibaku #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #katsuki x denki #denki x katsuki #kaminari x bakugou #bakugou x kaminari #bakugo x kaminari #kaminari x bakugo #beth crowley #addywrites

[transsweet]

18 for scc!

[or encouragement]

ON IT o7 !!!!!!!

the door to the backstage of the cafe opened as the cassette player waltzed in from the outside crowd .

rushing to the door, a swatchling attempted to stop him . "excuse me, you need a -" before the swatchling could even finish their sentence, capn flashed his lanyard and card stating "EVENT STAFF" with his photo on it, smirking . the swatchling went silent, then nodded and went back to stage management .

as he ventured to his destination, he took in the sights of a show in preparation . tasque manager doing vocal warmups, swatchlings rushing around panicking and flocking around faulty equipment, and a guest from the newly rescued tv world testing out his sax . he almost thought about how that could've been him, but was quickly humbled by the mental reminder of his ever present stage fright .

finally, he made his way to those he was looking for . sweet stood by the stage entrance, hands and legs shaking as they gripped their sheet music, eye focused and taking in every small ink mark on the paper . k_k on the other hand fiddled with their drumsticks and "hi-hat" worriedly, the smile they kept permanently on shaking and breaking the more they fidgeted .

this would be their first performance since the music ban had been placed . worries were bound to rise, especially after not performing live for so long , opting to go underground instead .

"so how's the last minute performance prep ?" he asked as he leaned in between the two, making sweet yelp as they broke out of their perfection fueled study session, taking a relieved breath after realizing it was just capn . "great ! great ..... ! yeah, going .... going great ." k_k stuttered out, very obviously showing that, at least for them, it wasn't going great . k_k's smile began faltering .

capn's smile fell, now leaving a concerned expression . he contemplated for a second, before coming up with the perfect plan .

"hey," he started, "you both have been practicing vigorously since you got the letter from swatch that you'd be performing. sweet, i heard you practice so much i could say that i know the background vocals about as good as you do . and k_k, you had to learn an entirely new way to drum considering your choice of headwear . that's extremely impressive ."

he saw sweets shoulders fall slowly, their nerves loosening, and k_ks nervous fidgeting slowly cease. good, this is what he'd hope he'd accomplish . "you both know this performance like the back of your hands . you are so ready for this . those darkners are going to hear how good you both are and they're going to ROAR with applause and cheers . for you two ." he flicked sweet's top hat and k_ks hi-hat, rattling it . "you're not gonna do good . you're gonna do great . no, you're gonna do phenomenal ."

sweet's shaking had significantly gone down, now looking hopeful and confident, and k_k's genuine smile had returned, which always brought cap'n's back as well .

"5 minute warning you all ! 5 minutes until showtime !"

before sweet and k_k could process what the swatchling had just announced, capn held sweet's face and pulled them in for a kiss . after releasing sweet, he pulled k_k in by the shoulders and pulled it in for a kiss as well . both were left flustered, but excited and confident . "i gotta go back and close up the ticket booth . but i'll be in the second the show starts . good luck, both of you, i love you both so so much ." he waved, pulling his bandana over his face to hide his own blush . his plan was a success .

sweet attempted to recompose themselves, reorganizing their sheet music, straightening out their tux, while k_k stared at the door with a big lovestruck grin .

"he's so romantic ...."

sweet rolled their eye, "he's corny, that's what he is ."

still, sweet couldn't erase the bright blush nor their eye's smile from their face .

#prince writing #WRITING AT 2 AM AGAIN WOOOOOOOOOO #anyways i had another idea for this that included scce but i couldn't put it into words and DEFINITELY not a oneshot #but i hope this sufficed !!!! kissing before your big town debut to remove your partners stress #also capn is in the fit i always draw him in regarding the cafe performance #alright enjoy i'm gonna go to sleep SNNZZZZZZZ

[lazyboxart]

HOW I MAKE TRADITIONAL COMICS AND COLOR THEM DIGITALLY - PART 1 - HOW TO MAKE AN EMPTY COMIC PAGE

Things you'll need for this part

Ruler

Thin pen

Thick pen

Pencil

Eraser

Heavy book

Something small you can draw on, preferably small paper or a handheld whiteboard

Step one - write your comic page

I usually write comics like this, I work by myself so the comic script can be messy. I stay on six panels most of the time so I can reuse pages, but you should also change it up sometimes, especially on scenes where it needs it.

Step two - plan out panels

Use a small piece of paper or a whiteboard to plan out panels after you've written them. Do the most important panels biggest, and more chaotic panels for more chaotic scenes. You could also use a tablet or ipad and use ibis paint to plan out the panels.

Step three - sketch the different panels

Use a ruler to decide how wide you want the space in-between your panels to be. I usually go to 0 inches because there's some space between the start of the ruler and 0, but you can also do whatever fits the style of the comic.

Draw the lines with the ruler and a pencil, use a heavy book to weigh the paper down straight so it doesn't move. Make a box on your page, then start adding the gutter (space in-between panels) to separate the panels. Make sure you go outside the lines while you're sketching so you don't cover up the entire line with your ruler when you ink.

Step four - inking panels

Use a thin pen to ink the panels with the ruler. Be sure to not go to far off the line, or go too low down below the other lines. Erase all the pencil marks by holding the paper down and carefully erasing (so the paper doesn't bend)

It should look something like this

Step five - copying

Swipe away all eraser marks before you copy the page on your printer. You may still have some marks on your new copy, but you can edit those away in your art software. I always make a copy of the page to keep incase i need to use it for later. Use plain paper and 8'5 by 11 (if that's the type of paper you're using).

Extra step six - thick copy

This is an extra quick step incase you need a more hand drawn and thicker look to your page for now or later. Copy the page like before, but afterwards go over the lines with your thick pen (i use a brush pen) and make it as shaky as you'd think fits the style. It's a quick way to make another type of page and i try to do it with every page i make just incase i need it one day.

Step seven - put away original copies

I keep the original copies of my comic pages in a folder for later use. After a while you'll have a bunch of blank comic templates to use.

I'll post the next part once i finish and scan the finished traditional page.

Also I'm not a professional, this is just how i make traditional comics

#art tutorial #comic tutorial #lazybox tutorial