#this drawing became: LET ME PUT EVERYTHING I LOVE INTO ONE PIECE

[gaytedlasso]

When Dean and Cas got married, Dean was given a very small piece of Cas’ grace. In turn, he’s now able to see Cas’ wings when he unfurls them.

Some mornings Cas gets up before Dean wakes to stretch his wings in the early light. It takes Deans breath away every time he sees it, pretending to sleep so he can watch Cas be so at ease and peaceful.

#this drawing became: LET ME PUT EVERYTHING I LOVE INTO ONE PIECE #tattoos and body hair and wings and hickeys and gay shirts oh my! #sketch.art #destiel #castiel art #castiel #destiel art #deancas #trueform cas #becauseofthebowties #cowboycoven #contentnatural #bebeverse #seraphcastiel #tuserpris #spn fanart #spn art

[jaehymrk]

low tolerance, you say

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Being drunk with fruitful intentions.

One thing Trent realized while dating you was to literally not put alcohol and you at the same place, at the same time. But, not many people know that aspect since you and Trent do not go out often, staying home in each other's presence.

Many people not knowing your low alcohol tolerance is absolute shit is what made Trent's job hard tonight. After picking up your call, he became more alert noticing it was not your angelic voice; rather greeted with a huskier male tone but was relaxed immediately as the person from the other line claimed, "She had way too many drinks to handle, but if the address is right. We are outside your house. Please take her away from me."

Every fiber in Trent's bone eased up. Rushing down wearing his flip-flops, frantically opens the door to see your male friend followed by three other girlfriends move you out of the car. His eyes darted on your fragile limping drunk legs almost giving out, Trent could not help but chuckle at your friends trying to keep you well.

"My boyfriend is here." You screamed loud, your eyes squeezed your eyes to scan your boyfriend coming out from his front yard to pick you away from the world for the night. Trent walked toward you, but you ran behind your friend's car.

You sat down on the road, hiding your face on your lap. Trent glanced at your friends in question since some of your drunk actions are still concerning and confusing. He is not surprised, just picking up pieces real quick.

With no words exchanged, Trent walked behind your friend's car where you were crotched down hiding your face. He bent down on his knees to meet your eye level. "What's wrong, baby?" He whispered in the shell of your ears, his fingers slowly cupping your face to glance up at him.

"You are not angry at me?" You tilted your head, clenching his hand which was settled on your face. Trent stared at your eyes slowly shutting themselves before you shook yourself up. His nose wrinkled to force himself from laughing at your drunk gesture.

He shook his head, "Never, princess. Come, let's go home." Trent gently lifted you from the ground. With his single action, you enveloped your body securing your arm around his neck. Trent silently thanked your friends for dropping you off. You shifted your head safely on the arc of his neck, eyeing your friends. "I love you guys, thank you for tonight." You waved your hand.

Trent laid you down on the sofa. For you, the whole world was spinning. It was even worse than the roller coasters you enjoyed back in some of those expensive amusement park. This cycle was endless, even if your body knows you are home, your eyes and mind are not helping at all.

"Trent, are we sure we are back home?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed. Your hand waved around but was beaten around by the air, not being able to hold Trent. With no answers returned, you took matters on your own hand.

Standing on your own feet to only fall back on the sofa. Your legs had given out all the energy. In the spinning world, you had resulted that Trent was just a hallucination. With that, you wailed loudly, eyes shut as tears sprinkled down your cheek.

You covered your eyes with your forearm, thinking you are alone in this whole world and the person you love, is not even real. It was just a fragment of your imagination. In between your thoughts and your sobs, you paused. Wait, you thought, Was I not drunk? You removed your forearm away from your eyes, soaking in the cozy and humbling living room in front of you.

Before you could process everything, the face of the man, you swore you dreamt of popped in front of you. "You are real?" You whispered, your fingertips reaching out to draw out his face.

Sun-kissed skin, doe-eyes, and the perfect plumped lips you wish you could ju-

"Please stop eye-fucking me."

He also speaks. "Yes, I speak." He spoke, shaking his head, pulling you forward to sit on the sofa. Trent sat in front of you carrying your makeup remover, a few clothes to change, and a blanket.

"So you are my boyfriend?" You hesitated to ask, not sure how you bagged a hot scrumptious-looking boyfriend. Trent leaned on his knee, using his elbow as leverage to stare at your drunk swollen eyes and pink lips that has been abused too many times by you with the continous biting.

Trent nodded, "We have done way too many times, princess. For now, please do as I say." You raised your eyebrows, and a line formed between your eyebrows in question. You gave him a lopsided smile, "So how do you want me?"

"On your back."

You froze. Being drunk does not mean you did not understand the intention of his words. Trent snorted cockily, "Are you serious? Let me remove your makeup." He asked, waving his hand and gesturing you to lay down on the sofa so he could remove your makeup.

So lying down on the sofa, you did. Trent sat on the edge of the sofa near your arm as he leaned forward to press the wet wipes onto your face, forcefully closing your eyes after every aggressive wipe.

In silence, Trent removed your makeup. Giving you enough time to admire his face closer once again. Up close, he . . seemed so familiar. All the small freckles that are not spoken about, the light wrinkle settled on his forehead, and the vein that pops out on his temple. With it all, Trent was simply so beautiful.

"We should definitely have babies." You said breaking the silence. Trent paused his action with his third use of makeup remover wet wipes. He lazily smiled, grinning ear-to-ear. You glanced upward to the ceiling as the tension was peaking its roof.

Trent clicked his tongue, "I don't know. Don't you think we should get married first?" He proposed, his eyes twinkling with the hint of mischievousness but your mind was too hazy to process through what he was saying.

"Then why are we not married yet?" You curiously asked, your arm finding its way to his neck pulling him closer to your face. "Or we can just do everything the opposite. I heard there are many people who do that." You justified your reason on wanting kids, slurping on your own words.

Trent giggled hiding his face on the nape of your neck at your utter misery and cuteness. He had the urge to pull his phone and record the amount of random crap was coming out; it is the same routine when you are drunk.

"I am serious though." You softly laid down your guards. With mind intoxicated and eyes about to give out to the lights. But this, you know, Trent was the man you want your kids grow up calling father; it is not a dream so hard to not want considering how dearly Trent is to you.

He removed his face away from your neck, coming face-to-face. "Baby, you are drunk and we have spoke about wanting kids and getting married like hundreds of times when you are drunk." He confessed trying to retrieve back to his original position to finish off your leftover makeup.

You pulled him forward caging him in your arm. "Then ask me tomorrow morning when I am completely sober if I still want to have your kids, Trent. I will say yes." You dared, eyes not fazing away from Trent.

Your eyes glanced down at his lips, "And I swear if you stop me from doing this, I will say no." You threatened before pressing your lips against his. You moaned loudly in his lips pulling him closer. Trent moved to straddle his legs as his hand shifted under your shirt.

Your hand itself tangled to pull his sweater off his body. He tsked away, continously shaking his head. "Let's do this tomorrow, baby. Let's go back to bed." He insisted only for you to shake your head whining, already missing his lips on you.

"We can only stop this operation if i accidentally vomit."

"What operation?"

You shrugged your shoulder, "To have your kids."

#jaehymrkwrites #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold scenarios #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fic

[guillotinna]

Neighbor! Soap would be like:

Met you as he was walking up to his unit with a box in his arms and quite literally, dropped everything to shake your hand

Has a dog named Ardbeg (famous Scotch brand) who he takes everywhere

Makes sure the light outside your unit is always working

"Lass, if you don't keep that light on at night, a boogeyman might find you, you know"

Platonically, you fell first but he fell harder

How could you not be enthralled by a boisterous scottsman with a cute little (actually quite large and intimidating) sheephound ??

Halloween isn't typically as big of a deal in Europe as it is in America and John was always deployed in the holiday, so when it comes around, you make sure he's invited to your party

When he asks for costume ideas, you say: "John, if you wear Jamie's outfit from Outlander, I know at least 4 girls off the top of my head that will fuck you on sight"....."So outlander it is. Got it"

Weekly movie nights of course become common place

Yall eventually transition from watching the movies to criticizing them to just watching trash TV

He sees you come back from a Date oddly quick with a pathetic pout so of course he asks what's wrong

"Y/n, back so soon? What happened?" "They stood me up. Real piece of shit" "aw Bonnie, don't worry. We'll have a good time, just us"

Takes you out so you don't waste a good outfit

Always has a good time but never let's his guard down for your sake

Creepy guy a few seats down watching you? Soap sees him. Bartender look at you too long? Soap saw that. Someone cross the street to walk behind yall? Soap was already putting his arm around your shoulders

Became protective very fast

When you're gone for a weekend, expect a lot of texts with frowny faces :((

"Bonnie, come backkkkk. Ardbeg misses you :(((" "are you sure it's ardy that misses me🤨" "......yes"

Yall love to share recipes from your hometowns with each other

You draw the line at haggis while he draws the line at (insert questionable dish here)

Shockingly, a very clean and quiet tenant

Will come over and kill bugs for you

A practice that started after he nearly broke your door down when you screamed bloody murder over what turned out to be a centipede

You find yourself restless and on-edge whenever he gets deployed

You've become the first person he sees when he returns and the last one to see him leave

He catches himself missing you while hes gone...odd

You start to wonder why people coming in and out of his apartment at all hours of the day bothers you so much

Ofc, johnny Rushed to the bar you're at when your friend calls him from your phone explaing that you got sloshed during a night out and need help getting home

While he carried you on his back to your unit, he realizes how good you smell and how soft your skin his and how perfect you'd be under him

Even though you're neighbors, you catch yourselves leaving things at each other's places since you're there so often

#to be continued #cod mw22 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[vonnart]

XXXIV - Annual Birthday Self Portrait 🎂 Here is this year’s annual birthday self portrait and reflection piece! Below are the previous ones i've drawn throughout the years!

This drawing reflects the last year of my existence and on my previous birthday, I had both the best day of my life and the worst. I had an extremely traumatic psychedelic experience where i was convinced i had died for the first 2 and a half hours. It was intense and surreal, making connections to what the afterlife was and it was like none of the religions or theories had taught us. It was just returning to matter, still conscious but unable to grasp reality or have any say or control. An unnerving feeling of numbness and the inability to function. After collapsing multiple times from the rigor mortis i told myself I was experiencing, I was confused why i could still see and interpret anything. After some processing on the floor, I made a mental shift and thought: “Maybe the afterlife was like a turnable dial and because I was afraid, it unintentionally turned it a bad direction”. I was clearly in a negative plane of existence so I turned this mental dial in a more positive direction. “Maybe the afterlife is whatever you want it to be.” So I entered into what i thought was a projection of my own idea of what heaven was.

Almost instantly, I felt the sensation of unrivaled elation. I wasn’t at the pearly gates, an astral projection amongst the stars, or a foggy cloud representing a soul. I was still in my body and everything around me looked normal, which oddly seemed strange. “But why would i be in my house?" Maybe my mind is still processing being dead so instead it’s projecting what is familiar and comfortable OR OH maybe because heaven is wherever you would want to be the most! And this house is literally my favorite place on earth. And then I saw my bf Josh and wondered “Why would Josh be here when i could make any celebrity or crush I've had in my life to be the projection of a guide in this afterlife?" OH okay, because there truly isn't anyone I would want to help me through the early stages of accepting what’s after death!

This pattern of thoughts and answering them in my strange sense of being keep on a loop for about 5 hours and letting go of each physical attachment to the world was euphoric. No more fear of having to make money, keep up with work, pain or stress, worries about war or the state of the world, and most importantly, never having to fear dying again. I had never felt this light before. I let go of all of it completely and somehow, at the same time, felt incredibly connected to everything in a way that I can’t quite put into words. And the best part is that I kept reminding myself that I get to feel this feeling forever!!

Later that night I wanted to see if you could nap in the afterlife, and when I opened my eyes, I no longer was in that dream state. I was horribly confused and conflicted. I was actually disappointed I was still alive as that projected afterlife was the most beautiful sensation I may ever experience. The weeks that followed became a constant fear of questioning reality and developing pretty bad insomnia. I was afraid of learning that I still might be dead but I couldn’t have any way to prove it. It ended up being rather painful for about 4 months. My friends, family, and parents really helped ground me back to earth and I am so thankful for them. I’ve been reading a lot of books that explore consciousness and it’s been helping immensely.

So now, I feel like I’m seeing the world again for the first time through fresh lens of perspective. Being alive is the greatest sensation that I was taking for granted. I did develop my first actual fear in life, and like many, it’s the fear of dying. And that feeling is so strong because I enjoy being alive SO much, I really, really love it! The ups and downs, the connections and lessons. Everything is so delicate and precious and I’m making sure to handle it better these days. Here’s to 34 and it’s pretty safe to say I’m looking to make it a more calm and peaceful one!

#vonnart #drawing #art #artist #pencil art #pencil drawing #original art #traditional drawing #self portrait

[itsphoenix0724]

Tonight, you sing for me (Azriel x reader)

Warnings: Smut, slightly sub!Az

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: you and your mate enjoy unexpected fun in your new home when you borrow Az's shadows for the night

A/N: this is my first fic, and the smut and ending definitely could use some work. Constructive criticism is welcome!

You met Az working as a priestess in the library of the House of Wind, and everything spiraled from there. When you and Azriel first mated it was like a whirlwind of events and emotions. Once you met his family Rhys extended the invitation to work with him and the inner circle when he learned of your ability to “borrow” others’ powers for a short period of time. After the war and the fighting you had a mating ceremony, and now you were finally ready to upgrade out of your small apartment in Velaris.

The house was perfect, large windows with an amazing view of the Sidra and perfectly built for Illyrian wings. Not too far from Velaris-close enough so you and Az could still be close to his family and you both could continue your work for the inner circle and as a priestess in the library. Moving had been a slow process; between picking out new furniture, painting, and completing the last few remodels that made your house perfect for the two of you, you were finally ready to spend the first night in your new home.

So, here the two of you were, standing in front of the door with a key in your hand. 

“Go on my love,” Az sighed into your shoulder–wrapping his arms around your waist, “unlock the door.” you sigh and lean back into him, slipping the key into the lock and swinging the door open.

Strong arms loop around the bend in your knees as you feel yourself being hoisted into the air as Azriel carries you both into the house, and you let out a shriek before letting out a laugh looking up at your mate seeing one of the rare unguarded smiles on his face.

“Welcome home my love.” Az purrs into your neck before letting you on your feet and pulling you into a soft kiss. The house truly was beautiful–everything having been hand–picked by you and your mate. Your library sitting up the stairs and Azriel’s piece sitting tucked into a small alcove off of the living room.

A beautiful black grand piano, something you were glad he finally allowed himself to indulge in. You remember when Az first told you he played the piano, the quiet admission against your pillows that he loved music and the way it made him feel.

Like he could create something instead of destroying it.

When you first heard him play it was a drunken night at a tavern in autumn. Azriel had been drunk enough to let himself loose, and having known no one else in the tavern he sat at the piano and played as everyone in the bar danced and cheered. It was one of your favorite memories of your mate, so the first thing you did was make sure Azriel picked out a piano to put in your house.

It had been hard to convince him at first, but when you mentioned him eventually teaching your children one day he became elated at the idea. 

“So my darling,” You press another kiss onto Azriel’s lips before continuing, “shall we christen the new house?” You can feel his whole body tense like a live wire, his scent darkening immediately to something smokier. 

“What did you have in mind?” he mumbles into your lips-his hazel eyes turning into a vibrant molten gold and it feels like he’s setting your body on fire. His lips are addicting, you’ve decided, as you draw him in for another kiss. 

“We can start in the kitchen,” another kiss on his lips, “or in front of the fireplace,” one for his cheek, “or in the bath,” one for his neck, “or we could go to the bedroom.” You stare into his eyes allowing him to swallow you whole, and you can feel his pants tightening as you mention places in your new house where he can ravish you.

“I think it’s only fair,” he hooks his fingers under your chin leaning in to draw you into another kiss, “that we start in the bedroom.”

He strikes then. Moving to crush you into a heated kiss, but you’re faster. You are his mate for a reason after all. You winnow out of his arms sending a confused Azriel a wink from the top of the stairs. 

“Well then, come chase me Shadowsinger.”  Azriel sends you a devilish smirk from the bottom of the stairs and you almost fall to your knees right then, but he begins to bound up the steps after you with a determined gleam in his eyes. You don’t let him get too close though, before winnowing to a spot further down the hallway inching closer to your bedroom.

You both stop in the hallway staring at each other. Azriel waiting like a lion to find a vulnerable opening, and you track all of his movements so you can disappear again without warning. He raises his arm and you almost bolt again before you realize that he’s not making a move to chase you. Instead, he leans against the wall, a perfect picture of smug male arrogance. 

“So my love,” he questions you. He seems perfectly at ease, but you know better. He is only waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, “What do I get when I catch you?” He raises an eyebrow, eyeing you up like a meal. You start to inch away from him because you can tell he’s going to move soon by the way he’s slightly shifting his weight onto his right foot, his shadows watching you as well curling around his wings and neck no doubt whispering to him about your own tells. 

“If you catch me, which you won’t, you can be on top. But if I get to the bedroom before you, you lay under me tonight.” A feline smirk of your own stretches across your lips.

“Ah, but that’s not fair,” Azriel tuts, “you could winnow to the bedroom right now and I would lose.” The gleam in your eye tells him that that was exactly your plan in the first place. “I think it’s only fair that we chase on foot from now on,” you consider this for a moment. You’re definitely faster than Az even though he’s stronger, and you have a sizable lead to the bedroom.

You have a straight shot while Az still has to travel down the rest of the hallway and round a corner. 

He makes it very hard to think when he’s looking at you. A shocking youthful almost boyish smirk on his face. His eyes make you feel like your body is melting and it almost makes you want to let him catch you.

But your mate had been amazing during the stressful time of house hunting, and he pleases you so often.

Your mind is made up as you mutter “Deal.” and bolt down the hall. Immediately Az shoots after you, his footsteps chasing you as you reach the door. Your hand touches the door knob and you have one foot in the door when you feel his fingertips start to coast over your waist. Twisting out of his hold, you dart the rest of the way into the bedroom. You turn to smile at him, victorious and wicked.

“It seems you’re getting slow in your old age, Shadowsinger,” you taunt. Azriel’s defeated form throwing the door the rest of the way open. 

“I am not slow–,” Azriel stalks towards you. You can tell his competitive side is hating the fact that he lost. His shadows swirl around the room like they’re waiting for something, “--you just like to play dirty.” He hauls your entire body against him in one quick movement shooting out like a snake. He crushes his lips to yours as he backs you onto the brand-new bed. 

“Az,” you mumble against his lips, “we had a deal.” He concedes to you, releasing the bruising grip his hands had on your jaw. “On your back, my love,” you purr against him, and his whole body shivers as he can feel your hands undoing the clasps that keep his shirt secured around his wings. You let your hands wander upwards and graze the spot underneath the joint where his wings connect to his shoulder blades.

His hips cant upwards and if he wasn’t kneeling against the bed already his knees would’ve buckled beneath him.

He seems to relent now, switching you around so that you’re standing in the spot between his legs instead of vice versa. You kiss him again, pulling his shirt off quickly before climbing onto his lap. You move your hips against Azriel and start to build up the right rhythm, both of your bodies moving together as one until you can feel the hardness through his pants. 

“Do you trust me?” His pupils are blown wide, black almost entirely blotting out the gold-green in his eyes, shadows flowing gently over the two of you like a cold caress, no doubt whispering to Azriel about each and every one of your subtle movements. He nods and you back him up the bed until his back is flat against the pillows.

You kiss for a minute longer and then Azriel feels it.

A sudden warmth, and then cold, the back of his tongue burning like he just took a shot of whiskey, and all of the sudden his world goes quiet.

It takes him a minute, between the way your lips are biting at his neck and your hips moving together, to realize that his shadows have stopped whispering to him.

He had felt your wave of power, and he opened his eyes to see you above him with a mischievous smile and a determined gleam in your eye. Black shadows now curling around you like obedient dogs.

He can’t help but huff a little, his shadows behave much better for you than they ever do for him.

You lean down and kiss him again, fingers running through his hair and somehow the lack of stimulation he normally receives from his shadows is making him all the more sensitive to your advances.

He feels like his entire body has been dialed up to 100, every little touch leaving a trail of burning lust behind it. He’s realizing now he can’t predict you either, there are no shadows to tell him the movements of your hands before you touch him and the finger you run down his abs feels like an electric shock. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his entire life. 

He’s flat on his back now, and you guide both of his hands so they run up your body slowly, feeling the last bit of touch before you execute your most important step in this plan.

His shadows are whispering to you about every subtle change in his breathing and his situation in his pants, and it makes your eyes slide to a seductive half-lid when you look at him.

You eventually guide his hands above his head and give his shadows a silent order. Immediately they obey and bind his hands to the headboard. Azriel realizes he no longer has movement in his hands and his eyes widen before he tests his bonds. He tries to order them to release him but they don’t budge. You pause for a second running your hands along Azriel’s jaw.

“Is this okay?” you ask, “We can stop if you don’t like it,” you reassure him looking into his eyes and calmly stroking his jaw while he deliberated.

Az took a moment to consider, he wasn’t used to being submissive, and it was hard for him to make himself vulnerable sometimes, even to you. But, he knows that you would never do anything he didn’t want you to do and he’s tied you up plenty of times so he figures he wants to see what it’s like when you have your fun.

He nods at you, and you continue on with a gleam in your eye that makes Azriel feel like he's weightless.

You take your time to appreciate everything about the gorgeous male laid out in front of you. You lick every single cord of strong tan muscle and whirl of tattoo. You can’t help but enjoy the way Az shivers under your touch. He feels like every stroke of your tongue is leaving a trail of golden fire. You lick, kiss, and bite until you reach his hip bones when you pause to look up at Azriel.

He looks straight out of painting. Black hair tousled and thrown back, a pink blush high up on his strong cheekbones, and muscles straining against your touch and his shadows trapping him against the headboard.

You want him to beg, so you wait looking up at him through your eyelashes. Azriel realizes you’ve stopped touching and he has to pry his eyes open. The sight of you like that almost makes him cum in his pants. You pull his underwear down slowly, kissing the new skin you reveal, and you wait again. “Beg Az.” you say gently pumping up and down his shaft as his eyes roll back into his head. His shadows whispering to you about the straining muscles in his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes.

Still he refuses to beg, so you have to turn up the heat a little. You place gentle kisses along the base of him before sticking the tip in your mouth, and running your tongue over him lightly. He’s clenching his jaw so hard you think the bones might crack, and you continue on with your teasing and he eventually can’t hold back any longer. 

Eventually he grinds out a dark, “please,” with a hiss between his teeth, but it’s not good enough for you. You’re greedy and you want more from him, so you keep teasing him–touching him just enough to send his whole body pulling taught like a string. He pulls against the shadows to run a hand through your hair. They hold strong, like bonds of steel against the headboard.

All it takes is you running your tongue along a vein on the side of his dick before his resolve crumbles. 

“Please, my love.” he pants it out, his tip leaking. “I want you so bad, please.” You relent, already wet enough as you move to straddle Az’s hips. You sink down on him slowly and you both let out a moan in tandem. Azriel’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he wants nothing more than to grab your hips, and bounce you up and down until you’re a babbling mess. You start to move and Azriel lets out a moan as you ride him. “Please let me touch you,” he grunts out between moans, and you relent. As you rise shadows slither away from Azriel’s wrists, and strong hands slam you back down onto his length. You let out a loud moan and Azriel reaches his hand down to rub against the apex of your thighs. You both climax together and you roll onto your back on the sheets beside Az. His shadows are back to their master, slowly slinking around the two of you like they don’t have any energy left themselves. You’re almost asleep. Your mate’s hand trailing slow circles up and down your spine when he murmurs into your ear. 

“So darling, what do you think about moving to the bathroom next?”

#azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #smut

[ichijager13]

Finally home

You finally convinced your boyfriend Oda sakunosuke to buy a house near the ocean and move in with the kids to start a new life together.

You were standing next to the step ladder on top of which he was, you looked up smiling at the tall man fixing the curtain rod. You handed him the ivory-white curtain you chose for the living room. You can’t believe you are finally done. You bought this cottage about a year ago and started renovating it step by step. With the money you both put aside it wasn’t that hard. You have done most of the work yourselves asking for professional help only for rebuilding the porch, changing plumbing and electricity. You have decided to take it slow and enjoy the process and some of his friends offered to help from time to time.

When he was finally done, he stood behind you holding you in his arms admiring the results of months and months of work.

“We’ve done it”. He breathed against your ear.

You nodded smiling, “Our house”. You whispered overwhelmed. You put your hands on top of his and embraced the sight offered to you. The red of the fireplace’s bricks, the chunky grey throw that rested on the ivory couch. Pictures of Kousuke, Katsumi, Yu, Shinji and Sakura decorated the wall next to your bookshelves. The room was spacious but that didn’t prevent it from being warm and cozy. The French windows occupying two walls bathed the place in soft light. Feeling the steady rhythm of your lover’s heartbeat you closed your eyes and let the moment imprint you.

You felt Sakunosuke’s head rest on your shoulder, you smiled and turned to face him. “Finally”. He sealed your lips kissing you softly. The sound of the waves crashing against the rock the house was built on top of, the smell of salt floating in the air and the sunlight drawing shapes and shadows on your frames. If heaven exists it must resemble this moment.

He was still kissing you when you remembered the kids haven’t visited your home yet. When you parted you turned and placed both hands around his shoulder. Faces merely close and lips reaching for each other, you let yourself melt in his embrace. When he kisses you again your heart skips a beat. No matter how many times you had him like this it will always feel like you are brought back to life each time your lips connect. “The kids will love it”. You spoke against his lips. “Especially the swing and the tree house in the backyard”. He nodded smiling as well.

“I’m glad I listened to you and purchased this cottage”. He rested his forehead against yours. “Thank you, darling. This all became possible thanks to your support”.

You buried one of your hands in his red lokes. “It became possible because of our hard work”. You emphasized the word ‘our’. “Besides, it’s you who gave me hope that both of us can have the peaceful life we have always sought. Thanks to you I know I deserve to be happy”. You hugged him tighter. “Thank you, honey”.

He shook his head, “You’re the one who saved me not the opposite”. The day you met Odasaku he was sitting at a table in the café you used to work at. He was lost in his thoughts after a brief exchange with a middle-aged man.

You placed a piece of cake on his table. “I haven’t ordered anything”. He said looking at you confused. The moment your eyes met, he felt butterflies all over his stomach and everything that surrounded him went slow.

You smiled kindly. “It’s a gift, nothing a good chocolate cake can’t fix”. Your smile was the most breathtaking thing his eyes landed on. Your smile must be one of the wonders of the world, otherwise, nothing would make sense in this dark twisted world. It was your smile that made him understand why the sun rises every day, why rainbows appear, why the sky is blue and why flowers blossom. All good things happened because in a café in the middle of some city in Japan worked a beautiful young lady with an angelic smile. “Do you mind if I join you?” you asked face blushing and eyes looking down. “My shift is about to end and I…”. you were stumbling over your words. “I thought you… you might use some company”. You looked up a shy smile adorning your features. He slowly nodded. You went to the locker room; you took off your apron and hung it. You glanced at the small mirror, you detached your hair and smoothed it. You took a place at the stranger’s table. His blue eyes were fixed on you, you don’t know why but you felt like the weight of the world was crushing the man’s shoulders. His eyes were cold and empty like there was nothing but void behind them. You wondered what kind of things someone as young as him has experienced to have such a vacant stare.

While lost in his eyes he pushed the cake into the middle of the table. “Care to share it with me?” his deep voice resonated through your soul. You accepted his offer with a smile. He told you about the book he spent the last months reading over and over. He told you about his new dream, he wants to be a novelist he said. He didn’t say what he does for a living or mention if he has a family or someone somewhere waiting for him to come back. All he spoke about was the world he wanted to write about and the stories he wanted to narrate. And you found it endearing how a stranger was telling you about his dreams and fears.

“Sorry I monopolized the conversation. I haven’t even asked what your name is”. Reaching his hand for you he spoke. “Let’s start all over again, I’m Oda Sakunosuke and I am pleased to meet you”. your hand met his at the middle of the table introducing yourself. He pronounced your name once, twice three times smiling the last time. “Such a beautiful name”. your chest felt tighter and your cheeks were burning, you darted your gaze away. You remained silent for minutes before he asked questions about you. what you like, whether you had dreams or not, family and what you do with your free time. And the conversation went on and on and on until you heard the owner clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation kids, but it’s late and I must close”. He spoke to Odasaku. “Make sure the young lady arrives home safe”.

“You can count on me, sir”. He answered. You wished your boss and co-worker good night and left with Oda. On the walk home, you picked up your conversation where you left it. By the time you arrived, you grew familiar with each other.

“That’s where I live”. You were shifting your weight from one foot to another wondering if he might kiss you before leaving. “I gotta go, thank you for walking me home”. You smiled; he doesn’t remember how many times you made his heart flutter smiling like this.

“Thank you for the cake and the lovely evening”. He was wondering if he should shake your hand. No that’s so awkward after all the time we spent together he scolded himself. Maybe I can give her a hug, or leave a kiss on her cheek. He didn’t know what to do. He knows he has to cease his chance but he wasn’t sure if you could cope with the life he leads. You were still standing looking up at him with soft eyes. He leaned and planted a kiss on your forehead. “Good night y/n, I hope we can meet again”. His voice was low and deep. You breathed in his scent and tried to memorize the tone of his voice. He didn’t leave until you got to your apartment. You turned one last time and waved goodbye before closing your apartment’s door.

One month later he showed up at your workplace holding a bouquet of flowers. You were in the back shop for your pause.

When the owner saw him, he smiled. “She’s eating, should I call her?” he glanced at his watch. “She will be back in minutes”.

Oda shook his head. “It’s alright I’ll wait”. You haven’t noticed him right away when you came back. You went to his table to take his order thinking he was a customer.

“Good afternoon, sir; what can I get you”. you asked smiling.

When he looked back at you your breath caught, holding a hand to your mouth you searched for your words but nothing came out.

“I would like to have a date”. He simply said handing you the flowers. “I’ll pick you up this evening if you don’t mind”. Still surprised you nodded eagerly.

After that first date came along other firsts. First embrace, first kiss, first night and love confessions. And now you were standing in the middle of your house in his arms savoring his lips.

“I love you Sakunosuke”. You whispered feeling him smiling against your neck. And sooner the smile became a kiss and the kiss became a soft bit. Regular breathing became heavier, heart rate faster and kisses slopier. His hands were everywhere, caressing, molding and kneading your soft skin. His hair became a mess thanks to your hands and the buttons of his black shirt discarded. He only detached his lips from yours to take off your blouse giving himself access to your cleavage. He freed one breast from your bra’s cup and rubbed the nub with his thumb and index causing you to gasp. Your hands were trailing up and down his large back and toned torso caressing and kissing each scar. He brought back his lips to yours and guided you to the couch. He laid on top of you after getting rid of both of your pants.

“We are finally home”. He spoke as you cupped his cheek and smiled at him. with one expert hand he unclasped your bra. He dragged his mouth from on top of yours along your neck, pausing to nibble your earlobe and earning a soft moan from your now glistening and swollen lips. Then moved to your shoulders leaving marks behind him down to your chest. He run his tongue in the valley between your breasts and then circled and tilted each nipple until they became hard. Lifting his head slightly ‘til your gazes locked he parted his lips and captured one of your nipples with his teeth.

“Sakunosuke”. You moaned when he started sucking your now sensitive nipple. The sound in the background and his mouth made the experience ethereal. With each swipe of his tongue, you felt like were dead and then brought back to life. Your cheeks were red and burning, your eyelids felt heavy and your breathing grow harder with each passing second. Surprised your back arched when two fingers slide past your wet folds. The movement caused your breasts to bounce in a way that caused him to twitch in his briefs.

“So pretty”. He breathed watching you reacting to his digits inside of you. “And so wet for me”. He curled his fingers brushing your sweet spot causing your last bit of sanity to shatter and wash away.

When you finally rode out of your euphoria you tugged at his arm. “Let’s stay here honey”. He pulled himself out of you, brought the blanket that was on the other couch and laid next to you. He shoved you closer until half of your body was on top of his after cleaning you. Chest pressed against his and one of your thighs placed between his legs, he covered your nudity with the blanket. You nuzzled his neck and closed your eyes. “When will you bring the kids to live here with us?” you inquired.

“Tomorrow morning, I wanna spend the rest of the day alone with you”.

“Let’s remain like this forever”. You asked.

“I’ll never leave your side”. He kissed your hair. “I love you”.

#bsd odasaku #odasaku x reader #oda sakunosuke #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs odasaku #domestic fluff #established relationship #fluff #smut #bsd smut #odasaku lives

[starfall-spirit]

Rewrite the Stars

@officialfeysandweek2023

Day 5: Starfall

Read on Ao3

“We had danced. All of us together. And I had never seen Rhys so happy, laughing with Azriel, drinking with Mor, bickering with Cassian. I’d danced with each of them, and when the night had shifted toward dawn and the music became soft and honeyed, I had let Rhys take me in his arms and dance with me, slowly, until the other guests had left, until Mor was asleep on a settee in the dining room, until the gold disc of the sun gilded Velaris.”

~A Court of Mist and Fury, Pg. 441

AN: This was only supposed to be a moodboard, but @shallyne is constantly putting out little ideas I want to run away with. I'll just let the book quote serve as the summary.

“They’re a band of fools,” Rhys muttered, watching his drunken family members stumble towards various pieces of furniture one by one. The dawn was just kissing the sky as he was finally left alone with his mate once again. He loved his family to pieces, truly. And he had been smiling so often this evening his face was almost aching from it. It had been too long since he felt that joy. Since they all did.

And it was all thanks to the female beside him.

A slow melody was drifting over the dwindling crowd staying to embrace the morning, and as Feyre leaned against the red stone of the house to watch the pinkening sky he found his feet bringing him closer to her.

“I don’t think any sight could compare to the moment the stars fall, but there is something beautiful about the sunrise,” she said. “Maybe it’s just my imagination. Wanting to paint again may be changing how I view the simple things.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, either way. But I did mention before, dawn is exquisite to all of the solar courts. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself tonight.”

“How could I not? There’s certainly nothing like this in the human lands, and I’ve always found solace in the stars. To be beneath them tonight, here with you—” She paused, looking startled by her own confession as his own heart began to race. “—and the others. All of you, I mean.”

He reached out to cup her face, finding a bit of pink there beneath the shimmering dust from earlier. “Dance with me, Feyre. One last time, before we go home. Please?”

One more dance would never be enough, but it was all he could ask of her without pushing too hard. Even if he’d be cataloging every tender moment between them that night. Every intentional brush of fingers, every smile and laugh between them, every time she spun away from Cassian or Mor and right back into his arms, leaning into him before logic or fear had her pulling back to a more modest hold. He was a greedy bastard, clinging to those stolen moments, but he needed every one of them.

“I’d love that, Rhys.” She’d be the death of him, smiling like that. And he’d let her, if it meant she was healing at last. He squeezed her hand, drawing her away from the wall and back out to where the stragglers danced around them. She slid right into his arms, this time close enough to share breath. And as he started to lead her, she rested her head on his chest, the soft scent of her washing over him.

It would only take a few movements. Simple adjustments to shift his hand off of her waist and band his arm around her, to reach up and cradle her head, to lean down and press a kiss to her hair. All possibilities she may permit after everything that had changed between them. 

All possibilities that could shatter the progress they had made. He couldn’t risk that, not even now with her body pressed to his, a tentative trust growing over these weeks. Months, he’d dare say. From the moment she left Spring, things had been changing, little by little. He had to hope this step wasn’t all to do with the wine they’d drank this evening. Or that she’d brush it off as only that, even if he didn’t deserve a happy ending with her.

“A thought for a thought?” Feyre mumbled into his chest sometime later, the visiting citizens long gone.

“Didn’t we already play that tonight?”

She shrugged. “You seem… pensive. I thought it might help. Was it too much after all, being with your family? You seemed happy earlier.”

He sighed, running a loose length of hair between two fingers. “I’m thinking, Feyre, that I’m more happy than ever. And I’m dreading the moment I have to fly you back to the town house and say goodnight.” He ducked his head, his nose brushing the side of her face as he brought his lips to her ear. “What’s your thought, darling?”

He couldn’t quite tell if it was the breeze around them or his tone that had her shivering in his arms, but he knew which he’d prefer. “I’m thinking I don’t want this to end either. But if I’m being honest, my feet are killing me.”

He chuckled, despite his disappointment that her confession broke the spell building between them. “Come on then. I’ll winnow back once we’re past the wards.”

She let him lift her in his arms, possibly holding her a little closer than was necessary. “Can we—can we fly the whole way? If you aren’t too tired?”

He smiled softly. “Why not.”

And as she curled her arms behind his neck, her head tucked under his chin, he knew he was utterly ruined for anyone else, regardless of what happened in this war. If he lost her…

He launched into the sky, flying directly to the townhouse and setting Feyre back on her own feet all too soon. “Goodnight, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.” And something in her voice, in her eyes, held him there at her door. “Goodnight,” she repeated, softer this time. And as he slipped into his own room, that hesitation turned into a restlessness he hadn’t felt between them before. Almost like—hope. As if—She couldn’t want that. Not from him. Never from him. That bridge was long since burned, no matter what sort of chemistry they may have as mates.

And if he told her now, she knew between the story he’d shared with her about his parents and whatever Tamlin had told her, most mated pairs would try to force the bond to work. She had endured enough out of obligation and he would not risk swaying her with such a strong sense of duty. Not when she was just finding her independence again. He tried to send something soothing down the bond between them and moments later he sensed her settling in at last, exhaustion at the young hour finally claiming her consciousness.

Rhys fell to his knees at his own door. And he wept.

~~~~~

Taglist:

@lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone

#feysandweek2023 #starfall #day 5 #acotar #feysand #moodboard #feyre archeron #rhysand #velaris #night court #oneshot #fluff #feysand fic

[miaurri]

Insane yapping incoming

I would've drawn this out but obviously I'm too tired 😭

This is just me explains Kayo more thoroughly as a character. Despite how I draw her thirsting over Mizu 23/7 Kayo actually has a very complicated relationship with women in general. She sees herself as being better than most women due to her negative experiences with them growing up

Kayo became an assassin for a reason, she is a capable fighter as she is a spy. She doesn't want to hide the fact she's a woman while doing all of that because she's "better than the others". Essentially detaching herself from the women she was surrounded with

Easily, I can boil it down to her having a "not like other girls"'s phase but that can't cover everything. Kayo's main theme as a character is a nature vs nurture effect and she could've been someone entirely different. Like Mizu she grew up with people viewing her as a freak. The women around her life struggle as well (her mother was a Chinese immigrant that ended up in Japan and then her Oiran sister figure that was struggling to make money) but they also had their shitty moments

If I were to say what would be Kayo's version of the "who betrayed Mizu" theory it would be something like "who failed Kayo". Both women tried their best to raise her properly but due to outside surroundings Kayo simply was "set up to fail". Being sold off by her mother after her brother's death and having her "sister" leave her once she were "old enough" to handle being on her own. Kayo's two supportive female figures had given up on her when it came to her fascination with violence

oh yeah- the theme with violence, Kayo growing up majority in the red light district was subject to the idea of Shinju or the act of selfharm as love. Low clas oirans at the time period would perform self harm as a sign of love and dedication for her customers but some of the smart ones would pay off grave robbers to find a body and chop off a piece of their limbs for them to use. This was because men at the time period would be sold to the idea of a woman being so infatuated by them and blah blah blahhhh 🤓☝️

Keeping it brief cause I wanna talk more bout her love language in another post perhaps soon but for Kayo it's just hard for her to trust women the same way she could trust a man. Which is why when she met Mizu she was just as infatuated as she was curious. Something about Mizu was off and Kayo didn't knew what could it be. Then she finds out this man has tits and also has a forest down there and realized oh shit that's a woman-

her first immediate gut reaction was jealousy cause "how could another woman be a strong fighter?? Why is she so strong am I not?" putting herself against Mizu more critically. Kayo obviously is still damaged by her past when it came to women, she can barely take most of the women who confront her seriously but overtime as she spends more time with Mizu (and possibly with Akemi too cause the girl needs more female companionship-) Kayo would see women in a different light

While Akemi finally has a supportive female friendship system Kayo needs time to open up again toward women. After being constantly hurt and lied too it's no wonder why Kayo would rather work for men like Heiji or Fowler. Keep in mind though Kayo isn't hateful with women, she won't call them names but her empathy for them is a bit lower. She has a hard time opening up and being traditional feminine in a safe environment

Paraelling with Mizu- Mizu has a masculine/androgynous built but there'll always be that hint of soft femininity in her even if it's only few. Kayo on the other hand is physically very feminine but the way she carries herself natural is more masculine leaning. Mizu and Kayo are just as different as they are equal to one another.

TLDR: Kayo was let down by the women in her life that subsequently turned her into a woman who has a hard time opening up to other women.

Next post I'll rant about Kayo's sexuality and how it's actually a retelling of the yandere trope in queer media

#AND MIC DROP #thank you for coming into my tedtalk #im feeling ranty today so I'm dropping this here #i wanna give her more depth that I couldn't do in my art sometimes #⊹˳⁺ ♡ miau//who speaks #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai oc #oc x canon

[outrageouslymoonpie]

Alright.

I have finally finished black sails. Started it in April (I know), watched one episode randomly in November (got traumatized by Randall's leg) and decided to finally watch it (after seeing a post about love and monsters) a couple of weeks ago.

Safe to say that I've got an unhealthy obsession with pirates and stories about the sea that traces back when I was like four and not so able to draw, because while watching the series i put together a bibliography of medias that is quite long.

Is this related to what I think of the series? Maybe. Maybe it puts in perspective the obsession it rekindled.

Anyway. Black sails.

Beware, there'll be spoilers sprinkled down here.

I went in totally blind, besides Flint's queerness. I'm a simple woman, i love me a historical drama about pirates with a queer protagonist.

Flint's queerness - as I read somewhere here on Tumblr - is something fundamental in his development as a character, but also as a pirate. And with him being the protagonist of the story, I also thinks it drives a lot of the actual narrative of the series. Because of him being queer, of him being in love with another man, he became a pirate. He decided to retrieve that damn treasure.

So it's a series about a queer man, but not about the homophobia he experienced or experience. The show let us imagine, let us wonder why he decided to become a pirate.

But it lets us know that Flint loved a man.

You know, Flint loves a lot. I think he's not able not to. He cares, and hurts, but ultimately he loves a lot. We see it with basically every character he interacts with (besides poor billy, which is actually really funny to me.) He loves Miranda, respects Eleanor and Vane, loves deeply and unhealthily Silver and Madi.

Something I noticed is how much love there is, throughout the whole series. It's not just about the relationships between the characters (which are vital), but also about the kind of life they're living, about the love they have for Nassau. It's the true heart of the story. The characters do things out of love.

Flint manipulates the narrative in order to obtain his gold, yes, but he also does that in order to protect and save and help those who love. England betrayed him, so he became a pirate. Miranda - his tether to the memory of Thomas - got killed because of his love for her, because of her love for him, because of their hope. Silver and Madi, oh god. In the last season that particular relationship become something Shakespearian in its tragedy, in its inherent imbalance. But it's so full of love. In their scheming, in Flint's decision to help silver save Madi, in Madi's pain at the very end of the season, in silver's smile.

(I'll elaborate more in another post, but oh boy those three broke my heart in many many pieces)

And then there's the part of the story where every one of them is a monster of some kind. In the very last episode flint's tells silver how much every one of them is a monster in someone's story and that how they tell children to be scared of the darkness, because in the darkness live the monsters. And that is the second big theme of black sails. Being a monster. Being a pirate is something awful in the eyes of the British empire, but every character in this show is a monster of some kind. Flint, queer and pirate and scheming and wrathful. Silver, manipulator, scheming and later disabled. Vane, an ex slave turned pirate. Eleanor, woman, queer and super smart. I can go on, but I thing you got the gist. (Love is also monstrous)

And the very last thing in this very long ramble: the power of stories. Throughout the show we see characters hinting about being part of a story, part of something big, about having a "reputation to maintain", a "name to live in". It's almost like they know they're fictional. I felt the power of the stories: they can shape everything. Our present, our future, our past. We can do everything with a story. And my favourite thing was Silver. John Silver, the Long John Silver, starts his story with a lie. The character who's most shaped by the damned narrative is the one who refuses till the very last to tell us his story. I don't know him. I have no idea where he came from, but I saw him shape himself in a pirate, a cook, a quartiermaster, a leader and ultimately a legend. He goes around saying lies, manipulating, telling Flint I have no story to tell I think you know everything that's to known about me.

To end this too long of a ramble: black sails changed something fundamental in the way I see pirates and in the way I experience stories and in the way I shape my very own narrative. It also broke my heart, gave me brainworms and added eight books to my tbr. I don't regret nothing, but if you have some fic rec please give it to me. I miss them.

#black sails #madisilverflint #captain james flint #john silver #silverflint #the power of the stories is kind of killing me #i have so much to say #but alas it's late #eleanor guthrie #and her terrible choices #im not finished here #im not okay

[seoness]

hey!! so i had a request: if the idea is interesting to you, how would the hound feel about falling for a powerful nobleman/monarch (maybe essosi?) who's chronically ill & has facial/body disfigurements from a birth defect?

sorry if this is too specific!! i've just been wondering how the hound would feel about essos & royalty and that big cultural gap, and i'm a self-indulgent (and disabled) hag who wants to hear about him having a disabled man as a partner, lol. whether you take this request or not, i love your writing, especially your characterization of sandor! keep up the good work!!

(Sandor Clegane x male!reader) Hi, if this was meant as a request for a fic then just holler at me again and I'll add you to the waiting list. Planning on plowing through them on my vacation. 🤗 Otherwise, here are my thoughts and rambles. Thank you for your kind words! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors, I'm trying to be less pedantic.

I just had to draw him acclimated to his new home. Relaxing and having a snack. I dunno what the dude's eating. A large plum? A red onion?

Let's begin with the setting:

We alter his canon. The Hound never became the Hound... well, not Joffrey's. Let the Lannisters have Gregor, there is gold to be had elsewhere. He's heard the tales. Listened as sailors regaled of spice merchants that could rival the riches within Casterly Rock, of princes, magistrates, and emperors worshiped as gods beyond the Jade Sea. One of them will have the need for good steel. As long as his master can point and his purse is full, they need not share the same tongue, Sandor's sword will speak for him. One of those many spice merchants, princes, magistrates, and emperors will be you.

How would it start?

Slowly. Regardless if he's aware and accepting of his bisexuality, he's not some fool desperate to lose his maidenhead. Especially if you're in control of the coin that pays for his wants and needs. His view of you will not be one that is kind. His world is a cruel one, and the life he's lived has been no different. In canon, Sandor tells Sansa (while joking about a traumatized and raped Lollys Stokeworth):

"...if you can't protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can..."

This is not a man that is considerate or empathetic by nature, which can be refreshing in its own right. He'll not eagerly bite the hands that feed him, but neither will he lie and say you didn't avoid his views on a technicality. It isn't your strong arms and steel that protect you. It is gold, and that gold has bought you his. This mindset applies to a wide spectrum of illnesses, ailments, disfigurement (that hinder physical performance), and disabilities. Sandor will wonder if you wanted his services because of his burn, that you see it like some sort of brotherhood. He'll not be completely open to the notion that you are clever enough to not pass on a good swordsman based on appearance. That you can see what more there is to Sandor Clegane than his scar and perhaps you hope he can show the same courtesy.

He won't.

Not at first. Your collaboration together will surround work and only work. You point, and the Hound goes. Sandor will start to pick up words here and there in your tongue. He knows and understands more than he lets on, but dislikes the chuckles whenever he speaks with a heavy Westerosi accent. The armor of dark plate will slowly switch to layered fabrics, chainmail, and pieces of plating (rather than a full set of plate). The once pale skin will darken under the Eastern sun. In Westeros, Sandor despised the showmanship of knights, but there is an honesty to how the Essosi deal with their gold and silk. It's not to boast of valor or honor, it is simple. Wealth. Gone are the comparing of lineages and legends of long-dead men, in Essos gold is everything.

As Sandor begins to adapt to his new surroundings, it won't be lost on the man that it's mostly due to you. You put down the time to explain your customs to him, you are the one ordering the many learned men to tutor your sellsword and you are the one that teaches the Hound what rules can be broken and which will cost him his head. Sandor isn't blind and he isn't ungrateful. His work is no longer a means to pay for his enjoyment, but something that brings him fulfillment in and of itself. He starts to devote time to learning more about you, your interests, and your past.

A good shield knows the one it guards.

That excuse will serve him well for a time. It's when his concern starts to shift that the man no longer can lie to himself. He can protect you from any danger heading your way. A madman with an axe, some assassins here and there, but the struggles that are your own? He knows shit about it. If the gods were true they sure as hells had no intention for him to be a maester.

Sod off

Sandor won't ask about it. He still doesn't want the reason for your friendship to be the brotherhood of the scarred and maimed. Your struggles are yours, his are his. There's no help in stealing the others. His growing care for you will show as the opposite, he'll ask less and seem more distant as you talk. The Hound will become more solitary overall, your servants tell you that he's stopped his usual route to the brothels. Sandor knows he should leave Essos. Gregor has lived for far too long. He'll pack once or twice, try and muster the will to tell you that he's leaving.

More excuses. The rest of your guard is too weak. Didn't that merchant give you an odd look at the last feast? Best stay a little longer, just until you're safe. If pressed too much during this period, the Hound might very well bite the hand that feeds him. He'd like the excuse of being sent away.

Sparks and relationship

When this strange friendship changes to romance is hard to say. He'll not be sober when he makes any deeper feelings known. A blunder. Something Sandor planned to keep his mouth shut about until he died. As a relationship begins to form between you, his support will grow into new areas. If someone rubs you the wrong way, he'll make a note and whisper an insult in your ear. He'll do that too many that trouble you. It's not a brotherhood, but he knows just how annoying it is to be surrounded by whispers and fleeting looks.

Sandor would have found joy in Essos, in your service, and unlike in his homeland, he would have been open that you were the man that he loved... you would have protected him from the hardships that await him.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader

[artemis32]

Okay. Now Dg as Yandere x s/o reader 😈

Yandere DG I

He's not my favourite character, but I can't deny it, he's hot

Requests are open, please spam me, I'm bored

****

Lookism Masterlist

****

****

Girl run.

That’s literally the only piece of advice I could give if we’re talking about DG as a romantic yandere.

The worst of it isn’t that he’s obsessed and borderline crazy. No. The worst part is that you won’t even really notice it until it’s too late to leave.

He starts off so sweet, the picture of a perfect gentleman.

Flowers, gifts, romantic dates, lovely sugarcoated words - lies, sweet smiles and passionate kisses and embraces.

He truly is the perfect other half you’ve been looking for - or so you thought.

There are two versions of events: how you met him, and how he met you. Really, you shouldn’t be so comfortable and sure of who you let into your life. You never know who someone really is until it’s too late.

****

You met DG while you were out with friends.

Before he became a famous idol, a short while before his debut, he was parading about with his fellow trainees in a hidden little restaurant, tucked away in a side street far from the bustling main street a few feet away.

The group of trainees, tired and happy for their much needed day off, had taken refuge at a table pushed far into the corner of the restaurant, DG sitting in the corner, facing the entrance of the restaurant.

They’d already finished their meals by the time you’d arrived, wrapped up in a thick scarf and coat to ward off the cold. 

You were accompanied by two or three friends, not that he paid them much mind.

Breathlessly, you had taken a seat at one of the tables near the front of the restaurant, unwrapping the thick scarf to reveal your face, split with a wide smile.

Your small group laughed and spoke, pausing momentarily to order before continuing.

The sudden silence leaves you confused, that is until you turn and spot possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen standing behind you.

He would introduce himself in a calm, cool tone, telling you about how he saw you from across the room and had to take the chance to introduce himself to such a lovely lady.

Words meant to woo you - and they work. Both you and your friends find him charming. You don’t question why a handsome man decided to greet you out of the blue - you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Because of that, you don't reject him when he asks to see you again.

****

The first date is memorable, as first dates usually are. He takes you on a picnic in one of the most beautiful nature reserves you've ever seen. Everything is covered with a light sprinkle of snow, but the two of you remain comfortably warm underneath a heated outdoor patio.

He's the perfect gentleman, doing everything exactly right. It almost seems like he's able to read your mind, everything going exactly as you'd hoped.

One date turns into two, and then another, and another after that.

Soon enough, the two of you are inseparable.

He lives on a very busy schedule but always seems to have time available for you.

Sometimes he plans to see you in advance, other times he'll show up unannounced to whisk you away for a quick lunch date or coffee run.

Regardless of how busy he is, he seems to put you first, pushing aside any and all responsibilities in favour of spending time with you. Honestly, he’s a wonderful boyfriend, someone you could really see yourself staying with for a long time.

****

DG met you a year and a half before he actually introduced himself.

It was some hot summer day and he remembered so clearly how beautiful you looked in the first moment he saw you - you had been wearing a dress, one he was sure to compliment you on in the far future.

You had been so happy that day, smiling so widely, laughing and joking with one of your friends. 

Of course in that moment he couldn’t have said anything to you, even if he had wanted to - he had been working with Gun at that moment, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was draw Gun’s attention to you.

So he ignored you and went about his business, only come back at a later stage, this time without Gun, prepared to learn everything he possibly could about you.

In that year and a half before he introduced himself, he obsessed over you, day and night, for months. He spent all that time learning as much about you as he could. His reasoning was sound - he had to get to know you, he couldn’t afford to slip up and have you reject him.

And he was so grateful that he had done that. He learnt so much about you, things that he would probably not have known - things that may have ended up pushing you away from him.

For example, you didn’t like cocky people, so he had to tone it down a bit whenever he was around you, putting on the façade of a humble man, content and reserved. 

He learnt about other, more trivial things, like your favourite foods and your hobbies, certain characteristics and behaviors of yours that he studied extensively.

Truly, by the time he actually introduced himself - in the café you visited weekly - he knew more about you than you probably knew about yourself.

****

He doesn’t really become crazy until nearly two years into your relationship. By that time, you’re comfortable around him, having been lulled into a somewhat false sense of security.

The changes in his behaviour and treatment of you start slowly. He makes small suggestions, little pieces of advice that seem to logical to deny.

Do you really have to go out with your friends today? You saw them last week - and now that I’m an idol, is it really safe for you to go out all the time? There may be some crazy fangirls out there who see you as competition.

That made sense - you didn’t really have to go out to lunch with all of your friends anyway, you could always see them some other time.

Do you really need a job? I make enough money for the both of us - it would make me feel a lot better if you take some time off, just for a little bit.

Naturally, a little bit of time slowly turned into you being unemployed. The same goes for your education - you’ve been studying so hard, don’t you think you deserve a small break?

He isolates you so gradually that you barely realise it until it’s too late. You have no where to go, no one to turn to except him. Not that that’s a bad thing, he takes such good care of you. He loves you.

And he does love you, that much is true. You’re beautiful, funny, intelligent (not as much as him), trusting and kind. You’re everything he wants and more.

It’s unlikely that you’d see any of his negative traits unless you push him too far - he tries to leave his anger and pessimistic thoughts at the door, never involving you in his problems.

The only way you’d push his patience is if you pestered him about leaving, for any reason - to see your friends, to get a job, to leave him. Or if you bugged him about his work, the things he did outside of being an idol.

He’s willing to give you a lot, but Telling you about what he does isn’t something he ever planned on sharing with you, ever.

The fact that he knows you so well also means that he can predict a lot of the things you’ll say and do, so oftentimes he can intervene before you say something you might regret.

****

If you were to ever try and leave him - whether because you realised how manipulative and controlling he is, or because you found out what kind of business he was involved in - he would act quickly, locking you away and cutting off any remaining contact you may have had with anyone other than him.

Honestly, you shouldn’t complain. He provided you with plenty - clothing, food, a gorgeous apartment, trips all over the world, really anything your heart desired. All he asked for in return was that you loved him - that included keeping yourself out of his personal affairs.

You would end up giving in, feeling guilty for prying.

Overall he’s not a bad boyfriend- he treats you very well and he really does care for you, but he is a horrible yandere - manipulative, calculating, possessive. 

He’s also the king of gas-lighting, twisting your words, making himself out to be the victim. And praying that he’ll get bored of you won’t work either, not when he put so much work into making sure you loved him.

On the bright side, he’d never turn violent. He sticks to purely mental games when it comes to you - whether or not that’s worse, you can decide.

#lookism #yandere #dark content #female reader #yandere dg x reader #dg x reader #dg lookism #yandere dg

[artharakka]

Hello

I habe just recently come across your page. My condolences for Minni.

But Holy Shit, your art style is so cool. Your whole page is freaking fantastic beautiful. Sorry for just putting random words together. I love the artstyle so much. To be honest i am flabbergasted. I hope one day I can draw in a similar artstyle too, but i don’t think anything can come near to the talent you have.

Like fr i saw your drawings and was shocked. May i ask are some of your paintings inspired by mythology? Because they remind me of trolls and a book i had when i was a child from Jan Lööf, it was about trolls.

Sending lots if luvs and hugs from little nowhere in europe. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Hi 🧡 Last night I dreamed of Minni, she was sleeping at my feet and she was warm and her side moved with her breathing, but I knew she wasn't really there and it didn't feel wrong, so in time, I think it will be alright 🧡

And thank you! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly as this became a longer rambling about creating and inspirations! Rest under the cut:

Often I think I'm still kind of searching for an art style that feels most comfortable to me, but thank you for liking where I'm now 💕 But don't put yourself down! It has taken me a lot of trials and errors to be where I am. And I could've saved a lot of time if I had committed myself to learning the fundamentals first, taken more art classes, etc, but hey, sometimes art isn't about perfercting a style but finding something you are so passionate about you cannot stop creating and you end up learning in the process (for me it is stories, I find it very hard to sit down and do a "random" art piece with no background story for the characters in it). And creativity comes in many forms! With a quick glance, writing comes more naturally to you than to me (even though I would like to do that more).

Your ask made me think what exactly has inspired my art. I haven't illustrated mythological scenes or people (only that I can think of kind of referencing myths is the "Mirror" swordtember drawing I titled as "Perseus' End" on my Inprnt), but I'd say mythology definitely is there in sources of inspiration. Not some one and only, but multiple mythologies I think (mostly European, as sources to those are more accessible to me because, well, eurocentrism and language barriers, but also geographical closeness). Mediterranean mythologies, first as a kid through (Hellenistic) Greek, now more nuanced (lately obsessed with Minoan art and clothing, many thanks to Let's Talk About Myths, Baby! podcast). Playing (= @artist-rat playing for me because I was scared) Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice mabe me dig more deeply into Celtic and Norse mythologies. I'm also inspired by Finnish mythology (and I started to write more in depth about it's nuances, but it got long so it probably needs its own post at some point)

In short, much of it's lost or unclear whether it was appropriated from Karelians (or Sámi) people. But after the sources of mythological events and characters are uclear, what is left that inspires me is this kind of animistic belief system and reverence of nature. That if you sing a spell to the trees or rocks, you can shape what is around you. That a everyone has their own soul bird that brings your soul to you when you are born and carries away when you die. And while I also enjoy high fantasy and epics, what also inspires me is finding beauty in ordinary, in everything. Especially in nature. While I get and appreciate the beauty of mountains and sea and steep cliffs, I try and can find beauty near me. Ordinary pines, birds that I see while I walk to supermarket, lake's small waves against small stones. And I also find beauty and inspiration how in many small things near you, one can find marks of something more. Dinosaurs never disappeared nor did their reign ever end: birds are still here and much more numerous than humans. The small exposed piece of rock is part of Earth's foundation, it's grooves and scrapes were left by tonnes ice that passed it ten thousand years ago. The esker made of gravel and sand is not as high as a mountain, but it is still the highest in the entire world and for thousands of years people before you have climbed on top of it and seen the lakes and forests around it.

Mythologies and cultures also inspire me in a way that I love to invent them. Mostly by looking at what has already been. Imagine what all ways people have had or could have to promise to live together, to enter to adulthood. And I don't think of myself as particularly morbid person, but when I have a new story or ttrpg world, I love to think how do people there bury their loved ones. Where do they think they go and what do they need for that journey? Can they ever come back?

I was also about to list some artists that inspire me, but this is already so long that I think that will also be its own post. But I have a side blog @harakkae and there tags "art" and "inspiration" where I have collected some art and artists that inspire me!

Sorry again for long answer, I swear I cut out a lot of my ramblings! And thank you for loving my art! Hugs and best wishes to you as well and based on the fact that you had a book from Jan Lööf, I think I might be from as or even more nowhere in Europe as you 🧡🐦

#it's near midnight and there probably are typos but man do I love explaining #and enjoy the little lynx 🐆

[r0-boat]

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

boys are great but girls 🤌🤌🤌

Cannot believe no one else has asked for this but BET I’ll take the shot (tumblr don’t auto delete this post again LOL)

Requesting First time date with Cynthia and First time doin’ the Do™️ with Miss Sinnoh Champ

The spicy and the sweet 👌 variety is the spice of life

I think if you took her out for ice cream and let her get whatever she wanted, she’ll be slippin’ head over heels for you 🥰😘

∾ 【 Rouge Anon 】

I love Cynthia so much. I want to be her girlfriend

This became me gushing about Cynthia got fucking damn it

Cynthia headcannons

Sfw + date

Pan Queen!

People have a lot of high expectations of Cynthia they think that taste is cool awesome Heart Like steel person. But in reality she's gushing over the fact the two of you are wearing couples outfits right now

It's really tiring when people only see her as some Grand goddess champion and not just a normal young woman. She is more drawn to people who are just living their lifes everyday than more famous people in the Pokemon world she hangs around with.

She keeps everything you give her. Whether it's hung up somewhere or in a nice little jewelry box on display.

Her room is so tidy and clean and smells really nice,like Evergreen or pine 🥺 and she still makes room and find somewhere to put all your things.

I feel like Cynthia lives somewhere that's relatively wealthy with a big house and a large yard as well as really good security. She collects probably lots of very valuable pieces of History and she needs some place to put them :), the yard is for her Pokemon of course.

Tomboy Cynthia = Cynthia still likes looking pretty and wearing makeup but she can still curb stomp you.

Cynthia loves dragons and her younger she happily doodle dragon pokemon on every empty piece of paper she could find. Which caused her to develop a really good drawing abilities especially for dragons.

I bet she would have been a hardcore fan of HTTYD. She has every single movie and episodes on DVD and her highs will literally Sparkle when you ask her for a dragon movie night.

Date hcs

Listen any date with Cynthia she'll happily accept even if it's Just ice cream dates

I think the ice cream dates in the park are her favorite though.

Don't mind her looking respectfully as you suck on your Popsicle😳

You ask her if she would like to try some of your Popsicle and her knees are fucking weak not her overreacting on the inside because of an indirect kiss what is she a high schooler.

She must get you back she'll turn up her 'Champion charm'

" would you like to taste some of mine? it's just strawberry but I still tastes good."

You not expecting her ice cream cone but instead you get her soft lips on yours. Tasting the strawberry cream on her tongue.

And you just blue screen when she pulled back "oh dear... did you not like the kiss? was I too forward?"

Nsfw

Cynthia is a soft Dom top or bottom >:( and I will not hear anybody out/j

Her nails combing through your hair scratching your head as you eat her out.

She likes the faces you make when she fucke you with her strap :). Or when she sucks you off/eats you out.

This might be coming out of nowhere but I truly feel this in my heart. Cynthia is not a possessive person but there's something different about marking your body when it's lipstick marks, teeth marks or marker.

Cynthia is usually a top but she doesn't mind getting fucked, even more so if her day was especially stressful.

Cynthia tried her best to be a good comforting girlfriend, but she does have her more darker desires. She knows that she is only human and she shouldn't be ashamed of what she wants She just doesn't know how to bring up that your neck looks extremely squeezable and she would like to choke you in bed one day. Or how beautiful this collar would look around your neck, and how cute you would be waiting obediently to get fucked when she gets home.

#ro.chatting #smut #pokemon cynthia #cynthia.thirst #ChampionCynthia #cynthia x reader #im mmmm Cynthia fan fuck i love herr

[fitrahgolden]

Lilies and Soap: Chapter 5 - A Good Hurt

[NOTE: I was going to write a few lyrics for “A Good Hurt,” Anthony’s song for Violet, but it’s literally just “Upward Over the Mountain” by Iron & Wine. Ya’ll, it’s the perfect song for them. Also, it’s one of my favourite songs of all time. The lyrics will be at the end.

An additional note: This is the last of the “once a day” updates. I immediately fell in love with this story and have been compulsively writing it all week. But, unfortunately (for me, anyway), the updates are gonna slow way down, more to a “once a week�� type frequency.]

“Mum?”

Anthony was happy to find his mother alone in the drawing room of her house. He didn't want an audience for this.

“Anthony, Dear. I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“Yeah, just for a bit. I can’t stay for dinner, but I need to talk to you.”

Concern coloured Violet’s face. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, yeah. Everything’s fine. Actually, I wanted to play you something.”

He moved to sit at the grand piano situated by one of the room’s large windows and scooted to one side.

“Do you mind sitting with me?”

Violet smiled curiously as she sat next to her eldest son. “Oh, am I getting a preview of the next album?”

Anthony laughed gently. “No. It’s not going to be on the next album, but I would like your permission to consider it for the one after that.”

“Permission?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Yes. I wrote a song about you. Well, about us, for you. And I didn’t want to spring on you. It means a lot to me that you be the first one to hear it in private, and that I have your blessing to share it.”

Anthony wasn’t surprised when tears already started to form in his mother’s eyes.

“Go on, then,” she whispered. “Let’s hear it.”

Anthony began to play the opening notes of a song he’d titled “A Good Hurt.”

After his father died when he was eighteen, Anthony’s relationship with his mother became rather volatile. For the first year, Violet was all but completely absent from the family, including Hyacinth, who was born shortly after Edmund Bridgerton’s death. Anthony became a caretaker to his mother and a surrogate father to his seven siblings overnight. Once Violet recovered, she and Anthony never quite found their footing when it came to each other and their roles as heads of their family.

A couple of years ago, things came to a head, and Violet and Anthony decided that it would be in their best interest, and the best interest of the whole family, if the two of them went to therapy, separately as well as together. As part of his healing journey, Anthony’s therapist encouraged him to lean into his music, to use the tools he already had at his disposal to process the things they were working on in therapy. “A Good Hurt” was one of the results of that labour. Anthony was proud of it, of what it did for him, and hoped it would communicate to his mum everything he’d felt in the past, what he felt now, and what he hoped for their future. 

Violet was silent for a few minutes after the final notes resounded in the air before dissipating.. He wasn’t sure what to expect, so he just sat silently with her.

“Anthony,” she finally said, “I… hardly even know what to say.” She put a hand on one of his and squeezed. “Thank you. It's beautiful. Thank you… so much.”

Anthony had some tears of his own in his eyes as he squeezed Violet’s hand in return. “You’re welcome, Mum. And thank you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper, filled with his handwriting. “It’s the lyrics. I want you to have them. And there’s no pressure to let me record it. I understand if you want to keep it private.”

Violet nodded and pressed the paper against her chest. “May I think about it?”

“Of course, Mum. Take all the time you need.”

The two sat at the piano together for a while, talking and playing a few songs together. Eventually, Anthony stood.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay and eat with you guys. I have plans tonight.”

Violet stood as well and patted his cheek. “Oh, that’s fine, Dear. Anything fun? Are you seeing Kate?”

Anthony furrowed his brows a bit at the assumption. Not because it was unreasonable. It wasn’t. He often spent his evenings with Kate. He simply felt an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It was as if he felt sorry that the answer to his mum’s question was no, he wasn’t seeing Kate tonight. He shook the thought out of his head and smiled. “No, not tonight. I have a date, is all.”

Violet gave a half smile and nodded. “Right. Well, have a good time.”

Anthony nodded curtly and turned to leave when Violet stopped him.

“And, um, thank you, again. I’m so proud of you. you know that, right? Of what you’re making of your life, sharing your talents with the world. Your father would be, too.”

—

Anthony met Siena outside of the restaurant she’d picked out. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek before they headed inside. They were each recognised exactly once before they were seated and laughed about it while they looked at their menus.

The food was delicious and the conversation was easy. It was mostly more of the same as their lunch meeting, talking about their time at the Royal College of Music and the careers that followed.

"Oh, I had a question," Siena said after taking a sip of her wine.

“Alright, here we go. Should I be scared?” Anthony joked.

“No. Believe me, Bridgerton, you’ll know when I start grilling you. It’s just that I noticed at our meeting the other day that you still call Kate Lamb. After all these years. It always got my attention when I would hang out with you guys. How did that come about?"

Anthony sat back and smiled softly at the memory. A few seconds passed. He saw Siena looking at him expectantly and realised he hadn’t actually started responding to her yet. "Oh. Well, we were in one of the practice halls. It was the first time we collaborated. The first thing she did at the piano was play  'Mary Had a Little Lamb.' Completely serious, totally committed to singing and playing each note. And I just…burst out laughing. After she threw a pencil at me, she explained it was a part of her vocal warm up when she first started music lessons when she was six. She liked that it was her stepmum's name, so she stuck with it from that point on. I had to respect that. She's been my la–  She's been 'Lamb' to me ever since."

Siena nodded, her expression hard to read, and quietly said, “Ah.” She quickly moved on to other topics, and the rest of the meal was perfectly… nice.

After dinner, the pair decided it was too pleasant of a night to not take a walk in the nearby park. Siena looped an arm around Anthony’s and they strolled along the paved trail, avoiding the evening runners. During a lull in the conversation, Anthony slowed to a stop and turned Siena towards him. Her hand slid down his arm to take his hand.

“I’m having a really nice time, Siena.”

“Me, too.” She smiled up at him dreamily.

“Are we… Um, do you want to call it a night, or…”

Siena raised an eyebrow as she got on her tiptoes to kiss him. As soon as Anthony closed his eyes, he saw Kate. The same Kate he’d imagined while watching her record “Perpetual Commotion.” The Kate that was brand new to him, while somehow at the same time also feeling intimately familiar. The sudden vision made him falter, and when he and Siena pulled apart, he opened his eyes to find her frowning at him in a sad, oddly understanding way. She shook her head slowly as she looked down for a moment. Then she kissed his cheek and finally answered.

“Yeah, Anthony. I think we should call it a night.”

They hugged and parted on a friendly note, speaking genuinely about how much they were looking forward to working with each other on Siena’s album and exchanging "see you soon"s. Once she left in the taxi that Anthony had flagged down for her, he walked around the park for another hour on his own. His mind was whirring, and he’d hoped the walk would help slow everything down. No such luck. So, he went home and did what he always did when he needed to sort out his thoughts.

He started writing.

—

The words were pouring out of him faster than he could even think about what he was writing. He eventually stopped to read the stream of consciousness that filled the pages of his notebook.

Kate, Kate, Kate.

The melodies, the imagery, the metaphors. He was writing about Kate and didn't even realise it.

Kate, Kate, Kate. 

It was all there, in the span of ten minutes, the entity, the woman, the person. His person in more ways than he had been aware of.

Kathani, Kate, Lamb. 

He felt lightheaded, looking back at the last few years with all the filters removed, finally seeing everything for what it truly was.

He laughed to save from crying, to stave off the pity and frustration and…anger he knew he would be directing at himself soon enough.

So much wasted time.

Well, he couldn't get that time back. He could only attempt one hell of a course correction.

Mine, mine, mine.

Hers, hers, hers.

It was a wish, a prayer, a vision of his future–of their future. 

Ours, ours, ours.

He stared at the pages again. He needed to find a way to distil them down into… something. He didn’t know what.

Something worthy of her. 

Kate, Kate, Kate. 

[NOTE:

“Mother, don't worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed

Mother, don't worry, I've got some money I saved for the weekend

Mother, remember being so stern with that girl who was with me?

Mother, remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain

Mother, I made it up from the bruise on the floor of this prison

Mother, I lost it, all of the fear of the Lord I was given

Mother, forget me now that the creek drank the cradle you sang to

Mother, forgive me, I sold your car for the shoes that I gave you

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons could be birds, taken broken up to the mountain

Mother, don't worry, I've got a coat and some friends on the corner

Mother, don't worry, she's got a garden we're planting together

Mother, remember the night that the dog had her pups in the pantry?

Blood on the floor, fleas on their paws, and you cried 'til the morning

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons are like birds, flying always over the mountain”

“Upward Over the Mountain” by Iron & Wine.

Lyrics by Sam Beam.]

#bridgerton #anthony x kate #kanthony #kate and anthony #kate x anthony #kate bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony and kate #anthony bridgerton #viscountess bridgerton #viscount bridgerton #the viscount who loved me #kathony fanfic #kathony fic #kathony #kanthony fic #kanthony fanfic #kanthony fanfiction #musician au #lilies and soap au #lilies and soap #bridgerton au #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #lord bridgerton #lady bridgerton

[sequinsmile-x]

hand holding #33 please ‘bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go’ !!

This one got away from me!

And it was also meant to be pure fluff but some hurt/comfort snuck in here.

-x-

Love Like Wildness

Emily helps to prepare dinner on pasta night which, of course, means she hurts herself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’s running late. 

Aaron used to pride himself on always being on time for everything. It was something Haley would always gently tease him for, a soft smile and a quick roll of her eyes as they got anywhere they were going at least twenty minutes early. 

Being a single father had truly put that to bed. Jack had not only inherited Haley’s smile, but also her terrible timekeeping skills, often leaving it until the very last second to tell Aaron about a school project, or that he needed ingredients for his cooking class. It was the latter that had made him later this evening, having to pop to the grocery store on the way to pasta night at Dave’s so Jack could make cookies at school the following day. 

He sighs as he knocks on Dave’s front door and patiently waits until it is pulled open, Derek smiling at him as he stands back to let him in. 

“Hotch, we wondered where you were,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together as he looks down at the plastic bag in his hands, “You bring your own ingredients to dinner now?” 

“No,” Aaron chuckles, “Jack forgot he has to make cookies at school, I had to get it on the way here.” 

Derek laughs and pats Aaron on the shoulder, “Rossi and Emily are in the kitchen, she was here first so he made her help and the rest of us are in the living room.” 

Aaron nods, “I’ll go put this in Dave’s fridge and grab a beer.” He walks the short distance to the kitchen and smiles at the sight he’s met with. 

Dave is making his famous sauce, the one he’d never share the recipe of no matter how many times he was asked, and Emily is standing at the counter, carefully chopping vegetables with a level of concentration he rarely saw on her face. Dave looks up as Aaron walks into the room and he smiles at his friend.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” he says, drawing Emily’s attention to Aaron too before he frowns slightly when he nods towards the bag in his hand, “What’s in the bag?”

“Eggs and butter. Jack forgot to mention he has cooking class tomorrow,” Aaron replies, and Dave laughs.

“Go ahead and put it in the fridge, and grab yourself a beer whilst you’re at it.” 

“Get me one whilst you’re there, Hotch,” Emily says, winking at him as their eyes meet. 

“Of course, Prentiss.” 

No one on the team knew about them. Something that began as a practical thing, keeping their relationship between them as they figured everything out, became something they both treasured. A precious thing untouched by the judgement or opinions of others. They loved the rest of the team and saw them as family, but any adjustment was hard on all of them, and Aaron knew that Emily worried about it as much, if not more,  as he did. Their relationship, their love for each other, was important to them. The very thing that helped them stitch themselves back together after everything they’d been through. Helping each other slip their broken pieces back into place. 

Loving her was the easiest thing he’d ever done. She was stubborn. Never gave up in a fight, and was, at times, impossible. But he loved her through all of it. Just like she loved him. 

It had only been 6 months, but he wanted it all. He wanted to live with her, to marry her. He dreamt of a little girl that was half her and half him, his future all mapped out in a way that had seemed impossible not too long ago.

For any of that to happen he knew they had to step out of the shadows, that their time loving each other in secret was nearly at its end. But tonight wasn’t the night to do that. 

He makes quick work of going to the fridge and putting the bag in there before grabbing two beers. He twists the tops off and places one next to Emily. Dave was distracted now, back to making his sauce, so Aaron takes the opportunity to look Emily up and down, enjoying her outfit of a well-fitting pair of jeans and a red sweater as if he hadn’t seen her less than two hours ago. 

“How did you get roped into helping cook dinner?” He asks, smiling as she glares at him, her eyebrow raised in what he knows is a promise for later, a familiar sparkle in her eyes that only ever meant good things for him. She opens her mouth to reply but is cut off by Dave.

“She isn’t helping cook,” he says, barely looking up from what he is doing, “she could burn water. She’s regulated to chopping only.”

“She is holding a knife and can hear you,” Emily says, narrowing her eyes at Dave before she looks back at Aaron, “How’s Jack, apart from being on his way to a star baker?”

He smiles at her, at the casual way she asked about his son as if she hadn’t been at their apartment a couple of hours, curled up with the young boy on the couch as she helped him with his French homework. She’d left before Aaron had, before Jack revealed he needed to go to the store, so they could arrive separately. So they could maintain their secret. Aaron hides his smile as he takes a sip of his beer, worried if Dave looked up, or paid them even the tiniest bit of attention, he’d see through them instantly. 

“He’s good,” Aaron replies, leaning against the counter, “He misses you.” 

Emily flashes her eyes up to him, a smile spreading across her face before she looks back down to her task of chopping vegetables, and he knows she’s going to play along. 

“I miss him too, I’ll have to - motherfucker.” She curses loudly and drops the knife to the counter, the clattering and the way she cries out drawing the attention of both men in the room. 

“Em, are you ok?” Aaron asks, placing his bottle of beer down on the counter, stopping himself from touching her. 

“Fuck, I cut my hand,” she says, squeezing her hand tightly, blood dripping down onto the countertop. She opens her fist and hisses, air sucked in between her teeth as she sees the damage where she’d slipped with the knife, a cut across the centre of her palm. 

Aaron gently reaches out, his hand cupping the back of hers as he inspects the cut, “It shouldn’t need stitches, but we should clean it.” 

“The first aid kit is in the downstairs bathroom,” Dave says, a slightly curious look on his face as he watches them, “You go help her Aaron and I’ll clean the blood off my marble countertop,” he raises his eyebrow at Emily, “I’d say that next time you’re demoted to peeling…but why do I have the feeling you’d manage to hurt yourself doing that too?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” Emily replies, her voice still full of attitude despite the fact she was actively bleeding. 

“Come on,” Aaron says, holding her hand up so it was elevated, a small attempt to slow the bleeding before he could bandage it up for her. He puts his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the room, and they both pretend they can’t feel how Dave watches as they leave. 

As soon as they are in the bathroom he closes the door behind them, grateful that they are alone so he doesn’t have to hold back in his affection for her. He guides her towards the toilet, putting the seat down as he does. 

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he says, turning to the medicine cabinet and getting the first kit out before kneeling on the floor in front of her, his knees cracking against the tiles, “Let me have a look.”

She groans as she opens her hand, pain lancing through her palm as the movement pulls at the skin.

“Dave is never going to let me live this down.” 

Aaron laughs as he opens the first aid kit and removes a bandage to press against the still bleeding cut, making her wince again, “Sorry, baby,” he says as he lifts her hand to kiss to her wrist, “If you want, if he brings it up too much I can partner him with Reid and tell him Dave doesn’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.”

Emily chuckles this time, running her good hand through his hair, smiling down at him, “Dating the boss really does have its advantages,” she winks at him, her hand moving to cup his cheek, her thumb skating back and forth over his skin, “Why does Jack have to make cookies?”

Aaron sighs, his eyes fixed on her hand as he pulls up the bandage, pleased to see the bleeding had, for now at least, stopped. He grabs an antiseptic wipe from the kit and pulls it out of the packet.

“This is going to sting,” he says, and she nods, not missing that he hadn’t answered the question. 

“We both know I’ve survived worse.” 

He doesn’t reply to that, he simply presses the wipe into her skin, apologising when she tenses, her teeth clenched to stop herself from crying out. 

“They are for Mother’s Day,” he says, looking up at her, smiling softly when her eyebrows knit together slightly in confusion, “The cookies. They’re for Mother’s Day.” 

Emily sighs, her eyes closing as her hand moves down to his shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” she replies, opening her eyes to look at him, “I thought you talked to the school about this kind of thing.”

“I did, twice,” he says, disposing of the wipe in the trash can next to the toilet, “But I guess I’ll have to again. It’s not that I don’t want him to join in. I just…”

“Want the heads up so you can prepare him,” she finishes for him, and he nods, pulling out another bandage from the first aid kit to wrap around her hand, “Do you want me to go down to the school for you? Give the teacher a piece of my mind.” 

Aaron laughs, a sound that never failed to warm her from the inside out, and he shakes his head. 

“I love you for that, but no. It’s ok,” he replies, finishing wrapping up her hand, and tucking the edge of the bandage in, “Besides, Jack and I came up with a plan for the cookies.” 

He stands up, groaning at the strain in his knees as he does so, and he leans down to pick up the first aid kit, placing it on the bathroom counter, he offers out a hand to Emily and tugs her upwards, his arms wrapping around her as he pulls her into a hug. 

“What plan?” She asks, her arms looping around his neck, her injured hand hanging over his back. 

“You’ll have to act surprised, but you might find yourself with a lot of snickerdoodles on Sunday.” 

It takes a moment for his words to register, and she swears her heart skips a beat. She pulls back from him a little to look at him properly, her eyes searching for his face to see if she’s misunderstood in any way. 

“He’s…making them for me?” 

Aaron smiles at her, his hands pressing into her lower back as he leans in to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. 

“Of course he is,” he says, kissing her once more before he pulls back, “You’re his favourite person,” he smiles, his dimples carved out in his cheeks in a way that always makes her stomach flip, “It’s one of the many things we have in common.” 

She shakes her head, overwhelmed by love for him and his son. For the life they were slowly building together. 

“I love you,” she says, her fingers trailing through his hair, unable to think of anything else to say. 

“I love you too,” he replies, smiling before he leans down to kiss her, “I wish we were at home.” 

“We will be soon,” she mutters against his lips, chasing him as he pulls back. 

Any thought about how she called his apartment home is interrupted by a knock on the door, Dave’s voice travelling through the wood as they break apart like they’ve been burned. 

“You two doing ok in there? We don’t need an ambulance or anything do we? This would be an unfortunate end to Prentiss’ career.” 

“Dave-” Emily warns, crossing her arms over her chest, wincing as she accidentally presses her injured too hard into her arms. Dave chuckles, and she can just picture him shaking his head. 

“I know, ‘shut up.’”

“We’re fine, Dave. We’ll be there in a moment,” Aaron says, shaking his head at his girlfriend. 

They hear Dave mutter something to himself before they hear his footsteps getting further away. Aaron reaches out for Emily’s good hand, squeezing it gently before he lets it drop.

“Later?” 

“Later.” 

-x-

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[oro-e-diamanti]

Puppet Masterlist | Puppet Taglist | Buy me a coffee?

It's the day of the gig. But that doesn't mean the night is over once the band leaves the stage.

Content: Bit of smut, bit of angst, bit of comfort?

Word count: 3.1k

Lesson Thirteen: Safewords are made to be used.

You had spent the day on your own. Berlin was gorgeous and a perfect place to keep your mind off things - being around the band would have only made you go insane with nerves at the prospect of finally dressing Thomas in your blouse for the gig that night. So after an awkward stumble out of Ethan's room that morning you had waved goodbye to the four of them for the day and promised to meet back with them that night at the venue. Yet, you weren't able to completely forget about it. As you were sitting in a café, sipping on a hot drink involving way too much caffeine and people watching, everyone and everything seemed to remind you of the four people you had spent the last few weeks with. A head of hair that just looked like Thomas' tousled mane. A pair of trousers you knew would make Victoria's hips look amazing. A shade of red on someone's lips that you wanted to put on Damiano. A tall man with long dark hair who, upon turning around, couldn't even get close to the beauty that was Ethan.

You allowed yourself to let it all go into your drawings. There was no point trying to push their influence away as it was, so you decided to embrace it. You ended up sketching for hours, working and creating until your hand started hurting, not allowing yourself to think too much about any of the details, not erasing a single line, simply letting the inspiration of the city and your head full of thoughts guide you. Your feet carried you away from the cafe as it became too awkward to overstay your welcome there any longer, letting the streets of Berlin inspire and motivate you. You couldn't resist the temptation of the vintage clothing shops, ending up with more than a few purchases.

Dusk was on the verge of breaking when you finally left, rushing back to the hotel to get changed for the concert, gathering your things, and calling a cab to bring you back to the four people you had somehow managed to miss, even when the separation was only fleeting.

***

"Vic, I swear to God, if you steal my fucking Gucci butt plug one more time-"

Backstage was pure chaos. They hadn't played a show in a while so not only were everyone's nerves tense and their adrenaline spiking, but the usual order of events wasn't flowing quite so naturally as it did a few days into any sort of tour. It didn't help that Vic was in one of her moods, mischievous to the bone and on the right track to pissing absolutely everyone off. You knew it was her way of dealing with the nerves, but that didn't mean she wasn't annoying the whole team.

You left her to her own devices as you vanished into a room with Thomas instead. He was already wearing your blouse and if you were being honest, it looked even better than it had done in your imagination. In fact, he looked positively divine. The white material was flowing over his skin, natural and soft, sleeves wide enough to evoke a silk-like effect without restricting his guitar playing, chest and back on show.

"Do you like it?" You asked, insecurity still ringing in your voice. Just because you were in love with the piece didn't mean he was - and nothing was more important than him being comfortable during the concert.

Thomas turned towards you, surprise painting his face as he saw the doubt in yours. In a single, large stride he was in front of you, hands on your cheeks, angling your head upwards to force you to look at him.

"I love it." Bending down to your height, he put a small, soft kiss on your lips, leaving your heart racing and your worries erased. You couldn't help smiling back up at him, tender eyes pulling you in. You just about managed to leave another quick kiss on his mouth before the door burst open.

"Five minutes!" Victoria's voice was something between a shout and a melodic tune. You weren't sure if it was actually five minutes until stage time at all or if she simply needed to stir chaos and get attention, but Thomas let go of you, both of you exchanging smiles as he went after her to amuse her. You could only chuckle. They were a mess of a group, chaotic and confusing, but loving and caring and you were ecstatic to call them your friends. Or maybe something more.

***

The gig was small and sweaty and it was the first time you had seen the band play live in years, so it was little surprise that they ended up blowing your mind. Thomas held onto the blouse for as long as he could before it was positively drenched in sweat and then threw it right at your face as you watched from the side of the stage, laughing at the squeal you let out as the wet material hit your skin. All of them played their hearts out, the audience giving back just as much and you couldn't help having a little dance and a singalong by yourself, intermittently noticed by the band who would throw you smiles and in the case of Damiano the occasional kiss.

You would have thought they were out of energy when they finished their show after a rousing encore of Lividi Sui Gomiti, but apparently, the adrenaline was still running high and energy was still searching for an outlet. Before you knew it, you were back at the hotel in Vic's room, where everyone met back up again after their showers to get changed for a night out.

"Wait - is that the club you told us about?" Damiano questioned as he stared at the address Vic had sent to his phone. "You know, that one?"

The way Damiano had said it caught your attention.

"Wait, where are you planning on taking me?" You asked right as Vic was handing you a top to wear that looked more like a fancy bra than anything else. "That's too revealing, I'm not gonna go out like this."

"I think that will still be one of the least revealing outfits there," Ethan commented, thoughtfully, as he mustered your boots, shorts, and the top in your hand.

You looked around the room. You were easily the most dressed out of the five of you. You were used to the band dressing in extravagant ways, often not wearing much at all on stage, full of harnesses and chains and other bondage-inspired accessories, but it wasn't usually the look they went for when they went out by themselves afterward. Too much attention.

"Okay, honestly, guys, where the fuck are we going?"

Ethan and Damiano only smirked. Thomas wasn't meeting your eye - you felt like he wasn't too sold on the whole affair either, but who was he to turn down a party.

"It's a rock club," Victoria finally explained. "But the twist is..." You wanted to strangle her for long she paused for, just to push you over the edge of anticipation. "...you are allowed, and, in fact, encouraged to have sex there."

"I'm sorry, what now?"

"You don't have to, obviously. You don't have to do anything. It's just the fact that it's allowed so... you'll definitely see some things. And if you wanna join in, this is the time and place. No phones allowed either, they take them off you when you enter. But if you genuinely feel uncomfortable, we don't have to go, you know."

You looked between the four of them, studying their expressions one by one. This seemed to be way out of your league. It was a lot, and it was possibly too soon. But you trusted them with your life. They'd be there with you the whole time, they'd never push you to do anything you didn't agree to, and they wouldn't hesitate to leave if you asked for it. It was time to step out of your comfort zone.

"Vic? Give me that bra."

***

You weren't quite sure what you had been expecting, but the club, two floors with a number of different rooms, stuffed with people clad in next to nothing involved in heavy make-out sessions and - as far as you could tell - some slightly more intimate things in certain rooms - was overwhelming, to say the least. You didn't necessarily feel uncomfortable, there was no rush or pressure to participate in anything at all, or even pay attention, but there was a vibe in the air that you hadn't felt in any other club or party setting ever. You would lie if you said it didn't intrigue you a little.

You kept close to Thomas for now. Everyone had dispersed pretty quickly upon entering but you didn't quite want to explore on your own yet. Thomas didn't seem too interested in the shenanigans happening, so you followed him onto the middle of the dance floor where people's minds were occupied with the music playing and a lot of dancing. He fit right in, pulling all of his signature moves, no one even bothering to give it a second glance. It improved your mood immensely. He pulled you in easily, making you join and forget about the fact that you couldn't move to the beat if your life depended on it, and let go.

You couldn't tell how long you were there for, simply letting Thomas swing and twist you around until you were shaking with laughter and joy. You weren't paying much attention to the happening around you, but you figured the main action past some heavy make-out sessions wasn't bound to happen in the middle of the main dance floor anyway. But then Thomas needed the loo (you politely declined the offer to follow him there) and suddenly you were on your own. Feeling rather lost and a little self-conscious in the middle of a big room, you went searching for some other familiar faces.

You found Ethan at the bar, deep in conversation with a stranger. He gave you a smile as you passed by, a hand briefly wandering along your body, not even faltering in his talk. You did your best to stay calm and collected.

You found Victoria in one of the smaller rooms, leaning against a wall, drink in hand, intently watching two girls next to her. One of them had the other pressed against the wall, leaving wet kisses along her neck, her hand disappearing somewhere you couldn't see in the dark lighting. Vic seemed to be spurring them on, whispering into both of their ears interchangeably. You decided to leave them to it.

Damiano found you on your way to no place in particular. He pulled you into a different room, back into the blaring music, immediately drawing you close and wrapping his arms around you. You could tell he's had a drink, easily more intoxicated than you, by the way he moved and by the way he was clinging to you. You embraced it, letting him whisk you away. You let your arms fall around his neck, as his held your waist tightly, making dancing almost impossible, but neither of you minded as you kept trying. He kissed you, desperate and needy, not much technique left in his apparent search for more. His lips were warm and inviting against yours and you found your hands wandering to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair. 

He couldn't seem to stay still. His hands were wandering up and down your body, searching for the abundance of naked skin you had on show, fingers trailing past your bum to dance over your thighs, before coming back up, over the small of your back, harshly grabbing at your hips, thumbs stroking you softly in contrast. Moving up, they grazed the underside of your top, almost touching your breasts. When he stopped, you looked up at him, trying to figure out what had gotten him so distracted. It wasn't difficult to find out.

Following his line of sight, you could spot a couple locked in a messy kiss, their dancing reduced to not much more than a way of rubbing against each other, his knee moving between her legs, pushing against her in ways that had her moaning and breaking the kiss. You couldn't hear her over the music, but the sight of it was enough. It was hot and sexy and it felt forbidden to watch even with the knowledge that they did this well aware of their audience.

Damiano's interest was obvious - not just in the way he stared, but in the way he pressed against you. His cock was hardening noticeably through the thin material of his shorts. He turned back towards you, eyes darkening in a way you could make out even in the low light. Grabbing onto your face, he pulled you back into a kiss, hard and bruising. He overpowered you easily, letting you fall and give him control. Your hands were still slung around his neck, but he tugged on one of your arms until he could take hold of your hand. He didn't pull back as he dragged your hand down between both of your bodies, clumsily moving it over his chest, only covered by a sheer top, lower and lower. He didn't stop when you reached the waistband of his shorts. You could feel his hard length clearly now, every single detail about it prominently bulging through the material and into your hand. 

As you applied some pressure, he wrecked his mouth away from yours, shamelessly throwing his head back in a moan. A head or two turned.

It felt like a thousand heads.

You could feel the eyes on you, watching you, staring, judging your every move, waiting for more, waiting for a scene.

The rational part of your brain tried to tell you it was all in your mind, that this was a club for exactly this sort of thing, no judgement, no one would care apart from for their own pleasure, there were no phones, no cameras, this was a safe space. It got drowned out too easily by the part of your brain that started to panic.

Not a safe place, not a safe place, not a safe place.

Damiano's eyes were closed and he was still moving your hand ever so slightly against himself as the panic rose up in you. A white-hot feeling seemed to travel through your whole body. Your mind went into overdrive. You didn't want this. It came out of nowhere. You weren't having fun. You weren't feeling comfortable. Your eyes were darting around the room, convinced you were the sole center of an unwanted type of attention, filling you up with shame and horror.

You have to stop, you have to stop, stop it now, tell him, let him know, use your safewords, tell him to slow down, tell him yellow yellow yellow-

"Red."

You weren't sure how Damiano heard over the music and the general noise of everything that happened around you, but it seemed like he'd been hit by lightning the second the word reached his ears. He was off you immediately, a welcomed distance as his hands let go of you completely, not a single part of him touching you anymore. You didn't dare meet his eye, staring everywhere but at his face. You felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, as if you had let him down and ruined a situation you should have been fine in but somehow weren't. You hated the feeling.

"What's going on?"

Victoria seemed to appear out of nowhere and she didn't miss the situation happening in front of her. She looked back and forth between you and Damiano, waiting for an answer, obviously unsure as to how to continue.

"We were making out and-" Damiano stammered for a moment, apparently just as overwhelmed as you. "I took it too far, I didn't check in with her, I was too distracted, and she said red."

Vic didn't hesitate, turning towards you. "Do you want to leave?"

You nodded.

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Another nod.

Her hand was gentle on the small of your back, a stark contrast to the touch you had felt from Damiano's hands before. You gathered the courage to look into her eyes, only just noticing the tears stinging in your own when you did. Her face was full of empathy as she returned your nod. You barely remembered the way out of the club or into the waiting taxi. Only when you sat down next to her in the backseat, immediately searching for her body and her comfort, did you feel like you were breathing again.

"You did the right thing, cucciola," Vic whispered as she wrapped her arm around you protectively. "There's no shame, okay? Safewords are made to be used. Our traffic light system is made to be used. That's why we taught you. You found a boundary of yours and you spoke up. I'm really proud of you."

You felt like crying, but in a good way now. Her words soothed your soul so perfectly, reassuring you and comforting you exactly the way you needed to be reassured and comforted. She was perfect. The way back to the hotel wasn't long, but she made sure to hold you and put little kisses on the top of your head all the way. She was safety.

Victoria held your hand as you left the taxi, she held it as you went up the elevator, and she held it as she led you to her room. You easily follower her lead, trusting her explicitly and the way she seemed to magically know what you needed. She jumped in the shower with you, washing your hair, scrubbing your body until you felt clean and whole again. Then she wrapped you into a towel and blowdried your hair. When she moved you into her cozy double bed you felt warm. She snuggled in next to you, making sure to always be close, always touch you in some way. You curled up like a cat, simply content to be in her arms.

"Sleep now," she whispered with another kiss, this time to your temple. "You did everything right. And we all love you. Always."

You sighed as sleep started to take over. You almost missed the last sentence she mumbled, but you couldn't bite back the grin when you heard.

"And tomorrow, if you feel like it, you'll let mommy take care of you."

After all, Vic was still Vic. Always.

***

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