#*mmmm stares at sketchbook*

[okamiz36]

WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME ARCANE FIXES SAME FACE SYNDROME, CHARACTER DESIGN/OUTFIT DESIGN NONCREATIVITY ISSUES, AND TEACHES U HOW TO JUST ART BETTER???? LIKE WHAT????????

[silent-raven13]

Power Trip

"Got me up all night," Hobie sang to himself "All I'm singin' is love songs" He fiddle with his guitar remembering the song he listened with Miles. Some rap song from a famous rapper from the young lad's world, apparently Miles enjoys this J. Cole's music.

Meanwhile, he's here lying on his bed playing on his guitar while singing this tune. His body in a bright shade of pink, he felt flustered about what happen earlier today.

-Few hours ago-

The seventeen year old punker casually walking around Spider Society with a lit cigarette in his mouth, his dark eyes seeing all the Spider-heroes going about their day. It's a busy day like always, this time there is a good amount of Spider-heroes frantically passing by the punker trying to get on their missions.

"Pfft, poor blokes." Hobie grunts to himself at the idea these Spider-heroes are so easily brainwashed into the system. It's ridiculous. He's still surprised after everything happen with Miles and Spot, they would open their eyes with the way Miguel is controlling them.

He took his almost finished cigarette tossing it across the floor just because! Fuck the establishment!

It's such a damn how easily fooled these Spider-heroes are. He wonders why he's still- "Da-Da-dadda Da! Hm-mm MmMm," Hearing someone softly singing to themselves.

"What's dis?" He asked himself knowing that voice. He looks below the edge of the floor to find Miles sitting with legs crossed on an empty space. He had wireless earbuds on and drawing on his sketchbook being on his lap.

Hobie couldn't help himself, he uses his web shooter to launch a web to a high ceiling. Then he launch himself to swing up toward his Sunflower. He hears Miles softly singing, "Would you believe me if I said I'm in love?" The punker tilted his head as he landed on his two feet behind his crush singing about love.

Miles confidently sings, "Baby, I want you to want me!" His singing isn't good, but he does love to sing along being in tune with the song.

Hobie couldn't help but chuckle at the way the sixteen year old rocks his upper body side to side. "Haha," He playfully tap Miles' left shoulder, then he jumps from being startled at the touch.

"Ah!" Miles' Spider sense went frizzy which made the punker use his own Spider sense to calm down him. "Oh shit, man! You scared me!" He had his sketch close to his chest, "Damn, I almost threw my sketchbook!"

Hobie smirks widely, "Hah, I never knew you were a scaredy cat, Sunflower." He went to sit next to Miles' right side. "I heard you singing." Miles took one of his earbuds off to listen to his friend.

"Oh god, you didn't!" Miles' face fell into a massive frown being so embarrassed. "Fuck, I thought I was high enough so no one would hear me! Ughh, this is mad embarrassing, man." He bites his bottom plump lip which got the punker to stare very hard on those lips.

"Nah, luv. You do what you love," Hobie casually said then smirks widely, "no matter if you sound like a screeching cat!"

"UGH, you're such a dick, man!" Miles playfully slap Hobie's arm before laughing at his friend's shady comment.

The punker leans back by the soft hit having to laugh out loud, then his mid-tone magazine paper started to turn slightly pink. "Easy, luv. I'm still sore from last mission."

"Oh pfft, you can't be sore! I was the one that got on that damn bull's back!" His crush scoffs by the mention of their last mission.

The Spider Band had to fight off three massive bull anomalies, which caused Miles riding one and landing in a nasty fall. He can still feel the aches on his sides. Hobie was slammed against a wall from one bull's horns. He was luckily those nasty sharp horns didn't stab him.

"Hey, you seem like you know what you were doing, mate. Riding that bull like it wasn't your first time." Hobie flirted having to imply something very dirty that made his Sunflower's face turned bashful.

"What? Pfft, no! I'm-I-I- that was my first time riding a bull." Miles could feel his cheeks burning up. "Stop being gross!"

"What? I didn't say anything... bad." Hobie smirks widely showing off his teeth, his right eyebrow raised high, "Are you implying something else, Sunflower?"

"No!" Miles lean back seeing Hobie getting close to his face. "Stop it, Hobie."

"What? I'm just lookin', luv."

"You're in my personal space." Miles' heart pound against his chest.

Hobie gave a slight nod, "Alright. Alright. Anyway, what were you listening to?" He took Miles' right earbud to put it close to his ear to hear anything, but there was no sound.

Miles went back to sketching in his sketchbook, "Heh, I paused it, dude. I was listening to J. Cole."

"Who?"

"J. Cole! You don't know who is J. Cole?" Miles asked out loud with his doe eyes widen.

"Mate, I know Sex Pistol... that's music." Hobie added

"Oh wait, my bad... you're on a different timeline. Um, in my world there's this famous rapper named J. Cole. His stuff is pretty good." He went on his Spotify to rewind the song he was listening to, "Here." His hand went to touch Hobie's hand making the punker's body turned bright pink. The slight touch of his Sunflower felt so beautifully warm and soft.

Miles's hand lightly took his earbud from Hobie's hand then put it in the punker's right ear. The Punker nuzzle against Miles' warm hand feeling it on his cheek. the two sitting closer now. Miles gently massage the punker's cheek, "Your like a cat."

"Oh yeah?" Hobie nuzzles some more, "Like this?"

"Hahaha, yeah." Miles giggles before scooting closer to Hobie's space. This time he's being bold wanting to feel the punker, to smell that musky, cigarette and cologne on him. Miles never liked the smell of cigarettes, but with Hobie, it smelled so good on him. It comforts the sixteen year old. "Hear this." He plays the song from his Smartphone.

Hobie placed his arm around Miles' narrow shoulders pulling him close. This time he's also being bold. He wanted to smell Miles' sweet mango tropical Shea Butter, and sweet vanilla scent. He always wonder why he smell so good, so sweet and a bit woody spice to it.

"Got me up all night. All I'm singin' is love songs" The song plays making Hobie's eyes focus on Miles, who's bobbing his head at the song. "She got me up all night. Constant drinkin' and love songs..."

Miles snuggle his body close against the punker while swaying himself as he sing along, "She got me up all night..." Hobie admiring lovingly at his Sunflower's soft singing, "Down and out with these love songs..."

"She got me up all night. Drownin' out with these love songs," The song plays while Hobie made his first move to lift Miles' chin up.

"Hmm? What's up?" Miles innocently asked.

Hobie slowly got close enough to Miles' lips, so close that his lower lip gently tap against Miles' bottom lip. Then he quickly pulled away being a coward. No, he can't. Miles is his friend. "Nuthin' luv."

The young Spider-man pouts, "Oh..." He expected a kid, he felt so prepare with his eyes being closed and waiting for the magic. Damn.... Oh well, Miles lay his head on Hobie's chest while drawing.

The two sat in silence while listening to Miles' playlist. Hobie's hand covering his lower mouth still kicking himself for backing out on that kiss.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm in love?" Hobie mentally sang along to the song, he didn't think he would like it so much. Especially when his Sunflower is in his arms, "Baby, I want you to want me!"

Miles glanced up to find his crush lost in his thought, he decided to be bold. He wants that kiss! "Hobie."

"Hmm?" The punker's dark eyes snapped at the teenager Spider-man turning his body to be on his knees.

"Can you closed your eyes for a moment, please?" Miles innocently asked.

The punker did as he's told. The only person who can make him listen and follow instructions. He trusts his Sunflower. In mere darkness, he felt Miles' warm hands cupping his define jawline.

"What are you planning, Sunflower?"

"Just a little surprise... no peaking." Miles' voice rings his ears, his hands made his punker lean his head back to face toward him.

The young Spider-man took another sharp inhale. Alright, here it goes! He lean forward to plant his lips onto Hobie's full black painted lips.

The punker felt soft lips with the taste of honey, and berries. Wait, lips? His eyes snap wide open to find Miles kissing him. His whole body froze, the colors on his body quickly shifts into multiple rainbow colors, then blooming into Sunflowers and hearts images with bright pink colors. Then guitars rocking symbols pop out when he felt Miles deepening his kiss by adding a bit of tongue.

Such a sexy move. It made Hobie shudder with delight. His arms tightly wraps around his Sunflower's waist, then straight his posture to continue their kisses. His own mouth did the work too.

"Mmm!" Miles softly let out a moan.

Ohh, this new. Hobie felt his own body hot, his tongue flap against his Miles' tongue. "Mmm." He let out a low purr.

"Hmphhemph," Miles gave out a throaty chuckle, before his eyes slowly open to find Hobie's eyes meeting him. He slowly pulled away from his mouth. "Hobie, you promise!"

He felt so embarrassed.

Hobie lick his lips knowing his lipstick is a mess by the way Miles' lips were stained. "I wanted to see you, luv."

"Hmph!" Miles huffs.

"Don't be like that, darling. You kiss so beautifully."

"You're just trying to get another from me." Miles pouts at his crush.

Hobie snuggles against his Sunflower, "And? Why would that be bad?" He made Miles look at him, "Hmm?"

"It's not."

"Then? I would like another, luv."

Miles giggles before lifting his crush's face to lean in another kiss, his phone rang out loud. "Oh shit, I... I gotta go. I have to be home before my mom gets back. Maybe next time." He give Hobie a quick peck on the lips before gathering his sketchbook and backpack to rush off.

Hobie's body still pink from the kiss as he watched his Sunflower opening a portal to go back home.

-present-

"He got me open all night" Hobie sang out loud as he sat outside on the roof of his boat house, "All I'm singin' is love songs..." He stood daze thinking about that kiss. That delicious, addictive kiss.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A mostly uncolored comic of Jon and Martin on a gray background. Martin is a tall, fat, white man with shoulder length hair pulled into a ponytail, scruffy facial hair, freckles, a tooth gap, body hair, and round glasses. He is wearing small earrings, a t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks. Jon is a shorter, thin Arab man with long curly dark hair with lighter streaks pulled into a low bun over his shoulder, a full beard and mustache, and his skin is covered in various scars. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and half-moon glasses and his lower half is covered by a blanket.

Jon is sitting on a couch, humming and drawing in a sketchbook as Martin walks by, curious, and leans over the back of the couch.

Martin: What are you drawing?

Jon jumps and holds his sketchbook to his chest, blushing.

Jon: Err... Martin: Can I see? Jon: It's not finished...

Martin sits on the couch and Jon turns away with sparkling eyes.

Martin: That's okay! Jon: Mmmm.... Martin: Please~? Jon: ... Alright.

Jon shows the sketchbook.

Jon: It's still in the ugly phase....

The drawing is a work in progress of Martin wearing white drapery, holding the bottom up to expose his legs while his other arm is raised by his head, with more drapery hanging over his arm. His chest is partly exposed, his hair is undone, and his expression is soft, looking down and to the side. His freckles and body hair haven't been drawn yet, but he is partially colored in with red bits for his hair, blue shadows on the drapery, blush and skin tone partly rendered, and a golden background.

Martin stares at it, awestruck, blushing with his mouth hanging open as Jon presents it with his eyes closed. A note says Martin is having "many thoughts, head full". He looks at Jon with the same expression. The final panel shows his head drawn massively as he yells, gesturing at the sketchbook. His text is in all caps.

Martin: That's the ugly phase?! Jon: I-I mean it's far from finis- Martin: Jon.

end ID]

~~~~

i think jon is an artist and the beholding beams all kinds of art knowledge into his brain at the safehouse to help him out with that. i think he uses these powers to express his love for his boyfriend by drawing him a lot in increasingly flattering ways and he's a lil shy about it

also i am VERY tempted to like. finish jon's drawing some time because like. it turned out better than i was intending to make it aklsjdhajdh

edit: i finished it. full version of jon's drawing of martin HERE

[sheafrotherdon]

The day is grey and gloomy, the old stone cottage hemmed in by mist.  Standing on the back step of the house, arms folded across his body, Nicky licks the faint taste of salt from his lips, listens to the crash of waves he cannot see.  He squints at the sky, hoping for at least the impression of sunlight against the grey, but there are clouds and there is dampness and that is the whole of the world.

At least outside.

Nicky steps inside and closes the heavy wooden door. The kitchen is warm, the oven set low, and the air is fragrant—thyme and rosemary; a meal that is hours away, still in the making. Nicky taps a finger against the battered kettle on the hob, testing whether there’s still enough hot water for tea, but finds he’s disinterested in the business of cups and tea leaves, saucers and spoons.  He wanders through the kitchen and into the hallway, passes the foot of the stairs and turns into the sitting room where Joe still sits.

There’s a fire crackling contentedly in the grate, and two lamps casting a golden glow over the weighty business of Joe in thought. Nicky watches him fondly. Joe’s right thumb and middle fingers are smudged with charcoal, and there’s a half-finished sketch in his lap. His face is turned toward the window, limned in lamp light, while his jeans are torn at one knee and the neck of his sweater is pulled askew.  He looks rumpled and comfortable, waggling his toes just a little before the fire, and when he registers Nicky’s presence and looks over, it’s with a warm smile on his face.

“Are you staring?” Joe asks, shifting his sketchbook to the small table beside the sofa.

“Maybe,” Nicky says, crossing the room to sit beside him, to pick up his hand and rub a thumb over his palm. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You are never a disturbance,” Joe says softly, and leans to glance a kiss to Nicky’s temple. The sweetness of the gesture makes something in Nicky vibrate quietly, his body meeting affection with joy.

“You were thinking,” Nicky says, and folds Joe’s hand between both of his.

“Hmm.” Joe smiles at him, the skin beside his eyes crinkling up. “I was thinking of your kisses.”

“You were?”

“Mmmm,” whispers Joe and he leans in to almost press his mouth to Nicky’s. “I am fortunate to have had so many.”

Nicky brushes the tip of his nose against Joe’s. “And now?  Feeling lucky?”

“Always,” Joe says, and when Nicky leans in to kiss him, it’s to meet his smile with his own, to sink into the familiar pull and slide of Joe’s lips, to press against him and know him as home.

[rinnysega]

Hike - A Gustavo x Bruno Drabble

“It’s not a good idea, Gus.” 

“Is that a vision or your opinion?”

“A little bit of both.” Bruno couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “This is a really steep incline, and if your wheelchair goes fast enough, you could crash and-”

“-break my leg?” 

“Well - yeah.” 

“My good one or my bad one?” 

Bruno rolled his eyes and took hold of Gustavo’s wheelchair to keep pushing him along the trail. It was too nice of a summer day to ruin it by another Pinheiro accident, even if this one would have been on purpose. As soon as he began to push, Gustavo leaned back in the chair and stared up at Bruno as he enjoyed his ride. 

“You’re no fun.” Gustavo smiled up at him. 

“I like to consider myself safe.” Bruno waved to a few hikers on their way down from the mountainside. “Something you should have done last year.” 

Gustavo looked at his right leg, still aching and healing with some days better than others. He grumbled to himself as he held tight to his art supplies in his lap. 

They reached the plateau where Bruno turned him around to look at the far off mountainside. “How’s this view?”

Gustavo hummed. “Fine I guess.” 

Bruno looked down at him. “What’s wrong with it? We can’t go up any further.”

“Mmmm go stand by that tree.” He pointed straight ahead and Bruno did as he was asked and walked over to stand underneath a palm. 

“This one?” he asked. 

“Yeah!” Gustavo flipped open his sketchbook and began to sketch an outline of Bruno. “Now it’s perfect.” 

[spaceskam]

22+michael guerin?

thank you!

#22. all i ever wanted was the world [ao3]

“She asked too many personal questions.”

“Michael. It was a date. That’s what you do on dates.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like it.”

Michael ignored Isobel’s eye roll and huff, his eyes returning to his sketch. Though, sketch felt like too little of a word. He was designing a spaceship. That was bigger than a sketch. Maybe. Depends on who was asked, he supposed.

Isobel had been trying and failing to set him up with someone for months, though he wasn’t sure why. He understood on some level that it was because she felt bad, but it was misguided guilt. He didn’t need someone to entertain him while she was with her girlfriend and Max was with his. Michael was perfectly and utterly capable of keeping himself busy in one way or anything. 

Besides, he could handle his own when it came to the romance department with no problems.

But Isobel seemed to enjoy finding guys and girls to send him on dates with. So he never complained, only found a reason to not go on a second date with them, and hoped she’d run out of people. She would eventually. There were only so many people in and around Roswell for him to choose from.

“Michael,” that voice he had memorized like it was his own called. Michael’s head popped up to see Alex, the owner of Crumbs, standing at the counter with the little bag that held the muffin he’d ordered and his coffee order in hand. 

Michael basically scrambled to his feet and walked over, accepting it graciously. Alex grinned as he always did, bright enough to light up the sun itself. 

“So, okay, I’m trying this new cupcake recipe. Can you try it for me real quick?” Alex asked, puppy eyes barely even having to kick into gear before Michael was complying. He’d do whatever Alex asked, he thinks.

He knows. Because he already has.

“Okay,” Michael agreed. 

Alex held up a finger to signal to give him a second and then disappeared into the back. Michael glanced over his shoulder to see Isobel staring with raised eyebrows. He looked back to the counter.

“Okay, okay, it’s an apple pie cupcake,” Alex said, peeling down the paper. Michael quirked an eyebrow.

“Apple pie?”

“Yeah, it’s got a bit of a filling and the icing is whipped cream with a graham cracker dust,” Alex said, holding it out, “I’m thinking of making it a fall flavor, but I need a Michael’s opinion before I made the decision.”

Michael grinned and leaned forward, taking a bite right out of Alex’s hand. Alex had said before that taking something and giving it back was super unsanitary for the store and, well, who was Michael to tell him how to run his business.

“Mmmm,” Michael hummed, reaching up to wipe his bottom lip. Alex’s eyes turned‒something. It was like they’d brightened and darkened at the same time like he was so pleased that his pupils dilated. He liked the sight. “It’s good.”

“You like these or the raspberry cheesecake ones from a couple of weeks ago better?”

“Cruel of you to make me choose.”

“Please choose?”

“Maybe the raspberry cheesecake, if I have to choose? But that’s super sweet so it might not be for everyone. But also you could charge more for it because of the raspberries,” Michael brainstormed. Alex snorted a laugh and nodded.

“Here, take it. You have a good day, Michael,” Alex said, only keeping him long enough to grab a napkin and wipe his nose where a bit of whipped cream icing had gotten.

“You too, Alex.”

Michael grabbed his things and went back to Isobel who looked like she just had the most brilliant idea known to man. That immediately made him nervous. He tried to ignore it as he cautiously took a sip of his coffee. It was just right.

“I got it,” Isobel said, brightening up with her idea, “Alex. I’ll set you up with Alex.”

Typically, Michael would entertain her idea, let her think he’d be okay with that. This one, however, was too close and he immediately shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why not? He clearly likes you.”

“I’m not having you set us up, I’m not doing that,” Michael insisted, shaking his head. Isobel made a face.

“You won’t even try? Is it because you actually like him?” Isobel asked. Michael sighed, looking at her.

“Isobel, I love you. But please stop. I don’t need help. I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said honestly. He was trying to focus on building a spaceship.

“I just don’t want you to be lonely,” Isobel said, “I mean, we’re almost thirty and you’ve never had a relationship.”

“I’m not lonely, though. I don’t need a relationship,” Michael insisted. Isobel rolled her eyes and that just started to be irritating. “I don’t. I can go my whole life without one and I’ll be happy.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. It’s my brain, my feelings. I’m not you, Izzy. So, please, stop,” Michael said, his irritation starting to show in his tone. Isobel reached out to his arm, grabbing his wrist.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you cared so much,” Isobel said. He didn’t really respond, but he shoved the cupcake Alex made over to her as a sign of peace. She accepted it.

Michael looked up and caught sight of Alex washing his hands in the little sink behind the counter, laughing with one of his employees. The sight made him smile a bit which he successfully hid behind his coffee.

“But, you’ve gotta be honest. Alex is cute,” Isobel said. Michael rolled his eyes.

“I mea, he’s not ugly.”

“Knew it.”

-

Michael dropped Isobel off at her house at the end of the night and took a deep breath, finally feeling free for a moment.

He loved Isobel, but she could be very overbearing. Instead of thinking too much about it, though, he drove his happy ass back to Crumbs. Before he did that, though, he made sure to turn his tracking off because if Isobel found out he was seeing Alex after dark he’d never live it down.

He parked around back beside Alex’s beat-up Honda Accord and climbed the fire escape with his sketchbook in hand. It led to an unlocked window and Michael happily let himself in. The apartment above Alex’s shop was empty outside of the 6-month old beagle that immediately perked up when she saw Michael.

“Hi, baby,” Michael cooed, placing his sketchbook and his keys on the counter and going to unlock her kennel. Her little barks filled the air and she jumped on Michael, enjoying all the pets he gave her. “Such a good little Mouse, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Where’d Daddy hide your treats this time?”

“I hide them because you give her too many,” Alex said as the door opened. Michael tilted his head back, smiling at the man in the doorway as Mouse licked his chin.

“How am I supposed to say no to this face, though?” Michael asked. 

“The same way I say no to your face,” Alex said. He closed the door behind him, locking it with nothing but muscle memory and walking towards Michael. He kept his head tilted back, accepting the kiss on the forehead he gave.

Alex scratched Michael’s scalp and then Mouse’s head before walking into the kitchen area. He pulled a drink out of the fridge and looked at the notebook on the table.

“God, this shit’s so good, Michael. You ever thought about learning how to tattoo and see if you’d be any good at it?” Alex asked. Michael shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t want to touch that many people.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Still. This is badass.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, slowly pulling himself off the floor. Mouse followed him at his feet. “Guess who Isobel tried to set me up with today.”

“Who?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow as he reached out with his free hand to tug at Michael’s waistband. He grinned as he molded against his chest.

They weren’t, like, together. They were taking it slow. Alex was still constantly stressed over his business and Michael was still trying to figure out what to do with himself. In the meantime, they would hook up and spend time together. They didn’t want to tell anyone about it though because other people made things complicated.

They liked this.

“You,” Michael said, “I was like ‘no’ and then I finally told her to stop setting me up.”

“Took you long enough. Though love that it took her finally trying someone that might actually catch your attention,” Alex teased, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“I just didn’t want her figuring anything out. It’s none of her business,” Michael said. Alex hummed.

“I get it. I like what we’re doing. We get our own little world without all the bullshit,” Alex said. Michael smiled at him, nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

“Yeah, exactly. Though feeding me cupcakes might not be as subtle as you think.” 

Alex huffed a laugh and craned his head to finally, finally press his lips against his. The kiss was short but that was okay because Michael knew more was coming.

They weren’t in a rush. They had all the time in the world.

“I don’t plan to stop.”

“Good.”

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down. 

[apopcornkernel]

marichat may—day 4: thief

AO3 link here | marichat may masterlist

previous day | next day

summary:

the next time he visits marinette, chat steals something.

prompts: @marichatmay

———

a.n.

here we goooo day 4 whoop

note: okay so i dunno if anyone saw but i accidentally posted a fragment of this earlier. anyways, here’s the full thing! enjoy~

(or not)

———

Marinette sat at her desk, hunched over her sketchbook as she tapped the corner of her lip with the tip of a pencil.

"...would silk work? No, maybe something else. Satin...?"

She lay back in her chair, and reached out for a cookie from a platter that lay near her—and her hand met nothing but crumbs. Moving her gaze to it showed that there weren't any of the delicious treats left.

She sighed. "Tikki, I'm going down," she called at the skylight.

The kwami flew into view, separated only by the glass covering. "Okay!" Tikki chirped from afar, the clear barrier somewhat muffling her cheery tones. The kwami immediately zipped away, returning to her flower-frolicking and whatnot.

She smiled at the thought of Tikki playing with her little garden as she descended the stairs, crumb-littered platter in hand. The kwami of creation was, undoubtedly, very powerful.

But she was also very cute.

Especially when she's around flowers, Marinette thought with a small smile, piling rejects onto her dish.

Honestly, the term "rejects" wouldn't apply to the pastries in question under normal conditions. But Marinette's parents had extremely high standards. And it showed. It showed in the way their bakery was squeaky clean. It showed in the way their pastries were immaculately presented. Every aspect of the pastry had to be perfect, or it would go to the reject pile.

But Marinette wasn't complaining. It meant more goodies for her, and she was certainly glad for that.

Climbing back up to her room, she set the plate down at her desk and shoved a cookie into her mouth. Swallowing, she called out, "Tikki, do you want a cookie, too?"

She was met with silence.

Marinette scaled the ladder, poking her head out of the skylight once she reached it.

She glanced around, the bells in her hair—she had yet to revert to the red ribbons— tinkling as she did. "Ti— Ah!"

Instead of a floating red kwami, she was met with the sheepish smile of Chat Noir. Her eyes went wide and she internally panicked, hoping he didn't notice her slip of the tongue.

He waved, crouched on the floor in front of her. "Uh... hi?"

"Chat," she breathed out, shock slowly fading as she calmed down. She coughed, clearing her throat. "Hungry again?"

He laughed apologetically. "...Yes."

"Well, come on in then," she said, ducking back inside.

He followed, bell jingling as he jumped straight off her bed onto the floor.

"So, princess, what can I eat today?"

Marinette chuckled, voice strengthening as the last vestiges of surprise wore off. "You mean what can we eat today," she corrected, grinning. "What makes you think I'd pass up the opportunity for food?"

He grinned back at her.

———

Ten minutes later, the two sat comfortably on her couch, clutching hastily made mugs of hot cocoa—courtesy of Marinette. (It was summertime, but that didn't stop Marinette from satisfying her cravings.) The chair Marinette had been sitting on had been brought over, acting as a makeshift table for the croissants and various treats that lay on it.

"Mmmm, absolutely delicious," Chat sighed, chasing the pastry down with a few sips of hot chocolate. "I would eat this everyday if I could."

"Yeah, and then you'd be too heavy to even walk," Marinette teased, the bells in her hair tinkling whilst she reached for a cookie.

As she leaned forward, she suddenly felt a slight pressure on the back of her neck. Snapping her head to the right, she saw Chat quickly retracting his hand, something slender in his claws.

Half of her hair fell loose, and she instantly realized what had happened. She narrowed her eyes at the guilty kitty. "Give it back, Chat," she ordered, holding her hand out imperiously.

He stared at it, seemingly considering. Then he stood up, put his half-empty mug on the chair, and backed away, his expression hardening into a smug mask.

"No." He smirked, dangling the ribbon at eye level as he inspected it. "I think I'll keep it."

"Give it back," she hissed, laying her mug down like he did. She stood up. "Give it back, or I swear, you will regret it."

His smirk simply widened in response. "Sorry, can't hear you!" he sing-songed, prancing away from her in an effort to distance himself from her anger.

Out of nowhere, Marinette screeched, sprinting towards him. "Chat!"

She flew into him, the two thrown onto the floor by her momentum. Caging him with her arms, she loomed over his figure and glared.

"Give. It."

And Chat— Chat had the audacity to laugh.

"No, princess."

And then he surged upwards, superhuman strength toppling her hold on him as he flipped their positions. His hands pinned hers down as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'm keeping it, princess. Don't make it any harder for both of us."

Marinette stared at the ceiling, stunned at how— how hot it felt. How hot he felt. His breath fanned warmly on the side of her face as he stayed put for another beat.

Then he retreated, loosening his grip on her. He offered her his hand wordlessly.

She accepted it—and her defeat. She stood, trying to ignore the subtle pink on her cheeks from the close contact, and said, "Fine. You can keep it. Thief."

Chat Noir's whoop of glee was immediately shushed by Marinette.

“Shh!”

“Oh. Sorry, princess.”

———

Later that night, after he had already gone home, Marinette tossed and turned, unable to sleep. One thought echoed in her mind, keeping her up.

Did he steal my heart, along with my ribbon?

previous day | next day

[kumeko]

breathers

 Characters/Pairings: Naminé/Riku

A/N: Written for the @khrarepairszine charity zine! I picked Naminé/Riku, I’ve had a soft spot for them since CoM. Take a look at the other contributors or pick up a copy. :)

Summary: Naminé had none of Sora’s laziness or Kairi’s relaxed attitude, and honestly, Riku would have left the islands years ago if she’d been around. Still, everyone needed a break, Nobodies included.

…

…

…

…

“Mmmmmm, mmmm, mmmmm,mmm.”

 A delicate humming filled the white house and Riku didn’t have to look to know where it was coming from. He’d recognize Naminé’s soft voice anywhere. Automatically, his feet followed a familiar path to her room. As he got closer, he heard the soft scratch of her crayons, the sharp flip of a page.

 Spotting her familiar silhouette, he stopped at the doorway. As usual, she was sitting at the table, her head bent as she drew scene after scene. The walls were filled with images, with memories, and Riku scanned the colourful pictures. There was the time he raced with Sora, making the raft with Kairi, sleeping under the stars. Other, unknown memories filled with mermaids and warriors and constellations he didn’t know.

 He never did have a chance to talk to Sora after all was said and done, to boast about adventures and swap tales. Quietly, so as not to disturb Naminé, Riku drifted from picture to picture. A boy with a monkey smirked mischievously in one. Another had a bear with his head caught in a honey pot. Riku’s fingers brushed against one of Kairi giving Sora the paopu fruit.

“I had to make sure that memory was returned,” Naminé said apologetically, slowly setting down her sketchpad.

 Resisting the urge to jump, Riku withdrew his hand. “It is an important one.”

 “Yeah.” Pushing her chair back, Naminé slipped off and joined him. Her sad eyes took in the scene and she smiled softly. “That fruit was the basis of everything.”

 “Everything?” Riku asked, cocking his head in confusion.

 “For our ‘friendship’.” She touched the paopu fruit lightly. Her fingers slowly slid off the picture and she turned around and pointed at a few other sketches. The golden fruit was prominent in each of them. “This fruit was important to you. Both of you. So I used that to insert myself.”

 Both of you. Riku didn’t have to ask what she meant by that. It was impossible to forget the sight of his death, of his body choking and gasping for its last breath. “There’s a story on my island, that if two people share one—”

 “Their destinies are intertwined,” Naminé completed. She chuckled at his surprised expression. “You have no idea how often you guys said that in his memories.”

 Riku flushed. Had they really talked about it that much? About this old wife’s tale, with no basis in reality? It was stupid, really. A thing that couldn’t be true in any way. A thing that he spent several years wishing for, a connection that was permanent. A connection that would stay. The dark part of his heart that Ansem had slipped into. “Really?”

 “Really,” she confirmed with a grin, smiling whole-heartedly for once. “You say it a lot.”

 “Not that often,” he disputed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Just to tease Sora with.”

 “Hmm…that may be so.” A serious expression slipped back onto her face and Riku felt a pang of regret. It had been rare enough that she laughed. “Still.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”

 Caught off guard, Riku stared at her. None of his wisecracks came to him, none of his taunts. He was utterly speechless. “I…”

 Naminé said nothing, just giving him a knowing look before letting go. She turned back to her table. “I have almost finished removing the altered memories.”

 Riku glanced at the picture one last time before following her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he peered at her sketchbook. It was thin now, with only a few pages left. A testament to how hard she worked. “Do you take breaks?” he asked without thinking.

 “Huh?” Naminé blinked, staring at her notepad and then back at him. Confusion shone in her eyes and she cocked her head. “Breaks?”

 “Vacations? Rest? Time off?” Riku rolled his eyes as he clarified. “You’ve been in Sora’s memories, so you have to know what a break is. That’s all the slacker did.”

 “Yeah, of course I do! But…” Naminé’s skin flushed a bright red, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just…I didn’t.”

 “After all that work?” Riku raised a brow. Gesturing with his head at all the pictures, he frowned. “No one should work that long without a break.”

 “Oh no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” She rubbed her wrist, her shoulders hunching till she looked even smaller than usual. “I don’t—I don’t need a break. It’s fine.”

 “Everyone needs a break.” Riku reached out and grabbed her hand. Yanking her behind him, he headed to the door. “Even you.”

 “No, I—” Naminé protested, digging in her heels. “I can’t, not after what I did.”

 “You’ve apologized enough for that,” Riku rebutted, firmly pulling her along. “Sora’s forgiven you. And even if my clone can’t, I’ve forgiven you. It’s enough.”

 “It isn’t,” she muttered softly.

 “…don’t you think I deserve it even less than you?” Riku asked, looking over his shoulder. When she didn’t say anything, he smirked. “Besides, Sora likes sleeping more than anything. He’ll be fine sleeping for a few extra hours.”

 She stared at him for a long moment before finally giving in. “There’s nowhere to go, the mansion doesn’t really have that much in it.”

 “Hmm, that’s true,” Riku muttered, scratching his chin. Aside from the basement, the mansion was fairly lightly furnished. Even the garden outside was barebones, and whatever little plants grew there had gone wild. “Then we can explore the city.”

 “The city?” Naminé shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly—”

 “It’s a break,” Riku cut her off wryly. Really, there was none of Sora’s or Kairi’s laziness in her. It was almost refreshing to see someone take things seriously for once. “Where were you when I was making that raft? I would have left the islands years ago.”

 Reaching the front door, he let go of her hand and opened it. Bright sunlight filtered through and he shaded his eyes as he stepped out. A soft breeze rustled his hair, a bird chirped nearby, and he had almost forgotten what spring was like. There hadn’t been much time during his journey to just enjoy the places he went to, the seasons the worlds experienced. Turning back, he held out his hand for Naminé. “You coming or do I have to drag you out?”

 “I…” Naminé hesitated, fiddling with her hands nervously as she stared at him. Biting her lip, she took a step outside. Her shoulders hunched, her body braced for some sort of reaction. For someone to drag her back in and put the sketchpad back into her hands.

 “You can leave the entrance, you know,” Riku encouraged gently, his hands still held out.

 “Y-yeah.” Emboldened when nothing happened, she grabbed his hand tightly and took another step. And then another. She squinted up at the sky, at the clouds that littered the blue expanse. “It’s…beautiful.”

 Riku shrugged. He’d seen better skies on his island. “I guess.”

 “I…” Naminé’s head darted left and right, taking in the tall grasses and wild roses that made up the front lawn. “I’d seen it all from his memories. And I think I might have come through here once. But…I didn’t get to see it myself before. Not really.”

 “Never?” Riku jerked his head to her, surprised.

 “Nobodies, we’re not really born like everyone else.” Naminé stared down at the grass, slipping a foot out of her sandals to touch it. Delighted by the ticklish sensation, she set her foot down on the squishy ground and wiggled her toes. “I kinda just came to be, at that castle. And then I was taken here, but that was through a warp gate.”

 “Huh.” Riku rubbed the back of his neck. They were more similar than he’d thought. “So your island was that castle, then.”

 “Hmm?” Naminé peered up at him curiously.

 He shook his head. “Nothing. Put your shoes back on, we’re going to town.”

 “Right. Town.” Naminé set her jaw determinedly. Pressing her foot one last time on the grass, she slipped her sandal back on. “Ready.”

 Riku resisted the urge to laugh at the image in front of him. She looked so determined, like she was off to fight a battle rather than just walk into a small town. But her hand was sweaty in his, her nails digging into his skin lightly, and maybe for her this was a fight. “Alright. Since this is your first time, I’ll guide you.”

 -x-

 “They have scents.” Naminé stared at the rose in her hand, twirling between her fingers. Raising it to her nose, she sniffed it again. “Actual scents.”

 “And thorns.” Gently, he pulled the flower away from her hand. Luckily, she had gripped the stem at the exact right spot to avoid the sharp defense system. Glancing at the house in front of them, he carefully pushed the branch back in place. “Let’s not invade someone’s garden.”

 Not paying him any heed, Naminé wandered to the house next door, to a creeping vine of morning glories. “This one smells so different!”

 “Did you hear me?” Riku groaned, staring down at the long line of houses ahead of them. Maybe he should have taken a different route into town. Not that it would have made much of a difference, there were going to be flowers no matter what path they took.

 Sniffing a peony, Naminé chirped, “This one too!”

 It was going to be a long walk.

 -x-

 A bird chirped. Naminé cupped her ears as they walked, listening to the sounds around her.  Riku watched her from the corner of his eye as she tried to identify the owners of different sounds: birds, dogs, other villagers. Her head craned left and right, and there was something endearing about how she pivoted at each new sound.

 “It’s so noisy,” she murmured, looking excited despite her words.

 “Compared to the mansion, sure,” he refuted, crossing his arms behind his head as he slowed his pace. “If you think this is loud, wait till you see a city.”

 -x-

 “Here.” Riku held out a popsicle, plopping the other one in his mouth. Immediately, a cold, sweet flavour hit his tongue, with a salty kick after.

 “For me?” Naminé awkwardly accepted, staring at the blue popsicle. The wooden handle was slightly slippery and she pinched it with two fingers, trying to save the rest of her hand from the sticky substance. “A popsicle?”

 “It’s the town’s specialty. Might as well try it.” Riku pulled his treat out of his mouth before he could get a brain freeze. “Take a lick, it’s pretty good.”

 “Alright.” Scrunching her face, Naminé hesitantly stuck out her tongue and licked it. She squeezed her eyes shut, considering the flavour, before opening them with surprise. “It’s sweet.”

 “And at a normal level.” Riku shuddered, remembering the frozen treats Sora and Kairi used to have. It was like having pure sugar dissolve on his tongue. “Though I could do without the salt.”

 “You just want to—” Naminé glanced at him and immediately covered her mouth. It couldn’t completely muffle the sound of her laughter and Riku glared at her.

 “What?”

 “Just…your tongue. And lips.” Naminé’s shoulders shook as she tried to compose herself. “It’s all blue.”

 -x-

 “It’s cold!” Naminé yelped, taking a step back. There weren’t many ways to access the shore in Twilight town; the lack of beaches and frosty waters deterred even the most adventures of visitors.

 Sitting on a rock, Riku raised a brow. “What did you think it was gonna be? Warm?”

 “A little.” Naminé shivered, her feet still in the water. The barest edges of the water. The tide lapped at her feet, tiny waves crashing down on her ankles, and she took yet another step back. Looking back at him, she frowned. “The waters in your home were pleasant.”

 “Yeah, because we lived in the tropics.” Riku rolled his eyes. Then again, Sora had never bothered to pay attention to any class, even geography, so maybe she wouldn’t know that.

 A more powerful wave charged up the shore, enveloping her feet, and she darted back even further. “I’m good for now.”

 “You sure?” Riku smirked, gesturing at the water. “You were only in it for a few minutes.”

 “No, definitely, definitely good.” Naminé broke into a run as another crash sounded behind her.

 -x-

 “I hear this has the best view of the sunset,” Riku explained, opening the door on the top of the clock tower. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and he shielded his eyes as the sun’s last rays hit him. “We’re on time at least.”

 Following him out, Naminé peered around him. “Ohhh.” Amazed, she pushed past him and hurried to the railing. Her mouth slack, she watched as the pink and orange hues bled into the blue sky, the sun heading down into the water. “Amazing!”

 “Yeah. I guess.” Riku had seen this sight more often than he cared to remember. It was strange to watch it alone, without Sora’s stupid remarks or Kairi’s sharp jabs.

 “I didn’t know it could be so beautiful,” Naminé breathed, her eyes fixed on the sun.

 Riku smiled. Right, he wasn’t alone. Not now. Leaning on the railing next to her, he glanced at Naminé. “It?”

 “The sky.” Naminé paused, then shook her head. “The world. Everything, really. I saw them in your memories, but…it’s something else to see them for yourself. I never knew such bright blue existed. Or such soft pinks. What else is the universe hiding?”

 “Underwater worlds, worlds ruled by animals,” Riku listed, ticking them off with his finger. “A lot, really. You’ll just have to visit more worlds. Take more breaks.”

 “Visit…” Naminé mused, lowering her eyes slightly. With a sad smile, she shook her head. “No, this is enough. More than enough.”

 “Why?” Riku frowned.

 “I can’t leave the manor like this again—I have too much to do.” She beamed at him, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “I got a lot of memories from this, it can tide me over.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she covered his lips with a finger, her expression stern. “No, really. Thank you. This is more than enough for someone like me.”

 Someone like me. He hated how much that sounded like a curse.

 -x-

 “Thanks for today.” Naminé stretched her arms behind her as she sauntered into her room. Glowing, she beamed brightly at him. “It was a lot of fun, having a break.”

 “Yeah, it’s not bad every once in a while.” Riku rested a hand on his hip, a smirk on his face. “Just don’t take it as often as Sora does.”

 “Maybe he wanted you to take more breaks.” Laughing, she glanced at one of the drawings on the wall. A picture of a boy sleeping on the sand, without a care in the world. “Or maybe he’s just lazy.”

 “The latter. Definitely the latter.” On the wall next to him, Riku spotted one of Sora’s terrible drawings. A picture of Sora’s and Kairi’s head, a paopu fruit passed from one to the other. It was strange. He felt so detached looking at it now. Yet when he’d first saw it, a tidal wave of rage had overcome him. Enough to destroy his world. Enough to destroy many worlds.

 At some point, the wave broke, the rage ebbing away. All that was left was a sense of fondness, of his two dense, idiotic friends and a scenario he should have seen eons ago. He glanced behind him. Naminé was humming again as she picked up her sketch pad. There was one more thing he could do for her.

 “Gimme a sheet.” Walking over to the table, Riku picked up a golden crayon. He rolled it in his hand; the colour was just right.

 “You’re going to draw?” Mystified, Naminé carefully tore out a page for him. “I thought you weren’t good at that.”

 Riku shot her a baleful glare. The downside of her combing through Sora’s memories—his past was an open book to her. Including all of his art classes. “I’m just not interested in it.”

 “That wasn’t what—”

 “I’m just not interested,” he repeated forcefully, grumpily glaring at her. It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t good, so he wasn’t interested. There was no point in doing something that even Sora, the class idiot, got higher marks than him in. Spreading the sheet of paper, he stared at it for a long moment. Maybe this was a bad idea. Even a simple shape ended up distorted in his hands.

 “If you say so,” Naminé acquiesced, covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

 Riku peeked at her from the corner of his eyes. Shoulders shaking, eyes full of mirth, Naminé looked like an ordinary girl. Nothing like the sad Nobody he usually saw, counting down the days till she disappeared. Determined, he started drawing, straight confident lines into the shape of a star.

 “So, what are you drawing?” Naminé tried to peek over his shoulder, but he blocked her.

 “Just wait.” Biting his cheek, he glanced at her artwork on the walls. Yep. He was right. He was no good at this and he was definitely never doing it again. Finishing the piece, he instructed, “Hold out your hand.”

 Naminé cocked her head. “My hand?”

 “Just hold it out,” he ordered. When she held out her right hand, he placed the sheet on her hands.

 “What?” Naminé stared at it, realization dawning in her expression. “This is…”

 “You didn’t get one either, right?” Riku shrugged, looking away in embarrassment as she stared at him. “It might not be as good as yours, but even I can draw a paopu fruit.”

 “It’s not that. I…I can’t…” Naminé looked back at the paper, her hand still flat and rejecting it entirely. “I’m…I’m not real. I’ll go away.”

 She really wasn’t like any of his friends: softer, more awkward, more nervous. And completely unable to let herself be happy. “Didn’t I say I wouldn’t forget?” Riku reminded her. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Her bones felt fragile under his hand. “You’re real to me. You’re here.”

 Stricken, she shook her head. “But I….”

 He folded the paper and curled her hand over the hard edges. It crinkled at the touch. “And now you’ll always be real, because our destinies are intertwined.”

 She bit her lip before slowly nodding. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she chuckled. “You’re really bad at drawing.”

 “Oh, shut up.” Riku turned around, his ears burning hot. “Like I said, I’m just not interested in it.”

[queenofcats17]

And They Were Schoolmates

@insane-control-room and I wrote a story about our Joey’s being little kids and going to school together. 

It also takes place in a universe where Johan was adopted by @startistdoodles Jekyll and Charlotte.

AO3 link is here.

--------------------------------------------------

The young children were in school, as most children should be. Johan was one of those students that, if placed near a window, would never pay attention to the class, but he would certainly struggle and try to. He also was a nervous boy in class, especially because he was coming into the school year late, being that he had just been recently adopted into the Drew family. He was nervous about going into a new school, to a new class, in a new city. So he trembled a little bit as the teacher began to introduce him, and she paused, and he held his breath, anticipating the question.

“How do you pronounce your name, dear?” she asked him, and he sighed, “Jo-han or Yo-han, it doesn’t matter.”

“So, everyone, welcome….”

“Johan R-Ramirez. Um. Drew.”

From across the room, another young boy had his eyes glued to the new student. He was slumped over his desk in an attempt to get as far forward in his seat as he could so that he would be able to get a good look at the new boy. This young boy was also named Joey Drew, which was a point of pride for him. 

“I’m gonna be just like Mr. Drew when I’m older,” he would often proclaim. “We’ve got the same name and everything!” He could often be found in a corner, furiously drawing Bendy, Ivy, Alice, and Boris. He wanted to be an artist just like the older Joey Drew. He was not entirely sure if this new boy had a connection to the famous studio head, but he certainly hoped Johan was interested in art too. He did not have a lot of people to draw with.

“What’re you staring at the new kid so much for?” one of the boys in the desk next to him snickered. “You wanna marry him, Freckle?” The reason for this nickname was obvious.

“Fuck off!” Freckle snapped. 

“Joseph! We do not use that sort of language in school!” The teacher’s attention snapped to the freckled boy with the cloud of dark hair. However, Johan, still standing up front, lit up with a bright grin, eyes squinting with awe. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Freckle mumbled, his face going red as he sunk in his seat. Well, there went any chance of the new kid thinking he was cool. The boy who had antagonized him snickered and elbowed his friends, who all laughed as well. Freckle glared at them out of the corner of his eye. The joke was on them. Esther would totally beat them up later. Or maybe not. She was always so worried about getting in trouble lately.

The teacher sighed and shook her head. The only open desk was right next to Joey, and so she gestured to the desk. Johan, a little small for his age, climbed onto his seat, fiddling with his pencils. Freckle immediately forgot his irritation at the other boys, turning his attention instantly onto Johan. Johan smiled at him, winked, then turned sharply to face the boys who had made fun of Freckle with a look in his red eyes that spelled murder, still bearing that adorable small smile, but, his canine teeth seemed sharper than at first glance. Something about him flared danger, an apex predator in the midst of humans, but… was he not simply adorable? The boys shifted in their seats uncomfortably, some long-forgotten survival instinct sparking.

“Whoa,” Freckle whispered, his eyes shining. This boy was going to be his friend, he decided. Because not only had he just stood up for him, but he was also the prettiest person Freckle had ever seen in his life. Freckle thought a lot of boys were pretty, but not like Johan. Johan had eyes that looked like rubies and blue hair! Freckle had never met anyone with blue hair before!

Surreptitiously, Freckle took a piece of notebook paper out of his folder and scribbled a message before crumpling it up and sneakily passing it Johan when the teacher was not looking.

Johan rose an eyebrow, and picked it up, carefully unfolding it and squinting a little to read it.

Written inside, in rather messy handwriting, was:

Do you want to be my friend? 

Yes  No  Maybe

There was a little box beside each answer for Johan to mark.

Johan giggled, but seemed a little nervous. While he read, Freckle watched him intently, with absolutely no subtlety. Johan glanced at him, and blinked, then checked the maybe. He then made a small paper airplane out of it and blew on it to land precisely on Freckle’s desk, right in front of him.

Immediately, Freckle snatched up the paper, scanning the lines for his answer. The ‘maybe’ made butterflies flutter in his stomach. He would have to talk to Johan at lunch, he decided. He let out a small dreamy sigh.

“Joseph? Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” the teacher asked, finally noticing that Freckle did not seem to be paying attention at all. Freckle froze, the paper still in his hands. 

“Joseph.” The teacher began to make her way through the desks. “What do you have?”

He could not let her see. Everyone would make fun of him even more! Freckle began to hyperventilate a bit. His first instinct was to shove it in his mouth. But she was almost there! He didn’t have time! Johan glanced at him again, snatched the note, and ate it, in the span of a fraction of a moment, far faster than any other child or person.

The look he gave the teacher was so innocent, with wide eyes and it seemed as though he did not move at all.

“Ma’am, I do believe you’re imagining things,” he said with full respect, his big eyes truthful. “He doesn’t have anything.”

“Well… alright.” She frowned and turned away, heading back to the board. She thought of making an appointment with her psychologist again. These children had an incredible ability to slowly grind away at her sanity with their antics. She picked up her marker and resumed teaching.

The rest of the day up until lunch was rather boring. It involved the usual lessons and worksheets. Freckle could hardly pay attention. Then again, he generally had a hard time paying attention. Johan seemed to do well, until it came to math, and the boy pushed aside his paperwork after looking at it for a few moments, making up in his mind to ask Charlotte for help. They were starting to get into long division and memorizing multiplication tables, which was all rather complicated, and for Johan, whose strong suit was never really mathematics, it was pure gibberish. Freckle was almost wriggling out of his seat by the time the teacher announced it was time for lunch. 

“Everyone form a single file line,” she said. “If you brought your lunch today, get your lunchboxes from your lockers.”

Freckle scrambled out of his desk to get his lunch box before getting over to Johan as fast as he could. 

“Do you wanna eat lunch with me?” he asked. “I wanna get to know you.” He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his cheeks pink with excitement. He too was small for his age, so he was not much bigger than Johan. He had a sickly and awkward air to him, as though he was not exactly sure of himself at any point. 

Johan gripped the little bag of lunch he held, and shrugged. In a quiet voice, he answered him, “sure.”

Freckle lit up. “Cool!” he said. He almost could barely contain himself. He really did not have a lot of friends, especially not after the stunt he had pulled last year where he had bitten another kid for saying mean things about Esther. And that other time he had thrown a dodgeball too hard at a kid and given them a nosebleed because they had called him a mean name. And the time he had punched a kid for throwing his sketchbook in the mud. There was a reason the teachers called him a ‘problem child’. His parents were trying to find ways he could channel his anger more effectively.

“So, why’re here?” Freckle asked as they started to walk out of the classroom. “I mean, why’d you transfer in the middle of the year?” He knew he asked too many questions sometimes, and he hoped that would not drive his new potential friend away.

“I… didn’t t-transfer,” Johan picked his words carefully. “I wasn’t in any school this year yet.”

“Oh.” Freckle kept walking, frowning a bit. He was not sure what that meant. 

“How, um, how are the classes h-here?” Johan asked politely, crunching and unclenching the end of his lunch bag. He was frightened by the entire school, especially since he worried that he might disappoint his new parents. “And are the teachers n-nice?”

“The classes are fine, I guess.” Freckle shrugged. “Y’know, music and math and history and stuff. The teachers...” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Most of ‘em are okay. Some of them are buttheads, though.”

Johan giggled. “You’re funny.”

“Good funny or weird funny?” Freckle asked, a frown descending over his features. “‘Cause sometimes people just say that when they think I’m weird.”

“I think all funny is good, but…” Johan shrugged. “Good? I guess?”

“Okay!” Freckle immediately brightened, swinging his lunchbox back and forth. “Thank you! I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever met!”

Johan blinked with surprise. He had never been called pretty before. He blushed, looking at his shoes. “Um… thank you….”

“You’re welcome!” Freckle gave him a big grin, showcasing his missing front teeth. He and Johan then entered the lunchroom, and sat next to each other. Johan paused with something akin to nervousness before opening his lunch bag, letting out a bated breath in relief. Freckle leaned over his shoulder to peek. “Whatcha got?”

“Uh… a peanut butter and j-jelly sandwich, an apple, and chips,” Johan said, trying to keep the delight from his voice. He loved chips very much, and normally his father would never let him have them, but… Johan’s smile faltered as he recalled the very reason why he was there. He picked up his sandwich and tried to take a bite, not feeling very hungry. He tried to stir up conversation with Freckle, to detract from himself. “A-and what about you?”

“Mmmm...” Freckle opened his lunchbox to check. “Carrot sticks, kosher hotdog, and a cookie!” 

His mother had also included a little note telling him she hoped he had a good day and had drawn a clumsy Bendy in the corner. He giggled to himself at the note. He appreciated that his mother tried to draw Bendy, even if she wasn’t all that good at it.

Johan spotted the little demon, and he focused his gaze on his own apple, nibbling on it.

“So… do you like drawing?” Freckle asked as he started munching on his carrot sticks. “Or movies?”

“Um… my… um…” Johan tried to think of what to say, not able to use one word, not desiring to use another. “I was p-put into a lot of art classes.”

“Okay. But do you like it?” Freckle repeated. 

Johan shrugged. He did not really know what he liked any more. The social worker told him that it was the shock, and when it would wear off, he would start to feel better, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. “Maybe. I guess.”

“Oh...Okay.” Freckle’s face fell a bit. “Well, I like drawing. I kinda hoped I could make an art friend. But it’s okay if you don’t!” He quickly added. “I don’t wanna force you to like stuff or anything. That’s mean.”

“I’m just a little… um, t-tired,” Johan excused himself. “I’ve had some r-really busy days lately.”

“Oooh.” Freckle nodded sagely. “That makes sense. My sister gets all vague when she’s tired too.”

Johan finished his apple, throwing the core away.

“I don’t have any siblings,” he said softly, opening his sandwich bag and eating it rather quickly. “I might get one later, but I don’t know.”

“Oh...” Freckle paused, carrot stick halfway to his mouth. “Um...Sorry?” He wasn’t really sure if he needed to apologize for Johan not having siblings, but Johan seemed really sad so he thought it would be good. 

Johan’s sandwich vanished as he ate the last bits. He would have to as Charl- his mother. Mother. For more food for the next time. 

Freckle ate another carrot stick. “Do you want some of my cookie?” he asked. It looked like Johan was almost done with his food, and his mother had always said sharing was good for making friends.

Johan shook his head, and pointed at his chips. 

“I still have some food left. I’m good.”

“Okay.” Freckle had finished his carrots now and was working on the hot dog.

Johan felt weird talking. He had not talked much since… it happened. He never even talked much before then. He quietly ate his chips, eating one at a time, almost mechanically.

Freckle watched him, kicking his feet back and forth. He felt like something was going on with Johan, something big and important. He wanted to know what it was. But he definitely did not want to push Johan, if only for fear of driving him away. 

The bell to go outside rang just as Johan finished the last of his food. Freckle sprang to his feet, scrambling to pack up the remains of his lunch. 

“I gotta show you the playground!” he said, bouncing up and down. Johan shrugged and followed after him. The playground was spacious, and Johan’s ears tilted back with the noise. Freckle was fully ready to charge ahead, until he noticed Johan hanging back. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“It’s just a little loud…” he smiled shakily.

“Oh...” Freckle looked around, face screwed up in concentration. “Well...There’s a tree that’s a little ways away. We can hang out there. It’s pretty quiet.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Johan assured him, moving on. “I’ll get used to it in a m-minute.”

“Okay.” Freckle kept frowning, bouncing on his heels. “Just tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Johan did not know what to say, so he thought it wise to simply nod. 

Freckle kept bouncing on his heels, starting to hum to himself. Pretty soon he was just straight up dancing in place, completely caught up in the song he was remembering. Johan vibrated along. It was a minute or two before Freckle realized what he was doing. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled, going bright red. “Kinda… kinda forgot I wasn’t alone.”

“That’s ok,” Johan assured him. “We all do, s-sometimes.”

“Okay...” Freckle smiled shyly. “So… Uh… wanna play on the swings?”

“Sure,” Johan felt like he was being very bland.

“Cool!” Freckle made a beeline for the swings. He was getting excited again.

“You wanna have a contest to see who can swing higher?” he asked. Johan just nodded, though he worried a little. His… He was told not to over exert himself. Would this count?

Freckle started to swing, pumping his legs back and forth in order to swing higher and higher. Once again, he did not notice Johan’s hesitation. He always seemed to get tunnel vision when he was excited about something. Johan slowly swung to and fro, trying very hard to keep up, but also trying very hard to enjoy it. Freckle was far more energetic than he, and caught in the wind, going faster and faster. Johan felt his back begin to throb, and his legs started to ache. He slowed down even more, letting the velocity and momentum carry him. He watched Freckle swing as he crawled to a stop. It took a bit for Freckle to notice that Johan was slowing down. Once he did, he slowed down as well. 

“You okay?” he asked. His heartbeat began to speed up as a thought occurred to him. He hadn’t pegged Johan as the sickly type, but if he was… had Freckle been pushing him past his limit?

Johan smiled weakly, and coughed into his elbow, then spoke, his voice a little raspy, “Yeah. J-just tired.”

“Okay...” Freckle frowned. “Are you sick?”

“I-I’m not sick!” Johan’s already vast eyes widened. “Just… just, um. Tired.”

“I get it if you are,” Freckle said. “I used to be really sick too. The doctors said it was a compromised immune system or something.” He was better now, mostly, but there had been a point when he had been really little when he had been sick all the time. 

“I’m n-not.” Johan repeated, on the defensive. He never liked talking about his health. Not even with him. And now, especially not, now that he was gone. “Just tired.”

“Okay...” Freckle looked down at his feet, kicking a bit. “‘M sorry for pushing. Essie says I gotta stop doing that. She says I ask too many questions.” 

“Questions are g-good,” Johan mumbled. “They keep us th-thinking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” Freckle smiled a bit. “Thanks!”

“No problem.” Johan answered quietly, wondering what on earth Freckle was thanking him for.

“I mean, uh, thanks for not saying I’m stupid or annoying.” Freckle blushed, looking quickly away. 

“But you’re not,” Johan seemed perplexed. “Why would I s-say that?”

“I dunno...” Freckle shrugged. “People just say I’m annoying or stupid. Like the teachers or the other kids.” He kicked the air. “‘Cause I don’t pay attention in class or I talk too loud or too much.”

“That’s not nice.” Johan firmly stated.

“My parents say that too. That it’s not nice. Doesn’t stop people from doing it.” Freckle’s expression had darkened as he watched the ground. “It’s not fair. But no one gives a shit.” He knew he wasn’t supposed to use that word, but he didn’t care.

“My… um. Someone I knew said that life doesn’t like being f-fair,” Johan offered. “I dunno what he meant by that, c-cause life isn't, you know, a-a person. Life is… well, life.”

“I mean, people believe in gods and stuff,” Freckle said. “They think gods control life. In, like, pagan religions and stuff. My family just believes in one god though. My dad says God’s a dick sometimes and that’s why life’s not fair.” Still he smiled at Johan’s attempt to make him feel better. Johan was really nice.

“...” Johan did not know what to say to that. He, personally, was conflicted, but always felt… safe. No matter what, it always felt, to him, that he was being watched over, no matter how bad it got or what happened.

“Sorry. I guess I got kind of dark,” Freckle laughed weakly. “I didn’t make you sad, did I?”

“No,” Johan looked away. “You didn’t.”

“Okay.” Freckle went back to kicking at the air. “Do you wanna talk about other stuff now?”

“Um… like what?” Johan’s ears tilted back. He felt out of place. 

“Like art?” Freckle suggested hopefully. “I like drawing stuff.”

“M… My new dad is an a-artist,” Johan quietly admitted. 

“That’s really cool. I think art is awesome. I wanna be an artist when I get older.” Freckle puffed out his chest proudly. “Like Joey Drew, the guy who runs the cartoon studio. ‘Cause my name’s Joey Drew too! So I’m gonna be like him and make cartoons!”

“Yeah…” Johan looked to his toes, his shoes polished and pristine, the way she made him clean them constantly. Not a single mar would be allowed on them. Charlotte hopefully would be different, but he did not want to risk finding out. He did not know if he should tell his new friend the identity of his adoptive father. What if they did not like him and he would have to go back to the orphanage? Why should he spark false hope?

Freckle looked over him, getting worried all over again. Johan just seemed really sad and he was not sure why. He did not know if it was his fault and he was starting to get worried. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You seem really sad. Just, like, in general.” 

“O-Oh… I’m fine,” Johan tried to assure him. He exhaled a little bit. “Just tired.”

“It’s not something I’m doing, is it?” Anxiety was painted all over Freckle’s features. “I mean, I get it if it is my fault. I’m sorry if I’m pushing you too hard or something. You just seem really cool and I really want to be your friend ‘cause I don’t have a lot of friends and I’m really sorry if I’m doing something wrong.” 

His breathing began to speed up as his anxious thoughts began to close in. He was driving away another potential friend. He always did this. He always drove everyone away. And then, he would drive his family away eventually too. Sure, they said they would always love him, but they would have to abandon him too, sooner or later. Esther was already starting to draw away. She did not have time to beat up his bullies anymore. She had high school stuff to worry about and a job and a boyfriend. 

“It’s not your fault,” Johan stated, his voice like the tolling of a death knell. “It’s just things happening at bad times. It’s not you.”

“Okay...” Freckle kept his gaze on his shoes. He’d drawn on the sides with Sharpie when he was bored, all the drawings crowded and overlapping each other. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“It’s okay,” Johan replied, not knowing what else to say. He wished he had some guidance, or at the very least, was not afraid to ask for it. 

“If you’ve got stuff going on, maybe you should go to a therapist or something,” Freckle said, although his voice wavered a bit. “My parents have been trying to get me to go to one.” He did not want to go to a therapist, but his parents kept gently bringing up the subject. They were worried about him. He knew that. But he felt like if he went it would be admitting that there was something wrong with him. The other kids would have a field day if they heard he was going to therapy. Especially some of the meaner ones. His parents seemed so sure it would help, though.

“I wanna figure this out on m-my own a little,” Johan quietly mumbled.

“It’s okay to ask for help, y’know.” Freckle glanced over at him. “We’re kids. We can’t really do everything on our own.” His expression was unsure, almost scared. He’d just felt a lot of feelings and was a little vulnerable. 

“I know,” Johan’s hands trembled a little, he feeling slightly overwhelmed. “If I n-need help I’ll ask for it.”

“Okay.” Freckle went silent for a bit, watching him. He was still worried about Johan. Johan still did not look okay.

The bell to go back inside rang.

“I guess we gotta go in.” Freckle hopped off the swing. He was a bit disappointed. He had hoped recess would be more fun. So far, all it seemed that he had managed to do was make his new friend sad.

“Hey…” Johan studied him closely. “Don’t worry a bit ‘bout me. I’ll be ok in a j-jiffy. Just n-need a little time and rest.”

“Well...Okay.” Freckle pouted a bit. “But I do wanna be your friend. If that’s okay.” He added the last part quickly at the end. “Like I said, I get if you don’t wanna be my friend. But, um, I think you’re really cool and I do wanna be friends.”

Then he ran back inside. Johan followed, slower, more deliberate, but nonetheless, followed him back into their classroom.

At the end of the day, Freckle approached him once more. 

“Um, I know this is kinda weird...” he said, playing with the straps of his backpack. “But do you wanna come over to my house? To like...work on homework or whatever?”

Johan shifted uncomfortably. He did! He really did! But, he knew he should go home. He did not want Charlotte or J- his parents to worry. So, he inhaled slowly, and then spoke.

“I don’t think it’s a g-good idea yet,” he answered quietly. He looked to his shoes. “I gotta go home for now, but m-maybe in a little bit from now? Like… a week or s-so?”

“Oh...Okay.” Freckle’s face fell briefly, but he quickly smiled again. “I’ll ask again later.” He was disappointed that Johan had said no, but Johan had also said he could ask again later! So he still had a chance to befriend this boy! Even though they already were more or less friends already… but him coming over would solidify their friendship.

Johan gave him a small smile, then turned to hurry home. Freckle turned away and did the same, grinning to himself. 

And so, Freckle dutifully waited, continuing to talk to Johan in school and share his interests with the other boy. He delightfully discovered that Johan did enjoy drawing, but it took the boy a few days for his spark to come back. Freckle was absolutely ecstatic when he discovered this, bringing in lots of colored pencils and markers for them to draw with. He felt comfortable chattering on excitedly to Johan about the Bendy cartoons. Which, for some reason, made Johan very quiet. Freckle was not sure whether to ask about it or not. He decided not to for the moment. He stopped talking about Bendy so much, talking about other things that did not make Johan sad. 

A few weeks later, Freckle asked again.

“Do you wanna come over to my house?”

“I can a-ask my mom for tomorrow,” Johan replied after a moment. “We t-talked a little and she said that I sh-should ask in advance.”

“Okay! Cool!” Freckle lit up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. This was going to be so much fun! He could show Johan his room, they could play games. Hopefully Esther wouldn’t be in one of her moods. She was always so cranky.

The next day, when Johan sat beside him waiting for class to start, he smiled at him.

“My mom said that it’s alright if I come to your place today.” he informed him. 

Freckle burst into a wide grin, replying with an exclamation of, “Great!” It was finally happening. He was finally bringing a friend home!

After school, the two lads walked with Freckle’s older sister. Esther always picked Freckle up so they could walk home after school. Their parents worried about Freckle getting distracted and getting lost. Mostly because it had happened more than once. Esther had initially been a bit suspicious of this new boy, but upon seeing him she had decided he was absolutely no threat at all. He was rather small and shy, letting Freckle take the reins, which was good concerning Freckle’s slightly overbearing tendencies.

“This is Johan!” Freckle announced, pointing excitedly to his new friend. “He’s coming over!” 

“Nice to meet you.” Esther gave him a gentle smile. “I’m Esther.” What had she been worried about? There was no way this kid was out to hurt Freckle. He was so cute. She kind of wanted to pinch his cheeks. But that would be weird. 

“H-Hello, señorita,” he said softly with a quiet trill in his voice. “Pleasure to meet you. Freckle is a very nice friend.”

“I’m glad he’s been behaving himself,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Freckle protested, stamping his foot and folding his arms.

“It means you’re a little terror sometimes.” Esther ruffled his hair.  Freckle whined and hunched his shoulders. He was not a little terror! 

Esther turned her attention to Johan. “Anyway, c’mon. Ma gets worried when we take too long getting home, and we’ve done enough dallying.”

“Mm.” Johan did not quite know if Ch- his mom would worry if he was late. He was a very punctual lad as was, but he felt pretty certain that she would worry. It made him happy, in an odd way, to know she would care about him like that.

And so they set off toward the Drew household. Specifically the Drew household of Freckle and Esther. Freckle chattered happily to Esther about what he had done that day and all the things he wanted to do with Johan at the house. Esther just nodded, listening to Freckle while keeping an eye on both of the boys. She did not want Johan to get accidentally left behind, though he curiously seemed to be one step ahead of the siblings.

When they reached the Drew house, Freckle and Esther’s mother Miriam was waiting for them. Freckle’s father Ethan was still at work. He worked in construction. Miriam was a tall and slender woman, who Esther took after in body type and chestnut brown hair color. Freckle had his father’s dark hair and short stature, although wasn’t nearly as solidly built. The freckles came from Miriam as well. Freckle thought she was the prettiest woman ever and was not at all shy about telling everyone.

“We’re back!” Esther yelled as she unlocked the door and walked in with her brother and Johan. 

“Welcome back!” Miriam appeared from the living room. She had an embroidery project in her hands. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Johan shyly waved, looking to the floor.

“Oh, hello there.” Miriam’s face lit up upon seeing Johan. “You must be Jojo’s new friend, Johan. It’s very nice to meet you, little one.” She was slightly relieved upon seeing Johan. She too had been rather worried about who this new friend of Freckle’s might be. But Johan seemed like a nice child.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Johan mumbled, not very certain about what he should say or do. The friends his madre used to have over, well, she made him bow to them and talk all proper, but he found out that that was not normal.

“Are you hungry?” Miriam asked. “I was just about to start fixing some snacks for Esther and Joey.”

“Oh, um, no thank you,” Johan replied. He never really did feel hungry, or maybe he always did, just not intensely? “I’m good.”

“Alright, well, tell me if you need anything,” Miriam said. “Or ask Jojo. I’ll be in the living room.” She gave him a smile and returned to where she had been working on her embroidery project. She just needed to do a few more stitches, and then she would finish the snacks. 

“My room’s upstairs!” Freckle tugged on Johan’s arm. He had already discarded his shoes and backpack and was bouncing up and down with excitement at the prospect of showing his new friend his room. “C’mon!” 

Johan smiled slightly and followed the other youngster up to his room, and settled himself on the floor. He was not quite sure what they would be doing, and so allowed the other boy to pick for them.

Freckle’s room was covered in posters from various movies, as well as some promotional posters for the Bendy Show. There were books and paper everywhere. Most of the papers were drawings Freckle had done of cartoon characters, animals, and his family. Freckle himself was rummaging in a box that was marked, ‘art supplies’. Finally, he found what he was looking for. 

“This is for you!” He announced, holding out a pack of colored pencils. It was brand new and unopened. He had been saving these colored pencils for when he made a friend. They were really nice and he did not dare use them himself. 

Johan accepted them with a quiet thank you and large eyes. His deft fingers ran over the smooth cylindrical facets, and a spark grew in his eye, inspiration struck. Those years of training his… first father had put him through in the arts, all that skill he acquired, it all seemed to seep back into him. He looked up at Freckle, biting his lip nervously in a silent askance. 

Freckle smiled at him assuringly. “You can draw anything you want, Jo.”

Hesitantly, he began to sketch. Johan never quite liked anything permanent, and sketching - ‘twas something able to be done and done again. Freckle watched over his shoulder, at first with pure curiosity, but then it morphed into something more along the lines of awe. He had never known Johan knew how to draw so well.

There was a mansion of finecut masonry, vines trailing up the sides in nigh perfect symmetry. Horse stables were clearly just a few meters to the side, easily accessed. The mansion was vast, dominating, encompassing. Soon, the sounds of graphite etching on paper slowed and came to a stop, the drawing complete in the eyes of its maker. Freckle stared at it, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

“That’s really good,” he told Johan, startling him out of his concentration. “Oh! Sorry I scared you, Mom says that sometimes I say things too quick.”

“It’s o-okay,” Johan replied, trying to smile, but his eyes kept landing on the picture. After a moment of silence, he shifted, and flipped the paper over. “Just… was thinkin’ about some stuff, I guess. I’m okay, n-now.”

“What were you thinking about?” Freckle tilted his head to the side. Something seemed like it was wrong, although he was not quite sure what it could be. He wondered if it was the drawing Johan had done. To draw something like that out of nowhere… it had to have been someplace important to Johan. Maybe it had been where Johan had lived before. Johan had just moved to this town, after all. He had to have been someplace else first. 

“Was that….” He began to ask, only to trail off unsure of whether to continue.

“That’s my old house.” Johan quietly said. He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “I dunno why I drew it. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of good memories there.”

“Oh.” Freckle could only wonder at what he meant. Johan looked sad now and he was rather worried. He did not want Johan to be sad. He moved closer. 

“Can I hug you?” He asked. “When I’m sad, I like getting hugs.”

“S-sure,” Johan sighed, holding his hands tightly. Freckle smiled and wrapped his arms around Johan, giving him a big hug. He knew he couldn’t fix whatever was bothering Johan, but he hoped this would help.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “But I’m here if you wanna talk. Mom says talking helps sometimes. But you don’t have to.” 

He wanted to ask a dozen questions and was trying very hard not to. This was not a time for asking questions. This was a time for just being there and supporting his friend.

Johan sniffed, hugging him back. “I dunno what’s gotten into me….”

“It’s okay,” Freckle tried to reassure him. “Mom says sometimes people get sad sometimes. There doesn’t have to be a reason for it.” He bit his lip. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Other than, um, the hugging.”

Before Johan could answer, though, Miriam’s voice came from downstairs. 

“Snacks are ready if any of you are hungry!”

There was a collection of thumps and the sound of a door being wrenched open as Esther scrambled out of her room and down the stairs to get some of the snacks before Freckle could monopolize them.

“You want some food?” Freckle asked. “I dunno what Mom made, but it’s probably good.” 

It certainly smelled good. Judging from the sweet and tangy cinnamon scent, it was probably cinnamon raisin muffins or cinnamon buns. Freckle loved his mother’s cinnamon buns. Johan nodded, but then hesitated.

“I c-can’t have milk stuff, though,” he said quietly, almost embarrassed. “It makes me sick.”

“Oooh.” Freckle nodded sagely. “I’ll go ask Mom.” He got up and went to go ask if they had anything that didn’t have milk in it so that Johan could have it. 

He returned a bit later with some crackers and fruit. He put the food on the floor between the two of them, looking expectantly at Johan. 

“We also have vegetables,” he added. 

Most of the fruit was gone very quickly. Johan paused, holding his sixth apple slice, mouth ajar. 

“Uh.” was all he could say. “I think I’m good.”

“Okay!” Freckle said brightly.

The boys continued playing upstairs, Freckle’s earth shattering laughter accompanied by Johan’s quieter giggles. They played for around two hours, pausing in the middle to work on their homework, until there was a knock on the door. 

Johan stopped first, ears perking up, listening as Miriam opened the door. He was a little nervous - he knew his dad was the one picking him up, they had agreed that he would come by after work, but he was nervous about Freckle’s reaction, though he knew he should not be. Anticipative. The word was whispered into his mind, and it fit like a key into a lock. That is what he was. Anticipative.

The adults spoke for a moment, and Johan could hear the surprise in Miriam’s voice, and then she called; “Johan, you’re father’s here.”

He breathed in, preparing himself, smiling as he went down the stairs, excited to see him. Running over, he hugged his tan pant leg, squishing his face against it. 

“Hullo Jo,” Jekyll chuckled, leaning down to pat his head. “How was your playdate?”

“Good,” he replied, but did not let go. He was too comfortable. And happy. “How was your day, da? Did Mr. Lawrence cause a ruckus again?”

Before he could respond, Freckle’s awestruck voice cut in. 

“Joey Drew is your dad!?”

“Jojo, inside voice,” Miriam said gently. But Freckle was not really listening. His eyes were as wide as they could go, his mouth hanging open. This was officially the best day of his life. His new friend’s dad was THE Joey Drew. 

But...Oh...He suddenly deflated a bit. What if Johan thought Freckle was being only friends with him to get to his dad? He did not want that. He really did like Johan a lot. 

He cleared his throat, doing his best to seem mature and act like he had not just been having a fanboy reaction. 

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he said. Miriam frowned slightly, giving Freckle a look as if asking he was alright.

Jekyll, who loved children, smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you too. Johan told me you’re also a Joey, and go by Freckle, and you like Bendy very much. I’m very glad to hear that.”

Freckle felt his face start to get warm and could not help but giggle. Johan had talked about him. Johan had talked about him to Joey Drew. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” he mumbled, his ‘mature’ act vanishing as he turned back into a mildly embarrassed and giddy child. 

Miriam stifled a giggle of her own. “It’s been a pleasure to have Johan here,” she said, turning to Jekyll. “He’s a very sweet child.”

Jekyll’s expression softened.

“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling gently. Having Johan around really changed things in their home, for the better. “He really is. And it is also nearing his bedtime, isn't it, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Johan smiled up at him, then at Freckle. “See you tomorrow?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Freckle nodded fervently. “It was really nice having you over! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Johan waved as he and Jekyll set off towards their home, neither talking much, but feeling comfortable in the quiet.

Jekyll really was glad that Johan had a friend.

[kiki-wiccan]

   “Uhm...oh--I mean...usually in the closet-? But uhm...my sewing machine is in my bedroom mostly...I’m usually reading in the parlor and uhm...” It went without saying that Garridan’s parlor was more of a library if anything. While at times he’d sew in there, he found it quite difficult seeing as he’d amassed stacks of books--though organized--everywhere. He didn’t even have a television or any sort of entertainment system, seeing as most nights were spent doing body retrievals and embalming. Hosting funeral services was also another thing in of itself; so it made more sense to indulge in his craft within the confines of his relatively empty bedroom. 

 

            “You’ve never shopped for fabrics--? Oh...well. Uhm--it’s easy! I suppose it’d just depend on ah...we’d have to measure someone...or come up w-with our own. It just ah, depends on the type of materials you’d like.” While Garridan by no means considered himself on the level of fashion designers, he was fairly adequate at going about making clothes with supplies from a regular fabric store. He wasn’t one for flashier items, anyways.  “No, don’t worry if you don’t know...just uhm...well, one evening you should stop by-! And uhm...we can reference your pictures. Pick out what’s best...but only if that’s alright with you.” 

           The blond felt his stomach churn slightly, burning with a searing cold. After growing up during the time of rations and food shortages, Garridan had learned very quickly to finish everything he’d picked out--even at the cost of his own well-being. Absent-mindedly sipping from his glass, the vampire simply went along with Kiki’s whims. The wiccan had proved herself to be trustworthy, and seeing as she had come with Stanislav; she didn’t seem keen on leaving the premises. Which was good for the mortician, seeing as he was already feeling out-of-body. 

          Outside it was certainly cool, and by then Garridan had finished off a single glass. Eyeing his second-glass with a vacant look, he took to sipping even more. His limbs tingled with an electric-like pulse as the blood seemed to stick to the walls of his throat, and while he wasn’t as drunk as he was at Red Rose; the cold flush of his cheeks and light-headedness that came with downing his drink made Garridan regret his earlier decision to follow Kiki’s lead. What was that about pacing himself?

              He frowned slightly as he finished his second glass, laying down on his side and curling up. Sliding off his mask; he seemed somewhat groggy as he shut his eyes, emitting a soft sigh.

            “Mmmmm....stars are so pretty. K-kasumi told me...” His blond brows furrowed momentarily as he hiccuped, but then his expression laxxed. “He told me stars have names...that’s very cute huhhh? It...it makes me happy...”

“That’s where I thought it may be!....I’m pretty sure that’s the only room in your home I have yet to see”. Though the wiccan had been throughout most of the vampires house, she found they tended to spend most the visit in the parlor or kitchen. Sometimes the guest room when Kiki would spend the night at his humble abode.

She’d never really looked at fabrics before. Despite going to arts and craft stores plenty, she always avoided the fabric section. Mainly because she didn’t need or want anything involving fabrics. But now the image of her fantasy designs coming to life was very much appealing. “I would love to Garridan! I just need to go through my sketchbook and find out which designs I want to bring to life!”

Watching as her friend curled up on the ground, she stared up at the twinkling stars. “Ohhhh mmm reallllly? I wonder....” she slips out of her heels and kicks them away. They were starting to hurt her feet anyway and weren’t very easy to walk in the grass with. Letting her bare feet touch the grass she did a twirl before letting herself plop down beside Garridan. “Mmm what if! Starssss had uhhhh their own personalities!!! Mmmm andddd their own livesss up in spacceeeee! I wanna be friends with a staaarrr!” She giggled at the thought, imagining herself befriending a star in the sky.

[phaedrecameron]

House of Fraser, Chpt 14 - The Final Fitting

Dedicated to all the anons & @holdhertightandsayhername who’ve been asking about this story. NSFW!!!

The razor glided just above Claire’s ankle bone. She stopped at her knee and felt the smooth rewards of her efforts. Her damp curls clung to her face and neck like ivy as she inhaled the humid air of her shower. Just on the other side of the bathroom door was Jamie. After his strange tale, ice water seems to invade every portion of her body; from the long bones of her legs to the smallest capillaries of her lungs.  She turned the water hotter and breathed deep, waiting for the chill to leech through her skin.

She’d quizzed Jamie on everything he knew of The Woman from Balnain. A woman who touched a standing stone and traveled through time. A woman, who from destiny or choice, lived and loved while displaced from her tether to known existence and experience.

But did she believe it?  She was a woman of reason; of science and rational thought. And so was Frank. No, no she didn’t believe it. She would keep her promise to Jamie, she would avoid all the places where superstition thrived, but no, this was not her folklore.

She stepped from the shower. Jamie. The thought of him made her smile as it had from the first. If she had a destiny, it was with him. Warmth burned in her body once more.  She quickly toweled off, slipped on her knickers, sleep trousers and his rugby shirt. She reached for the bathroom door and stopped.

Destiny

She slid off the trousers and walked bare legged into the kitchen.

Jamie was hunched over a sketchbook at the kitchen counter. His body was precariously balanced on a small stool as his hand glided along the page.

“Did you forget you glasses? You’ll go blind if your face gets any closer to that page?” Claire teased.

“Aye, and it will be your fault…” The grin faded from Jamie’s face when he saw her legs. Long and smooth, he imagined those thighs pressed tight against his ears. He watched as she shyly touched her curls and pressed forward.

“Stop.”  He held up his hand, a broad smile replacing the grin. “Mid calf or floor length?

Claire smiled in understanding as he picked up his discarded pencil. “Umm floor.” She started to walk closer.

“Stay put, Sassenach. This is serious.” The pencil flying across the page. “Now, purple or deep blue?”

“Purple.” She lifted a foot off the floor.

“Och, stubborn woman, be still.” A deep purple color pencil in his hand.  “Okay, backless or…cleavage?”

“I’d say cleavage.” Her breasts tingled as his gaze shifted to her chest and then back to his sketchbook. She took a small step.

“Hmm, good.” Jamie was staring intently at the page. “Form fitting or..”

“Definitely form fitting.”

Jamie snorted and began to close the book. “Perfect. Thank ye.”

Claire sprinted to him.  “Let me see. I want to see!”  Jamie stood as she futilely reached for the sketchbook as he held it over his head and out of her reach.

“Nay, it’s no’ finished. Bad luck. I told ye, superstitious.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose. “And dinna pout - gives me impure thoughts.”

Her towel dried curls swung heavy as she shook her head in laughter. “I suppose this is one of those secrets I have to figure out? Hmm? And I don’t pout, so any impure thoughts are clearly of your own design.” She pushed him back onto the stool and stood between his legs.

“Stubborn, lass, ye do pout.” He brushed a curl behind her ear, if only to keep his hands off her thighs. Suddenly, she buried herself into his chest. “Oi, ye got the shirt, but dinna tackle me to the floor.” His hands running up and down her back. “Christ, yer so cold.”

“Stay.”  Her words muffled in his neck.

“Yer sure? It’s no problem for me to..”

She silenced him with a kiss as her arms wound around his neck. “I’m sure.” She felt his hands resting on the small of her back, just as when they danced at gala. She reached behind and pushed his hands to her arse.

“Better?”

“Mmmm,” he sighed, “much, I’ve wanted my hands on yer arse for a very long time.” He began to knead her buttocks. Claire wiggled closer and he felt himself harden. “I’ll go shower.” He brought their foreheads together.

Claire saw him wince as he stood. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to..well..I didn’t think….that you would so fast….”

Jamie smirked. “There’s no sense in hiding whatcha do to me. But dinna fash, my baws are a cerulean blue at this point. The couch is fine.”

“Nice try, Fraser. You told me you broke up with Geneva the night of the Gala.”

He smiled silently and started to walk past her.

“Wait,” Claire’s hand on his shoulder, “you don’t mean that you haven’t…that you two weren’t…”

“I havena had sex since I’ve met ye.”

Her mouth fell open.

“And ye know the reason why.” His thumb wiped a tear that had just fallen to her cheek.

“Jamie, I, Fra..”

He quieted her with his thumb, “it doesna matter, yer here with me now. I’d wait two hundred years for ye. Jamie cupped her face. “Dinna cry, lass.”

“Oh, Jamie, I can’t explain myself the way you can!” Her frustration evident.

He rubbed her nose with his, “‘tis alright, I ken. Ye think wi yer body. It’s how ye express yerself, no? Puzzle things out?” He smiled at her shock. “I noticed during the fittings; yer face, yer shoulders, yer hands, the way ye move.” He bopped her nose, “ye coming to me with yer legs bare.”

“Oh, and what were my legs telling you?”

“That ye decided I could stay. I dinna think ye could have said that fully clothed.”

Claire laughed and allowed him to pass. Once she heard the shower start, her anxiety started to increase. She puttered around the cozy cabin, picking up items only to immediately set them down. She might not be able to read him as he could her, but he wasn’t entirely a closed book. She knew he went to shower to give her time to think. He assumed staying meant sleeping on the sofa. To be fair, it was a large comfortable sofa that would accommodate even his large frame, but did she want that? What did her body think?  Ugh! Damn him, what did that even mean?

Jamie emerged from the bathroom in flannel sleep trousers and a long sleeved t shirt. “Is somethin’ wrong?”  He saw Claire folded onto the sofa staring at him.

She blinked. “How did you manage to get more attractive during a 20 minute shower?”

It was his turn to blush.

“Oh god, the words were spoken aloud?” Claire reached for the television remote to prevent herself from hiding behind the sofa pillows. She felt the couch sink as he sat next to her, but she wasn’t ready to look at him. “I was thinking Netflix?”

“Sure, Netflix and chill sounds perrrrfect.” Jamie intentionally exaggerated his natural burr.

Damn him. She kept her eyes straight and began to punch in her passcode. “Hey, no peeking!” She pushed him away as he tried to see her code. “We’re not at that stage, Fraser.”

“Yet,” he smirked.

Her eyes went to his wide mouth. Shit, focus Beauchamp. You’re not looking at him remember!

Her account popped up with the last movie she viewed. It was the romcom she’d watched after Geneva interrupted their fitting. She quickly tried to navigate to other options. “We could watch something with explosions or..fashion models?” What?! Stop talking!!

Distracted by her mortification, Jamie was able to swipe the remote from Claire’s hand. “No, I’d rather finish this movie ye started…’A Princess for Christmas’? Any good?”  Much to his delight, she started to squirm like a worm on a fishhook.

“I’ve seen that. I don’t know why it says I just started it.” Claire strived for nonchalance as she reached to grab the remote from him.  

Jamie moved the remote to his far hand. She’d have to move closer to retrieve it. Damn him!

“Says it’s a 97% match for yer tastes,” his eyes alight with mischief, “I crashed yer getaway, so it’s only fair we watch something ye like.”

Her eyes narrowed. Two could play at this game. “Fine. Let’s watch it. I watch it every Christmas.” She ignored his chuckle, straightened her shoulders and turned her attention to the screen.

Any doubts Jamie had about Claire’s shrewdness were quickly extinguished because what followed was ninety-one minutes of pure torture.

She pressed play and scooted closer, “I really like this actor. Scottish, actually. In his current show, he works on Mars and falls in love with an alien.”

“What? Sounds daft.”

“It’s very romantic. Ssshh quiet. Don’t you think he’s handsome?” She placed a hand on his thigh.

“Ppft. Him?! He..ye canna find him attractive?”

“Sure, I do. Lots do – women and men. He’s often naked on his new show.” She turned in time to see his lips pressed in a straight line. She moved her hand higher on this thigh.

“Ye said he was a Scot, why’s he speakin like a sassenach? They’re not even in the U.K.” His mood could best be described as sulking.

“Because Americans. Ssshhh! Don’t you like his riding breeches? Well designed..hmm?” She curled into his side.

“Och. His dancin is embarrassing! Ye canna, ye canna..”

“Oh, I can. I definitely can.” She poked his side.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close; his mouth at her temple. “Claire Beauchamp, yer a wicked wee thing.”

She shrugged and snuggled closer, nervousness forgotten.

“Next time it’s rugby, ye ken?”

They watched the rest of the movie in silence. Hands entwining and caressing, lips lightly brushing ears, noses to throats. Slowly, they fell asleep. Jamie awoke to Claire snoring lightly while nestled tightly in his side. He couldn’t wait to tease her about it. He then shifted uncomfortably. It was hot and he had to piss. She had quite the grip in her sleep, but Jamie eventually made it to the bathroom. Upon exiting, he discarded his shirt and decided to grab a lighter weight undershirt from his overnight bag. He stopped when he noticed Claire was awake. She was in the dark, sitting cross legged on the sofa, staring at him. Unlike before her gaze was direct. Undershirt forgotten, he walked into the living room.

He was too bloody fit. As the moonlight danced across his skin, Claire clocked the width of his shoulders, the roped layers of muscle leading to his biceps and down to his forearms. She watched as he sat one hand on his narrow waist. She licked her lips, imagining nipping her way from his taught belly button down to his cock.

Jamie saw her eyes linger on his waistband. He reached for the drawstring of his trousers. He pulled the string, but the trousers remained firmly in place.  He dropped his hand and he heard her sigh in annoyance. He smirked at her pout. In one swift move he yanked off the trousers. He was wearing black boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. His hand hovered in front of his groin as he raised an eyebrow in question. Claire slowly nodded. He brought a hand on top of the fabric and began to massage himself.

Claire stood and tore off the rugby shirt. Standing in only lacy panties, she felt dizzy as her heart pounded and wetness grew between her legs. As Jamie looked her over, she saw herself through her eyes. Strong. Capable. Beautiful.

She closed the distance between them. “We never had our final fitting.” She placed his hand on her breast.

His thumb circled her erect nipple. “Aye. The dress was almost complete, but I needed to make sure it hugged yer hips and arse just right.”  His large hands slid down her sides, pass the flare of her hips and cupped her bottom. She fell forward and opened her mouth onto his collarbone. “Then the top.” He brought his hands to her breasts and then to her neck. “The top had to sit at just the right spot.” He bent and kissed the hollow of her neck. The dizziness returned and she grabbed his arms to steady herself. “Claire, yer the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She snorted and pushed him away. “All those models? Maybe you are going blind.”

He grabbed her chin. “I will never lie to ye. I say  it because it’s true. Aye?”

He waited.

“Yes.” She forced down the tears and reached for his waistband. She pushed down the briefs, his arousal springing free. He stepped from the briefs and she grabbed him two handed and began to stroke. He groaned in her ear as he gripped her hair. She moved a hand to his balls, cupping and fondling the warmth of him.

“Claire.” He stilled her hands. “This I need to hear. This ye must tell tell me.”

Her eyes locked to his, “Jamie, I want you. Please, make love to me. Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

She stepped back and reached for her panties. Jamie quickly slipped his hands underneath hers and kneeled as he pulled them down. He slid a finger inside as he rose. He pulled out slowly and began to circle the wet swollen heat of her. She whimpered and her knees buckled. He caught and lifted her easily, “come, I’ll take care of ye.”

He deposited her on the bed and then was gone. “Jamie?” He returned, smiling,  as he crawled between her legs. He put three condoms on the bedside table and kissed her as she fell against the mattress.

She laughed in his mouth. “I thought you weren’t expecting anything..hmm?” She jabbed his side.

“Och. I wasna, but a man can still hope.”

He took her smiling mouth. Their tongues danced and hands roamed freely. Claire began to move from side to side beneath him, reveling in the feel of his cock trapped on top of her belly.

“Christ Sassenach..” He raked his teeth down her throat.  Claire began to buck against him. He slid down and sucked on a nipple while his other hand squeezed the opposite breast.

Claire raised her knees to prevent him from moving further down her body. “Come here!” She grabbed his head.

“But I want to..” he snaked a hand to her mound.

“Later,” her breath coming short, “right now I need you inside me! Right now!”

He rose up, bit her bottom lip, and reached for the condoms. She looked down her body, legs spread, as he sat back on his heels, cock in hand.  With the condom on, he pushed one of her thighs flat with a hand, he used his knee to spread her other thigh wide. He leaned forward and entered her in one quick movement.

“Ah, Jamie, Jamie,” her arms came to his back. “Oh god.” She bit her own lip as she stretched to accommodate his girth.

“I ken…” he panted in her ear as he began to move within her. This was better than all the fantasies he’d been entertaining about this moment. A Dhia, she was so tight and so slick. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.  

Claire writhed beneath him, meeting each thrust and trying to get closer. “Urg...” She bit his shoulder and grabbed his arse, urging him on. In response, his thrusts became deeper and more powerful. Her whole body was held willing captive to his power. Their bodies slick with sweat, Claire raised up and ran her tongue in his ear.

“Arhh..” he moaned in her shoulder and completed two deep thrusts that hit her cervix.  

“Aaa!”  Claire’s body shook.

“Sorry, sorry.” He grabbed her hips and pushed her entire body further down the bed. He hooked her leg over his hip and continued in a new angle that allowed his complete unfettered penetration.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod….” Claire felt her body coiling in on itself, her release close. She kissed and panted in his mouth. She was so close….

A deep guttural sound exploded from Jamie as he lost himself.  Claire held him as tiny shockwaves flooded his body in the wake of his release. Their bodies flush, she felt his breathing and heart rate begin to normalize. She brushed a sweaty lock from his forehead and kissed him deeply.

“Claire, sorry, I couldna..”

“Ssshh…” she kissed him again.

Still joined, he buried his face in her neck. Slowly she felt him start to move again.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

She thought she was imagining it, but he was definitely becoming aroused again.

He brought his hands to either side of her head, nose touching hers. “Woulda ye mind if we…”

“No, no I wouldn’t mind, but so soon?”

He shrugged helplessly, “I canna help it.”

He pulled out, replaced the condom, and settled behind her. Claire tried to turn around, but his arm came tight around her. “Be still, mo ghraigh, I want to please ye.” She relaxed her back against his chest, spooned on their sides, she felt his breath hot on her neck, “I want ye to burn for me the way I do for ye.” He pushed his hardness against her arse. She whimpered and pushed her hips back and wiggled her arse against him. His tongue flicked her earlobe, “that’s it lass, show me what ye need.” His hand squeezed her breast and then grasped her jaw, pulling her head back over her shoulder to look at him, “I’m yers, but I mean to make ye mine.” He released her face and moved his hand past the swell of her hip and around to the front of her need. She jolted as his fingers made slow circles at her apex. “Hmmm, like this? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes don’t stop,” Claire began to grind against his hand.

He bit her shoulder. She lifted her leg and guided him to her entrance. He thrust forward and filled her completely.

“Jamie, Jamie!”

His hips and fingers began to move in tandem. Heat flooded her entire body. She was surrounded by him, there was no place to hide. Her mind and body balanced on a precipice.

“Let go, lass. Yer mine, come for me. Tha goal agam ort.”

Her body jerked. Her nails dug painfully into his wrist as her body stilled and her contractions began. For 20 seconds her body gripped and released him, again and again. Jamie pushed his hips as far forward as possible to feel the heat of her pulling him deeper. Her body shook slightly as her orgasm began to pass. She sighed in pleasure; spent from the force and emotion of her release.

Jamie needed to see her face. He rolled on top of her, brushing the curls from her face. He thrust home twice and grunted his own release into her mouth, “Claire, oh god, Claire.”

Coming back to awareness he nuzzled at her neck and kissed her jaw. “Open yer eyes.”

She lazily smiled and a sliver of her smoke whisky eyes peeked through. He ran a thumb across her lips and her eyes opened fully. He saw her satisfaction, her submission, her dominance, and her trust and love.

“I love ye, Claire.”

She tried to rise.

He pressed a thumb to her mouth, “hush, I ken. Surprise me with it later, aye?”

She nodded as the tears slid toward her ears. He kissed them away and gathered her into his arms.

She closed her eyes;  sated, soothed, and loved.

[bioticgoddess]

The Captain and the Artist (2/?)

Summary: It’s 2023 and about damn time for Steve Rogers, the retired Captain America, to get a life.

Author’s Note: Like I said last time...nothing about this will be updated regularly. I have two other on-going projects and nothing that resembles a schedule. So like/subscribe and let me know if you want to be tagged in this or any other of my on going/on-hiatus works. 

Enjoy!

2. Coffee and Paint

It had been several months since he’d retired after coming back to 2023. He’d given the shield and title of Captain America to Sam; and now Steve was trying desperately to acclimate to his new role as logistician and administrative leader. How Nat and Tony balanced those two roles in addition to everything they did as “active duty” Avengers escaped him. Natasha in particular, after all, she lacked an AI assistant. 

The change was exhausting but felt right, like he was not only honoring his two lost friends but also making his own path while continuing their work. All the conference calls he’d seen Nat have with the other Avengers filled his days. Even got a taste of Carol’s,and Rhodey’s painful attempts at flirting. The late Russian had once said it was worse than watching him try to do the same with any of the women he was set up with. He’d come to realize she was right. Then there were the mountains of paperwork. Everything from determining which missions and where the terrestrially based personnel were needed to planning morale events. 

The only respites coming when Bucky or Sam dragged him out of his office, often times to ensure the blond either ate something or socialized with people in person. Taryn and Wanda had been enlisted in their efforts on more than one occasion. All the while, Tony’s advice rattled around in his mind. The insistence that Steve enjoy life gnawed at him, growling louder with each passing day. 

So here he was, sitting at one of the outdoor tables of a cafe he’d been to a thousand times before. It was the same one that sat in the shadow of the renovated Avengers’ Tower and New York’s Grand Central station. When they were kids, it had been a sandwich shop where he and Bucky would split roast beef sandwiches too big for either of them to reasonably eat. The kind of sandwiches that they could pack away now without issue thanks to their super soldier serum enhanced physiologies. Over the decades the cafe had expanded from that little corner deli into a proper Cafe and Delicatessen. The sandwiches were still roughly the size of car,  relatively speaking of course. 

“Hey you,” the golden haired waitress’s singsong voice and her bright smile was like sunshine in the heart of a storm; she pulled his attention back from wandering and into the present. “It’s been a while. How are you?” Bridgit was his usual waitress, he’d watch her go out of her way over the years to make sure his table was hers. She always gave him a complementary Madeline with his coffee and carved out time in her shift to talk with him about art and music, or whatever else they could come up with. During the five years after the Snap, he’d only managed to come in twice. The first had been like a donkey kick to his gut when she was nowhere to be seen and hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask after her then. The second visit, a few weeks later, she’d been there. Seeing her alive had been such a relief that he’d actually cried.  

She’d hugged him that day.

Apparently seeing Captain America alive had had the same effect on her. Or maybe not? Bridgit had only called him Captain America once - the first time she ran into him, at an art gallery, following the Chitauri Invasion of 2012. She’d been out with a relative (her grandfather, he remembered) and their conversation was a brief introduction and a thank you. Other than that instance, she always called him by his name. 

Her voice interrupted his thoughts again, “Are you okay Steve?”

“Hmm? Yes, sorry Bridgit, just thinking,” he nodded, noticing his usual coffee order already on the table. “When did you?”

“Saw you come in,” the gentle nonchalance of her tone was inviting and calm. Slipping her order pad into her apron she asked, “How are you holding up?” It was the same question she’d asked him almost four years earlier. The kind smile on her lips was mirrored in her eyes.

“It’s strange; not having Tony and Natasha around anymore but...if not for them we wouldn’t have everyone else back. You and I,” he motioned between them half-heartedly, “Might not be here.” The thought of her turning to ash like so many others had hit him with the same force that slamming into the ice had. Instead of being swallowed into unconsciousness and unintended frozen sleep, a bubble of anxiety welled in his chest. “But we are,” he continued, hoping he didn’t sound as suddenly panicked as he felt. Or that what he’d said wasn’t as rehearsed as it felt. “So we go on only this time I think it’s possible to go on.” 

Furrowing her brow and tilting her head ever so slightly to the left, Bridgit looked at him like she knew he wasn’t being honest. It was the same look he’d seen on Bucky’s oldest sister when the brunet fibbed about why Steve had yet another black eye or what led to their Church clothes being so turn and muddied that their mothers were up until the wee hours cleaning and mending them. He almost laughed, “Give me some time, we’re all still feeling the void they left.” 

“Alright,” eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, she pursed her lips for a moment - this time playfully, “How about your usual and you tell me about your latest project?” she meant the sketchbook sitting by his right hand. He’d forgotten it was there, open to a blank page as he stared off into space.

Broad smile spreading across his face, Steve nodded, “That’s an excellent idea.”

---

It had become routine, again. Several times a week Steve Rogers would collect his sketch pad or whatever book he was reading and trek to the diner. Most of the time he’d barely get in the door before Bridgit had a table ready for him. In this respect he wasn’t unique. He’d watched her give the same courtesy to several other regulars - some she waited on, others her coworkers helped. Invariably, however, she made sure that his table was her responsibility. They talked about food, art, music, and life. 

“You paint,” he asked skeptically one day, his plate scattered with the crumbs of good bread and in-house fried potato chips. It was the kind of jest meant to tease and coax her into sitting. His brow was furrowed and eyes sparkling in the midday light. His own sketchbook open with several charcoal pencils laying out along the inner layer of its spine. The whole thing was a challenge and one that she met with narrowed eyes and the clink of plates as she stacked his empty ones on her tray, the check long since paid. 

Turning abruptly she insisted, “Meet me at the Gallery Art Studio.” He knew it well. The small gallery was several blocks down from the tower and the diner. The artists who exhibited their work there ranged from painters, photographers, and sculptors to those who made daily-use art (pottery, weaving, quilts, etc). Over the course of the three or four story building, the kind of items and art displayed shifted from the daily to the collet/display only variety. It was all beautiful art. 

Grinning despite himself, Steve nodded, “Alright. What time?”

Thoughtfully she placed a finger tip to her pursed lips and looked up at the clouds overhead. They lazily floated past, obscuring the sun for a moment. When their rays reached down to the street and the diner’s outdoor tables, she winked, “Five?” That was three hours away now. 

“Okay, five it is,” he smiled. “So, you going to tell me about what you paint and paint with?” He realized, as those words left his lips, that she had told him little about herself. Yes, he knew she liked art and that she’d grown up in a small midwestern town with her mother, young brothers - two of them, and her grandparents. No, they hadn’t been farmers, working class all around - her grandfather had served in the 101st, same as Bucky and had been at the Hydra base he liberated in World War II. He absolutely thought she was beautiful, her smile a thousand watts and her eyes bright as stars. There was nothing superficial about Brigid but he knew so little about her. None of her likes and dislikes - save that she liked him well enough to idle and talk with him for longer than she probably should and that she like art. She’d had some constructive suggestions for a few of his own drawings. 

Winking at him again, she smiled broadly, and made a point of popping the last syllable in her answer, “Mmmm...Nope.” 

The singsong tone of her voice and the way he golden hair swished, an runaway lock curling as it trailed down her neck from her loose bun, set a warmth in his chest that Steve had forgotten was possible. As he collected his things and slung a knapsack over his shoulder, the first Captain America stealthily he turned his head - under the guise of rubbing his brow and putting on sunglasses - to watch her at the register before heading off.

----

The intervening hours dragged on. He had a meeting with General Ross that just would not end. Even Bucky and Sam were starting to get agitated. Wanda and Taryn had set a notebook between them and were having their own private discussion within its pages. He’d given up making them pay attention months ago, both had enough focus on the meeting to chime in if the topic changed. Sam was still fighting for *the* Shield. Most of the brass wanted Steve to continue carrying it - he’d refused and repeated yet again that it was Sam’s now. 

One of Ross’s associates, a General whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn, suggested - not for the first time, “Why not permit Sergeant Barnes to be the new Captain America?” And just like he had every other time, Bucky sat stiff as a board, turning ghost white at the suggestion. 

This time, however, once the Inhuman put her hand on his, he nodded and refused outright, “No. I don’t want it. Steve gave it to Sam. He’s the only  one of us who can be Captain America. He’s earned it.”

“Miss Lantz,” he addressed her for the first time and the brunette looked up with a scowl on her face. Steve just hoped she remembered their discussion earlier about not cursing out a Four Star General. He might be an ass but he could still make all of their lives miserable. “What do you make of all this? You have been exceedingly quiet given your fraudulent death, involvement with... the Avengers.” They all knew what this short balding man had meant and even General Ross seemed relieved he hadn’t outright said Given your relationship with Sergeant Barnes.  

The hum of biotics filled the room momentarily. This time Bucky squeezed her hand. “Sir, my opinion is that you should honor Captain Rogers’ decision and leave me out of it,” the stiffness in her voice was unnatural. He knew the pair would disappear later to their room or the gym and Bucky would have an anxiety crash. They weren’t as frequent now as Steve understood they’d been in Wakanda but he knew the signs. She, on the other hand, had a routine for taking care of him that the retired Avenger took notes on whenever he could.

God he was jealous. Even now, in a meeting he was supposed to be focused on, a part of his attention noted the little gesture and touches between the pair. The kind of thing he’d seen between Clint with Laura ,the brief affair that was Bruce and Nat, and the way Pepper and Tony had been - even when they were at odds.  He’d swallowed those feelings for years. And it  was the one hole in his life he couldn’t quite fill and he reminded himself silently that he had made the right choice. “You can’t go back, she would kick your ass,” he thought, lost in a day dream that - as they often had the last few years - turned to Bridgit. 

“Captain,” General Ross called, he looked impatiently at the blond. 

Clearing his throat, Steve apologized, “Sorry Mr. Secretary, was thinking about all this and I missed the last bit.”

Sam and Bucky shared a dubious look. Wanda jotted something down in their little notebook and elbowed Taryn. 

Rolling his eyes, the Secretary of State grumbled, “We’ll revisit this discussion next week. Until then, the Shield stays in the Avengers Vault.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was a click and the hologram popped out of existence. “Well that was terrible,” Wanda shook her head. 

“You two have no idea,” Bucky kissed the Inhuman’s temple as she “mhmmed” in agreement with the other woman. Steve couldn’t help wondering if Bridgit might… “You want to go with me?” He’d missed the first part of his best friend’s question.

Blinking he asked, “What?”

“I need to go for a run or to the gym. Starting to feel....penned in...so I need to do something,” he was fidgeting. It was that anxious crash, “Did you want to go with me.” 

Rubbing the back of his head, Steve apologized - his second in fifteen minutes, “I’m sorry Buck. I have some stuff I need to take care of. Rain Check?”

“Yea...um...hey Sam, you in,” he asked sheepishly, blue eyes darting to the Falcon/new Captain America. They’d become closer, though not yet friends, since coming back from The Snap. The fact that Bucky was willing to invite him along, to trust him if the anxious crash turned into something more, was telling in ways Steve hadn’t expected. It made him smile. The team was starting to heal, really and truly. 

Nodding, the other man grinned, “Yea man. Let’s go.” They marched out of the conference room. Sam patting Steve’s shoulder as he passed, “It’ll work out.” It was clear which Super Soldier he was talking to in that moment.

“Yea, I hope so,” he wasn’t talking about getting this new Council to accept Sam as Captain America. He knew that was going to shake out just fine and sooner or later they’d have to accept his choice of successor. Nor was he talking about Bucky - Wakanda and Taryn had and were seeing to that. 

His eyes darted to the clock as both Taryn and Wanda filed out, a few steps behind the other two Avengers. The older brunette had volunteered to send her meeting notes - not the ones with the Sokovian girl - to the Avengers at-large members like Clint and Scott. Wanda was right on her friend’s heels when she turned to Steve suddenly and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, why,” he shrugged, hoping he didn’t look as distracted as he felt.

“You seem...distracted,” her observation was proof enough that his effort had failed.

Yawning he shrugged again, “Tired. It’s been a long few weeks.” It was a lie that he could tell Wanda didn’t entirely believe but he also knew she wouldn’t press him for answers. It was a small favor when she narrowed her eyes at him and turned to finish the walk to the common room. 

She called back, “I’m here when you want to talk about it. We all are.” Then the elevator dinged and any sign of her was gone. 

“Ah shit,” he grumbled, head in his hands. His phone buzzed with the first alert he’d set: “MUSEUM -  BRIDGIT: 30 MIN” flashed across his screen. He needed to get out the door now.  

--

He’d barely gotten there on time, a feat he both applauded and kicked himself for accomplishing. There she was, waving at him with the same bright smile she always wore. She’d changed her clothes from the pink and white button down with it’s white apron that she wore at the diner to a cute sundress. The skirt was splashed with abstract yellow flowers on a white background. She had a cropped, long sleeve yellow cardigan on with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. “Wow,” he mouth reflexively.

“You made it,” she beamed.

Steve felt the butterflies mixed with awe as he walked over to her. It reminded him of the first time he saw Peggy. She’d taken his breath away then. Bridgit was doing that now. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he took her hand and kissed the back of it, like a gentleman. Or at least like his mother had taught him to do before the war. 

His eyes flitted up to her flushed face, her lower lip caught between her teeth. A soft giggle bubbled in her throat and she led him into the gallery. They were there for a specific exhibition, displayed in the building’s top floor. That didn’t stop them from stopping to take in the rest of the art throughout the building.

“Here we are,” Bridgit pronounced when they finally reached the featured exhibit. Her smile broadened as Steve moved a step forward, regarding the pictures. It was a collection of water colors done by two artists, both had signed with small stamps similar to the ones found on Japanese artwork. The difference, however, being that these were made of English initials superimposed in a design clearly inspired by those used in Japan. 

Turning his bright blue eyes from the paintings to her face, he could see her beaming. It was the kind of pride that comes with accomplishment and being around people appreciating what she’d - oh hell. He cursed himself right then and there, attention snapping back to the central picture. It was a watercolor of New York harbor, boats moored around the Statue of Liberty. In the background a pink and purple sunset gave it a somber look, even Lady Liberty herself looked like she was crying. In the panel next to it, the same island only there were fewer boats and what looked like whales. In the third panel it was black behind the statue save for the pastel lines and dots used to impose fireworks into the sky. 

Why hadn’t he figured it out sooner. Studying the red stamp in the corner he could finally make out the laters, all jumbled together: BRT. They stood for Bridgit Rose Tofte -- her full name. The color drained from his face. He’d been admiring her paintings in this gallery for years now. There were a few portraits of the Avengers - it had started with one of himself, of course, from the New York Incident. Then one of Tony, God rest his soul, flying over New York. Then Natasha and Clint caught having coffee. He remembered them all.  

The landscapes were just as pointed,  all showing progression over time. He remembered a piece showing Strawberry Fields, four panels - one in each season - with children and families going through the park. The vibrance of the fall leaves had really caught his eye then. This one,  like all the others was titled in terms of time as well: “1840” - the number of days between the snap and when the world celebrated getting everyone back from The Snap. “Bridgit,” he breathed, turning back to her, “These are yours.”

“Sure are,” she rocked on her heels, the air of innocence around her was intoxicating. “Well, mine and Lizzie’s,” the other waitress at the cafe, she hadn’t worked there in several years, however. 

“You’ve listened to me rave about your art for years,” he was bright red and the sheepish boy from Brooklyn spoke in place of the First Avenger, “I must have sounded like...oh god…”

Looking up at him, Bridgit’s smile broadened, “You were always so complementary and what suggestions you had were helpful.” She pulled him gently around the corner. “This one, was a special request, part of a pair - it’s sister is with the commissioners.”

He furrowed his brow as they moved. What he saw took the Captain aback. It was a grayscale of Tony, his nearly trademark shades on with the Ironman helmet reflected in his lenses. Beneath it, neatly printed on a white placard beneath the number “3000” was the following: “[...] As we remember him? Remember Tony Stark was more than a man, he was Iron Man. His life was a lesson that change can bring out the best in a person. Live as he lived and always - remember. - P. Potts, 2023”. Pepper had asked her to do this? 

The blonde let out a squeak when Steve wrapped his arms around her from behind. She could feel his nose and lips pressed into the crown of her head. Softly he whispered, “Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head almost reflexively. It was simple and had so much more attached to it than he realized in that moment. 

Blushing, she smiled and chewed her lower lip, “You’re welcome.” The shudder that ran up her spine with the light kiss to her hair  made her face redder. That had happened. Captain America - Steve Rogers - had kissed her. Sure it was only her hair but....he did it all the same. 

“What do you say we go get some coffee and you can tell me about how you get some of the views you do on your pictures,” he whispered, failing at sounding as suave as Bucky would have once managed. He could picture the brunet shaking his head, brow level and eyes narrowed. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn the other Super Soldier was there in the Gallery.  “Or we could…” 

His arms had loosened around her and Bridgit turned to face him. Looking up at him, she pressed her hand to his chest, “Coffee sounds like a plan. There’s this place I know.” 

Hands linked they slipped out into the newly dark streets of New York. Steve Rogers smiling a broad goofy smile the whole way. 

--

Post note: Because we all deserve this ray of sunshine right here...

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist: Spy Game - Yukio in Wonderland (part 5)

The fifth (and final!) part of the crackiest crack I’ve ever read in an officially sanctioned book, dragged kicking and screaming into the Anglosphere for your viewing pleasure.

If you thought Yuki(k)o was having a rough time before, just wait till MEPHISTO gets involved...

Previous parts: 1 2 3 4

“You mean it’s…a dream? All of this?”

“Yes, a dream.”

Faced with Yukio’s suspicious gaze, Mephisto nodded dramatically.

“But not the same sort of dream your kind usually have when you sleep at night. This is a dream caused by demons.”

“Demons?” Yukio raised an eyebrow behind his glasses.

“Yes,” Mephisto nodded gleefully. “There’s a type of demon called Húdié, kin of Beelzebub, King of Insects. They look like normal butterflies at first glance, but they have a troublesome taste for trickery…They parasitize humans and give them nightmares, so they can feed off of the victim’s negative emotions—embarrassment, shock, hatred, despair, and so on.”

“You’re telling me these Húdié are parasitizing me?”

Even as Yukio said it, his mind went to the insect sounds he heard when he woke up, and the black butterflies he kept seeing everywhere.

Could those have been—?

 “Well, it’s not as though they’ll take your life. Why not think of this as a rare opportunity to experience—“

“How can I get back to my world right now?”

“My goodness,” Mephisto sighed at Yukio, who was glaring at him without the slightest hint of wanting to listen to what he had to say. “It’s really quite simple. You just need to let them wake up.”

“…” Hearing this, Yukio hesitated a little. Then he started pinching his own cheeks, forcing his eyelids open…anything to give himself the right stimulus.

Mephisto grinned, his eyes narrowing to threads as he did it.

“Um, I’ll ask just in case, Okumura-sensei, but what exactly are you doing?”

“Hm? Well, I was trying to wake up, like you said…” Yukio answered hesitantly. Mephisto immediately burst out laughing. He clutched his stomach and rolled around, paralyzed with hilarity.

“Wha-?!”

“Oh, my apologies. That isn’t what I meant. I meant you need to wake the demons up. Hehehe.”

Yukio looked at Mephisto, who still couldn’t contain his laughter, with an indescribable expression.

Mephisto stopped cackling like a monster and added, “In other words, you need to make the Húdié realize that they won’t get anything out of this. Act as though you don’t see this nightmare as a nightmare—quite the contrary! You love this situation and enjoy it to the fullest. This will deprive the Húdié of their sustenance, forcing them to release you and seek out another host.”

“Enjoy this situation?”

Yukio’s face twitched subconsciously.

There was no way he could do it.

But if he wanted to get out of this ridiculous world, he was going to have to try.

He clenched his teeth and braced himself.

“What…exactly…do I have to do?” he asked, swallowing his self-esteem.

Mephisto had apparently been waiting for this moment. He took a sketchbook out of a desk drawer.

The first page said “SDE5” in massive letters. Yukio raised an eyebrow and asked, “SDE5? What does that stand for? System Director…Enterprises?”

“No, it stands for Song and Dance Exorcists.”

“Come again?”

It’s the name of an upcoming idol group based around a singing, dancing, all-female exorcist unit! ♪ The members are Ren Shima, Ryuko Suguro, Koneko Miwa, Rin Okumura…and you!”

“…”

“The twins are SDE’s biggest draw. Plus, you exorcise demons and can even work with hymns and sutras. Oh, and the producer will be me, Mephisto☆ Looking forward to it!” Mephisto giggled cutely.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse,” came Yukio’s cold, immediate reply.

Mephisto’s response was like a slap to the face. “So I take it you’re prepared to go on living in this dream forever?”

“!!”

“You could always try waiting until the Húdié get their fill, but alas, they can be quite the gluttons and there’s no telling when that will happen. Will you endure this world until then? Can you?”

“…” Yukio was at a loss for words.

It hurt to admit it, but he did want to avoid that outcome. Anything to keep from being taken over by Yukiko…

It’s the only way, he thought, and he made his bitter choice.

“If I join this ‘SDE5’…can you guarantee I’ll be able to escape this place?” he asked, his voice shaking with disgust.

Mephisto nodded and said “Yes,” grinning ear-to-ear.

He casually flipped to the next page of the sketchbook, revealing a most likely handmade illustration of Yukio and the other four wearing cute, positively idol-like outfits. It was creepily well drawn.

“You’ll start as an indie idol group, gather a phenomenal amount of support, and go major. The group will gradually grow from just the five of you to a grand total of forty-nine. As their leader, you’ll keep the members together, sometimes butting heads with them, sometimes crying with them, always strengthening the group’s unity. You’ll bond with your fans at meet and greets, sell CDs of your newest single…and when you finally defeat your twin sister and greatest rival to rise to the top of the popularity polls, you’ll give a tearful thank you speech…and then you should be able to return safely to your world.”

“… By the way…How many days is this going to take?”

“Oh, I’d say about five years?”

“THAT’S TOO LONG!!”

Yukio slammed his fist down on the desk in anger, causing Mephisto to jump back in overdramatic surprise.

“I can’t say I’m impressed by you yelling at a lady like that, Okumura-sensei. Are you sure you’re getting enough calcium in your diet?”

“Urgh…I’m sorry…It was unlike me to lose my temper like that, and…wait, what lady are you talking about?”

“What do you mean? I’m right in front of you.”

“Huh?” Yukio stared wide-eyed at Mephisto, who was sighing wistfully.

“…I’m sorry. You really don’t look any different from usual to me.”

“What are you saying? I’d expect better from you, Okumura-sensei. Of course I’m different. Just look.” Mephisto stroked her own chin.

It was true, the goatee was gone. Yukio started to feel lightheaded.

“So…having no beard makes you a woman?”

“Well, gender doesn’t mean much to demons in the first place. We can take any number of forms just by using different vessels, after all. But enough about me. We should be focusing on your Húdié problem right now, shouldn’t we?”

Yukio was clearly making a weird face, but he answered “Yes” to Mephisto’s sudden sane question. Mephisto set the sketchbook down on the desk and leaned back in the chair lazily.

“So, if we set the SDE5 idea aside for now and try to think of a way for you to more quickly experience the joys of your life as a woman…” she began, smiling with her eyes. Yukio leaned forward with an earnest look on his face.

Mephisto, who was gazing at Yukio in amusement, clapped her hands and said:

“Come work at the luxury hostess club Faust. You can start today!”

“What?!”

“For your stage name…let’s see…we’ll call you Yukkii after your real name Yukiko. You should aim to become the number one cabaret girl there.”

“…”

“I’ll stay by your side to teach you all you need to know about entertaining customers. With your looks you could become number one in three—no, two months. Oh, and when you wake up from the dream only two minutes or so will have passed in your time, so there’s no need to worry. You won’t end up like Rip van Winkle,” Mephisto announced with a smile.

As Yukio stood motionless, rooted to the spot, Mephisto snapped her fingers and held up an SLR camera.

“We’ll just take your cast photos for now. Let’s see…You have such big breasts, we can’t not take advantage of that. How about a shot where you rest your chin on both hands, so that it emphasizes your cleavage?

Yukio instinctively edged away from the camera’s gaze.

Mephisto, on the other hand, stood up from her chair and started edging closer.

“Come now, your expression looks so stiff! Smile, smile!”

“…”

“Hmm…I suppose you are the sort of overly straight-laced, studious type that’s lacking in raw sex appeal. Maybe we should be bold and open up your neckline a little more, go for that gap moe look. …Right, after the headshots we’ll move on to some full-body shots. What do you think of getting down on all fours like a tigress?

“?!”

“Okay, I’m taking it now. Smile, and make it brighter than that! Give me your best smile! Come on! Picture yourself snatching up all that money and recognition from the customers!”

“…N-No…I…”

“Come on, you’re making such an awkward face. Make it cuter, sexier, more devilish! Not like that! We’re not taking a student ID photo here. You’ll never be number one at this rate!

“LIKE ANYONE WOULD EVER EVEN WANT THAT!!”

Yukio finally reached his breaking point. He started shouting—and the world went dark.

He thought he saw the fluttering of that black butterfly, almost lost in the pitch-black darkness…

As he floated through the darkness, Yukio kept thinking, over and over:

I’m done being Yukiko.

I’ve had enough of the world of girls.

Being a boy is what’s right for me.

I want to go back to being a boy as soon as I can…

I miss my male brother and everyone else. I want to go back to my world, the world where I belong.

If I can just go home, I promise…I’ll be manlier than anyone else on the planet.

I’m a man. A man.

“Yuki…Hey, Yuki…Get up already.”

It was his brother’s voice.

It may have sounded like he was yelling from far away, but this time it was definitely his brother’s voice.

“Yuki…Hey…Yuki…”

“Mmmm…” Yukio forced his heavy eyelids open.

The first thing he saw, aside from the bright morning light, was the familiar face of his brother. Not his sister, but his brother.

Is everything back to normal…? But how?

As he asked himself, he came to the conclusion that the Húdié must have finally gotten full off the stress from his final tirade. In a way, you could even say it was all thanks to Mephisto.

“You’re running late, Yukio. We’re supposed to meet up with Suguro and the guys today, remember?”

“Thank goodness…Nii-san, you’re back to—“

Yukio smiled and started to talk, but then he froze.

As it turned out, his brother was completely ripped from the neck down—even a professional bodybuilder would have turned tail and run from him.

 “First we’ll hit the gym, then break for some protein bars, then back to the gym for more strength training, then we���ll get all the protein we need at all-you-can-eat sukiyaki!”

“…”

Yukio boggled vacantly at the muscles of steel wrapped in a martial-arts style white gi (which had the sleeves torn off, for some reason)—at his manly brother.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two Húdié now, fluttering around cheerfully…

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Momo with an s/o who's an artist and eventually she discovers that her s/o has a lot of sketches and possibly a painting or two of her? Like she's basically their muse?

MMMM I love art/artist prompts cuz I do an art sometimes :3 love it. also my first Momo prompt! Hope you enjoy! Also, all pronouns will be they/them since a gender wasn’t mentioned. 

You sat in your dorm room, sketchbook in hand while taking a break from the intense hours of dedicated studying. Aizawa’s tests were always difficult, so studying wasn’t optional; even so, your brain needed a break, and your go-to way of winding down was doodling in your sketchbook. 

A knock at your door made your hand pause over the textured paper. 

“Hello (y/n)! Are you ready for our study date? I brought tea!” Momo’s voice always made your heart flutter. And of course she would bring tea - always so considerate. 

You set your sketchbook down on your bed before getting up to open your dorm room door. Your girlfriend stood there in comfortable clothes and a pile of books under one arm, and two sealed mugs of tea in the other. Leaning in close you gave her a peck on the cheek before she let herself in, cheeks flushed from the affection. 

“You’re always so cute when you blush, Momo,” you said, closing the door behind her. 

“Uhm, ahem!” She coughed in a poor attempt to cover her own embarrassment. “We should get started…what’s this?” Setting the books down on your bed and the mugs down on your desk, the open sketchbook and discarded pencil caught her eye. 

You could feel the heat rising in your skin all the way to your ears. Momo knew that you enjoyed drawing but that particular open page was-

“Is this…me?” Her voice was soft as she gingerly picked up the sketchbook, eyes scanning over the soft pencil lines and eraser marks that made up her own portrait. “You drew me…?” Momo turned around to face you, eyes sparkling, brows knit together in question. 

“Um I’m sorry! It’s probably weird…but I dunno I just really enjoy sketching you? I’ve done it so much I can pretty much do it from memory now…” After realizing what you’d just said your hands flew to your mouth while Momo flipped through the rest of the sketchbook and found one, two, three, four…pages and pages of her own visage staring back at her. 

“Oh (y/n)…I’m so flattered! These are so well done, too…” She should be embarrassed. She should feel flustered. But…she wasn’t? Momo sometimes struggled with second-guessing herself, wondering if she was good enough, if other people around here were far more suited to the intense demands of hero work and constant training. However, this small gesture told Momo that her partner thought she was beautiful, that she was important, that she was on their mind. Tears prickled at the edges of her vision. 

“Eh?! Oh no please don’t cry I’m sorry I won’t-” You were cut off as Momo promptly turned around and kissed you, delicately and softly but with feeling behind it. 

“D-do you…have more? Oh that makes me sound so self-centered…” 

The studying was forgotten and the tea fell cold as you both sat together on the bed, side by side, you revealing the intimacy behind what you saw in her and what your hands recreated in feeble attempt to materialize love from the soft lead of your pencil.

i’m sappy AS SHIT for this type of prompt honestly lol

[maddybunny]

Fiiiine, here: 😁😉😍😘🙂😏😓🤑😧😨😳💔💖💞❣💥👠👑

BRO DASSA LOT!!! ok fine FUCKLE UP

😁 When are you the most happy?

This is a mega general question but I’ll cater my answer to the theme uwu I feel really happy when my fp return my feelings and show me affection and buy me stuff IDK LOL

😉 Do you enjoy life in general?

Boy are u just goin’ down the list or WHAT but ummm I suppose...? It’s alright. Has its ups and ...real bad downs, but I try not to dwell on it. TY meds!

😍 What’s your type?

As if you don’t know omfg. I’m a sucker for the cool, suave types. Sweet, kind heart, mmmm, idk, generally along those lines. I love confidence and someone who can balance me out.

😘 Are you good at flirting?

Why not ask the people I flirt with? ;^) Just kidding, I’m pretty shit.

🙂 Are you good in hiding your real intentions when you have to hide them?

I can be, but not typically. I don’t like to be dishonest!

😏 How smooth are you from 1 to 10?

Like a solid 2 at best

😓 Have you ever had an awkward moment after displaying yandere behaviour?

LMAO OF COURSE? Too many times. My worst I think was when my ex bf saw my sketchbook after a fight and it was uhhhhhhhhhhh fucked up to say the least and then he walked out on me and we never spoke again! :)

🤑 What is the first thing you’d buy if you got a lot of money?

Ahhh maybe a new apartment/condo or put it towards new tattoos I want or use it for trips when I need but overall I’d put most in savings I’d think so it depends on the amount.

😧 What kind of people bore you?

All these answers gonna make me sound like I’ve got the biggest fuckin’ superiority complex but IT’S NOT BIG I PROMISE OMG but I find people boring when they’re really basic, like don’t have any unique interests or their interests are extremely limited to like 1 or 2 things. Uh, people bore me when they think they’re really deep and smart but they just relay basic wisdom or things that are, like, common sense. People also bore me when they’re a mega downer all the time, like I mean ALL the time. It’s draining. I care about you but I’m not your therapist, get some professional help if you feel the need to cry every day to your friends I’m js. (I’m sorry that’s harsh af but it’s real tea and I’m saying this as someone who struggles with their own mental illnesses too!!) It’s okay to confide in your friends and be open with them and stuff but if you literally do nothing but whine whenever you talk to them then you need to work on that, fam

😨 What is your worst fear?

Spiders! I have terrible arachnophobia. I’ve had friends in the past think it’s funny to send spider pictures and shit to me for a laugh but that shit’s not funny. That’s not very yandere-themed though so I guess moreso on that theme my worst fear is really.. rejection, I think. Kinda dumb tbh but I get discouraged veryyyy easily.

😳 What makes you blush?

When people I like flatter me with compliments ;w; despite my pretty low self-esteem I still really appreciate them and feeling the love makes me all warm and fluffy inside.

💔 Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Yes, but only because they broke mine first and I had to do what was right in order to mend my own broken heart. (It wasn’t a petty matter of “you did it first so here’s my revenge” type thing)

💖 Have you ever met another yandere in real life?

I think so? I have met someone that said they love the aesthetic but I’m not sure if they identify with the trope. I have seen and met people that have displayed big dick yandere behaviour though, but :^) Tbh I think it’s best if yanderes avoid other yanderes when it comes to intimate relationships especially.

💞 Are you the type for multiple crushes?

I’m being called out... Yes, I am. Not many, but a few yeah. Nothing that would cause me to make the stupid choice of cheating on my committed partner though. I don’t have multiple partners because my partner and I have agreed to keep our relationship monogamous, but I do certainly feel people are very much capable of loving more than one person romantically as well!

❣ What makes you snap?

Augh this is tricky to answer because my seriously bad snapping involves me going dead silent and becoming extremely cold. I stare at nothingness and my mind feels like a static TV screen and words like “bitter” and “this isn’t fair” ring through my mind and I just prefer to hide away when that happens. That’s kind of moreso dealing with trauma though I think, like, fresh trauma. Outwardly snapping though, uh, when I’m accused of lying that tends to piss me off as honesty is a very important thing to me. There are other smaller things but I can’t really think of them at the moment.

💥 Have you ever been in a fight?

Not a physical one, no. Verbal and online? Quite a few times, mostly all in the past though. I try not to engage in physical fights because I feel like it’s beneath me... and also I’m weak af lbr

👠 Do you like fancy dates?

I do!! I really love to dress up! I feel my best when I look my best, I think. I love all sorts of dates though of course! Most of the time my preference for a date is just watching a movie on the couch and eating hahah

👑 How would you like to be treated?

Like a queen~ or a princess. uwu I’m a diva, I know. I love to be treated like something magical and intoxicating; it makes me high. If I like you? Smother me with affection - in different languages though! (Mostly not physical/sexual tbh!) As egotistical and selfish this answer is, it’s an honest one. Aside from that though, I just want to be treated with compassion and respect like anyone else?

--

You’re nuts for sending me so many smh but also TY it is fun to answer!! ♥ Sorry to anyone who doesn’t give a shiet :^);;