#Can it be a sketch when did it in an hour and a half though?

[masterrainb0w]

The Divine, The First Divine, Rigour

[codnriddlewhore]

Don't do this | a Tom Riddle oneshot

A/N: HII soo this is my first attempt at fics, dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad

k have fun :))

tags: professor tom riddle/professor reader, marriage, angst, horcruxes, sorry if i forget any

wc: 1,584

They've been together, inseparable for 3 years, married for 2 and a half. 

Tom saw her as an equal as much as someone like him could, she entranced his very being. They talked about subjects he was interested in, in a very objective and intelligent way and he was in awe when he realised he found a match, someone that could understand his fascinations and obsessions. She mostly didn't share them but she was open, he could ask her at 2 in the morning which one of the unforgivable 

curses she'd use to get information from someone and she'd genuinely give it some thought. 

Her fascinations lay more in the zoological department, muggle and magical. She spent hours in forests and jungles, the beings holding her attention for hours. Though, like Tom, she found it hard to open up to people and find like-minded individuals not just regarding creatures but life in general. When he asked to come with her on one of her shorter research-trips, she felt her body and sould levitate. Her greatest wish has always been to grow old with someone loving by her side, someone who she'd love back with her whole self.  Is it him? She hoped so and prayed every night.

He felt the same when she asked about his sketches and faveorite books. Tom Riddle, the usually selfish and greedy man, suddenly interested in the eccentric and always joyful zoology professor? He cursed himself for it, a good 5 months before talking to her for the first time. 

Now she is staying at his home in the country, a dark penthouse by the sea. To be specific, it is not as dark now, he found that she brought more light into it than any possible lamp. 

As dreamy as this may sound, but like in every married life, there's always small and petty arguments. Like now, her sitting in bed and reading, not giving him half an ounce of attention while he looked at her from the doorframe. 

He mentioned horcruxes and the sheer idea of immortality a few times, even on the day they met, but she simply laughed it off. Who would want to be soulles? It seemed absurd. 

But yesterday evening, when he explained that he wants to go through with his plan of doing so, she couldn't bare to give him more than a gulp and ignorance. He was being mean.

"Apologise, so we can spend at least the evening as a couple. It's cold to sleep without you in my arms." Tom meant it genuinely, but his tone was rough. He didn't understand her problem.

She simply kept on reading, like he didn't even exist. He groaned in annoyance and that did it. 

"I'm sorry, did my back damage your knife in any way? Do excuse me", he winced and didn't know if it was because of her closing her book shut loudly or her words. Probably the latter. 

"What do you mean?"

She exhaled in confusion. Did he actually not see the problem? 

"Tom. You outright told me that you want to split your soul from your body and divide it into 7 different parts. Oh and that you want to live forever. Do you not understand why I'm upset?"

"I'm going to be honest, no, I don't. I find you're being ridiculous, this is a marvelous discovery. "

"Well it is, which on the other hand doesn't mean you have to partake in it!" she says as she sits up straighter in the bed. 

He sees that and mirrors her reaction, standong up straight and putting his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. 

"Why not? It would help me be more focused on my work and goals and I wouldn't be occupied with unnecessary matters."

"Like me?" His wife didn't know if she regretted saying that, but it came out in the same second he ended his sentence.

Quiet.

"Don't do this. Of course not like you, you matter a huge deal. This would benefit me in every part of my life, I'd be the most powerful wozard that ever lived. There's been noone else more powerful than Death in the history of wizardry and it could be your husband, how are you not the least bit proud?"

"Proud!? You want me to be proud!? What else should I do, throw you a party and congratulate you on a life of pure damnation!?"

She was now standing approximately 1 horizontal man away from him, on a good way to become furious. 

"Damnation? I hope you mean admiration and being seen with respect, fear and devotion for the rest of time."

"Tommy?" She only called him that when she felt truly helpless or frustrated.

"Yes darling?"

Her voice went almost inaudible, "Where am I in that wonderful way of living you so dream of?"

"By my side." He was sure of that and knew he needed her in this. She'd be his queen in the whole thing.

She breaks into a series of scoffs, some distrustful and some humorous, she found the situation quite absurb. What were they even discussing? 

"I'll age! I'll age and be old and grey and wrinkly and youll still be thirty! It'll look ridiculous."

Was it embarrassing he hadn't thought of that? 

"There's plenty of spells to slow down aging." Stupid Riddle.

"Great Havens. If we put that aside, what about your soul? You'll be a shell of the man you truly are. How do you explain that?"

"What? Thats foolish, I'll be myself!"

"You'll be a soulless man! Only goal driven and shutting out everything else! We'll never again talk about life and the universe late at night, you'll never again appreciate me making you tea when you forget the time in your study and we'll never joke about the future and raising an army of baby wizards who we'll name after the imaginary friends we had as children. We'll never go to the city again and you'll never pick out a flower I adore and buy it behind my back to surprise me later although I'd always catch you and we'll never buy cheesy and ironic books for each other in that beautiful old book store we love. Now call me crazy and soft, but I happen to cherish these things."

It was hard to look him in the eyes during saying all that, but she needed to get her point across. She also despised herself for tearing up at this very moment, walking towards him with a pointed finger.

"Tommy, I swore to support and love you in everything you do, but- but taking the soul of the man I love from me-", she hesitated, wanting to stop her voice from breaking and breath from hitching.

He gulped. This was unfair.

"Don't do this."

"-taking that; now that's too much for me. I can't stand behind that."

"You're being cruel."

"I'm not the only one."

That stung, it stung them both at the same time. In the end, they were both just people. She was now standing very few inches infront of him, pointing at his chest, barely holding herself together. 

"You know what? Do it. I wont stop you or hold you back. That was never my goal."

"I don't understand. Forst you can't stand behind it then you say go ahead."

"If this makes you happy, what I truly doubt, you'll do it without me."

That made his dinner almost come up slightly, it was never an option. 

"You can't just leave now, you know I love you. Do you not love me anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?", he knew it spounded mean but he hoped to get the point across, he was genuinely wondering.

"Oh don't twist this. I'll always love you with every part of me, body, soul, mind and all, as long as I live, that's why I can't-

that's why I can't watch you do this..."

"So what are you going to do? Just leave? You know you can't do that." He didn't quite believe that she would. Was it cowardly to start a fight rather than comfort her or express his own feelings? He'd have to look into that.

She breathed in, deeper than ever before. It was important that she stays collected now.

"Fine. I'll leave when you do it. That way you wont miss me."

Tom Riddle never got dizzy, he was too aware of his surroundings for that. Yet, now he was holding  onto the doorframe next to him with such strength, that his knuckles turned paper white. He was also afraid to touch her, even breath in her direction, because she might fully disappear already.

"You can't...you can't be serious..." It was more of a whispered plea than a threat. 

She on the other hand, felt that she needed to touch him or else this stupid boat of too many emotions for both of them would sink to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. His cold cheeks warmed at the touch of her palms. In that very moment he also exhaled briefly, still finding deep-rooted comfort in her, even at this time. Her eyes filled with tears, to the brim this time and she ignored them, it was no time to sob now. Her right hand caressed his hair; like it was any other moment they shared before.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I really wanted us to get grey and wrinkly together."

to be continued...

[leah-lover]

Sketches. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Summary: what happens when Ingrid and mapi discover the sketches r drew of them.

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

Doom scrolling on your phone after practice was your favorite activity of the day. You would come home exhausted, throw your kitbag in the hallway, and cocoon in your coach for about an hour.

Today was no different. You got home and did the same thing. You opened TikTok, and scrolled half mindedly. One video though grabbed your attention. It was a tik tok from the official page of Barcelona where your teammates were asked to describe you in a few words.

Cata was the first to answer and she did so by describing you as quiet. It was fair you didn't talk much if at all. It's not that you weren't comfortable enough with the team, you were just a quiet person. Irene was next and she called you kind which put a smile on your face. All your teammates called you different versions of sweet, kind, funny, quiet, and shy. You found their words endearing and it almost brought you to tears. This reaction quickly went away after you heard what mapi described you. “ Talented artist.” your face turned white and your heartbeat was accelerating. Her answer was followed by Ingrid who described you as an “ impressive painter.”

You dropped your phone quickly. “ No it can't be. No no no no. Fuck!!” You got up from the couch and tried to keep yourself busy. You put away your kit bag, did laundry , cleaned the house surprisingly thoroughly. You even meal prepped. all of this so that you wouldn't think about that video, their response, and what most likely saw.

Your alarm found you awake for the first time since the champion’s league final which spoke greatly to the anxiety you were experiencing. The thought of being face to face with them knowing that they know your secret terrified you but had to go to training so you did, and your mission was to get through the day without making contact with them because if you did you would either cry or throw up and that wasn't an option.

“ Nena what's wrong?” Asked Alexia at the meeting room.

“ Nothing capi everything is good.” You say trying to contain your tears. That's when she held your hand and redirected her focus to the coach. She rubbed her thumb across your knuckles once in a while. Once the meeting was over she pulled you gently out of the room and to a different room.

“ We are not getting out of this room until you tell me what is wrong.” Alexia looked so gentle, caring and a little bit worried. But you couldn't tell her what was wrong.

“ Nena I love you and I care about you deeply. Your anxiety is clearly through the roof. Just let me help you. We decided that you would let me help, remember.” She put her hand on your shoulder and desperately waited for an answer.

Alexia was like a big sister to you. She helped you survive your time in Barca but your issue right now was within the team not the pressure or the limelight and you know there was nothing to fix it.

“ I want a transfer. I want to leave Barcelona. I want to leave. “ You close your eyes so that you won't cry.

“ It's okay pequena everything is gonna be okay. I can fix this, whatever this is I can fix it. Trust me.” She pulled you in for a hug. Your anxiety was through the roof and the voices in your head were screaming vile and scary things at you.

“ I want to leave ale. I am serious.” You try to say sturnely.

“ You are one of your best strikers. We need you now more than ever if we want to quadruple again. And we do so you are staying.” She just held you as you cried some more.

Once you calmed down you apologized to Alexia. “ I guess you aren't gonna tell me right?” she asked again.

“ It's just about a stupid video.” You tried to stop the words as they were coming out of your mouth but it was too late.

“What video?” She asked suspiciously.

“ A video posted by the Barca page. It's nothing to worry about. Sorry capi, I didn't mean to freak out.”

“ It's fine Nena if you don't feel like training you can go home. “ She proposed after realizing you won't say anything.

“ Yeah I think that is a good idea.” You went to the locker room, grabbed your bag and left. Alexia then pulled out her phone and searched for the video you were talking about. She watched it 3 times and her teamates’s answers seemed fine, but she got suspicious of mapi and Ingrid's answers so she went to talk to them.

“ Maria, Ingrid, I need to talk to you.” Demanded the captain. They complied and waited for her at the side of the pitch.

“ Where is Nena?” Asked mapi.

“ That's what I am here to talk to you about. She went home now. I just managed to calm her down but she isn't okay. She was crying and she said she wanted a transfer from this team. She also said something about a video the social media team posted. I didn't understand anything.” Mapi and Ingrid gave one another a look they both understood. They knew what troubled you and they felt bad for it.

“ Don't worry about it ale. We will make things right, I promise you.” Said Ingrid.

“So you did something wrong. You hurt her somehow” Alexia started to frown with anger.

“ Ale calm down, I will tell you everything just not now. Everything will be alright tomorrow.”

“Well it better fucking be or you will answer to me.” added the captain before leaving.

When you arrived home your head was pounding because of the crying so you headed straight to your bedroom, got under the covers and slept almost immediately, too tired to do anything else. You only woke up when your phone was buzzing under your pillow.

“ Hola” you answered without checking who is calling.

“ Hola Nena, I need you to open the door. We are standing outside.” Said a familiar voice.

You put your phone to the side and went straight to your door not realizing what you were doing.

Once you opened the door, your eyes opened wide, surprised at who was at your door. You stood there like a statue trying desperately to calm the voices in your head.

“Nena , please let us in, we need to talk to you.” said ingrid in the gentlest voice you ever heard.

You couldn't kick them out so you stepped aside and let them get in. By the time you got to the living room your heart was beating very fast, each breath was harder and harder and the walls around you started to close in on you. Mapi was the first one to notice so she came running towards you. She took your hand, guided you to the couch and started to construct you to take deep breaths.

“ I am gonna leave. Transfer window is in 2 weeks so the coach has enough time to secure a deal with a new team. Even if they dont we can fake an injury for the media and I can just stay home until the summer where we can look again for another deal. You don't have to worry about anything. I won't cause any problems i swear. . ” you say once you get your breath back.

“ nena why do you think anybody wants you to leave?” askes ingrid.

“ I know you think I am a creep, I understand that. I don't want to cause any problems within the team so I am leaving.” you try to say as calmly as you can.

“ nena we don't think you are creepy.” replied mapi. You look at them with confusion. What if you understood everything all wrong? what if you had jumped to false confusion? What if this was all a misunderstanding from you part?

“ You said in that video that I draw really well. I never showed you any of my drawings so that means that you saw them.” you try to piece everything together.

They both look at eachother hesitantly before ingrid starts talking.

“ The other day in the locker room you wanted to talk to the physio and left your ipad open, that's when I saw a drawing of myself and I zoomed out to see the full picture. I then accidentally swiped and saw that you drew a few portraits of me and mapi separately and together.” you knew that they saw the portraits, but hearing the words come out of ingrid’s mouth made the situation much worse for you. Those drawings were something sacred and intimate to you. You expressed your every thought through them. They were your safe space and they gave solace. But now they have changed into a nightmare that would force you to leave your favorite place in the world.

“ Did you see all of them?” your voice seemed to have shrunk and as you ask the question staring at the floor.

“ yes but we don't think it's creepy. We think it's beautiful that you drew us.” mapi didn't know what to say. She was afraid that she said the wrong thing and made the situation worse.

“ mapi you saw 79 portraits of you and your girlfriend on my ipad. Very detailed portraits of the two of you that I drew when I was near you in the meeting room or training or the dinner hall or even my own bedroom and you don't think that that’s a little bit sick.” you ask the question sarcastically.

“ No we don't. look we didn't come here to fight with you or reprimand you we….” you didn't let ingrid finish her sentence, you instead got up, grabbed your ipad and displayed the portraits for them.

“ You seriously don't think this portrait is creepy.” you show them a portrait you drew of them kissing. You weren't thinking of how embarrassing this moment was, you were trying to convince yourself that they hate you because it was better than the alternative. “ Look, I hate myself for this more than you could ever hate me. That's why I want to leave. I am not going to make you feel uncomfortable anymore. “

“ can you please just shut up for a moment. We don't hate you, we don't find you creepy, we liked what we saw, and we think you are very talented. Please don't turn this into something it's not. And please don't ask for a transfer.” mapi didn't mean for her words to come out like that but she couldn't stand seeing the hurt on your face.

“ Look what Maria means to say is that it's all good with us. You don't have to worry about anything and that we are sorry we brought it up in the first place.” ingrid then extended her arms and offered you a hug which you took. You hugged her and mapi again as they left your apartment. Once you found yourself alone in your house again you grabbed your ipad and smashed it to the ground cracking the screen. You left it there on the ground and went straight to bed.

While you slept soundly the couple were the ones that would stay awake late at night.

' you shouldn't have said it like that maria.’ reprimanded ingrid.

“ What did you want me to do? I couldn't just sit there and let her insult herself.” defended mapi.

“ I don't think we handled it right. We should have talked to her more.”

“ you have seen her when she closes herself off. You can't break through when she does that. Once she convinced herself with something you can't undo it. And now she convinced herself that we hate her which isn't true.”

“ We have to find a way to convince her otherwise. She can't leave.”

“ she won't, amor.”

The next day was travel day and you were the first on that bus. You sat in the front, put on your head phones and closed your eyes. The team knew from alexia not to bother you and alexia was informed by ingrid and mapi to let them handle your situation.

You didn't hear anybody get on the bus, you only realized what was happening when the bus started moving. You weren't bothered for the first 20 minutes of the ride but that didn't last long because somebody snatched an airpod from your ear.

“ No iPad today?” asked a smiling mapi who sat next to you . Ingrid sat in front of you.

“ No, I gave that up.”

“ It's a shame you were very good at it.” she responded.

“ Since when did you start drawing?” asked ingrid.

“ since I was a kid. My therapist used to encourage me to do it because I wasn't so good at expressing what i am feeling.”

“ and these drawings help you express your feelings?” you knew what ingrid was getting to and you didn't want to go there so you went for your phone to try and increase the volume of the airpod left in your ear but ingrid’s hand got to it first.

“ Yesterday we were scared that we would say the wrong thing. But today I would rather say the wrong thing than lose you nena.” what ingrid said shocked you.

“ So you were saying that drawing helps you express things right?” continues mapi.

“ yeah. I am not very good at words. I never was so I drew all the words I couldn't say. “

“ Do you have your ipad with you?” asked ingrid.

“ No, I don't have an ipad anymore i smashed it yesterday.”

“ why?”

“ because….” you were quickly interrupted by mapi “ don't you dare say it's creepy.”

A staff member interrupts your conversation by putting an envelope on the table.

“ room 1209, 3 beds like you asked.” she said looking at mapi.

“ What did you do?” you ask confused.

“ I am making sure you are not leaving.”

The bus stopped so you couldn't continue the conversation. You weren't left any room to protest the decision that was made for you as the couple were more stubborn than you are.

Once you got in the room you were hit with the reality that you were going to have to sleep in the same room as them.

“ mapi i can't stay here.”

“ why not?”

“ You know the reason why.”

“ No we dont.” said ingrid.

“ Please don't make me go through this. I promise I won't leave, just please don't make me.”

“ I don't understand why you are so upset right now. We are just going to share a room.

The couple knew that playing dumb would anger you enough that you would start talking. The melancholic look on their faces hit the nail on the head.

“ i cant be here because of the same reason i drew those fucking drawing.. I tried to get you out of my head by drawing you and fantasizing about you but i can't stay stop whatever i am feeling from coming out when i'm sleeping and you are cuddling next to me.”

“ Why would that bother you?” they continued to play on your built up anger.

“ It bothers me because I want to be in the middle of you. I want to be with you. That's why I drew you, that's why I fantasize about it and that's why I can't sleep here.” you weren't realizing what you were saying not until you said it and it hit you like a truck.

Suddenly , you see the couple moving two beds together, taking off their shoes, and laying on the bed. Ingrid then taps on the space between them calling you over.

“ you gotta be fucking kidding me?” you say.

“ We knew what you felt the day we saw you drawing but we thought we were just reaching or projecting our feelings towards you. Since yesterday we were trying to get you to admit your feelings so that we would do too but you kept on insulting yourself which was nice by the way so we resulted in playing dumb which clearly worked. “ said mapi.

“ We care about you, we don't want to lose you. We don't have to figure out everything right now so just come and lay with us please. “ added ingrid.

You were moving on autopilot when you took off your shoes and layed in the middle of the bed between them . you stared at ingrid’s eyes for long time before you moved or spoke.

“ Your eyes are so beautiful I could never capture them in a drawing.” you then look over at mapi “ and you smile i don't think i have never seen it up close. This is too much.” you try to get up but they stop you.

“ We don't have to do anything right now.” mapi handed you a notebook and a pen.

“ Why don't you draw this moment now.” you take the pen and the biggest smile spreads on your face as you get up, look at them, and start drawing as they admired you.

[bluebeads-art]

2024 October 30th

A friend introduced me to the game Ghost Town Pumpkin Festival (by adamgryu on itch.io) and I was so thoroughly charmed by it that I dropped everything to plan out a carving. Pumpkin carving is very serious business after all. :]

I really didn't expect it to come out this well! The carving in that game is a technical marvel but it is uhhhh fussy. And not very precise. And while you get an undo button, there's no eraser or means to sketch!

I descended into madness a lil' bit on Siffrin, but they're recognizable! Success!! RIP to his eyebrow and silver pins though. The mental gymnastics required for his eye/hair and hand did collateral damage to them. Loop's hand also took me like 6 tries lmfao.

Bonus stuff under the cut!

Ghost selfie ghost selfie!

If 2024's server is still up while you're reading this and you want to see my pumpkin for yourself, have directions!

Go to the Forgotten World alternate universe, turn right from the spawn point, and hang right following the road. You should see a big arch sign for "Dusty Fields." Follow the road under it, and my pumpkin is on the left near the red barn!

Time taken on the digital art part was 4 hours and 7 minutes. Loop took half the time Siffrin did, they were MADE for the polygon lasso tool. No clue how long I spent head-in-hands-ing on the carving part, haha.

Bonus WIP lore! I did a little test to get a feel for the restrictions of carving before I started drawing, and behold their magnificence:

Can you see why I was surprised the final pumpkin came out good? I had "Expectation VS Reality" jokes ready to go, but they were unnecessary. 😂

Lastly, have Light Mode Goofy Loop because they killed me when I flipped the lights on. They are SO crusty <3

[livebeforeyoulearn]

Touch You Softly - Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: You have a knack for leaving without saying another word.

-

You live in a maze of your own design, a tangled, endless place where the paths are formed from the opposing desires that hold you captive. You’re caught between the pull of wanting her – the stranger with the soft eyes and intoxicating lips – and the stubborn need to remain alone, untouched, and unbound. You crave the freedom of solitude, a life without judgement, where you can exist without shame, and yet, her memory has become the one thread that tangles everything up. You miss the simplicity of your old life, the predictable rhythm that was your constant companion, the song and dance that never changed. You knew every beat, every step, and there was comfort in that. But now, she’s here, invading your mind like an unwanted guest, making you question what you thought you knew about yourself. 

It’s as if meeting her has rewired something inside of you. You don’t even know her name, and yet you can’t stop thinking about her. The kiss you shared on the beach plays on a loop in your head, endlessly replaying that fleeting moment where her lips were on yours. You can still feel it – the softness, the warmth, the electric thrill that coursed through you. You know you’d do it again. If you saw her again, you wouldn’t hesitate; you’d kiss her just as fiercely as you did that night, letting yourself get lost in the taste of her, letting her pull you under like a tide that’s too strong to resist. You’ve kissed people before, strangers whose names you never cared to learn, whose faces have long since faded from your memory, but none of them ever lingered like this. 

You find yourself at the beach again, drawn there like a moth to a flame, even though the sky is heavy with clouds, the threat of rain looming overhead. The air is thick with the smell of salt and storm, and the wind whips at your skin. But you don’t care. This is the only thing that seems to quiet the noise in your head, the endless spiral of thoughts that keep you awake at night. You walk along the shore, letting the cold, damp sand cling to your feet with every step, searching for that spot – the place where the two of you had been together. It feels like retracing the steps of a dream, something half-remembered and hazy, but you find it eventually, that stretch of sand where the memory of her feels the strongest.

You crouch down, pressing your fingertips into the cool grit of the sand. Slowly, you begin to trace her outline, drawing her figure with careful, deliberate strokes as if you could bring her back with the simple act of sketching her into existence. It’s a crude outline, nothing more than a shadow of her, but it’s all you have. You know it’s pathetic – lying on a beach, tracing a memory of a stranger you barely know, just to feel close to her – but there’s no one here to see, no one to mock you for it.

When you’re finished, you lie down beside the figure in the sand, stretching out on the cold, rough ground. You close your eyes, letting the sounds of the sea wash over you, and try to imagine what it would be like if she were really there. You see her beside you, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her hair spread out like a halo against the pale sand. You imagine the way she looked at you that night, her eyes wide and curious, the way she laughed, soft and low, like a secret meant only for you. You picture the way her fingers brushed your skin, leaving trails of warmth wherever she touched, and the way she gripped your wrist as if she needed to hold on to something solid, something real.

You let your mind wander, dreaming about how that night could have gone if you hadn’t walked away. You see the two of you lying under the stars, talking about anything and everything, sharing pieces of yourselves that you’d never given to anyone else. You imagine the hours stretching on, the sky slowly lightening as dawn approached, and neither of you wanting to leave. You picture moving from the beach to somewhere more secluded, where you could lie in the sun, feel its warmth on your skin, away from the prying eyes of the world. You imagine days spent in each other’s company, becoming inseparable, but it’s all just a fantasy – a sweet, painful dream.

You remember her softness – her voice, her lips, the way she touched you like you were something fragile and precious. You remember the way she let you trace her features with your fingers, memorising the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips, burning the image of her into your mind. You see her every time you close your eyes, her face tilted up towards you, her expression open and unguarded, and it haunts you. 

You think about how she was willing to go further that night, to let you in, to share more of herself, and you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d let her. But you didn’t. You walked away because you’ve always been cynical when it comes to love. You’ve built up walls around yourself, convinced that it’s easier to keep people out than to let them in and risk the pain of disappointment. And now, lying here on the sand, you curse yourself for it. 

You reach out, your hand hovering over the outline you’ve drawn, and you press your palm against the rough sand where her stomach would be. You close your eyes, imagining the feel of her skin under your touch – warm and smooth, rising and falling with every breath. You want to know what it’s like to really touch her, to feel the softness of her, the strength hidden beneath. You ache with the wanting of it, a deep, hollow yearning.

After what feels like hours spent in a haze of longing, lost in the rhythm of the waves and the memory of her touch, you open your eyes, expecting to see only the grey sky and the empty beach stretching out before you. But she’s there, sitting beside you with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them protectively, as if bracing herself against the cold wind whipping across the shore. Her hair, a wild tangle of strands, dances in the harsh gusts, and her eyes squint against the sand that’s swirling in the air.

For a moment, you freeze. Is she really there, or is this some cruel delusion – your mind, twisted and cynical, conjuring her up just to deceive you? You can’t be sure. The wind, the isolation, the intensity of your longing – it all feels surreal, like you’ve manifested her out of sheer desperation. You want to reach out, to touch her arm, her face, something, anything, just to confirm that she’s real. But you don’t. That would cross a boundary, wouldn’t it? Instead, your fingers dig into the sand, gripping it as if the coarse grains could somehow ground you back into reality. You need to know what’s real.

You’re staring at her, trying to make sense of the impossible sight before you, and her head turns, just slightly, enough for her eyes to meet yours. There’s no doubt – those eyes, deep and familiar, are unmistakably hers. This is not a hallucination or some trick of your mind. She’s real, sitting right there, as if she’d been waiting all along.  

"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice blunt, the words slipping out before you can really think about them. There’s no softness in your tone, no greeting, no warmth. It’s more a question for yourself, because how do you process the sight of her sitting there so casually beside you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world? It’s as though you wished her into being, and now you have to deal with the consequences of it.

She doesn’t flinch at your question. “I came back for the same reason you have,” she says simply, her voice steady, calm. You remain still, your body pressed into the cold sand, your mind spinning. 

"You don’t know why I’m here," you reply, though the words come out quieter than you intend, almost too soft for the wind to carry. You’re afraid to speak too loudly, as if raising your voice would shatter whatever fragile reality you’ve stumbled into. There’s an odd emptiness in this exchange, a lack of the heated emotion you thought you’d feel. It’s detached, almost clinical, and you don’t know if that makes you relieved or disappointed. Is this what you wanted?

“I do,” she replies, turning her head fully to look at the figure you’ve drawn in the sand. Her gaze lingers on the outline, tracing its imperfect shape, and then she points to it with a delicate hand. “Why do you still come back here and think of me if you’re the one who left without saying anything? If you stayed, it would’ve been a lot easier than thinking so much.” Her voice isn’t accusing; it’s contemplative, a rhetorical question that doesn’t demand an answer but lays bare the truth between you. It’s almost as if she’s musing aloud, trying to understand the quiet tragedy of your connection.

You sit up, the coolness of the sand seeping into your palms as you cross your legs and settle beside her. You look out at the sea, the swell of the waves crashing in the distance, and you shrug. What could you possibly say to that? She’s right, after all. But it doesn’t make the truth any easier to admit. 

“I don’t like meeting new people and having to go through the process of trusting them,” you finally say, the words coming out more intimate than you expected. It feels strange, vulnerable, saying it out loud to her. “Staying would’ve meant I had to have some sort of trust in you.” 

She hums softly, the sound carried away by the wind, and it’s almost like she understands. You don’t know how or why, but there’s no judgement in her expression, only a quiet acceptance of the tangled mess of your confession. “You trust me enough to tell me that,” she says, side-glancing at you briefly. “It’s a start.” 

Her eyes return to the sea, but you keep your gaze on her, studying the way her hair is pushed back by the wind, exposing the curve of her jaw, her lips – those same lips you kissed under the stars – are caught between her teeth, and there’s something undeniably attractive about it. You’re not sure she even realises how it affects you. You can see her chest rise and fall as she inhales deeply, her eyes still focused on the distant horizon. Then she turns her head, her gaze locking onto yours, and you feel your breath catch. Her eyes search your face, taking in every detail, and you know she sees the way your own eyes are drawn to her lips, how you can’t seem to look away.

“Will you tell me your name now?” she asks, her voice gentle, almost hopeful. She waits, her eyes searching yours for an answer, but you can’t bring yourself to give it. The silence stretches between you and when you don’t answer, she offers something instead – an olive branch. “My name is Alexia.”

You watch her as she writes the letters in the sand, each stroke deliberate, as if she’s making sure you’ll remember. Alexia. Finally, you have a name for the face that’s been haunting your thoughts. A small smile pulls at your lips as you watch her, and then, almost without thinking, you reach down and trace the first initial of your name beside hers.

Her eyes linger on the letter you’ve drawn, running over it again and again, as if she’s trying to coax the rest out of you with just a look. She glances up at you, her expression softening into something almost pleading for you to finish. But you don’t. Instead, you watch her as she sighs and begins to trace your initial over and over in the sand, repeating it like a mantra. There’s something oddly soothing about the sight, and you find yourself smiling again.

“It’s just a name,” she says, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Why won’t you tell me?”

But it’s not just a name. It’s your name. And giving it to her would mean taking a step forward, into a future you’re not sure you’re ready for. It would mean opening up, letting her in, and that thought still terrifies you.

“I will tell you everything one day, Alexia,” you promise, your voice steady. She looks at you then, her eyes sweeping over your face, searching for any hint of deception. But there’s nothing hidden, nothing masked. 

“I know,” she says softly, and there’s a certainty in her voice that leaves you wondering how she can be so sure. But before you can question it, she’s leaning in, her breath warm against your lips, and your eyes flutter shut as her mouth meets yours. For a moment, it’s still, gentle, before she deepens it, and you sigh into her mouth, feeling the familiar rush of desire flood through you. She tastes like salt and rain, and it’s everything you’ve wanted, everything you’ve been longing for, and nothing else matters. Your fingers lift, almost instinctively, to find the curve of her jaw, feeling the smoothness of her skin under your fingertips.

There’s something deeply intimate in the way she kisses you, like she’s pouring herself into the moment, into you, and you feel it echo back in the way your body responds. You can sense how much she wants this – it’s palpable in the way her lips press a little harder, the way her body leans into yours, craving more. 

You push her hair back when it falls between you, your fingers lingering as you thread through the soft strands. She smiles against your lips, and you do too, laughter bubbling up despite the heat between you both. You find yourself laughing together, breaking the kiss. It’s a joy you hadn’t expected to feel, a lightness that fills the space where doubt usually lives. 

Then she shifts, her hands moving to your shoulders, and with a gentle nudge, she pushes you back. At first, you’re startled, eyes widening as the realisation of what’s happening settles in. She’s guiding you down, her hands steady on your shoulders, until your back presses against the ground. It’s unexpected, and your lips part in surprise, a soft gasp escaping as she hovers above you. Her smile never falters – it’s still there, bright and inviting, as if she’s already sure of the path you���re now on.

You feel the weight of her body just above yours, her presence surrounding you in a way that makes you hyperaware of everything. Your pulse races, heart hammering in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. Her lips find yours again, cutting through the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. Her kiss is deep and slow, drawing out every sensation until you’re dizzy with it. Her hands move with purpose, tracing the line of your neck, her fingers brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, before travelling down your arms. 

You miss the control, the touch you once had over her. You remember that night, the one where your hands were the ones exploring her skin, dictating the pace, leading the way. But now, it’s her – her touch, her hands, her guidance – and it’s unsettling. You’re not used to letting go like this, to surrendering yourself to someone else’s touch. It’s unfamiliar, almost disorienting, and you can’t decide if you want her to continue or if you need to stop her. But even as those thoughts creep in, she pulls away just enough, her breath warm on your lips as her gaze locks with yours.

“Come back to Barcelona with me,” she whispers, her voice low, intimate. The question lingers between you, as heavy as the space she’s created by pulling away, her breath still mingling with yours. 

Your eyes blink slowly, trying to process the words, “Barcelona?” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. You blink again, your mind struggling to catch up to the weight of the moment. “You’re from Barcelona?”

She giggles softly, and the sound vibrates through you, her eyes twinkling with something light and playful. “Yes,” she says, her smile widening just a little. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow, I promise. Just come with me for the night.”

You stare up at her, a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind, none of them quite making sense. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, the way her eyes seem to see right through all the walls you’ve carefully built, that tugs at you. You know you should say no, you should keep your distance, maintain the space that keeps you safe from feeling too much. But there’s something different about this. Something about her.

Her hand reaches out, fingers tracing lightly over your cheek. It’s such a simple gesture, but it pulls at something deep inside you. Something that makes you want to let go, to stop fighting what’s right in front of you. You don’t say anything. Instead, you nod. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but she notices, her smile softening in a way that makes your heart clench.

She stands, pulling you gently to your feet with her, her hands brushing the sand from your clothes in an almost absent-minded way. Her touch lingers on your arms, her fingers tracing patterns that feel far too intimate for how little you’ve known her. You look at her, really look at her, and there’s a contentment in her expression that makes you wonder how she can be so sure of this, so sure of you.

Your heart beats faster as she takes your hand, leading you towards her car. You follow without hesitation, despite the warning signals flashing in the back of your mind. 

The night you share with her is wrapped in intimacy, each touch more deliberate, more meaningful than the last. Alexia moves with a quiet tenderness, her fingers ghosting over your skin like she’s memorising every curve, every shiver she elicits. There’s an implicit understanding between you – this moment is fleeting, but for now, it's all that exists. Her lips find yours, slow and intentional, drawing you into her with each soft press, each lingering kiss. Her hands follow, tracing the lines of your body in a way that feels reverent, almost worshipful. It’s overwhelming, how fully you surrender to her touch, how deeply she seems to care for you in the quiet of this room, even though she still doesn’t know your name.

When it’s over, when you’re both left breathless, she pulls you against her. The warmth of her body seeps into yours, and you can feel her heartbeat slow beneath your cheek, her breath evening out as exhaustion begins to pull her under. Her fingers don’t stop moving, drawing lazy circles on your back, grounding you in the present. But it’s more than just a soothing gesture – there’s a possessiveness to the way she holds you, like she’s trying to keep this moment from slipping away too soon. Alexia’s lips brush against your forehead, then your cheeks, then the corner of your mouth, a series of soft, delicate kisses that feel like promises she can’t speak aloud. Her breath is warm against your skin, her closeness intoxicating, and you let yourself sink into it, into her, until sleep starts to pull at your edges. Even as she drifts off, her arms remain wrapped around you, as if even in her dreams, she isn’t ready to let you go.

You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same fear, the same uncertainty about what tomorrow might bring.

—

The next morning, you wake in her arms, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath against your cheek. There’s a kind of light that filters through the curtains, a golden hue over the tangle of sheets and limbs, that doesn’t wake you immediately but gently nudges you back into awareness. Her hair is tousled, scattered across the pillow. It smells faintly of salt and something sweet, a mix of the sea and something uniquely hers, and you breathe it in, letting the scent linger in your lungs. 

You shift slightly, lifting your head to take in her face. Her lips, slightly parted, are still swollen from the kisses you shared the night before. You let your gaze trace the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, and the way her lashes fan out against her skin, dark and delicate. There’s something almost ethereal about her, something that makes you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time, like the person in your arms is someone you could never truly know.

The space between you feels impossibly small, and yet it’s in these small details – the way her fingers twitch softly against your side, the gentle press of her leg hooked over yours – that you find yourself beginning to unravel. You let your hand rest on top of hers, tracing the delicate lines of her knuckles with the tip of your finger, marvelling at how easily your bodies seem to fit together, as if they were made for this exact moment.

She stirs slightly, her grip tightening on you in her sleep, and you freeze, not wanting to wake her. But the weight of her arm, the way she holds you so securely, makes your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s so easy, so effortless, the way she pulls you in, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that you belong here, that this closeness is something you’re capable of. You let yourself imagine what it would be like to stay.

But reality starts to creep in. The dreamlike haze begins to fade, and doubt worms its way into your thoughts.

You watch the light slowly stretch across the room, and you feel the weight of your decisions from the night before. You feel foolish. It was a leap you weren’t supposed to take, a moment that felt too much like falling. How could you have let yourself get this close, let your guard down enough to wake up beside her in a city that isn’t yours? 

You can’t remember the last time you let someone this close. It’s disconcerting, this sense of comfort that you’ve found in the curve of her body against yours, in the silent language that’s been built between you without a single word. 

Sitting up slowly, you’re careful not to disturb her, though a part of you already misses the warmth of her body pressed against yours. As you pull away, she rolls onto her side, her back now facing you, and there’s a strange emptiness where her touch had been. You stare at her for a moment longer, taking in the sight of her, this beautiful woman who somehow made you forget yourself, even for just a night. 

You can’t bear to wake her, to see the look in her eyes when you tell her you’re leaving. Running a hand through your hair as you take in the sight of her, still half-buried in the sheets. You linger for a moment longer, memorising the way the light kisses her skin, the curve of her bare shoulder, the slow rise and fall of her breath.

The air is cooler now that you’ve left the bed, the morning chill creeping in through the window, and you shiver as you slip one of her shirts over your head. The fabric hangs loosely on you, and the faint scent of her clings to it, reminding you of the closeness you’re so desperate to flee from. You stand in the centre of the room for a moment, staring at the bed where she still lies, peaceful and unaware, and you wonder how you’re going to explain this to yourself when you’re back in your own space, alone again.

Your eyes land on a piece of paper on the nearby table, and almost instinctively, you reach for it. You grab a pen and, without really thinking, scrawl your name across it in messy, hurried letters. You pause, staring at the ink, and after a moment, you add your number. You don’t know why you do it, but maybe it’s for you, more than for her. Maybe it’s a way to tell yourself that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment, that there’s a possibility – however small – that she might reach out to you again. It feels inadequate, a poor substitute for all the words you can’t bring yourself to say, but it’s all you can offer. 

There’s a pang of guilt as you set the paper down, a sharp twist of regret that bites at the edges of your resolve. It would be so easy to slip back into bed, to curl up beside her and let the day pass by unnoticed, to bask in the quiet intimacy that feels both impossible and inevitable. But you can’t. You won’t. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care, easier to walk away before the morning sun can shine a light on all the things you’re too afraid to face. You draw a small smiley face next to your name – a sad attempt at levity, a parting gesture that feels empty and full all at once.

You wonder if she’ll be disappointed, or hurt, or if she’ll simply shrug it off as inevitable. 

You pull her shirt tighter around you and with one last look at the apartment that’s already beginning to fade into memory, you slip out the door. The streets of Barcelona are still quiet, the city slowly waking up around you. You find a bus that heads in the direction of your own place, and you climb aboard, the seat cold against your skin. 

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the window, and you wonder if this is what it will always be like – this push and pull between desire and the need to be alone, between wanting to be close to someone and the fear of losing yourself in the process. 

You hope, for both your sake and hers, that you haven’t messed up something beautiful by running away. You think it’s easier to keep moving, to keep running, than to face the quiet truth that you’ve left behind someone who held you like you were something worth holding onto. And maybe that’s the saddest part of all – that you don’t know if you’ll ever let yourself be held like that again.

But that hope feels distant now, lost somewhere in the space between what was and what will never be, and as the bus carries you away, you let the memory of her slip through your fingers like sand. 

You tell yourself it’s for the best, that you’ll forget her soon enough. You always do.

Don’t you?

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer.  "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks.  The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world. 

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[m00nh1gh]

THE WALLS

Changbin x reader

Changbin is your tattoo artist bf <3

Contains: Fingering, vaginal unprotected sex (he pulls out), reader squirts and it's dirty asf, technically in public but there's no one apart from you two, Changbin calls reader "Baby" and "Babe", reader calls Changbin "Binnie".

Word count: 1.6k.

"I'm so lucky to have you, Binnie," you put your arms around his neck as you looked at him with a sweet smile on your face.

“Because I'm your personal tattoo artist?" He scoffed, guiding you to the long chair you'd have to sit on for the next couple of hours.

"Not only that, but it is great that I get generous discounts," you sat on the edge of the chair as Changbin's hands stayed on your waist. He looked at you with a silly smile and he leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Of course you're lucky to have me," he finally let go of you to gather his equipment. He dragged a rolling table along with his own chair next to yours and then he looked at you with expectant eyes as he got a new pair of gloves out of the box. 

"Are you going to lay down, or?

- Yeah, yeah. I was just waiting for you to tell me to do it." 

He put the gloves on as you laid down on the chair. He arranged his tattoo gun and then got some products out like ink and vaseline. The stencil was ready as well, so he turned the lamp that was right above you on and he sat at your side, because you were getting a rib tattoo.

You had already taken your shirt off and were only left with some sort of tissue covering your boobs so your skin was ready to be used for work. You saw him take the machine in his hand and he dipped it in a small cup of ink that he had prepared.

"Binnie I'm scared," you said as you saw the needle coming closer and closer to your rib, where Changbin had just transfered the stencil.

"Don't worry baby, it'll only take an hour or two. I know you can do it," he held your cheek with the hand that wasn't holding anything and he kissed you lovingly before going back to work.

"Tell me, though, if it's too much pain.

- Yeah, don't worry about that."

It took him an hour and a half to finish your tattoo. It didn't hurt as much as you'd thought, but having numerous needles poking your skin for that much time certainly wasn't comfortable. Apart from that, you enjoyed watching your boyfriend being this concentrated. He made sure everything was perfect and you had to admit that seeing him like this made you feel some type of way.

He had just applied some cream on the fresh tattoo before sticking saran wrap over it with bandage tape. Once everything was discarded, he turned his complete attention to you with an excited smile.

"Can you sit up, babe? Wanna see the tattoo? 

- Of course I want to!" You slowly sat up to make sure you didn't startle yourself with the pain from your rib and Changbin helped you up before walking with you to the full body mirror that was placed against a wall.

"Binnie, it's gorgeous! I love you so much!" You gasped when you saw the tattoo. The shadows and colors matched so well together and it looked way better than what you had expected (not that you didn't expect something great, you know your boyfriend's the best tattoo artist out there). It also matched well with your personal style, you were grateful that he changed some things up on your sketch to make it work better on you. Changbin hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek, happy that you liked his work.

"Don't you think you deserve a little reward now? Because you did very well too.

- What are you thinking about?

- Making my girl feel good, obviously," his hands traveled down to your hips, sliding some fingers just a little under your pants to show you what his plans were. You hummed as you unzipped your pants, giving him the consent he was waiting for. His hands went back out of your jeans and he pressed his hips to yours, slowly sliding the clothing article off.

"Wanna do it in front of the mirror? Wanna see yourself fall apart on my dick?" He asked you, wrapping a hand around your throat but not squeezing as his other hand slowly rubbed your clothed clit.

You nodded as your hands found his pants and you unzipped them for him. It was hard to do as you couldn't look at what you were doing since he was behind you, but you still managed to get his pants down a little and you whined because he was still rubbing you.

He chuckled and let go of you to take his pants and boxers off and you did the same as him. You pressed your ass on Changbin's dick when he held your hip with one hand and he went back to playing with your pussy now that it was all exposed for him.

“You're beautiful, baby. I won't be able to stay out of your pretty cunt for too long," he gently kissed your jaw and the back of your ear as he whispered to you.

You moaned when he slid two fingers into you at once, squeezing your thighs around his hand. He started to pump them at a slow pace at first, but when he felt you getting wetter around him and your moans got more desperate, he went faster and hit your g spot continuously, making you think he would make you squirt because of the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"Gonna cum already? With two of my fingers only?

- Mh- Changb... Want your-

- Yeah, don't worry, my baby. I'll give you what you want," he pulled his fingers out of you before bending you a little so he could get a better view at your entrance.

The only lube he needed was your own wetness as he rubbed his dick along your folds and your whining made him slide into you soon after he was ready. It was certainly a tight fit, because he was only tip deep into you and you already felt your vagina burning.

"Binnie, too big," you moaned as you held his hand that was on your hip. 

“I won't move unless you tell me to baby, take your time," he reassured you as he kissed your cheek in reassurance.

You nodded and he went very slow when you told him to and it took a few minutes for him to be all the way in you. It still burned, so you both stayed still for a little while before you told him to start moving. he went almost all out of you before slowly sliding back in, making you moan in both pain and pleasure, because even if it hurt, he could still hit some good spots in you that made you a little less preoccupied by the way he was stretching you out so much.

But as usual, you got used to his size and soon you had his arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you up on your feet and he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. He was already pounding hard into you, making you moan uncontrollably and your mouth never shut. Even if you tried to look away from your reflection, Changbin would either slap your ass or redirect your face by firmly holding your chin.

"Never told you to look away, be grateful when I reward you," he'd growl into your ear as you'd whine and look in his eyes before looking back at your weak figure that was so well handled by your boyfriend's strong self.

Rubbing small cricles on your clit as he thrusted deep and hard into you made your legs shake and hold onto his arms so hard you'd probably leave marks because of your nails. He made you forget everything except how to call out his name, letting out loud and desperate moans as he occasionally grunted in your ear.

"Changbin, I'm gonna cum," you managed to say while he sucked on your neck.

“Wait a little more for me, can you? I'm almost there too," he thrusted even faster, letting go of your shoulders and bending you more so you'd hold onto the wall, right next to the mirror. His nails sunk into the skin of your ass as he spread your cheeks, watching himself going in and out of your soaked and abused pussy. The sight was almost heavenly to him, making him moan and slap your ass.

“You can cum, baby. Won't make you wait any longer.”

One hand let go of your ass to rub your clit once more, making you whimper and moan uncontrollably as you felt yourself coming closer to your orgasm.

The last high pitched moans you let out told Changbin you had reached your orgasm and as he was on edge, he slid out of you to release himself on your ass. His hand was still using your clit and you finally squirted, being once more overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Holy fucking shit," he moaned as he rode out of his orgasm with you, observing your fluids flow out of your pussy. Both your minds were still way too foggy to care about the mess you'd made, so when he gave one last slap to your clit before letting go of you, you didn't mind letting yourself fall on the now dirty floor. 

He crouched in front of you and held your chin to look up at him, leaning in for a sloppy kiss.

"What do we say now?

- Thank you for the reward, Binnie," you answered with a fucked out smile.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 4

Summary: Reader goes shopping with Pepper, Wanda and Nat. It ends a bit early though when reader starts to struggle with her senses.

TW: overstimulation, flirting, speeding, domestic fluff (hehe)

Words: 3.8K

A/n I changed the floor layout my bad. Also, I planned like 16 chapters of this fic so far and there will probs be more. Now i’m just worried I’ll end up loosing interest and not finishing it 😭 and I’ve been up since 2am. I slept for two hours 💀

After a dinner of pizza and other takeaway foods Tony had bought, Wanda and you headed back to the floor with Peters room.

Stepping out of the lift Wanda led you to where you had been staying for the past few days while Nat went ahead to your new room put sheets on your bed.

Your room would be on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda’s. It was also where Yelena and Kate stayed when they were in town as well as Carol when she was on earth.

You reached the door and headed into peters room. It didn’t take long to gather your things. You grabbed the backpack with some clothes in it, all of which were dirty by now as well as your tablet, computer and sketching supplies.

Once you had shoved most of it into the bag and had your laptop in your arms you followed wanda back out the door.

Despite your very comprehensive tour of the compound, you still didn’t know where you were going.

Wanda and you got back into the lift and set out for your new room.

The lift was filled with idle chatter as Wanda caught you up on the avengers love lives. Tony and pepper were together while the rest were still living the bachelor life.

Feeling a little bold you decided to ask her.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you seeing anyone?” You clarified when she shot you a confused look.

“Not currently.” Wanda said studying the rarely used buttons on the lift. Jarvis often did all of that for you.

“Ok cool.” You said before stuttering. “I mean not ‘cool’ but its not uncool” you began rambling only cut off by the angelic sound of Wanda’s giggles.

Your cheeks were rosy as she smiled at you.

“Your cute when your flustered.” She said with a wink just as the doors opened and she stepped out. You were frozen for a second before gathering yourself and following her out half a pace behind.

As you trailed after Wanda down the halls she turned to look over her shoulder at you. “You coming sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded speeding up your steps to walk beside her.

As you rounded another corner she slowed. “This is my room.” Wanda said gesturing to a closed door. “And that’s Nat’s.” She gestured to the door next to hers. “This is your room.” She said walking down to the door halfway between Wanda’s and Natasha’s on the opposite side of the hallway.

The door to your room was open as Nat was sat on your freshly made bed with a grin.

“Wondering when you were getting here.” Natasha smirked making Wanda roll her eyes at her.

You stepped into the room. It was large with a king bed and huge windows that let in natural light, or at least it would if it was daytime. It was past evening now and almost nine pm. The New York skyline was just as beautiful, however.

You set your bag and laptop down on the desk before sitting down next to Natasha on the bed.

The walls were white and grey. There was a big desk near the windows and a bedside table on each side of the bed. A door was off to the side which you assumed led to a bathroom. There was also a second door which must have been a wardrobe. Other than a lamp on the bedside and a Tv mounted on the wall, the room was bare.

“We’ll get thing to decorate when we go shopping tomorrow.” Nat said almost as if she could read your mind. More likely she could read your expression and body language.

“Sounds perfect.” You said with a smile.

“Do you have clothes you can sleep in tonight?” Wanda asked and you shuffled your feet before looking up at her.

“Er… no?” You said.

“Are you asking me or telling me sweetheart?” Wanda asked coyly making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Telling?” You said still sounding unsure of yourself.

“Very well then. I’m sure Nat and I can find something for you to sleep in for tonight.” Wanda said looking to Nat for her opinion. The widow nodded and you felt yourself relax slightly.

“Thank you guys. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing dirty clothes in a clean bed tonight.’ You said sighing in relief.

“Are all your clothes dirty?” Nat asked eyeing your backpack.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

“We’ll find you something to wear tomorrow as well then, just until we can sort out some new clothes and laundry. Sound good?” Nat asked and you nodded.

“Yes, thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank us darling. Your quite welcome.” Nat purred and you felt yourself resist a shiver as her words danced close to your ear. The hair on the back of your neck swaying slightly under her breath as your skin tingled with the heat of her words.

You swallowed trying to regain your composure much to both women’s amusement.

“T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Already said that darling.” Wanda chuckled and your blush deepened.

“Your so easy to mess with.” Nat said laughing from beside you.

You just glared at them and went to take the things out of your backpack while Wanda and Natasha left to find some clothes for you in their cupboards.

You had just finished setting down the last of your art supplies on the desk when Nat walked in loosely holding a faded black shield T-shirt that immediately knew was hers from how worn it looked. It also looked to be almost two sizes too big for Nat, so you shot her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “Its comfier to sleep in when its too big, and it kept the other boys I trained with back in the day from being able to stare at my ass.” She said with a wink.

“Whats this about Nat’s ass?” Wanda said walking in with a sly grin as your cheeks heated and you buried your face in your hands with a groan.

You heard the two of them high-five and rolled your eyes.

“Here.” Wanda said and you felt the bed dip beside you.

Wanda was holding out a pair of red track-pants which you took with a smile.

A second later Nat threw the shirt at you with a laugh as it landed on your head. You pulled it off and glared at her.

“You’re a menace.” You declared and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks.” Nat said rolling her eyes. “Now it’s bed time kiddo.” She said and motioned for wanda to leave as well.

“Im not a kid Romanoff.” You said and she smirked at the use of her last name, having been able to get under your skin successfully.

Wanda cuffed Nat but she ducked and took off down the hall. Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ignore her, she’s been drinking too much coffee lately.” Wanda said and bid you goodnight before retreating to capture the other redhead and force her to sleep.

You grinned at the shut door like a lovesick puppy before shaking yourself out of it. You changed into the clothes which smelt like them and made you feel safe.

Sliding under the sheets and getting comfy, you listened to the hallways to see if anyone was coming back. When you were met with silence, you reached over your backpack and pulled out a small white stuffed teddy.

Curling up with it under your arm, you buried your face in Nat’s shirt and fell asleep thinking of the two pretty redheads down the hall.

The next morning you were up bright and early. Having slept well for the first time in weeks.

You found your way to the communal kitchen just in time to run into Natasha who was coming back from early morning training in the compound gym.

“Hi Y/n/n.” Nat said smiling as she went to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Morning Natty.” You said with a smile.

“You're in a good mood.” Nat said looking amused as she took a big swig from the water bottle in her hands.

“Yep.” You said popping the P.

“Do you know if Wanda’s up?” Nat asked and before you could respond someone else did for you.

“I’m up.” Wanda said entering the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning Y/n. Who wants breakfast?” Wanda asked gravitating to the pots and pans in the drawers beside you.

“I’ll have some.” You said with a smile as you took a seat by the counter.

“Put me down for some too, I’m just going to go and have a shower before breakfast then we can head out ok?” Nat said as she refilled the water bottle and put it back in the fridge.

“Sounds good.” Wanda said as she began pulling things out of the fridge.

“Umm… where are we going today?” You asked feeling a little lost. Nat had already taken her leave for a shower so it was just you and wanda now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Wanda said looking amused.

“Forgot … what? … exactly?” You asked.

“The girls shopping trip?” Wanda said.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed sitting up a little taller in a way that made Wanda’s heart stutter.

“So… how did you sleep?” Wanda asked.

“I slept well, how ‘bout you?” You asked watching as wanda beat the pancake batter within and inch of its life.

“Good, good. It’s a bit hit and miss some nights but last night wasn’t too bad.” Wanda said vaguely as she turned around the pour the batter into the pan.

After Nat returned and the three of you had eaten what could only be described as the best pancakes known to man, you got ready and headed for the garage.

Pepper was meeting you at the shopping centre a bit later after she sorted out some stark industries meetings this morning.

“You ready?” Wanda said putting an arm around your shoulders. You jumped in surprise making Nat laugh and Wanda frown.

“Too busy daydreaming there, Parker?” Nat asked with a grin, and you glared at her.

“No, just planning your murder.” You said with a wink before blow if her a kiss that made Nat roll her eyes at you.

“Alright, enough you two.” Wanda said giving you a small shove before punching Nat in the arm.

“Get in.” Nat said opening a door for you to the backseat and waving her hand toward the car's interior.

“This feels personal.” You grumbled as the two redheads took the front seat.

“It is.” Nat grinned as the engine hummed to life. You were taking one of Tonys’ many fancy, and very expensive cars. Nat’s favourite was the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, but it was only two seats, so you were left with the choice of a Mercedes Mayback or a Ford Mustang both of which had four seats.

In the end Nat had opted for the mustang and the three of you had piled in to head off.

With Nat driving you must have arrived in record time; it was no secret the redheaded assassin was a speed demon and Tony had begun framing her speeding tickets in the garage on the wall. The government always came to her aid if the police ever tried to take her license as it was argued she needed it to quote “save New York”

Of course, you hadn’t known this before hand and had let out a small scream as Nat took off at breakneck speed out of the garage.

One very fast car trip later the three of you were stood by the door the mall waiting for pepper to join you.

It had barely been five minutes before the last redhead showed up. Pepper was actually on time; Nat’s driving had just made you all early.

As pepper walked over Nat decided to tease her a little.

“Picking up on Tony’s habits there, pep?” Nat asked.

“Oh please.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m the only reason he’s even at any of his meetings at all. Without me he wouldn’t just be late, he’d be missing.” She said and Nat laughed.

“True.” The assassin nodded.

“Alright, lets do this.” Pepper said smiling at you and Wanda.

The four of you headed into the mall. It was a little crowded but nobody seemed to mind. You just crossed your fingers that your spider senses stayed in check.

Pepper had barely made it ten feet in the door before she was dragging Natasha into a very expensive looking boutique.

This was how you spent the next hour. Pepper and Wanda dragged you and Natasha around, stopping at every pretty dress shop and expensive looking store in the complex.

After about an hour you were beginning to nurse a small headache and the tingle in the back of your mind told you all you needed to know for what was going to happen.

Nat had just stopped at a rack nearby before pulling wanda over to her. Holding out a dress you saw Wanda’s lips moving as she nodded, and Nat took the dress and disappeared into the change rooms.

It was a tight red cocktail dress and when Nat came back out to show it off you swear your jaw unhinged and landed on the floor.

It hugged her in all the right places.

Wanda was too busy ogling Nat to notice your reaction but pepper snorted a laugh before covering her mouth.

Nat pouted.

“What? Does it not look good?” Nat asked and you shot pepper a pleading look but she just smiled.

“No … no. I’d just say its … jaw dropping.” Pepper said winking at you as you glared at her with flushed cheeks.

“Yeah?” Nat asked raising an eyebrow and shooting you a look. “Then I guess I’ll have to get it then won’t i?” Nat said and you nodded eagerly. “Your lucky your cute Detka.” She said as she brushed past you on her way back to the change room. “Because your drooling.” She whispered in your ear and your blush darkened a good two shades of crimson.

Your headache was still getting worse and about a half hour later it was almost reaching full force.

You had found a dress and Nat was carrying four bags, one with a dress for you and her and the other three had a few random pieces of clothing for your day to day wardrobe and some room décor.

Just as you were beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to take anymore Wanda suggested the four of you get lunch from the café downstairs.

By now you were surprised none of them had noticed your discomfort, despite trying to hide it it was still bothering you.

The fluorescent strip lights that lit the mall were too bright and seemed to be burning your retinas with each blink.

The noise level despite not exceeding regular mall noise levels was almost deafening in your sensitive ears.

Even the mixed smells of fast food and perfumes was making your head swim.

Your headache pounded behind your eyes as well as almost throughout your full skull. There was a buzzing in your ears that sounded like the electricity in the walls that simply wouldn’t shut up.

Your stomach was rolling from the mixed smells and it was just too loud and too bright.

As you slid into the booth next to Nat, with wanda and pepper on the other side facing you, you resisted the urge to crawl under the table and cry.

Your headache thundered in your ears and pounded on your skull.

Your headache was in full force and Pepper must have noticed how quiet you were being as she looked you over with a knowing gaze.

She took note of your pinched brow and slightly sweaty forehead, how you were biting down on your lip and squinting. As well as how you flinched as someone in the café banged their cutlery against their plate.

Wanda noticed peppers look and was now looking at you too with a frown which drew Natasha’s eyes to you as well.

The conversation had reached a lull as all three women studied you. You were too zoned out to notice their attention all being on you.

“Y/n?” Wanda asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You said looking up and sounding absolutely wreaked.

“Are you ok?” Wanda said looking slightly worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said not even believing your own words. Your voice was lathered in a tired tone. You shook your head while saying this only managing to anger your headache more as you winced and brought a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Feeling nauseous you leant on nat and rested you head on her shoulder. Nat seemed almost surprised at your sudden desire for contact.

She held you close to her as your body relaxed into her side having no more energy to hold yourself up.

“Y/n?” Pepper asked softly.

“Mmm?” You hummed as you vaguely heard shuffling before you sensed someone close to you.

Opening an eye slightly you saw pepper crouching next to you.

“Y/n?” she asked softly. “Do you get the same thing peter does honey?” Her voice stayed low and quiet. You turned your face into Nat’s neck and weighed up your options before giving a small nod.

You miss the frown that adorns Wanda’s lips at the news that something was wrong and pepper seemed to know what it was despite you never having mentioned anything about this.

Pepper stood again and looked over at Nat and Wanda.

“She’ll be alright. Just stay here and I’ll be back. I’ll explain in a minute.” Pepper said and she took off in a brisk walk to a nearby shop.

After pepper had darted off she wove through the crowd and into a tech store, making a purchase before making one more stop and then hightailing it back to the café.

When she returned you’s seemingly not moved an inch while Wanda and Nat were talking in hushed tones. Nat had her arm around you and was holdin the back of your head into her neck as you seemed to be almost trembling from all the overstimulation.

When pepper came back Wanda sat a little straighter while Nat eyes the two new shopping bags pepper was carrying.

Pepper came to crouch beside you giving you a small nudge that set your skin on fire.

“Y/n?” She asked softly. “Can you look at me honey, you can keep your eyes shut, I promise these will help.” She said coaxing you out of Nat’s neck.

You faced her with your eyes squeezed shut as she slid a black pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears and switching them on.

The blissful sound of quiet almost made you cry as your headache lessened. A moment later you felt pepper place something on your face before cautiously opening one eye to find the world dimmer and more tolerable.

Now decked out with the headphones and sunglasses you felt a lot better. You were exhausted and the headache was still present just less intense.

You watched as Wanda, Nat and Pepper conversed, the sound not reaching you. Pepper seemed to be explaining what was happening to them based off the sad look wanda gave you.

Pepper explained that your powers increased your senses, and that in the right conditions they were very helpful in fights. But were more than problematic in a domestic setting. She explained that it wasn’t unheard of for peter to get overstimulated when out or somewhere loud. She went on to tell them she recognised the look peter had when he tried to simple tough it out when they went out.

Wanda felt awful that your powers had caused you pain.

Nat however was already planning to talk to tony about getting something built to help.

Once pepper had explained the extent of the issue and some of the things that helped, the three seemed to change gears, looking to be making plans now instead.

After they had finished talking Pepper decided to try something.

She turned to face you and moved her hands to form some simple signs. Your face lit up in recognition.

*How are you feeling? * Pepper signed.

*tired* you signed back.

Nat and Wanda looked surprised.

“How did you know she knew sign?” Wanda asked.

“Peter seemed to know some when he first was with us.” Pepper explained. “I assumed Y/n might also know some if peter did.”

You could tell what they had asked. “My dad was hard of hearing. He taught us sign at a young age before … he died.” You said and pepper nodded.

*We are going to go home* pepper signed but you shook your head.

*you stay here, I’ll go. I don’t want to ruin things* you signed.

*nonsense* pepper signed and you knew based off Nat’s eyes she was following along.

Nat had learnt sign language from Clint in the academy when they were partners. Clint had insisted in case his hearing aid were ever damaged in a fight.

You sighed realising you weren’t going to win this one.

*ok* you signed and hesitated for a moment before continuing. *thank you*. You signed.

*your welcome* pepper signed back and Wanda offered her hand to you.

Holding Wanda’s hand, the four of you headed for the car park.

You felt bad for ruining the trip, but Nat shot you a look when she saw you getting lost in your head that banished all thoughts.

Once you were in the car, Wanda had insisted on driving. Nat was riding with pepper to try and find out more about what was going on. You kept the headphones and sunnies on the whole ride home as you zoned out slightly.

Wanda droves slowly so she didn’t throw you around while Pepper and Nat sped back to try and organise things for when you get back.

When you arrived, you were almost asleep leaning into the passenger door.

Wanda coaxed you out of the car and led you by the hand up the lift and down the hall to her room.

You were beyond exhausted as Wanda lifted the sheets and got you settled under the thick comforter.

She ordered Jarvis to dim the lights and soundproof the room. She thanked Tony for the added features in her mind as she felt you snuggle into her side.

A few moments later the door opened slightly to reveal Nat and Pepper peaking in.

“Is she asleep?” Nat asked and Wanda studied your breathing.

“Not yet.” Wanda responded.

“Well we have some pain meds for her.” Pepper said as they both came inside and handed wanda a glass of water.

After coaxing you into taking some medicine, you laid back down against Wanda was was massaging your head as you melted in her lap.

Pepper and Nat had dropped by Bruces lab to pick up peters pain meds for you before coming to Wanda’s room where Jarvis said they could find you.

You fell asleep not long after taking the medicine which had finally gotten rid of your headache.

PART 5

[outerbankies]

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

[infactmrmeowz]

hi hii! not sure if requests are open but could i maybe get some mihawk with a (fem) reader that draws him a lot in her sketchbook? like her sketchbook is filled to the brim w drawings of him? in headcanon format if that's alright w chu?

Mihawk x fem!reader sketchbook

AAAAH I LOVE THISSS TY FOR THE REWUEST!!! Let me know if I should add anything Ty for the request! ><

Mihawk is either so busy he can even eat or he’s never busy to the point where all he does is sit there and drink wine for a week and a half, but even though if he is either busy or not, there is one thing he noticed about you, you always have your sketch book and pencil near, or your always doodling away

At first he didn’t know what you were doodling away, your thoughts on a piece of paper in drawing form, honestly he found it cute how you can sit there for hours, with a cute face, doodling.

And every time you finished a sketch, doodle, painting, drawing or whatever you always run up to your boyfriend/husband, Mihawk. And show him the master piece you made, he always react the same way, with in shock and awe at your amazing art skills

” y/n you have amazing talent- is that me? You made me look more handsome “ he say chuckling a bit, who knew a hard core guy could be so soft, but only with you and you only

if he walks by, or he simply watches you doodle, he always love when you draw him, and blushes when you do draw him

one time he went through your sketch book and found tons of sketches of him, honestly he blushed like crazy, he finds it cute and generous that you care enough about him to draw him, of course you care about him but he takes it to heart, and he will make sure these drawings stay safe

he gives you extra cuddles and kisses when you draw him, complimenting you and your talent, and maybe some wine for just for you, who knows. 😝

you like to draw him with his sword, or posing with his sword, he doesn’t necessarily pose for you, he just looks like that naturally, you find it kind of cute and silly and draw him in the pose

at the end of the day he loves you and he loves you even more when you draw him

EXTRA 😈

“ y/n can you draw me in this pose? “ he says as he puts on foot on a barrel and the other on the floor, him holding the cat high in the sky with a serious face, of course he looked silly but you had no choice but to comply

okie dokie that’s it, I hope you like this let me know if I should add anything or if it’s good enough, this is my first time writing a request for someone! Hope I did good! AAA that’s it! Cya later alligators! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lordgrimwing]

Circa early TA 2500

Celebrían loves her star-dust husband. 

She’d loved him since she first saw him—or felt something special at least, even if it had taken her a few years to realize the depth of those feelings. She hadn’t said anything at first, of course; neither had he, though it wasn’t long into their courtship before he admitted (blushing and so sweetly shy for someone nearly four hundred years her senior) as much to her. She’d stayed silent at first because she thought it was a youthful fancy, something she would forget after a few months of knowing and working beside him, and later because he was her mother’s dear friend and Galadriel certainly would not approve (she’d been wrong on that last point, at least once her mother got used to the idea). Now, there was nothing stopping her from sharing her love every day, every moment.

He had an ageless kind of quality about him. His agelessness went beyond the classical elven beauty that went unchanged by time as the centuries rolled ever onward. At first, she was hard pressed to describe precisely what that meant. After so many years of watching how his body changed with the passing time in a way no elf’s ever would, she found the words: he was ageless as the constellations; ageless as the stars that shone before the sun and the moon, before the Trees or the Lamps; ageless as Ilúvatar’s Music.

And sometimes, the divine shines through.

***

Celebrían and Elrond are in bed; she is sitting, sketching the crescent moon as it sails toward the far end of the hidden valley while he sleeps beside her. The short summer night is a few hours away from drawing the nocturnal orchestra to a close, and she listens as the sounds of birds and insects shifts toward diurnal patterns. Her charcoal whispers as she drags it softly over the linen page, filling in the last details.

She has many pages filled with drawings like this one. She never grows tired of the view across Imladris from her bed, and she likes to have a little something to keep er hands occupied on nights when she wishes to stay with her husband but has no need of sleep herself. She will show him the sketch when he wakes and tell him all about the pair of bats that play-chased each other outside while she worked.

The mattress shifts. Her hand stills as she looks over at Elrond.

He is still asleep, dark hair pooled around his head. Stars blink in his hair, weaving in and out of existence with each breath as they are so want to do these days when he cannot be troubled to hide them (it hadn’t been like that when they married. Back then, if he did not choose to share his light then it stayed hidden under his skin for the most part, and when he came to Ereinion’s court, he could not choose one way or the other, it merely happened—sometimes at very inopportune moments, which she wishes she could have seen). He sighs in his sleep and twitches.

She watches. Mannish sleep is cyclical, she’s learned, guessing he is entering the phase when his body can move but is not ready to wake up yet. She spent many nights charting the peculiar cycle and knows it well. He should wake in about an hour, perhaps an hour and a half if they are lucky. His sleep had been troubled as of late, and she’d hoped her presence would deter whatever half-forgotten memories were plaguing his rest. She sooths the back of her hand across his forehead as his breath speeds up, brushing their fëar together as she does to share the calmness of her spirit.

He seems to settle after that. For a minute, she thinks that is the end of it, that all will stay calm until he wakes, rested and happy.

Celebrían should know better by now than to tempt Doom, but she is ever optimistic.

A minute draws into two draws into five. She turns back to her drawing, picking up the charcoal stick.

A twitch of his arm and a shiver against her fëa are the only warnings before Elrond is struggling back into wakefulness, gasping like one half-drowned and fighting against the sheets to escape their confines.

Art entirely discarded, she turns back to him, pulling the bed cover down as he blinks, unfocused and shaking. Light pours from behind star-strewn eyes, leaks from the lines in his skin as he sits up. Fireflies flash in each ragged exhale. In the panicked moments between sleep and full consciousness, his elven veneer is thin and brittle.

“Elrond,” she murmurs to him. When she reaches for him, she finds his fëa has completely retreated behind thorny defenses thicker than any briar growing in Middle-earth. She doesn’t touch him yet; his heart is beating like that of a panicked deer, and she may only startle him further. “Peace, Elrond. Peace. I am here.”

Words and spirit infused with all the calm assurance and love she could pour into them, she let her presence wash over him, gentle and safe.

“Celebrían?” The whispered word comes out of his mouth half broken on a sob and repeats off the walls as though they are in a cavern. He reaches out blindly for her.

She takes his hands in hers. “Yes, love, I’m here. We are in Imladris. All is well.”

He repeats her name as he cries. Relief so thick it’s almost cloying fills the space around them. She tries to hug him, but he grips her hands tighter to stop her from moving them away from his. Instead, she rests her chin on his head, tucking him against her as she murmurs sweet nothing to him until he calms. Stars prick her skin like forgotten needles.

“Was it Sight?” She asked at last when he’d dried his face and was no longer leaking light like it would all burst out of him at any moment.

“A nightmare,” he says firmly, resolutely. He repeats the words again with a shudder.

“Of the children?”

It isn’t uncommon when Elladan and Elrohir went off traveling, as they were now, for Elrond’s sleeping mind to mix the twins into his memories of things that had or might have happened to his own twin brother and himself in war-torn Beleriand. Arwen, too, is not spared from his terrors. The great evils of that time are long banished, but that detail is easily forgotten in the throes of a nightmare.

“Orcs,” he shudders but tells her no more.

She refrains from pushing him. She knows he will tell her more if needed to rid himself of the last of the dream. She strokes his stary hair as they sit entwined, waiting for the sun to rise.

[yumenoberu]

Baby Steps

Kyoya Ootori x fem!reader (kind of Gen)

summary: Middle school 3rd year Kyoya Ootori lives through another mundane day. Bored from the dull lectures, he distracts himself, scanning the classroom and sees Y/n. Compelled by the elegant scene he is witnessing, he picks up his pen and starts sketching. Could it be that our young Shadow King is displaying an innocent act of fascination, with maybe even a twinge of affection for the girl?

word count: 1.8k words

warnings: none!!

published: 10/20/24

author’s note: I liked the idea of exploring the version of Kyoya that was more expressive because he was just developing back in middle school. Also always wanted to see the artistic side of him depicted more, cuz even if we don’t see it besides his solo episode, it exists! Anyways, this one is more of a gen fic rather than a romantic one but I’m sure you can see it can lead to something much more, it’s cute!! Hope this one brings a smile to your face like it did for me ☺️

The clock tower chimed, signaling the next set of classes after the lunch break. The students of Ouran Middle School’s 3rd year Class A break up their fleeting conversations and file back to their assigned seats, each readying themselves to endure another few grueling hours of class discussions and worksheet completion.

The day had been relatively mundane for Kyoya, aside from the occasional disruption of his peace by none other than his lovable moron of a best friend, Tamaki, there was nothing in his day that particularly stood out to him. The topics tackled during class, he understood right away, he had no homework or projects that had to be done, and so the only thing that was worth looking forward to was… Well, if he thought about it, he wouldn’t come up with anything.

Suffice to say, Kyoya was bored.

“Ms. Jounoichi, kindly read the 3rd paragraph out for us.” The teacher in front instructed.

“Yes, Sir.” Ayame swiftly replied as she stood from her seat and recited the passage from her textbook.

Out of sheer disinterest from the topic, Kyoya passively listened and let the other half of his mind ponder on any vanishing thought.

His eyes traveled from across the room aimlessly, mindlessly looking for something to distract him from his boredom. His gaze eventually landed on the window on the other side of the room and onto Y/n L/n’s desk.

Kyoya was never close to Y/n. Even though they’ve been classmates since he’d first attended Ouran Academy, both of them had always been reserved and quiet, and so neither of them had made efforts to get acquainted with the other.

It remained that way until their dynamic drastically shifted that very year when Tamaki waltzed into their lives.

The guy seemed to behold a certain power to connect with even the most difficult people. Kyoya could attest to this, as he himself was brought out by the bubbling blonde. Y/n was similarly reached out by Tamaki and soon enough, the trio formed an iconic friendship.

But even when that was the case, Kyoya and Y/n were still closed off from each other. Tamaki was clearly the only common ground between them.

Kyoya was comfortable with the arrangement. Though, he knew that Y/n was starting to make moves to genuinely befriend him; He wasn't ready to break down his walls to a friend of a friend just yet, nor was he willing to acknowledge that it was his own stubbornness that’s causing this strain.

His thoughts simmered down, focusing instead on observing her. He noticed she looked identically disinterested, judging by how she silently tapped her fingers against her blank notebook, as she drew out shallow breaths and watched the front with glossed eyes.

She was sitting perfectly still, so much so that one can even mistake the scene he was witnessing with a framed image.

As Kyoya continued, he paid attention to how perfectly the lighting from the window next to her illuminated her features.

The afternoon sun shone on her like a spotlight. From her side profile, the light that bounced off of her hair almost formed a halo over the crown of her head. Her eyes radiated, its color brightened by the day. Her nose, casted a tiny shadow over the side accentuating the contour of her cheeks. Her lips, charmingly pinkish and rounded. Stray hairs peeking from the sides of her head glinted like mirrors, perfectly framing her delicate face.

He wasn’t going to admit it to himself, but it was indeed a stunning sight.

Turning back to his own desk, Kyoya casually picks up his neglected pen and his unused notebook, bringing the stationary up closer to his chest, turning back to Y/n’s direction and begins sketching.

The nib of the pen gently glides across the smooth surface of the paper, creating thin lines that comprise the outline of his drawing. His eyes slowly switch between the notebook and the subject, carefully examining and then applying, repeating this process a number of times in an attempt to capture the scene with flawless accuracy.

He continues on for the remainder of the class. Jotting down all the little details with intention, his mind completely detached from the lecture. He was focused, dedicated to completing his render.

Eventually the end of the day approaches, their last class concludes, they bid their teacher farewell, and the class is dismissed.

Kyoya peeks at the portrait of Y/n he made for a final time before packing his belongings. He reaches for his school bag and grabs his notebook to shut it closed but then it’s unexpectedly pulled out of his hands.

Surprised, he looks to his right, looking up at the culprit and sees Tamaki.

“Tamaki. What are you-“ Kyoya starts, questioning him for his actions but is cut off.

“I didn’t know you could draw so we’ll…” Tamaki admires the drawing, voiced uncharacteristically hushed in his awe.

“Hey Y/n!” Before Kyoya could explain, Tamaki skips happily toward his other best friend on the other side of the room while flailing the notebook in the air.

At this point, Kyoya knew it was best to not interfere with the blonde’s antics, knowing he’ll just be putting himself in an even more troublesome spot if he showed any apprehensiveness toward the situation. Even so, he can’t help but feel flustered and irritated. He could do nothing now but stay silent, gauge her reaction, and come up with a logical explanation for his actions—as he himself couldn’t pin down what exactly compelled him to draw her.

“Y/n!!”

Y/n placed her pencil case back on her desk, turning to the voice that called out her name.

It was Tamaki of course. She grinned immediately as she saw him enthusiastically skipping his way over, waving a pocket-sized notebook over his head.

“Tamaki,” She fondly greeted him. She gives him a questioning look afterward, prompting him to say whatever he needed to.

“Look at this, is it just wonderful?” He handed the aforementioned notebook to her, helping her flip through the pages to find what exactly he wanted to show her.

“What is it, Tamaki?” She inquired while he frantically flipped through the pages.

“Hold on a second,” He scrunched his face in determination, “Ah! Here! Take a look.”

Y/n eyes fall onto her sketched portrait, lightly touching over the lines and examining the little details as her eyes widen, mouth opens, and cheeks flush in admiration.

Tamaki smiles at her reaction, throwing in a little complement at how cute he finds it.

“So, what do you think?” He beams and fixes his position, moving from her right side and stands behind her, propping his hands on her shoulder, leaning forward, and placing his chin on her head to get a good look at it too.

“It’s stunning, Tamaki… Did you make this?” She peers up, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

“Not me, Kyoya did!” Tamaki gives her a cheerful smile, letting her turn to Kyoya’s direction to call him over, only for them to see that the raven was already making his way over to them.

“Kyoya!” Tamaki jumps and brings his friend into a hearty embrace, earning an irritated glare and sigh of annoyance from him.

Tamaki backs away slightly and pouts and whines about his mon ami’s reaction.

Y/n looks up from the notebook and looks at Kyoya in a mix of confusion, surprise, and gratitude.

Trying his hardest to restrain the growing warmth traveling up his cheeks from the unexpected, positive reception of his work and initial embarrassment that came with it. Kyoya breaks the silence,

“I noticed you were sitting perfectly still for a while, and so I thought it would make a fine artwork.” Replying in a nonchalant manner, saying it as if he didn’t just indirectly compliment her.

“O-Oh..! Thank you, Ootori…” Y/n replies after a few awkward moments.

“It’s nothing to feel gratitude for, I was simply keeping myself occupied while the lecture went on.” He added cooly, pushing up his glasses trying to sound as convincing as he could.

He brings a hand up to take back his notebook wishing to make a quick escape but before he could reach it, but Y/n pulls it out of his reach. Startled by the sudden movement, he shoots her a questioning look.

“Wait!” She hesitates, “Is it alright if I take a picture of it? It’s masterful, I really like it.” She smiles sheepishly.

Even more baffled from her response, he says nothing for a few seconds, processing it all.

“Don’t bother, you can keep it…” He follows with a hushed voice.

She’s visibly taken aback by what he says but smiles at him nonetheless, joyfully thanking him as she proceeds to rip the page from the notebook, storing it between the pages of her own, and hands his notebook back.

“How generous of you, my friend!” Tamaki latches onto Kyoya again, throwing an arm around his shoulders and sways him from side to side.

“You don’t need to mention it,” He replies quietly, looking at the ground, lightly shoving Tamaki off of him and strolls out of the scene.

Y/n and Tamaki watch as he packs up and leaves, waving him goodbye as he exits the classroom, finally making his escape.

Unknown to the two, Kyoya was trying his best not to show the blush he knew was forming on his cheeks. He was nitpicking every word he exchanged with her just moments before, unbearably embarrassed and conflicted about his flusteredness, being equally confused about his own reaction.

He sighs to himself and shakes his head in exasperation, speed walking out of the building.

Back in the classroom, Tamaki and Y/n silently stared at the door he exited from.

“I never thought he would—“ Y/n started,

“Kyoya shows his care in his own way. He may not be the most expressive person in the world but he can be the most caring when he tries. Even if he doesn’t always outwardly show it.” Tamaki asserts, eyes still trained on the doorway where Kyoya left. Y/n surveys him, staying silent.

“This just proves that he does care about you, otherwise he wouldn’t spend his time working on that drawing of yours, would he? You have nothing to worry about my dear, just give him some time and he’ll open up to you eventually,” Tamaki smiles affectionately at her, patting her head and then her shoulders.

“Just have to be patient with him,” With that he leaves to retrieve his own things, waiting by the doorway to walk her out of class.

“You’re right…” Y/n huffs, as they stroll out the doorway.

“He’s quite difficult isn’t he, Tamaki.” She sighs, relaxing as she recalls Tamaki’s words.

‘It may not seem like much, but it’s a good start.’

She smiles and blushes ever so slightly at her thought, walking with a hop in her step as she and Tamaki leave the school building, content with the developments of the day.

masterlist

[mask-of-prime]

TLG: Final 10 Episodes Sketch Dump

September 2nd once again fell on a Labor Day, like it once did when the final 10 episodes of TLG dropped on WatchTLG (due to its early release on the old DisneyNOW app). The alignment of the exact day, month, and holiday five years later put me in the spirit to sketch away as I rewatched these episodes.

I was there when the countdown on the WatchTLG site had about an hour left. I hadn't seen a full episode of TLG until that point because I at the time thought I wouldn't be into it. I saw the synopses for these episodes leaked somewhere online and was doubtful yet VERY hopeful that the one with Vitani's Lion Guard was going to be a real episode simply because I wanted to see her in new content, regardless of my familiarity with the show.

When I binge-watched these final episodes with a friend, my relationship with the show improved as I went to watch the rest of the show over the next few months. I was so grateful to see so much content and worldbuilding for the TLK universe

Sketch descriptions under the cut:

1. Friends to the End

I've said this before in a review of this episode, but whether or not the writers intended this, their portrayal of irritability brought on by an anxiety attack is astounding. Kion's anxiety is piled up more and more when he's in a hurry to find a cure at the Tree of Life, Bunga repeatedly tells him he's becoming like Scar, and the rest of the group just "blind leading the blind"-in their journey SO badly because they're a bunch of unsupervised freshman-aged kids who are in their "Well I wouldn't go THAT far" or "Can I be the devil's advocate" phase.

This situation of fearing becoming like a shitty family member and being told you are by people when you're already in a vulnerable state is just SO vile and unfortunately so real. I found myself relating hard to this episode due to Kion's valid af anger in this episode, which is why I had to draw Kion claiming his "Don't you just wanna go apeshit??" era.

Kion is basically me throughout this episode and the entire first half of Season 3. It is SO HARD to get through this season sometimes when these same couple of lines keep coming at least once per episode. As soon as I hear Fuli saying "Uhh... Kion?" or "KION!!" I know exactly what's coming.

2. The Tree of Life:

Since we never get to see Sahasi and Ananda's color palettes they had in life, I took what I could make out from their spirit forms as well as some creative liberties, and came up with what they may have looked like on Earth.

Ananda is where Baliyo gets his freckles and dull, dark pelt, and where Rani gets her purple pupils, red nose, and dark tail. Sahasi is where Rani gets her richer pelt and where Baliyo gets his nose gradient, multicolored mane, and lighter tail color.

Fun Fact: According to some email responses from a member of the team who worked on TLG, they said that Sahasi was meant to be Janna's son, which for me, puts an end to a debate I had in my head where I was stuck between either him or Ananda being Janna's child: On one hand, I liked the idea of Sahasi and Surak being the foils of Mufasa and Scar, but also liked the idea of Ananda as Janna's daughter and heir since they looked so alike, as well as it solidifying the martriarchy headcanon I have for the Night Pride. Though the team member didn't straight-up provide Sahasi's relation to Janna and Surak as an absolute fact, rather it was simply the gist they got from the creation of Sahasi's character, it's an answer from a team member at all, which I can absolutely settle with. I decided to give him a similar fur color to Surak because of that.

3. The River of Patience:

I just HAD to doodle eepy Kion. It's like the one part of this episode that sticks with me outside the wholesome therapy dynamics and Kion heroically holding the flower between his teeth. This is basically him but if he fully succumbed to falling asleep waiting for the log.

4. Little Old Ginterbong:

Can I just say that I fucking LOVE Mama Binturong's character?? She's absolutely insane and constantly looks like an addict that needs her fix. She makes me nostalgic for some reason, and I think it's gotta do with her Mama Gunda vibes (which is odd because I wasn't even that young when I saw Tarzan II). I had to draw her doing the thing lol

5. Poa the Destroyer:

All I could think about throughout this episode besides the rare Evil Beshte is how insufferable Pinguino is. I mean it in kind of a good way, his personality is so ridiculous that he's made me laugh a few times.

6. Long Live the Queen:

Surprisingly, the sketch regarding this episode is probably the least expected subject matter out of anything I could've put here: An idea that's been forming in my head for a bit now was the idea of Bunga and Binga continuing the fostering/babysitting business of Bunga's "uncles". Bunga is shown to be a natural with young animals in a few episodes, and it continues in the subplot of this episode where he watches over Varya's cubs.

7. The Lake of Reflection:

The one thing that viscerally stuck with me in this episode was the unbelievably cute design they gave bby Cheezi. Had to sketch him.

8. Triumph of the Roar:

Obligatory Askari sketch because I actually love drawing him and making headcanons of his era. Looking back... he kinda looks like he's looking down at the events of the bottom drawing in slight disappointment.

9. Journey to the Pride Lands:

Drew Azaad (for what I think might be the first time) with the only thing he seemed to be doing throughout this episode -- taking any opportunity he can to comment about how much better cheetahs are at basically everything. He's fun to draw and I'd like to do more art of him one day.

10. Return to the Pride Lands

This is a sketch of what I deadass thought was gonna happen during this scene the first time I saw this episode lmao. At the time, the previous two episodes were fresh on my mind so I thought Kion was once again going to spam his tornado ability, but with Vitani as his subject for his demonstration. She already knew so little of the Roar as it was, given her absence throughout most of TLG's storyline, but could you imagine what she must've been thinking seeing how much Kion's Roar evolved?

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 32

Part 31

Steve was lounging in his sheets, still dressed in his bed clothes as he reread one of Eddie’s letters. The way he described it, Steve was some sort of hammer-wielding hero of legend. Last he’d heard of Jason, he had slinked back home. Steve was through with worrying about him though. The people had seen his strength and honor and any who had doubts about his and the king’s courtship were now swayed in his favor. But at the end of the day, it was just about him and Eddie.

The next day, Steve was gifted a beautiful sketch drawing of himself, hammer held in a protective stance. Steve traced the lines of his face, his nose, and his mouth. Did he really look that handsome to Eddie? Eddie was completely open with his adoration now. Not that he had cared to keep quiet about it before. But now Eddie held nothing back. Hence the amount of love letters he had received. 

Eddie seemed a natural talent when it came to both writing and orating. He had such a way with words that made him believable and gave him a command that most men would never even dream of. His own father wasn’t nearly so eloquent as king, choosing instead to let force and cruelty ensure his power and position. Eddie was different from his father in a lot of ways. Most particularly in his shows of emotion.

Steve didn’t even know if his parents had ever been in love. He had no memories of them being affectionate or ever professing their feelings for one another. Steve wanted it to be different between him and Eddie.

To that end, he found Robin, who was in the middle of polishing some brass.

“I need help writing.”

She looked up from her work, eyebrow raised. “Are you…incapable or…?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of writing. I just-need help making sure it sounds right.”

“Are you really about to make me proofread poetry from you to our wet rat of a king?”

“Careful, that nearly sounds treasonous”, Steve teased.

“I don’t hear any disagreement.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in any state but dry. So I don’t have a frame of reference”, Steve said. “Now will you please help? You’re the only one I can ask.”

“I reserve the right to gag.”

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

My sweet king,

Your words touch me in a way no one has. I find myself wasting the night hours and candle wax, reading them before bed. If I am half the man you espouse, then I must be truly worthy of your grace. To know that you are just as enamored with me as I am with you has me floating on clouds. 

Dare I tell you my dreams? How I long to be closer to you? I know we play these games of propriety but I can never remember why. You know I am not untouched. So what makes you stay your hand? Is it a law that exists outside of us? If so, I yearn to know. For there is not a force between us that could keep us apart.

It was signed simply with Steve’s initials but Eddie would have known even without that who the sender was. There was only one responding to his correspondences after all. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, dinner and dessert had been served and now the castle was winding down for its slumber. He had already bid Steve good night, but he had to see him now. He was dressed for bed, a loose shirt and pants, feet bare, rings already removed and put away for tomorrow and he figured Steve would be in a similar state, but he couldn’t keep himself away. Not after having read his latest letter.

So he crept out of his room, not a particularly hard feat as the patrols were set in such a way that his room was rarely guarded at night. Eddie needed the least amount of protection. He made his way to Steve’s door and knocked, hoping he was still awake.

“Who is it?”, Steve’s voice was muffled by the thick door.

“Your greatest admirer”, Eddie said, cheek pressed to the door. 

“Sir Cox?”, Steve joked as he opened the door and just as Eddie had guessed, he was dressed in a similar fashion, prepared for bed. 

“Sir Cox? Who is that? Has he been sending you letters?”, Eddie asked.

Steve snickered and he looked like a dream with the candlelight from his room lighting him up from behind. “There is no Sir Cox. Only you and your delightful wordsmithing.”

“Well now I wonder. I’ve no doubt you must have several admirers after your bout with Carver.”

“You are the only one that sees me as a man to be pursued”, Steve said.

“Then I am the only one with eyes. Come with me”, Eddie held out his hand.

“Where to?”, Steve asked, already giving his hand.

“You’ll see.” Eddie pulled Steve along, their steps echoing in the dark halls. 

Steve felt like a kid again, going out past curfew for mischief and wondered what he and Eddie might get up to. Was this just a silly excursion under cover of darkness? Or did Eddie have something more intimate in mind? Eddie snickered as he pilfered a sheet from the laundry and then draped it over Steve like a veil. Eddie was struck by how bridal he looked.

“What I’m about to do is called shadow travel”, Eddie said, coming in close to whisper to Steve. “It can be disorienting for the first time, so close your eyes and hold tight to me.”

Steve nodded, doing as instructed. His arms went around Eddie and he closed his eyes. Eddie held him and suddenly Steve felt a cool rush of wind. He was tempted to open his eyes but worried he’d be disoriented if he did. When the rush stopped it was replaced by a soft breeze. He ventured to open his eyes and saw that they were beneath a large tree. Eddie led Steve from under it and took the sheet to lay it on the ground. Eddie sat down first and then patted the space next to him, prompting Steve to do the same.

The moon was a half eaten pie in the sky, glowing a pale white in a way that was rivaled only by the tapestry of stars.

“Do you have any favorite star stories?”, Eddie asked.

Steve thought about it. “I can’t remember what the constellation looks like, but I like the Two Lovers. And the Mother of the Skies.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and used it to point to a star duo. “The Two Lovers.” Then he pointed to a bright twinkle. “The Mother and right under her is Eldest Daughter, then Foolish Son, then Helpful Son, then Wisest Daughter, then-”

“Are you going to name all of the children? We’ll be here all night”, Steve laughed.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“If you attend the council with bags under your eyes, I won’t be blamed. I’m sure they already don’t care for me.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand but moved closer to him. “Fortunately, they’re not the ones courting you.”

“But they do make decisions concerning you and your kingdom. Their opinion of me is important.”

“I think most opinions have turned favorably to you now, little prince. There’s hardly a word against you anymore.”

“But what about for me?”

Eddie blinked. “What do you mean?”

Steve’s knees pulled up to his chest. “You treat me like a prince. But a prince is supposed to have power and importance… My father has yet to respond to my letter. Without his involvement, I can’t promise you anything. If you marry me, you’ll get nothing but myself. There’s no promise of peace or even an opportunity for any sort of harmony between our kingdoms. Why should you marry me if there isn’t an advantage for you?”

“Sweet prince, good prince.” Eddie took Steve’s chin to turn his face towards him before continuing. “Benevolent prince, honorable prince. You say that as if you are nothing. You think you have nothing to offer when there is nothing more precious than yourself.”

“Me?”

Steve looked at him, eyes sparkling with starlight. His legs lowered and he turned to face his body to Eddie, opening himself up. Eddie leaned in more, their noses bumping.

“You”, he said, closing the distance between their lips.

It was dipping into a lake after a hot day. It was opening a door to someone smiling at you. It was being told you did a great job when having doubted yourself. Kissing Eddie could be described in many words. But the one that came to Steve right now was relief. Relief when he felt Eddie’s lips move against his own. Relief in knowing that Eddie had wanted this just as much.

A feeling that turned into something more heady when Steve sighed against his mouth and Eddie whimpered. 

“Why have you been holding back?”, Steve asked, sharing the same breath as Eddie when he pulled away.

“Because I felt like I couldn’t stop if I got a taste”, Eddie confessed, chest moving up and down before he chased after Steve’s lips.

“Stop”, Steve said, putting a hand up.

Eddie froze in place, waiting for his next command. Smirking, Steve came forward again and dug his fingers into Eddie’s hair.

“See? You know how to follow orders.” He couldn’t see Eddie blush but he could feel the warmth in his face when he rubbed their cheeks together.

“You’ll be the death of me”, Eddie groaned.

“Imagine that, immortal king taken down by a single kiss”, Steve grinned.

“A single kiss, a dazzling smile, bewitching laugh. You have many weapons in your arsenal.”

“You know”, Steve said before leaning in for a kiss. “This would be much better-” kiss “in a bed.” Kiss.

Eddie’s eyes bulged at the prospect and they sneaked back into the castle, dropping off the sheet off at the laundry. Overcome, Eddie ended up kissing Steve along the way, against this wall, against that wall, it seemed they could only go a few feet before getting lost in each other’s lips again. They were nearly to Steve’s room when they heard voices and saw candlelight from around the corner.

They froze in place when Mike, Dustin, and Lucas came around the bend. The three boys also froze. 

“What are you guys doing here?”, Dustin pointed his finger first.

“I was just-I was escorting Steve back to his room. And here we are and here he is and this is where we say good night. Good night, Steve”, Eddie kissed Steve’s cheek and then hightailed it back to his own quarters. 

Steve was smiling the whole time at Edward’s frantic act, going into his room and having nearly closed the door all the way when he realized - what were the boys doing sneaking around at night.

“Hey wait a minute!”, he opened the door back up to the hallway, only to see darkness and hear silence. 

They had already scurried off. Well, no matter. Steve touched his lips, the feel of it still fresh. He went to bed, dreaming of Eddie’s mouth and hoping he was doing the same about him.

Part 33

If you saw me make a post about them having their first kiss in the winter, no you didn't.

Taglist CLOSED

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@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[skilledmeowjesty]

Pairing: Rafayel x afab MC

Genre: smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: Dom!MC, Sub!Raf, Bottom!Raf, fingering, teasing, PEGGING

Content: Rafayel asks the MC to peg him with a strap he already owns

A/N: Shameless content of one of my biggest Kinks (pegging) featuring the Sub!iest man from L&DS (Rafayel) 🥰

I will be writing more pegging/sub content of these bachelors in the future (this is a threat)

‘come over when youre off work, i got something i wanna talk to you about’

‘its been over 10 min since your shift ended and youre not here yet 😒’

‘20 min now traffic cant be that baddd’

‘25 min and still no reply 🥺’

‘you cant even answer?? 💔’

‘are you ignoring me??? 😢’

‘Fine, ig ill just drown myself since you hate me sm 😭’

Rolling your eyes, you read over the text messages Rafayel had been spamming you with for the past half hour, unable to unlock your phone to reply to any during your meeting at work, leaving it to buzz every few seconds during the important debriefing at the Hunter's Association and earning a raised brown from your captain as you gave her an apologetic smile in response

‘I just got out of a meeting, I'll be there in 10’ you text back, knowing how dramatic Rafayel could get whenever he doesn't receive your constant attention

“Who you textinggggg?” Tara asks playfully as she peeks over your shoulder to see your screen, catching a quick look at the dozens of messages and emojis before you lock your phone and shove it back in your pocket, “is it your boyfriend?”

“I.. yeah” you answer with a slight blush, still getting used to the title, even though it has been well over a month since you and the Lemurian became official, “he wants me to swing by his place now that I'm off work”

“Is he the one that was blowing up your phone during the meeting? I thought Captain Jenna was gonna blow a gasket” Tara giggled

“He can get pretty impatient” you say in reply, swinging your leg over your motorcycle and readying to drive to Rafayel's loft to see what he wants, “so I better head out”

“Okay, have fun!” She waves with a suggestive wink, and with that, you drive off

_____

When you finally arrive to Rafayel's place, he doesn't greet you at the gate, so, you invite yourself in, having gotten his security code back when he first decided you were going to be his new bodyguard

Knowing the layout like the back of your hand, you easily find him in his bedroom, where the artist sits on his massive bed with his back turned to you, his arms crossed, and though you can't see his face, you just know his signature pout is on his lips

“So, you finally decide to show” he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes again

“I told you, I was in a meeting” you sigh, stepping fully into the room, careful as you avoid stepping on any of the many loose half finished sketches scattered across the floor, pencils and other art supplies discarded this way and that, making moving as difficult as walking through a minefield

“You still should've at least replied”

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask, an attempt to change the subject before the artist spirals into more sulking

It seems to work, and he finally turns to face you, the colors in his surreal eyes swirling with emotions you find you can't exactly place

Excitement? Definitely, but, something more, vulnerability? Almost uncertainty, and you find yourself tilting your head as you wait for him to speak

“So,” he starts, before pausing, gnawing at his lower lip between his teeth, as if he's trying to find the words

“So..?” You reply, hoping to encourage him to continue, seeing how it seemed incredibly important with the amount of messages he has been spamming you with

“Well, you already know I'm Lemurian” he says, and you just nod with a quirked brow, not understanding where he was going with it

Another pause, a breath, “and since we're not human, we have a different…form.. in a few things..” he trails off again

“I know…?” again, you look at him with a baffled expression, still not following his train of thought

Rafayel stops again, and you fight the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake the words out of him, growing as impatient as he was with you when he was spamming your inbox, not used to the man so hesitate in speaking whatever thing came to mind the second he thought of it

Rather than continue speaking, he reaches into his nightstand’s drawer, rumbling through it, a soft blush touching his face

“Raf, whatever you want to say, can you please just get on with-” your words cut off when he pulls out a rather LARGE and inhuman shaped silicone phallic toy, a harness quickly followed

You blink, staring for a few seconds at it while his eyes stay glued to your face, to your reaction

“What is that?” you finally ask

“A strap” he starts, the blush on his cheeks flushing more, overtaking his face, his ears turning a deep red, “it's modeled after Lemurians”

You stare at him in shock for a few seconds, before turning your attention back to the toy, the length, the size, the way it was shaped, curved up, a knot like bulge near the base, the head wide and vaguely resembling the end of a squid head, the edges riddled with groves like a tentacle, the massive toy looking otherworldly and definitely not what you'd have expected

“This.. is how Lemurians’,” you gesture down to his crotch, “look in merform?” You finish in disbelief, finally stepping towards him

He holds the toy out for you, though his eyes suddenly dart off to the side, refusing to meet your gaze as you take it to study

The size was much larger than anything you expected, the girth making it impossible to wrap your fingers around, taking two hands to fully hold it steady, turning it to and from, you look at it from all angles, still unable to fully grasp what Rafayel had said, that this was what his own length looked like in his Lemurian form, not seeing how it was POSSIBLE for something so large of that shape to enter ANYONE, Lemurian or otherwise

He hasn't said a thing, quiet as you inspect the dildo, but his blush has now traveled down his neck, the exposed parts of his chest visible from his unbuttoned shirt turning the same deep crimson his cheeks and ears held, as he once again shifted his eyes to stare at you, gauging your reaction

“You.. want me to use this on you?” You ask when the implications of what a ‘strap’ were came to mind, looking over at the simple black harness he had set next to him on the bed

Rafayel eagerly nods, staring at you like a puppy begging for a treat, his brows furrowing as he waits for your reply

“Would this even fi-”

“It will” he cuts you off mid word, his tone completely sure, as if he has no doubt, as realization dawns on you exactly why he must be so confident

The corner of your lip quirks into a half smirk, mischievous as you set the toy down next to him, your hand instead reaching to grab his chin, tilting his head up as you lean down from your place standing over his sitting form, bringing your lips closer to his own, breathing your next words out, “well, since you asked”

You waste no time kissing him then, half registering the shocked delight in his gaze as your arms move to snake around his shoulders and lean down, toppling you both over onto his expensive sheets

His hands immediately grip your hips as you straddle him, your fingers moving to quickly unbutton his shirt, undoing each one in a heist before yanking his top open and off

Your lips leave his to kiss up and down his neck, peppering the skin with soft pecks and light bites alike, and he moans, arching his back to into your hands when your fingers run over his chest, gently pinching at his hardening nipples before adding a bit more force

He's already panting under you after such a short amount of time; his hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to grind into you, seeking friction, but lets out a whine when you put a stop to his rutting with a solid hand to hold him in place

“Hold still” you warn him, your hands shifting from how you held him to unbutton his pants, before yanking both them and his underwear down in one smooth motion, freeing his length that sprung out, the head smacking against his stomach and staining his skin with the precum already leaking out

You gather up a generous amount on the pads of your fingers, avoiding any real touch as you teasingly ignore his length to instead move past it, down, touching your slick digits against his entrance

He lets out a deep groan, and you feel it rumble from deep within his chest, his pale skin burning bright red, his hardened arousal twitching when you circle around, not putting any real pressure just yet

“Where's the lube?” you ask, purposefully pitching your voice into an innocent, if not slightly teasing tone, smirk on your lips as you look at him

He has thrown his head back, exposing his flushed neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, his answer coming out in a choked whimper

“N-Nightstand drawer” he stutters, and you feel yourself clenching subconsciously at how utterly wrecked he looks, even though you have barely started

You reach your free hand out, blinding searching the open drawer before your fingers find the shape of the bottle

You pull it out, shifting where you straddled him to instead once again stand over him in between his legs

You push both his legs up against his chest which he shifts to hold up from the back of his knees, exposing his already fluttering hole, the smirk growing at the sight of him putting himself on full display for your eager gaze to sweep over

He still stubbornly refuses to look your way, but, you don't mind, enjoying the way his entire body was flushed deep red from his blush, the slight tremble in his limbs as you popped the cap of the lube bottle open, coating the fingers of your dominant hand

“Tell me if it hurts” you say, before gently press your index finger against him, easily pushing in, feeling very little resistance, immediately able to add your middle finger

He moans as you cant your fingers, brushing them over what you could immediately tell was his prostate, before pulling back, not wanting to overwhelm him as you scissor your fingers slightly to help stretch and loosen him, knowing it was important considering the size of the strap he wanted to use. Soon, you find yourself able to add a third, your ring finger, introducing it with another slight brush over his sweet spot to distract any discomfort he may feel as you stretch him more and more

His moans grow louder when you quicken the pace of your hand, fingers moving in and out of his waiting heat, canting, prodding, every once in a while brushing over where you knew he wants you to before once again ignoring it, half to avoid overstimulation, half teasing, feeling your own arousal damping your underwear, the sight of him completely falling apart under you turning you on more than you thought possible

“You seem pretty experienced in this” you tease, your pinkie joining in on the assault, causing his already arched back to arch more, taunt like a bow and you see his hands holding his legs up for you turning almost white with how hard he held his own limbs

“D-Don’t say it like that” he huffs, but the sound dissolves into a groan when your fingers once again prode against his prostate, cutting off any more words from him intentionally

Once you feel the muscles of his entrance completely loosen under your attentive movements, you move your hand back, and he lets out a whiny protest

You step back, grabbing the harness to easily put it on, deciding not to undress at all, excitement flooding through your veins at the power dynamic of it all, him, flushed and begging and nude on his back with his knees pressed to his chest on full display, and you, standing over him, still completely clothed as you attach the monstrous dick to the harness

As you coat the toy with a generous amount of lube, you see Rafayel releases his hold on one of his legs, hand moving to grasp his neglected length, but you quickly smack his hand away before he makes contact as you step closer once more

“No” you tell him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as, FINALLY, he looks back at you, the surreal color of his eyes overtaken by his blown out pupils, his lips parted as he pants, his chest heaving with each breath, and you can see the desperation in his gaze as he whines, yet again

“Whyyyyy” he pouts, furrowing his brows, but you ignored him in favor of lining the slick strap up to his waiting heat

“I control your pleasure” you breathe, and you see his eyes widen for a split second before you move, with solid hands on his hips, you pull him down onto the toy, pushing in in one smooth motion

He lets out a loud moan, louder than any you have ever heard from him before, which you immediately silence by crashing your mouth to his, swallowing the sound as you start to thrust

His legs wrap around your waist, his hands grasping desperately at the bedsheets, fingernails clawing into the fabric, his back arching further as pressing his chest against your own and you can feel his heart hammering away so quickly, so strongly

You angle each thrust, hitting where you KNOW his prostate is, overwhelming him into a desperate mess under you as he pulls his face away from your lips, turning his head to the side, his cries echoing off the walls, his legs trembling around your waist; you see tears start gathering in the corners of his eyes

He screams your name, over and over, louder and louder to the point you wonder vaguely if anyone else can hear him, even in his home so isolated from everyone else, he was being so loud

One of your hands leaves his hip to cover his mouth, cupping over his lips in an attempt to silence him

“Quiet, my lil conch shell” you breathe teasingly, and his eyes snap open, wide, the nickname proving to be his undoing

Reaching his limit, you feel his hot release spill out in between you two, his cum coating over your shirt and burning into the fabric, soaking it

You give a few extra thrusts, working him through his orgasm until his moans turn into pained groans from the overstimulation on his poor prostate

You finally pull back and out of him, leaving him a panting mess on the bed, his chest still heaving, his hips and legs trembling, his eyes completely glazed over, and you find yourself smirking at how completely fucked out he looks, just because of you

_____

It wasn't until later, when you're having some drinks with Tara, that you realize something

As she jokingly shows you a site she found while browsing the Internet for some new adult toys to spice up her bedroom, you see the very strap Rafayel said was modeled after Lemurians listed under “Monster Dragon”

You can't help but smirk when you ask Tara to send you a screencap to forward to your Lemurian lover

[storm-angel989]

can i request headcanons for being Valentino and Vox's daughter ? Thank you and stay hydrated ♡

GREAT Request!

I’ve never actually written something like this before, so forgive me. I’ve spent much more time thinking about Valentino’s daughter than Vox’s daughter and have written more for the former, so obviously Val’s daughter is much more developed. This is more of a sketched out list, so forgive any tense issues or grammar errors! Also disclaimer: these can change, evolve and adapt with each passing story <3 

If any of these headcanons catch your eye, feel free to drop a request! I’m always taking them- this month has just been incredibly busy. I appreciate the reminder to stay hydrated, I needed it!!

Looking forward to the summer when I have a bit more time for all of the writing things! In the meantime, keep them coming. Whenever I get a request, it goes right into a google doc. Most of the time when inspiration hits, content gets scribbled into that google doc until I have time to edit and sort it out…so just because there is a delay, doesn’t mean it won’t get done! And inspiration hits in the most random of places <3

Headcanons for being Valentino’s daughter (whose mom is half angel wife from OTO)

-For the most part you grew up normal (well as much as you can with a living in the V tower)

-There was always someone there to snuggle or play with, and always someone willing to put a bandaid on a boo boo

-Your Daddy gave the best snuggles and hugs and you took over your parents bedroom until you were six

-Even after, you insisted at least one adult lay down with you until you feel asleep until you hit your teenage years 

-When you’re sick you go to Valentino first, which is a good thing because of all the gross things little kids do, he handles it the best. You once overheard him compare a sick toddler to a drunk adult.  

-When you’re little little, you love listening to your family’s heartbeat. That feeling of safety along with a warm bottle usually puts you right to sleep. 

-Vox was your primary babysitter, and it wasn’t unusual to fall asleep in his arms, under his desk or even in his chair while he worked. He often conducted meetings and held you while you slept. 

-You’re known for sneaking out of bed and more than once you’ve been found asleep on the couch and carried back to bed. 

-You secretly think your Dad makes the best pancakes but you don’t want to hurt your Uncle Vox’s feelings

-Neither Mommy nor Daddy let you in their studios 

-You were always welcome in Velvette or Vox’s studio as long as you followed directions and kept away from Vark and the rest of your Uncles sharks

-Your Dad gave you no shortage of love and affection 

-Though it was really your Uncle Vox that spoiled you 

-You were never allowed to visit Valentino at work, and on the rare occasions you did end up on the fourth floor, he quickly escorted you away

- it wasn’t until you were in your teens that you made a connection between your fathers job and his role in the porn and drug industry 

-You never questioned where babies came from, and all four of your guardians insisted on calling body parts by their proper names. All of these things were fact and nothing more.  

-The doctors office was never scary, and all appointments were handled either at home or in Valentino’s studio well after hours. 

-The first time you got your period, you freaked until your father calmed you down. 

-Annoyingly, you had to wear a location tracker at all times. Valentino refused to put one under your skin without your consent, even for your own safety, so when you started to leave the tower to go to school, Vox created a special tracking watch just for you 

-One time you got fed up with your teacher and called Uncle Vox on your watch to tell him to come get you. He does. 

-Being Vox’s niece, you learned to hack that watch when you turned thirteen. After all you never could go anywhere without someone being on your ass. All you wanted was privacy. 

-When you did eventually start dating, Valentino insisted on meeting each date when they came to pick you up, regardless of their gender. If he didn’t like them, you didn’t go out. You suspected he showed his gun on more than one occasion. 

-And there were more than a few times you didn’t get to go out.  

-You tried to get a fake ID at sixteen when you started to rebel. Unfortunately for you between your father and your uncle every single bar and club was controlled by them and the first time you tried to use it was your last time. And you got grounded. Big time. 

-Once you turned twenty one though, all bets were off. As much as you didn’t like that your family knew all, it was sort of comforting to know that wherever you were, you were protected. And by that point, you were doing pretty okay. 

-The first time you intentionally tried one of Valentino’s drugs was the last time.

-You still went to school every day, but Valentino had no issue with you taking a mental health day when needed

-You had your appendix out when you were younger

-Homework needed to be done before anything else, every single night. Your usual routine was to come in, go right to Uncle Vox’s office and do your homework with him. He keeps a stash of kid friendly snacks in his bottom drawer, and promises to keep the cheese itz coming if you don’t tell your dad.

-You hate that Vox makes you try each problem three times before asking for help, but you respect his method because you respect him

-The food kept in the house was generally high quality and healthy. Not to say there isn’t junk food, but the adults eat pretty healthily and by default as such so do you. 

-When you stop eating however, in a desperate effort to look like one of the model’s in your Aunt Velvette’s magazine, your father catches you very, very quickly. 

-You struggle with balancing the angelic and demonic parts of you. This shows up hard in the teenage years with instances of ED’s, Depression, Anxiety, self harm, poor decision making etc. 

-Valentino definitely brought you home from his clubs on more than one occasion. 

-You got alcohol poisoning/overdosed a few times. Thankfully, Valentino was always there to rescue you. The final time it happened, the expression on your father’s face ensured you never crossed that line again. 

-When you self harm for the first time, it’s Vox who catches you. 

-They will not allow you to hurt yourself, but they do their best to support and love you through every single mistake

-You demand perfection of yourself far, far more than they expect of you 

Headcanons for being Vox’s daughter 

-Vox tried to put a chip in your arm the day you were born, but Valentino took it out. 

-Intelligent? You could hack any device by the time you were ten. It was a struggled for Vox to keep ahead of your nonsense. 

-Stubborn as all heck. If you want something you’re gonna get it. Period.

-You had coffee in your hand by the time you were thirteen. As much as it freaked your father out, your Uncle Valentino helped you figure out the right cream/sugar/coffee ratio 

-Vox shooed all questions about womanhood to Velvette/Valentino/Wife and although he tries hard to understand and learn about the female body, you’re well aware he’s uncomfortable with it. Thankfully, your Uncle Valentino reassures you it's alright. 

-You are not at all into sports, though Valentino does force you to play on a team after catching you in one of his clubs. You were not terrible, and he does not have mercy on you. 

-Your Dad keeps a careful eye on your grades, and forces you to try each problem three times before asking for help

-The day your Uncle Valentino caught you working in his club was the most embarrassing moment of your life

-You definitely went through an emo phase