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#no really this is 14 pages long
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Quahaug Concept Art
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Quahaug's concept/reference art! Translation notes and image id under the cut.
Translation notes:
"OP sort of powerset" was literally translated as something like "cheat-like." I feel like OP is the more common English term for that sort of thing, so that's what I used, but some of the meaning was probably lost there.
"Older-tween-ish" was specifically a reference to a particular middle school year for children who are about 12-13 years old. Since grades and names of grades vary a lot from country to country, I just went with "older tween."
ID:
[Image id: Several images displaying different parts of 2 pages of the Triangle Strategy artbook, with both the original Japanese as well as versions with English translations. There are several disclaimers noting that the translator doesn't speak Japanese, and that there are likely many mistakes.
On one page, there is a large colored version of Quahaug's canon portrait, along with a smaller, uncolored version. There is an illustrator's note at the bottom that translates to read, "'Manipulating time' is an OP sort of powerset, so though he looks like a child, I aimed to create a look for him that conveyed a sense of unknowable power. (Tatsuaki Urushibara)".
On the second page, there are many drawings of Quahaug, including a closer bust-up portrait in which he's compared to Lyla, with an arrow and label reading, "Mother." There's also several notes that explain the construction of his costume. The costume is labeled as a Greek "phelonion" (a priest's outfit with no real sleeves, just draping fabric). There is a small drawing of this version, with an arrow leading to another drawing that does have sleeves, with the note, "If you can't display this in pixels, use this one." There are several notes that explain how this draping cloth should be considered his everyday clothes, while the ceremonial decoration that goes around his neck is placed over it. There is a close up of the ceremonial dressing's fastenings underneath the metal decoration. Some more notes highlight details on his staff, emphasizing the hourglass on top and the small wheel to the side that can be turned to flip the hourglass. A larger piece of text underneath one fullbody drawing reads, "Character Who Manipulates Time."
On the second half of the second page, there are drawings of some beta designs for Quahaug. He looks much more punk-ish. On one bust-up portrait, there are the captions, "The burden of the time demon caused some of his hair to go gray…." and "All-natural highlighted tips." On the same portrait, he is snapping his fingers, and there's a note that reads, "Manipulating time is as easy as snapping your fingers. You just have to want it or whatever." A speech bubble near his head reads, "I don't think of Anna as a mother." A caption pointing to some green markings on his arm reads, "Demonic time seal on body." In a fullbody drawing of his beta design (which is made up mostly of chains that barely cover him as well as a long roughed-up cloak, there is the note, "Almost naked cloak."
At the bottom of the second page, there is another note that reads, "Initially when we hadn't quite figured out the setting, we had an idea for a more older-tween-ish character as displayed here, but after discussing it with the producers and Mr. Ikushima, we went with his current form. As a boy who manipulates time, I placed an hourglass at the tip of his staff, and his face resembles that of his mother, Lyla. (Tatsuaki Irushibara)". /end id]
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zukkaoru · 8 months
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does bones realize there's still supposed to be one more episode in s5 after this week's or should someone remind them
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altruistic-meme · 1 year
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LOL yesss!! i've noticed it too when i scroll the yr tag. ofc, not everyone was gonna love it but as someone who thoroughly enjoyed s2 i didn't expect the distaste some people have 😭 definitely staying in the honeymoon phase of a post-s2 release world til i'm ready to critically analyse 💀
i am almost completely and purely unaware of the hate right now, and i'm gonna leave it that way. i saw 1 (one) post that i disagreed with and wrote 14 pages worth of notes that disputed what that person said kshfkdhsfkhjsdf i am still too In The Feels to deal with any more.
as i was watching i understood others wouldn't like it, but that won't stop me from thoroughly enjoying the new season!! in the name of combatting the hate, here's something i absolutely loved about the season 2:
i honestly ADORED all of the conversations between Wilhelm and Simon!!! they have such a beautiful relationship, and even though many of the conversations hurt, they were just so emotional to me. i felt everything that they felt as they talked, and i feel like we were really given so much of these two this season.
they were also incredibly honest with each other this season. i'm mindblown.
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mikoran · 8 months
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guess who put off doing their english summer assignment til the last few days of summerrrr
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transtalizorah · 1 year
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…does the shepard clone count as an oc if u flesh them out because they r a clone of ur lil guy and ur the one fleshing them out and giving them a new name and inner world or is it like. Are they still bioware’s. Personally i think me and bioware are in joint custody but its mostly me raising her. Id say we have to share but to them shes basically dead
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deus-ex-mona · 1 year
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moment: over. g o o d n i g h t
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*gasps as I crawl up to this blog, covered in blood and sweat and gore* After 300 pages of story scenes, 700 pages of short stories, multiple documents of additional short story dumps, 7 folders, and some other things, I have successfully found at *least* FIVE romance scenes that aren't written with hatred and pain, aren't written out of spite, aren't made to be ridiculous and/or funny, aren't heavily made to be an allegory, aren't noncanon cause meh, AND aren't made to be a tragedy. At least 5 (it's sadly less than five but I'm done looking at what I didn't) small written things in over 6 years of Serious Writing that feature a romance that is soft, taken seriously, canon, AND not made to be purposefully ridiculous cause I Could Not.
All that to prove to a friend I could do romance softly and seriously after they shared something really very sweet and well written. ALL THAT JUST TO SHOW THAT I KIND OF ALREADY SHARED SOMETHING LIKE THAT A FEW WEEKS BACK
#i hate romance#it is suffering. it is pain. it hates me just as much as i hate it#AND THE THING IS#i may cry about my allergy to the feeling but I'm actually...okay???? with it???#like most of my beef with it is the fact that people expect me to think it matters personally to my life (no)#or that it's just...badly treated even in fiction trying to glorify it (that's the first problem)#lemon duck quacks#by the way the thing i finally shared was still very funny (to me) but honestly sickeningly cute and awkward#i cannot believe i wrote it#lets see...there was skies (implied romance though)#then two non canon ficlets (hence they didn't COUNT)#and two separate things that were 20 pages (ew. old writing) and 14 pages (a lot funner) but TOO LONG#so ...4 in total#i am almost certain that i DID have something in my fairy tale retellings folder#But You Would Not Believe The Amount of Romances That Focused on Dynamics Between People That were NOT The Main Couple#like i would have people react to it or have some Outside Dynamic between one of the couple members and someone else#discussing it#oh there was also the chives romance scene (had outside interference though and not really soft)#and another outside interference awkward flirting scene (so also didn't count)#and yes i KNOW for a fact that I inserted characters to interrupt romances on purposes because younger me disliked having them#but really and earnestly thought books should have it at least somewhere for non mcs#anyway i think will go lie down and contemplate my choice to use a sunday to hunt down any (relatively) sane romances I'd written
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murdrdocs · 3 months
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repressed and desperately horny luke who has never seen a porn video vs new to camp reader who used to be able to watch it whenever they wanted but now can't even flick the bean in peace
oh and maybe reader who gives Luke a dirty polaroid or two they've been hiding before they leave camp for the fall
— 🦣
🦣 anon strikes again omg. this concept actually makes me all giddy i want it to be something Bigger hence the informal format but just follow me here okay.
just thinking about ya'll finding each other in a moment of need. fate, really, if either of you believed in the concept. you, grumpy and insatiable from lack of proper sexual satisfaction, and luke, knowing he's feeling something but he doesn't know how to expel the need. sure he jacks off sometime, but not nearly as much as a guy of his age usually would.
so there you are, grumbling about, eyes narrowed, mimicking the behavior of ares kids (your possible siblings but it's anyone's guess at this point) and luke just has to go and be the mediator, asking what's got you so down. of course, you're wound up so tight, and a little grateful that someone your age has asked the question because you can finally tell the truth.
out comes your dirty secrets. your longing for peace and quiet to get off. your slightly remorseful nature because you had no idea that you were that reliant on pornography to help you out. and luke is just standing there, ears reddening as he suddenly finds the trees behind you incredibly interesting.
but luke is a Problem Solver, so he awkwardly has a suggestion for you. "the showers right before the bonfire are usually pretty deserted. and for your ..." he scratches a nonexistent itch behind his ear. "other problem, my brothers have some old magazines i could lend to you."
you snort, arms folding as you pretend to be disinterested. but really anything would satiate you at this point. "what are they? women on motorcycles? maybe an old playboy mag?"
luke shrugs. "dunno. never seen 'em."
and it takes you a second. a really long, tense, and warm (for luke) second where you eye him up. noticing his stance, taking in his clipped words, how he said them. and it occurs to you that little demigod luke, having been at camp half blood since 14, has never seen what the world has to offer in the pornography department. or if he has, he hasn't seen the porn of today.
and unfortunately, it's impossible for you to fix his issue in naivety. there are no phones in camp and even if there were, you don't think the service out here would be all too good. which leaves you to improvise.
you do end up getting the mags from the hermes boys, critiquing their selection with a scrutinized glare at the pages, flicking through them with the edge of your shirt to avoid any remnants. and then you report back to luke, telling him to give them a look, prefacing it by telling him that things now are much more entertaining. slyly hinting at your ears being open if he wanted to give his opinion.
which, he does. standing awfully close to you at the bonfire one night, body turned just a little so he can speak lowly.
"there's ... things better than that out there?"
you nod, affirming his statement while attempting to hide a small smile. the magazines were barely pornography in your eyes, women in manufactured poses to appeal to men. skin artificially smoothed, their cunts shockingly dry, their poses so meticulous. it lacked the emotion and desire that you enjoyed to watch.
and poor luke didn't even know the half of it.
at least you do introduce him to what he could be consuming just before you leave camp that summer, sliding him two polaroids you'd managed to take.
one of you in the showers, body littered with clumps of suds. your skin shining from the overhead light which gleams from the water along your body. it's taken from a low angle, the side of your backside being the main focal point with your tits at the top just barely making the cut.
and then the other is much more lewd, showing luke what the magazines should have. you, on your back in a camp bed, wearing nothing but your standard issued shirt which is bunched up around the waist. your free hand is between your spread thighs, two fingers clearly singled out to spread your lips and reveal just how wet and shiny your cunt is. and after one of his many sessions of getting off over it, the post nut clarity manifests as hyper analyzing for luke.
he notices the familiar pair of shoes off to the corner, the pillowcase he had one of his brothers sneak in last summer, the stain he's never been able to get out of his fitted sheet.
and suddenly the picture has new meaning for him.
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r4izx · 1 month
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the next page
scaramouche x gn!reader
summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.
- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.
- slight cursing
a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.
9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.
you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.
these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.
you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.
10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.
it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.
"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.
"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.
you nervously speak up,
"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.
"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"
"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."
you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.
"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"
"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.
you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.
8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.
ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.
just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.
"scara! h-hey!-"
you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.
"ah- stop it!!"
scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.
and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,
...with someone else.
he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.
it hurts.
and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.
so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.
15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.
you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.
as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.
you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...
as they kissed.
you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.
the dam broke.
tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.
and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.
"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."
you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.
you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.
and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.
going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.
and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.
you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...
33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.
...moving on.
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tragedynoir · 1 month
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— introducing 015: PRIVATE EYE + [ link ]
a warm, nostalgic google doc template inspired by private detectives, and crime investigation! this template follows the collection of information on your muse from the lens of a private detective, through things such as letters, newspapers and official medical documents. this template features space for long writing as well! the template and a full page-by-page preview can be found in the link above or in the source code.
features:
8 unique 14" x 8.5" pages, all with hand-crafted full-page background images
short and long sections, an extra long backstory section, and multiple spaces for pictures
a large array of thematic page types and elements — letters, post-it notes, newspaper clippings, and evidence sheet which can be used to include ooc information or give more atmospheric depth to the template
some elements (muse pictures, text on backing post-it notes, date on envelope, and items in evidence ziploc bag) that can be customized in google drawings
placeholder images from mike von on unsplash — please change it out to fit your muse!
terms of use:
you may edit to your heart’s desire. Change the colours, replace, add or remove elements and images etc.
you may remix pages with pages from my other templates.
you may not remove the credit from the templates.
you may not copy, sell or redistribute my templates whether wholesale, in part (i.e. taking out certain pages) or remixed (i.e. modified).
you will also receive an additional guide with images on how to use and edit google doc templates! if you have any problems or issues, feel free to leave an ask or join our discord server.
this was so much fun to make, but took so much time to put together. I'm really proud of it so I I hope you like it! as always, I appreciate all your likes + reblogs. ♡
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azsazz · 2 months
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Midnight Muse (Part 22)
Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]
Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.
Warnings: Smut!
Word Count: 4,106
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Masterlist]
_________________________________________
For the third time tonight you catch yourself bobbing your head and mouthing along to the words of the song blaring through the walls instead of reading the words in the art history book that you’re staring at. 
Cursing, you toss your pencil into the crease of the textbook and lie your head in your hands. You’ve read the same page three times over but you haven’t absorbed one ounce of information. It’s something about the art in ancient Rome and the different ways God figures are portrayed. 
Your phone buzzes from the spot next to you and you can’t help but grin. You’d declined an invite to another one of Cassian’s infamous parties because you have a test on Monday and you can’t afford to fail. You barely passed the first one by the skin of your teeth and you’ll be damned if you don’t pass this class with less than a B. Azriel had even pestered you about it for a bit, but ultimately left you to focus on your schoolwork, or, as much as half of your attention on the page you could manage.
A: I can’t believe you’re studying right now. I can’t even focus on my drawing. How are you doing it?
Y: You’ve trained me in the art of studying with loud backgrounds, don’t you remember? You quickly follow that text up with another. Y: I should’ve joined in on the fun instead. I’m going to fail art history, anyway. I could really use a shot right now.
Azriel’s response pings your phone faster than Cassian saying something sexual. A: How about something else that might cheer you up? ;)
A puff of laughter chokes out. Checking the time in the corner of your screen your smile falls and you want to groan. You’ve only been attempting to study for forty five minutes.
Y: As mood improving that might be, I really need to study. This sucks. 
To garner some extra sympathy, you tack on a frowning emoji at the end.
A: It’s not that hard, princess.
It’s a bold move to reply: Y: Your cock? Or art history? But you hit send anyway.
A: Both, but the pair can be remedied.
Y: Come over.
There’s a sudden slamming of a bedroom door through the wall that startles you, then forces you into a fit of giggles, realizing how eager Azriel had been to escape his apartment and see you.
The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach and your heart kicks giddily in response. You’re just as excited as he is, shoving your chair back from your desk and bounding towards the door.
Soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room washes the apartment in a warmth that feels like you’re being cuddled. The rest of the apartment is dark, empty. Feyre had popped her head into your room earlier, asking if you wanted to go to the party next door but at that point in the night you were still determined in your studying, waving her on without you.
There’s a soft knock on the door and when you tug it open Azriel is barging inside, all but tackling you on his way inside. His hands find your hips like a magnet and you’re swept up in the heat of his body as it collides with yours as he sweeps you further into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. 
“Hurry,” he whispers, and his long strides are no match for your shorter legs. You feel like you’re tripping, tangled up in him, but he holds you steady, firm, like a rock you’ve been missing from your life.
It’s quite nice.
Azriel reaches behind himself to lock your door before he’s turning back to you and planting a kiss to your forehead. “Before Tarquin sees me.”
You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. He’s snug in his usual garb, a black t-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin. His jeans sit low on his hips, the waistband of his briefs calling your name. The fact that you know what’s beneath these clothes is as intoxicating as his blissful scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.
“Who’s Tarquin?” 
“Old friend,” Azriel huffs. “He was just arriving at the party. If he saw me he would’ve wanted me to tap the keg with him and I’d much rather be here, tapping you, princess.”
You shove playfully at his chest but Azriel catches your wrists and pulls you back into him for a popper kiss. You fall into it, body relaxing and even pressing yourself further into him. His hands slide around your waist and over the curve of your ass where he grabs a handful, sighing contently against your lips.
He’s been the perfect gentleman since the chat you shared at Rita’s, and has even offered to walk you to and from your classes, though you suspect that has more to do with Lucien than not wanting you walking alone, even though you share most of your classes with Feyre.
“Hi,” you whisper when he pulls away only to rest his forehead against yours. His golden eyes bore into yours and you can see the happiness swimming there.
You can also feel it against your stomach. 
“Hey,” he answers just as softly. “I missed you.”
“It’s only been a few hours,” you remind him, but your chest flutters a little because you missed him too. You’d allowed Azriel to walk you home after your last class of the day but had drawn the line at the door that he pressed you up against, using that wicked mouth of his to try and convince you to let him inside. After a thorough minute of persuasion, he’d backed off, leaving you with a cheeky wink and both your mind and your cunt screaming at you to call him back. 
“Yeah but dealing with Cassian feels like a lifetime has gone by sometimes,” he jokes, following you eagerly as you lead him through your apartment towards your room. It hits you then that he hasn’t properly been inside of your apartment before, only having seen it when he walked in on accident, but there will be time for a tour later, right now you want him in your room. Preferably on your bed.
“What was he doing this time?” you squeal when he pinches your ass and you glare at him over your shoulder. 
“Sorry, princess, I couldn’t resist,” Azriel grins and you can’t help but smile with him. When the corners of his mouth pull high there’s a crinkle around his glowing golden eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks younger, sweeter with that smile on his face. Azriel is a handsome man. “He was trying to get me to join in on the party. Think he was trying to rally some girls to play flip cup or something.” 
Azriel frowns when he steps into your room, not because he notices that the head of your bed nearly perfectly aligns with where his is pushed up against the wall you share, but because of the loud music humming through said wall. He knows it must be even louder when he’s the one blasting tunes at all hours of the night, but he hadn’t realized just how thin the walls were.
“Sounds a lot more entertaining than art history,” you grumble a little, slumping back into your chair at your desk. Your body warms as Azriel comes to stand behind you, planting a hand on the surface and resting his chin on your head as he leans over to look at your textbook.
“Ancient Rome,” he comments, and you can feel the delicious rumble of his full-toned voice. It makes you shiver in your seat, and you wonder if he notices you tensing, trying to stifle your reaction to his single word. “It’s not that hard, princess.”
“Of course you would be good at it,” you groan, slumping back in your seat. It causes Azriel to slip away, planting himself firmly on the edge of your desk. “You’re good at everything.” His golden eyes twinkle as he preens. You narrow your eyes at his smirk. “Oh, shut up.”
“Didn’t even say anything, princess,” he muses. “If I help you out with art history, will you be good for me, too?” 
You can’t help the rush of arousal spilling into your veins like adrenaline. The way he’s staring down at you through lowered lids, smirk turned into a face more serious, it’s a taunt as much as it is an offer.
“You wish,” you murmur back. There’s no heat to your response because it’s all collected between your thighs that you’re pressing firmly together.
“I do,” Azriel responds, gaze fiery.
And, well, those catacombs will still be there tomorrow. 
You allow Azriel to pull you up from your chair and into his chest. His hands find your hips while you wrap yours around his neck, amiring one another. It’s a soft moment backed by the buzzing bass of Cassian’s party but you couldn’t be happier right now, with Azriel holding you in his arms. 
You trail your fingers down his chest and he watches you, bright eyes never leaving yours as you swiftly slide them under the hem of his shirt. You can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you slide across his abdomen, reveling in the smooth skin of his chest, fingers dancing over the ridges of muscle. 
His grip tightens on your hips but you urge him with a soft tug to take the shirt off. Reluctantly, Azriel removes his hands from you only long enough to rip the shirt over his shoulders and then they’re back, pulling you closer than before.
You trace the line of his jaw and he allows you to drink in your fill of him because you’re looking at him like you’ve just found your inspiration for your next project, and he likes that raw look in your eyes, likes being the one you’re solely focused on. 
Moving downwards, you follow the line of his collarbones, fingering at the whorling ink there, like shadows of the night. They expand up across his broad shoulders and Azriel shivers when you lean in and flick your tongue against them, as if you can somehow taste their night-chilled forms.
Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you take your time inspecting each and every single one of his tattoos. The way you’re looking at him, the way you’re touching him makes him harder than a rock, and his cock strains painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He won’t move until you’re done, though, he won’t dare to break your concentration. 
Wrapped up in the black of his shadows are two cupids, bows fully loaded and ready to launch their arrows. On his arm, the tattoo of the female warrior you’d noticed at lunch when you were secretly admiring it, trying to figure out who it was. 
“Who is this?” you ask softly, and his answer is just as quiet, not wanting to shatter the trance you both seem to be stuck in.
“Nemesis. The goddess of vengeance,” Azriel explains, and your eyes are soft with grief when they flick upwards to meet his. He’s smiling softly at you though, and tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. He nods his head towards his other arm, showing you the other scrawled across that bicep. “This is Eleos, goddess of forgiveness.”
You can’t help the urge to surge forward and kiss him. His tattoos serve as reminders of a life he once lived, one filled with rage and hurt, the yearning to harm his step-brothers a forceful one. As time went on and his hands healed, he’d gotten that tattoo of Eleos, not because he was forgiving any of his family for how he’d been treated, but a year later when he was learning how to forgive himself for the time spent hating what had been done to his hands. 
And with those hands, Azriel lifts you into his arms. He’s kissing you just as passionately as you’re kissing him because without even an explanation, you seem to understand the artwork poked into his skin. 
He places you on the bed and follows you up onto it but you’re not done with your exploration yet. With little coaxing, you find yourself straddling Azriel, pulling away from a dizzying kiss and resuming your pandering of his body. 
An image of a winged man falling from the sky on the side of his ribcage, and two wings defining the hard muscle leading to the tent in his pants that makes your mouth water. These wings are feathered, unlike the membranous bat-like ones painted large across his back. Each and everyone is more captivating than the last, and as your fingers hover around the waistband of his pants, you lean forward and lick a long stripe over those wings.
“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hips jolting at the movement. His hands smooth your hair from your face where it’s falling with the angle and all of a sudden you want to feel those hands fisting around your hair, guiding your head while your mouth is full of his cock. “Princess,” Azriel warns, but the sound is choked, “I thought you were studying.”
“I am,” you answer, unbuttoning his pants. Azriel’s not doing a lot to help you focus on that work though, and you won’t be able to focus until you’ve tasted him, felt him like the piece of artwork he is. “I’m cashing in on my reward early.”
He hums, helping you rid him of his pants and briefs. His cock sticks out and it’s one of the best looking cocks you’ve seen in your life. It’s pink and leaking at the tip, ready for you to wrap your lips around. 
“You don’t have to—” Azriel’s words dispel into a rough moan when you take him into your hand and lick his slit. The taste of him explodes on your tongue, just as heady and delightful as the rest of him is. You know that you don’t have to, but with a tug of your hand up his shaft while you suck the head of his cock into your mouth his fingers tighten in your hair and you want this, you really really want this.
Swirling your tongue teasingly around the head of his cock, you jerk and twist the length of him. On reflex, Azriel tries to shove you further down on his cock and you allow it, moaning around his length when he hits the back of your throat.
You take him as far as you can, reveling in the noises he makes in response to your movements. When you suction your cheeks in, lathing your tongue wet and wild across his silky cock, when you use your grip on his base to jerk him off when you need to come up from air. You keep the crown of his cock in your mouth because he seems to love the warmth of your breath as you pant around him. 
“Princess,” he hisses when you twist your hand, “Fuck, baby, need you to stop or I’m gonna cum.” 
Gods, do you want that. Before you can eagerly continue your ministrations, Azriel is easing you away from his cock, his hands tearing at your clothing. You’re distracted by the way his hands slide under the fabric of your shirt, and you’re trying to relieve yourself of your clothing so you can feel more of those hands on your bare skin.
“Come here, gorgeous,” Azriel pants, pressing your naked body flush against his. You slant your mouth over his as you grind against him, your clit throbbing with need.  
“Condom,” you breathe between kisses. His hands smooth from your hips up your back and down again, guiding your hips to drag your cunt against his shaft.
“Pocket,” Azriel answers, unable to tear his mouth from yours. You strain over the side of the bed but are able to retrieve the condom with ease. You don’t even take the time to scoff at him for stuffing there out of convenience before he came over, because he clearly knew where the night was going to end up. 
You tear off the corner of the foil and roll it down his hot cock. Azriel’s golden eyes are hot on your body as he pulls you closer to him for another kiss. He’s addicted to your taste on his lips, the feeling of your body pressed against his. 
And you’re addicted to him just as much. The way he caresses every inch of your skin like you’re the finest piece of art he’s finally able to touch. The words that roll so effortlessly off of that wicked tongue of his, good for more than taunting you. 
“When is ‘yet?’” you ask, kissing across his chest. 
Azriel blinks, looking down at you with the cutest furrow of his dark brows. “What?”
You huff laugh at his confusion but are unable to keep your wet pussy from sliding across his heavy cock. The movement causes the both of you to moan and you melt a little against the warmth of his chest.
“You told Rita that I’m not your girlfriend yet,” you explain, finding the strength to continue your path down his body. You lap over one of his nipples and enjoy the way Azriel’s muscles flex. “So, when is ‘yet?’”
Azriel’s fingers find your chin, stopping you from biting between his pectorals like you want. He looks just as devastated by that thought as you are. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first date yet,” he teases and you fail to bite back your grin.
Your first date is tomorrow, and you have no idea what he has planned. You’re pretty sure that there’s no way that he’s going to be able to beat your first kiss at the museum, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Azriel, it’s that he’s full of surprises.
“We shared a milkshake,” you pout, squirming as he pokes at your sides. You enjoy the way that his chest shakes with laughter.
“And that counts as a date?” he questions, quirking a brow. You settle against him, even though your cunt is screaming at you to shift a little lower and sit on his cock. Azriel strokes soothing lines up your body, enjoying the feel of your smooth skin beneath his marred fingertips. 
You shrug, “If you want it to.” 
He puffs out a laugh. “You’re low maintenance.”
“For now,” you grin, poking his nose. “But that wasn’t an answer, Azriel.”
He can’t help himself, craning forward to kiss you. You draw him in like a magnet, and he’s never felt this raw need to be around someone before. When he first met you, he’d thought it a coincidence, how you kept running into each other, how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you. 
Now, he knows it’s much more than that.
“And is this answer imperative to how the rest of the night goes?” He asks, rubbing his cock in a long stroke across your wet cunt. 
You gasp, bucking back against him, but you want your answer, first.
“I mean, I can go next door and—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, princess,” Azriel growls, grabbing your hips to roll you over. You squeak at the swift movement and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress with Azriel’s looming form towering over you. His gold eyes are sharp with possessiveness. It makes you tingle. “You’re all fucking mine.”
He follows his words by nestling the head of his cock between your folds. You squirm, trying to get him to press further into you but Azriel holds steady, even through your teasing.
“If I’ll have you, you mean,” your chest heaves with anticipation, your fingernails already digging into his skin. You want him inside of you right fucking now, and you’re regetting taunting him already. “Which means you’d have to ask me, though. See if I even want you back.”
“Oh, but I know you do, princess,” Azriel’s voice takes on the low edge that makes you want to scream. His cock inches further into your needy cunt and he nips the shell of your ear. “I know you want this all to yourself.”
Your keen betrays your words. “S’not that special,” you slur blissfully. You already feel so full with the head of his cock teasing that bundle of nerves that had your stomach coiling already.
The feeling of your nails ripping at his skin tells Azriel differently.
He hums like he believes you, knuckles brushing torturously down the center of your body to play with your throbbing clit. His chest constricts with the way that your cunt strangles his cock and he takes a deep breath so he doesn’t come only from this; your stubbornness and the way that you’re wriggling on his cock.
“How about I show you how special my cock is, and then I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He proposes. 
“How about you ask me to be your girlfriend and then you show me how not special your cock is,” you counter, but you’ll do just about anything to have him pressing in all of the way.
“Fine,” Azriel relents. “But if I make you orgasm more than three times, you can’t call my cock ‘not special’ ever again. You have to refer to it as the most special cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on. Oh, and that it’s pretty too.” And fuck, it really is pretty like this, tucked into your tight heat.
“Kind of a mouthful, don’t you think?” you ask, whining as he pulls completely out of you to rub himself down the length of your cunt. That glowing look in his eyes makes you glare, but it’s shortlisted when he nudges himself back inside of you again.
“More than a mouthful, princess, as you well know,” Azriel smirks, and you pinch his side. It does little to deter him, though. “You want it? You’re going to have to agree to my terms.”
“Did you want a blood oath or…” he threatens to remove his cock again and you scramble, clawing at his hips to keep him inside of you. “Fine! Fine.”
Azriel leans down and the way that his cock plunges a centimeter further into your aching cunt has you gasping, moaning against his mouth. You want to bite that smirk right off of his lips but he tastes too good, and his tongue is swirling against yours, making you forget. “Was going to ask you to be my girlfriend anyway, princess, even if you hadn’t agreed.”
You shift your hips and it works to guide him a little further inside but it’s not enough. You feel hot, like you’re going to explode if he doesn’t start moving soon. You need to feel his entire length stretching you out, shoving the air from your lungs and taking you like he’s no longer in control of his body.
“Well, bully for you, Azriel.” You dig your nails into the meat of his back. “I’ll take some of the most special cock I’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on,” you grit. “Though that is yet to be determined.”
Your taunt does nothing to irk him into moving, though. Instead, he’s smirking down at you again. “You forgot pretty, princess. It’s pretty too, isn’t it?”
“Come on then, pretty,” you groan, on the verge of screaming. 
“I don’t think so, I haven’t held up my part of the bargain yet.” The words are followed by him pressing himself the rest of the way inside of you, enjoying the way the tension leaves your body and has you melting for him. You want him to start moving, need him to start moving, but Azriel’s gone all serious all of a sudden, peppering you with kisses until you can focus on him once more. “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”
“Yes,” you cry out, feeling so full your heart could burst. You drag Azriel in for a kiss that’s hot and desperate and a little sloppy. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, Az. Now, please move, baby, I need your cock.”
His gaze goes molten at the pet name the way you’re begging for him. He pulls his hips back and presses them forward again, finally giving you the friction you’ve both been desperately craving. 
“Of course, princess. Let’s give you what you need.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie
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foxy-alien · 4 days
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Page (4/14)
I wanted to share my process for my 14 page Nona comic, This got pretty long so the rest is under the cut!
First, I start by making a script, as I'm weeding through Nona I’m drawing immediate reactions. This way I don't have to keep track of action as well as dialogue. This is the most dialogue heavy page of the comic so this one has the most detailed panel break ups. 
In this scene Alecto’s inner thoughts are my favorite part so I dedicated a lot of time figuring how to add them naturally. I especially love “The old man, Crux—the child Crux, barely one hundred years old”
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Once I have a rough, and I mean ROUGH thumbnail for the page I move on to creating a digital sketch. 
Side note, you’ll notice I go back and forth from traditional to digital back to traditional. Having to fully redraw poses multiple times makes me really think about the action and what I want to include.
Thumbnailing is for figuring out panels. Sketching is for action and dialogue. I tend to show action and emotion over following all the rules of comic making. If you notice i break the 180 rule, but at the end of the day character interactions are more important to me.
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I redraw the sketch on comic paper in mechanical pencil. Again I don’t trace the digital work because I want the linework to stay loose. I just focus on lineweight and contrast at this step. The dialogue is written out first then I line everything else with my felt tip pen.
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I clean up the comic and replace the handwritten dialogue with a font I made out of my handwriting. This part is tedious but I really don't know how to skip it. My handwriting is too hard to read but I also need to make sure all the dialogue fits naturally, so that means doing it twice. 
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My coloring process is really chaotic and can't be summed up in screenshots. 
Crazy right? I am constantly adjusting, changing, and generally making a mess and then cleaning it up when I color. Often when my colors look off to me it's because I have a contrast problem, so I check it in greyscale. 
If you want to know more I can share my brushes and techniques.
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And with that I’m done! And then I move on to the next page.
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leclercvsx · 5 months
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I miss your facts | TEXTING AU
LANDO NORRIS
pairings: lando x reader
summary: y/n and lando are bestfriends, y/n liking lando. She introduces him to one of her bestfriends, he forgets about her and only realises what he missed when it’s too late
warnings: mentions of suicide!
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y/n <3
did you know that some sharks can’t stop swimming otherwise they’ll die?
Lan <3
that’s useful, thanks
y/n <3
EXACTLY! i knew i was needed
Lan <3
you’re always needed
11:23am | thursday
y/n <3
i miss you, can you come over after training?
Lan <3
i will, might be a little while though
y/n <3
don’t take tooo long
14:56pm | Tuesday
y/n <3
did you know that there’s over 500 different species of sharks?
Lan <3
i didn’t know that, no. cool
y/n <3
OH ALSO
there’s a new girl at my work, she’s super nice
you should come meet her!
Lan <3
i might
10:35am | Saturday
Lan <3
you were right, Taylor is actually really nice
y/n <3
SEE? I TOLD YOU
me and her are gonna hang out on tuesday if you wanna come
Lan <3
sure
16:45pm | Wednesday
y/n <3
australia is wider than the moon
you should tell Oscar that
Lan <3
Taylor told me that
y/n <3
oh really? wow she really knows her facts!
Lan <3
yeah, she’s pretty smart
18:18pm | Saturday
y/n <3
do you wanna hang out?
i’m bored
Lan <3
i’m with Taylor rn
y/n <3
oh, nevermind then😊
12:25pm | Sunday
y/n <3
human teeth are the only body part that cannot heal themselves
Lan <3
i know, Taylor told me
y/n <3
it’s illegal to own just ONE guinea pig in switzerland
Lan <3
Taylor’s from Switzerland, she told me
17:34pm | Tuesday
y/n <3
the heart of the shrimp is located in the head!
Lan <3
the shrimps heart is located in the head
y/n <3
haha, we said the same thing!!
Lan <3
Taylor told me the fact, haha
y/n <3
ohh
9:27am | Thursday
y/n <3
do you have time? i really wanna talk about something
Lan <3
i’m with Taylor right now, but what’s up?
y/n <3
oh okay, nevermind then :)
17:26pm | Monday
Lan <3
octopuses are so weird, they’re cool looking though
y/n <3
i thought you hated octopuses?
Lan <3
i did before.
but Taylor told me some cool facts about them
y/n <3
i did that with sharks🙃
14:27pm | Friday
y/n <3
you’ve been hanging out with Taylor a lot
Lan <3
anything wrong?
y/n <3
nothings wrong, i just miss you
Lan <3
i’m not leaving you though.
y/n <3
no, i know
13:45pm | Wednesday
y/n <3
hiiii! do you wanna hang out?
hello?
read
16:56pm | Wednesday
Lan <3
sorry i was hanging out with Taylor
y/n <3
i know.
Lan <3
why are you mad?
y/n <3
i’m not?
Lan <3
why is it so wrong that i’m hanging out with her?
18:34pm | Sunday
y/n <3
you’re forgetting me.
lando
i’m not though?
hello?
answer me.
i’m not forgetting you.
14:30pm | Wednesday
y/n <3
you’re all i have, had.
lando
why are you using dots? don’t scare me
y/n <3
is Taylor all you needed?
lando
stop.
17:25pm | Tuesday
y/n <3
i’m sorry
lando
for what?
stop leaving me on read, please.
stop scaring me.
you’re not funny.
18:45pm | Thursday
lando
i miss you
i was dumb
i’m really sorry
Venus is the only planet to spin clockwise
i really wanted to tell you, i miss your facts. i love you. i hope one day we meet again
you could’ve told me about Taylor. i reread our messages, i saw that you needed me
i’m sorry
12:34pm | Sunday
lando
you looked really pretty at your funeral today
i miss you
pez candles were made for you, so you could stop smoking
i could smell it on you before, now i miss it.
3:34am | Tuesday
lando
sharks skin feels like sandpaper.
7:17am | Wednesday
lando
sharks are one of the oldest living species on the earth.
but you knew that, right?
——————————
this made me sob writing it😭
ib: this tiktok
masterlist | request page
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please clic for larger images, tumblr compression made these look all blurry. id below the cut
here i am still making mp100 comics in april of 2024. its just such comfort food. im highly normal about mob and tomes friendship
ID: three pages of black and white comics about Mob and Tome from the anime Mob Psycho 100.
panel 1: a leg and an arm extend from out of panel so that the hand on the arm can tie the shoe on the leg. lying on the ground is the other shoe, a cell phone, a keyring, and a polka dot carrying case. on the carrying case rests a sphere with a strange pattern on it. in the top right it says "January."
panel 2: a figure (its tome) pulls on a jacket. visible in front of her are a cabinet and a wall-mounted rack, all messy.
panel 3: with a door in the background, a closeup of tomes hand on her flipphone. the screen says "dialing."
panel 4: tome shrugs on her jacket and, holding her phone against her ear with her shoulder, smiles and says, "Oy, Mob! It's Saturday! Let's go telepath-hunting!"
panel 5: ritsu and mob sit on a blanket on the floor in front of a bookshelf. a little "pause" label extends from off-panel. both of them are holding controllers. ritsu leans against his hand, looking bored, as mob holds his cellphone to say "Hi Tome. Didn't we already find a telepath?" tome responds, "Oh, right."
panel 6: tome and mob dont really know what to say next. they both look cartoony and stupid. "..."
panel 7: tome, looking pained, curls a hand in the air in front of her and says, "Do you want to... walk around the city? Pointlessly?" mob says, "Sure, I guess that's what we normally do."
panel 8: tome looks mad. "No! We walk pointedly! In the direction of telepaths!" she points, pointedly. mobs eyebrows go a little down as he scratches at his face. "It's pretty funny that you were looking for so long when Takenaka was right next to you. For months. And then he left because you were too weird."
panel 9: tome, opening her front door, says, "Y'know what, Mob, maybe I'll invite him instead." Mob says "That's a good idea. Let's see if he can come with us."
panel 10: now exiting onto the walkway in front of her apartment, tome says, looking excited, "Actually I have been investigating something new. We should look for a haunted house!" mob thinks to himself, "Sounds like work..."
panel 11: mob looks skeptical and asks, "In the city?" tome responds, "Yep." behind mob, ritsu unpauses the game (ssb brawl) and starts thrashing mob (ritsu mains lucas, mob mains kirby)
panel 12: tome walks down the stairs of her apartment building to a concrete sidewalk with a row of trashcans nearby. she says, "My first guess is that new shaved ice place on 5th street." mob responds, "Oh." tome says "It's an old building! I think it's haunted!"
panel 13: mob, contented, says, "Okay. I'll meet you at the train station." pleased, tome responds, "Excellent!" ritsu looks back at mob with a mean smile on. the tv screen says "GAME!"
panel 14: mob yells, "Ritsu! What the heck!" tome, at a stoplight, replies, "Sure, he can come too." she presses the walk signal button. "BIP."
End ID.
making this comic i learned that you cant just put masking tape over your mistakes and re-ink on top of it bc the masking tape looks too dark when its scanned in. i guess ill just have to warm up more and be more deliberate when i ink like some kinda loser. or i could become truly insane and start gluing on little pieces of bristol
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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months
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OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE
so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.
14. "Oh, you're hard to please."
warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact
pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)
wc: 4.4k+
join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character
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How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 
If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 
Plainly put, it had been a while. 
But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 
Personal demons including Cazador. 
Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 
And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 
“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 
It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 
“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 
His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 
“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”
Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 
You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.
He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 
The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 
You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 
He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-
“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 
He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 
“Then what did I just say?”
“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 
Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 
Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 
He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 
“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 
You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 
“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 
The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 
“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”
“And what of Gale?” 
Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”
“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 
Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 
“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 
“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 
You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.
Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.
Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 
When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 
“No.”
“No?”
You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 
And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 
“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 
He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 
“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 
He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 
Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 
If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 
“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”
What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 
He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 
“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 
Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.
He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 
The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 
“Excuse me?” 
He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 
“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”
“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 
If he has to beg, he will. 
He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 
It was a novel moment. 
But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 
“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 
You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 
Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 
Something snaps. 
All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 
Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 
You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 
It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 
He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 
“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 
He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 
It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 
“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 
“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”
Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 
“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 
Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 
Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 
“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”
“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 
You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 
The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 
He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 
“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 
He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 
“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”
His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.
You’ve waited just as long as he has. 
It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 
He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 
It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 
Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 
As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 
He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.
But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.
When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 
And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 
You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 
Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 
“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 
He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 
It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”
“I love you.” 
The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 
But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.
“And I love you, my dearest sun.”
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strniohoeee · 4 months
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oooo okay what i'm boutta request may sound crazy but
could you do a fluffy fic where it's all in matt's pov and he has a huge crush on the reader and he's so anxious around her and nick puts it together that matt is in love with the reader and one day they're hanging and matt's nervous around the reader and the reader is worried and asks matt what wrong and like after being so scared and shy matt blurts out he's in love with the reader and has been for a while and it turns out reader is in love with matt too and boom they kiss and become boyfriend and girlfriend
Dreaming
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Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Plagued by the constant nervousness Y/N makes Matt feel he takes to his journal. Afraid that his feelings are one sided he keeps it quiet until Y/N confronts him 📝
Warnings⚠️: None, kinda short??? I hope you enjoy tho🤞🏽
Song for the imagine: Ivy- Frank Ocean
I thought that I was dreaming
When you said you loved me
The start of nothin
I had no chance to prepare
Matt’s POV
Entry #14
Writing this down seems embarrassing because this isn’t something I do, but I have no one to talk to. I think that I’m falling in love? No! I know I’m in love, but does she love me back is the million dollar question.
I don’t crush on girls often, but when a girl is as gorgeous as Y/N how can I not? Everything about her draws me to her….like a moth to a flame. An ache comes to my heart everytime I see her because she’s so close yet so far away.
I was never shy around a girl I liked, but there’s something about her….I can’t explain it. Her dark intense eyes, her soft face, her gorgeous smile, her nails always perfectly shaped. Long but not too long just enough to capture someone’s gaze. The way she’d blink faster and bite her pointer finger nail when she was thinking hard about something.
Her ring clattered fingers, like ice to my skin when she’d grab my arm to tell me something. I mean her laugh…..always covering her mouth because she hated the face she’d make as she let laughter erupt from her chest.
She was always laughing too and it made me smile just to hear the joy come out of her. I’m not really sure when I started to like her, but it just happened. One day her looks and her touches made me nervous. It was a gradual liking that suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.
She’s also our best friend, so admitting my feelings to her seems a bit dicey. I was never given any notion that she liked me more than a friend, unless she’s good at hiding it. I can’t fathom losing her as a friend because of my stupid feelings.
I guess time will tell…
-Matt
“Matt what the fuck are you doing?” Nick says barging into my room. Causing me to slam my book shut and snap my head up at him
“Nothing. I’m writing” I said placing the book on my lap
“We’ve been calling your name for a while….Y/N thought you weren’t here or anything” he said laughing
“Y/N’s here?” I asked my eyebrows perking up
“Uh yeah” he said furrowing his brows at me
“And she was looking for me?” I asked scratching the back of my neck
“Well we were all looking for you….What's going on?” Nick asked looking at me sideways
“Nothing nothings going on” I said shaking my head
“Okayyy then” he said raising his eyebrows
I threw my book on the bed and stood up stretching and patting Nick on the shoulder
“I’ll be in living room” I replied walking out my bedroom door
Unbeknown to Matt his journal had propped open on his bed. Showcasing the entry he just wrote, and Nick raised his eyebrows. Truly enticed by what he was writing
“Nick this is wrong” the boy said to himself
He trotted over to the bed and shook his head…thinking he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. Matt was acting weird lately and he figured the reason would be within these pages.
Looking over to see if anyone was near the door he let a breath of air out as he grabbed the book and looked down.
His eyes popping out of his head at what he was reading. Holy shit? My brother is in love with our best friend? He thought to himself
The way he described her had Nick's eyes scanning the page rapidly looking for more. How did Y/N not realize how head over heels this kid was for her….
But then he thought and things started to add up. Nervous around Y/N randomly, avoiding eye contact, getting embarrassed easily, catching him stare at Y/N always….
He knew it! All along Nick knew that his brother had a thing for Y/N, and he feels kind of dumb that it took him this long to realize why his brother was acting so weird.
Nick shut the book and placed it back on the bed. His heart racing with this new information that he was not supposed to know about.
Matt’s POV
Y/N had come over for our monthly movie night. Since our friendship started one night every month we binge watched all types of movies.
Y/N called it her stay relevant with current pop culture night. I just think she liked movies and needed a good excuse to keep us seated for hours on end.
Before playing our first movie we decided to eat dinner. Chris offered to cook and we all scurried away from the kitchen. Opting for McDonald’s instead.
“What movies are you planning for tonight?” Chris asked Y/N
“I’m not sure I think we should start with something sad and then build our way up to scary and then romance and then comedy” she said taking a sip of her drink
“What’s your idea of sad?” Nick asked her
“Now I wouldn’t say it’s sad, but it seems alt and creepy and it has a deep message” she began to say
“You’re such a weirdo” Chris said cutting her off
“Hey! Let her say the movie” I butt in sticking my hand out to stop Chris
“Thanks Matt, it’s requiem for a dream” she said looking at me
“Never heard of it” Nick said
“Yeah me neither” Chris replied
“Well it’s about drug addicts who are trying to find ways to get their next high, but it all starts to go wrong and it’s supposedly really good” she said getting excited
We all kind of looked at her. Me enticed and Nick and Chris bored
“Nick and Chris are looking at me like I’m crazy, but how about you Matt?” She asked looking over at me
“Hmm?” I replied looking at her
“The movie? Want to watch it?” She asked
“Uhh yeah, sure” I said smiling at her
“See! This is why you’re my favorite” he said leaning over and hugging me while laughing
Instantly her touch made me stiffen up. I was becoming nervous and my voice was straining far from me. All I could do was offer a pat to her arm and a smile.
Her eyebrows furrow at this and I mentally smack myself in the head. What the fuck was that? I thought
We cleaned up our wrappers and headed back to the couch
“Matt sit by me?” Y/N asked me patting the empty spot next to her
“Okay” I blurted out nervously
I sat down next to her, stiff like a board might I add. Not really letting my body touch hers as my breathing began to quicken in my chest.
Everything about this situation was making me so fucking nervous. How she mindlessly situated herself, often brushing her leg or hand against me and offering soft “sorries” to which I replied with a shake to my head.
We began the movie and it was actually very interesting. Keeping my eyes locked in the whole time, and scratching my head at the plot.
However I kept noticing Y/N glancing over at me. Making me swallow thickly as anxiety crept up the back of my neck.
She wasn’t even doing anything and my body was reacting. My leg started to shake and I mindlessly started to bite the inside of my lip.
“Hey you okay?” Y/N leaned over and whispered in my ear
“Yeah yeah I’m okay” I replied quickly glancing at her
“You seem a bit on edge today” she said back
“What? Me? No” I replied a bit confused
“Well okay” she said sitting back against the couch
What the fuck was I doing? The anxiety is becoming too much. I decided to stand up and head outside for a breeze and to clear my mind.
Nick had watched Matt walk outside, furrowing his brows and looking over at Y/N who’s eyes had followed where Matt was going.
A smile grew on nicks face and he began to speak
“I think you should see what’s wrong with him” Nick said to Y/N
“He seemed a bit on edge I don’t want to make him mad” she replied looking over at the boy
“No he’s just got some things on his mind I think you talking to him would be better than one of us” he replied to her
She nodded her head and offered him a small smile.
She got up and headed outside
Matt’s POV
I sat on a lawn chair looking at the trees moving in the breeze. My thoughts interrupted when I heard the creak of the back door
“Matt?” I heard from behind me
“Yeah?” I replied looking over my shoulder
“What’s wrong? You seem off” she said sitting next to me
“Nothings wrong I promise” I replied smiling at her
“You’re lying” she said staring blankly at me
“Okay fine….just a bit of anxiety is all” I replied
“That was the half truth…what’s really going on” she said rolling her eyes at me
“You wouldn’t get it” I replied looking back at the trees
“Matt, come on. We tell each other everything” she says groaning
“But this I want to keep to myself” I said rubbing my eyes
“But if it’s making you anxious you should just say it” she said back to me
“I don’t know how to say it” I said turning and looking at her
“Oh sure you do come on” she said egging me on
“It’s just I am so madly in love with you, and I have been for a while. And I don’t know that you feel the same way and I can’t risk losing a friendship over this. But everytime I see you it’s like my body is on fire and my chest aches for you. Everything about you is gorgeous and amazing and I can’t help myself from falling more and more each day” I blurted out
“Matt….I….I like you so much. And I thought the lingering touches and the glances would give you an idea. But I figured I was creeping you out” she said laughing a bit
“No. You were making me nervous” I replied laughing too
Without a second thought Y/N pressed her lips to mine, and at first it took me by surprise. But then my right hand laid on her cheek as I pressed my lips against hers.
This kiss was better than I could have ever imagined. It was like we were made for each other. Her soft lips made my skin melt as the stars aligned above us.
I pulled away and looked at her before smiling at her
“Can I….can I be your boyfriend?” I asked smiling at her
“Yes Matt! 100 times yes” she replied before crashing her lips to mine again
A beautiful kiss under the clear night sky…just like a movie<3
The End
HIIIIII hope yall enjoyed this one🥹🖤🖤 I got many more requests to pump out, so stay tuned! Love yall dearly 🤭🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
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