#I had this wip lying around since forever

[salsedinepicta]

Eir Ingellvar ft. a standard Mourn Watch uniform, trust me 🫴🏻✨ and so so many freckles.

[moriche]

TES WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by a whole bunch of folks, and tagging a whole bunch of folks in return as well! Honestly I have no idea when this becomes too much or if I'm breaking Tumblr-Etiquette 😅but I love seeing what everyone is up to and reblogging your work too!! @thequeenofthewinter @truth-01001001-liar @pocket-vvardvark @illumiera @unknownhomosapien @kat-tail @nyarevar @changelingsandothernonsense @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @oblivions-dawn @scorchedcandy @saltymaplesyrup @dirty-bosmer @ladytanithia @thenotebookwizard @sulphuricgrin @umbracirrus @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter @friend-of-giants @labskeever @heavy-metal-dick @sanzas-reverie @theoneandonlysemla @yansurnummu @scholarlyhermit @linwelinwrites @sylvienerevarine @kookaburra1701 @elavoria @wispstalk @stormbeyondreality @ansu-gurleht @madam-whim @gilgamish @ggghoulish @graveofcalaxes @nuwanders @captain-of-silvenar @pyre-of-pages @guardianlizard @lobu-inu @fangsandsoftgrass @rustyram035 @lathez @babyblueetbaemonster @unironicallytes

If you want to get on or off Ms. Moriche’s Wild Ride, please tag me or DM me and I’ll make a note and add or remove you!

And also tagged are YOU! YES! YOU!

▲ ▼ ▲

I got some more work done on Veryn's outfits - this time it's the Telvanni Armour / Dust Adept look to travel the Ashlands, featuring a Dreugh Skull. I also did some writing, which you can see below the cut! Can't believe it's almost a year since I last updated my fic, but I've had a hard time getting words on paper. Real Life and Miniche get in the way, and I've arrived at a series of chapters that are going to be this Big Centerpoint of the fic - and I want to really do them well. (and I ran into someone bookmarking my fic, only to see multiple occasions of really similar sentences to mine in their work, which was kinda demotivating too ;.;). But. Hopefully. We're back, baby.

Veryn remained with the guar, the animals loosely tethered and grazing on what dried grasses had survived the cold. Leaning against Sharn, he squinted at Caius setting up a tripod, topped with a gleaming brass instrument. Even from a distance, the man looked intimidating, cloaked in red, clad in decorated Legionnaire’s plate. “Do you hate him?” His spine stiffened at Sharn’s question, vertebrae locking together like a Skyrim shield wall. “It’s that obvious, huh?” Nerves crawled like spiders through his mouth, desperate for a release, and he laughed wryly. “I don’t know if I hate him. What he did, what he’s doing? How can I forget that the Blades are using me as their sacrificial pawn? How can I forgive Caius for lying to me about my own death? And yet if I don’t do anything, if the Empire doesn’t — what if Dagoth Ur wins? What if the voice in my head — ” He broke off abrubtly and gestured around him. “What if all of Morrowind becomes like this or worse? Endless rock and ash, choked by poison weeds. What if Cyrodiil becomes his twisted garden? All of Tamriel?” His answer was a gaze of worry, of uncertainty - a gaze that told him Sharn did not know what the future held either. “And must you carry that weight on your own?” “I don’t know, alright?” He raised his voice, the aching pulse in his temples overriding clarity of thought, frustration and anger threatening to spill out in a torrent of tears and rage. Stomach roiling, Veryn clenched his teeth and eyes, clawing at his mind to gain back a semblance of control. Not here, not now, not in Mamaea, where he couldn’t tell whether the heartbeat in his ears was his own. Sharns hands found his shoulders, her voice found his ears; but he couldn’t quite tell what she was saying over the ring of anxiety until her tone changed and her words stilled. “Ryn,” she said, her voice full of alarm. “I’m fairly sure I’m sensing some magic out here, and it’s not yours.” His stomach stopped squirming and dropped down like lead as a screaming sense of warning jolted through his veins and dragged him back to the present. He cast out his magic hyperagonally, reaching out to the ambient magicka that surrounded them, searching it without rhyme or reason, trying to find patterns in that sea of near-primordial chaos. Usually he was good at this. Usually, he saw patterns where there might be none at all. Today though — “I sense nothing. But if you do, then — ” A corpse from an era long-gone. “Necromancy.” Sharn realised it at the same time he did, wide, panicked eyes meeting the lenses of his dust-mask. “Run!” A creak escaped from the ground, a grinding, grating sound, as if some long-shut door had been opened, some rusty, stilled joint started moving again. Little clouds of dust began to leap towards the sky, growing larger with groan from below. His boots dragged through the ashen dust, solid ground becoming looser and looser with each step he took. Sharn cursed, sinking in to her ankles, the earth caving in below her steps. He stumbled next, their footing disintegrating faster than they could run. Out of the depths echoed a snap, sharp and sudden, followed by another; by a third one, the squealing movement of ancient bones beneath their feet, splintering and fracturing from the pressure of soil and dust. Mamaea awakened, a giant unable to bear its own weight, a skeleton collapsing into itself, a gaping mouth to the abyss, jagged ribs jutting out like teeth. “Hold on!” Veryn yelled, barely audible through the dust blasting his mask. Grasping Sharn’s arm, he drew on his magic without care, lifting up the both of them in flight. A brief distance was all he needed, a few more paces, and they’d make it to more solid rock. Caius must be out there somewhere, obscured by the same storm that proved his undoing. The wind screeched and howled and hummed, resonating with the beat of a thousand scarab wings. It ripped at his clothes and armour and tore at Sharns limbs, wresting them off balance. His magic fizzled, unable to keep two people airborne for long, leaving him only one way. Down.

[elvensorceress]

wip not-wednesday?

since I finished snickerdoodles of longing, and I have a whole 16K chapter of the sequel, have a snippet? @tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie @beyourownanchor6 love to all of you! yell at me if you share anything! I want to see it! 💕 this follow's Monday's snippet where Eddie is now in Texas and missing both his boys and for the record this is the song Eddie sent Buck because reasons

Eddie indulges with a hot shower after his morning workout and tries not to think about Chris getting ready for school and Buck working on a car collision and Eddie being absent for both of those things. 

He towels off, wraps it around his waist, and flops on the bed to thoroughly air dry before getting dressed. He also didn’t sleep that much and the bed is very enticing. He could nap for a bit before facing the rest of the day. 

As soon as he closes his eyes for a few minutes, his phone buzzes.

On screen Buck is still partially in his gear. He’s sweaty and looks soggy and grimy, but his hair is going crazy in all directions. And admittedly, it's pretty cute.

“I listened to your song,” Buck hangs up his helmet on the racks behind him. “Had to not cry all the way back here.” 

Not cry? Eddie never considered it a sad song. Hopeful and longing sure, but not sad. The lyrics talk about lying under the stars in a field of bluebonnets and a dream of touching earth and growing something wild and unruly. And also running away with a cowboy who sets his love free. “It made you cry? Or you wanted to cry?”

Buck shrugs out of his coat and gives him a weird face. “Yes, Eddie. Your song about being set free and rescued and having a happy life with the man you love away from everything else made me cry.”

Ah. Yeah, he can see how it would do that under that context. “It was one of my favorites when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I get it. And here I thought you calling me ‘cowboy’ was just silly. And possibly homoerotic.”

Eddie smirks. And misses him like crazy. “It can be all of the above. Multitudes are contained in words and music.”

Buck finishes taking off his gear and shakes his head. Not like he disagrees. More like he’s amused. And then he takes a harder look through the phone, likely at Eddie, and glances around the station like he’s checking who might be around him. “Are you,” he says in a rushed whisper. “Are you naked right now?”

“I just showered. I have a towel on.” Eddie angles the phone down and back up because he’s sure Buck will want proof. 

Buck’s eyes are wide and dark when Eddie moves the phone back up to show his face. Buck is chewing his lower lip. And breathing heavily. “Eddie, fuck. I’m in the middle of the station floor. Someone will know! Someone will see!”

Eddie blinks a few times. “They’ll see what? I’m just shirtless. As far as they know. Anyone at the station has probably already seen me shirtless. Our locker room has glass walls.” Plus, no one cares about seeing a man without his shirt. 

Although Buck without his shirt is nice. Very nice. Beautiful. He’s so ridiculously beautiful. But it’s Buck. He’s the most handsome, beautiful, gorgeous. All those things. Eddie doesn’t even know how to describe him any other way. 

The background around Buck changes rapidly like he’s hurrying somewhere. But he's still clearly on the screen. And Eddie could look at him forever.

He’s soft and warm and strong and Eddie loves tracing the swirls of black ink all over Buck’s skin. He loves pressing kisses to his scars and imagining he can take away any associated pain. He loves the curves and bulges of muscles, the feel of soft, dense body hair. Or what would be dense and curly and everywhere if Buck didn’t wax off so much of it. Sure, it’s his body and his personal preference. If that’s what Buck likes, that’s what counts. But Eddie loves how it feels under his hands, against his own skin. It makes him tingle and ache and his heart rushes, and it’s like coming back to life, finally finding sensation. 

He loves that Buck let him touch and kiss anywhere and everywhere he wanted. Eddie wanted to leave love on every inch of Buck’s body, but especially the blemishes and places where he knows Buck is self-conscious about the way he looks. 

Eddie can’t look at him and see anything but beautiful. Perfect. He’s so perfectly Buck and so perfectly beautiful in every way. 

Okay, maybe he gets why Buck closes his eyes and makes some kind of tense hand gesture at him. 

Maybe Buck looks at Eddie and sees him as beautiful, too. Not that Eddie is bad looking? He knows people find him attractive. He knows quite a few people think that’s all he is. Nice face, pretty good body. Being a firefighter, a soldier, requires a certain amount of athleticism. But his face and appearance is just genetics. None of it really matters. Focusing on looks is shallow and reductive. And usually objectifying and invasive. 

But Buck knows him. 

It’s different if Buck thinks Eddie is good looking. 

It looks like Buck shuts himself in the showers at the station and pants heavily as he says, “Eddie. Honey. Baby.”

"Yes, love?" Why are they so far apart when all Eddie wants to do is kiss him all over and hold him forever? They shouldn’t be apart. It’s been a little over two days and he already hates this.

"You're naked. You-- you are -- you're. Naked."

Eddie smirks. “You know if you’re going to shower, you’ll have to get naked, too.”

Buck points at him through the phone. “Not helping! So not helping.”

Eddie must’ve missed the memo where he was supposed to be helpful. He misses his Buck, his partner, his-- he doesn't know what they're calling each other now besides that, but it doesn't matter because Eddie only aches for him.

[littlefankingdom]

What if I gave you some snippet of WIPs I may never finish because I'm a perfectionist with too little time?

It has always been his luck, and curse, that Gotham Cemetery was in Bristol. His luck, because it was close enough to the manor for him to visit his parents' mausoleum as much as he wanted, in the Wayne's plot. His curse, because it was close enough to the manor for him to feel the judgment of the dead every hour he spent awake. From where they were, did his parents judge him? Did the Graysons hate him? Did Janet Drake fear his influence on her son? Did his boy wait for him every day, just like his last? Was he alone, even with his mothers' bodies by his side? Was he cold? Was he sad? Was he scared?

~ Demain, dès l'aube

It is not with pleasure that Bruce accepts the invitation given by Ra's Al Ghul. The man may be the only living parent to the woman he loves, but he cannot forget the terror he felt for the last 72 hours since he discovered his ward's bed empty. Even now, with the boy safe and sound by his side, his warm hand in his, Bruce can still taste the fear. Even if he refuses, the man has already proven he knows how to make Bruce go where he wants him to. He has already shown how easily he can take what is the most precious thing in his life from under his eyes without being caught and make Bruce run around the world to find it. So, it is with reticence that Bruce accepts the invitation, holding his boy as close as he can. However, if they dare try to take him from Bruce again, then “Lord, have mercy,” as Alfred says, Bruce will make hell rain on them as many times as they need to get the message.

~ Who Wants to Live Forever?

Jason would be lying if he said Bruce was an emotionless man. He had become more closed off as the years went on (and someone's death did have affected him, but Jason wasn't ready to admit that out loud yet), but his feelings could be read easily by a combination of signs, hidden by the cowl and the cape during their nighttime activities. Well, mostly, because his mouth and voice's intonation still gave some of them away, like how terrified he was when one of them would get hit and did not immediately reappear in his line of sight unharmed, yelling their codenames with all the strength his vocal cords could stand. And in some long-lost memories of his that came back at time, Jason could dig up an affectionate and proud smile the Dark Knight would give him after a mission well done where he had come up on his own with the solution to save the day. Anyway, that didn't matter at the moment. No, what mattered was that Jason knew Bruce, and he had never seen him look this small and terrorized at the same time. Something was wrong.

~ Prologue to Playboy

For years, his birthday had been a sad event, with loneliness, grief, and the aging butler as his only guests, but his 21st had been different. For his 21st, Alfred had managed to get Bruce's old friend and classmate from boarding school, Oliver Queen, to come to Gotham, and had succeeded in making Bruce invite his only current friend at Gotham U, Harvey Dent. Quite the small party for such a milestone, but it was a record for his young master. After a fine dinner at Wayne Manor, the two men, boys in Alfred's eyes, had dragged a hesitant Bruce into town. A sober Harvey, not of age yet to consume alcohol and a more law-abiding citizen than the two others, had brought back two very drunk young millionaires around 5 in the morning. Oliver's loud and bad singing woke up the old butler to meet a laughing Bruce barely standing up, holding to his friends' shoulders for support. Alfred had never seen him smile like this since the tragedy. The three partygoers had crashed at the manor for the night, and for the first time in a decade, there wasn't any silence in the old house.

~ Playboy

The sound of a child screaming. The smell of popcorn. The taste of blood in his mouth. The sight of empty, dead eyes. The feeling of warmth from the people around him. The two bodies on the ground are calling him, trying to guide him back to the alley, but he is anchored in the presence of people around him, strangers that cannot see him struggle. The absence of guns on the scene, of the sound that haunts him, may also be a reason. As he comes back to his full senses, he sees the child running to his late parents, and a dreadful feeling conquers him. That poor boy cannot suffer like he did, like he does. Bruce will not live with himself if that happens. There's laughter in the manor where it used to only be dreadful silence. There's light where there used to only be darkness. There is Robin when it used to only be Batman. They teach each other the same lesson: life goes on after death. And, as the years go on, there's a son instead of a ward in Dick Grayson.

~ Triggers

Dick had been excited about Metropolis; the art deco architecture was so beautiful on the prospectus his parents had shown him; but his own tour had ended here, in Gotham. And it wore its name well, because neo-gothic ruled over the city, with huge decorative gargoyles at the corner of each considerable building. Even in Europe, he had never seen so many gargoyles in one city. They were mostly on churches and cathedrals on the old continent, but here, they were everywhere. And distracted by the singularity of Gotham, he didn’t see one of its creatures moves until it landed in front of him. It was an immense bat, well over two Dicks tall. It wrapped its body in its wings, its head peeking out at the top from a collar of black fur. Its silhouette was strangely human, and the way it stands mimicked humans, but it was too animal-like, too bat-like for a man. Dick should have been terrified; any children would have been; but instead, he was captivated. He had grown up listening to tales full of creatures and spirits, but this was his first time seeing one. And even though most of these stories were warnings on how dangerous these beings were, he felt no fear.

~ Unnamed Criptid!Batman AU

[reginaphalangelobster125]

The Life We Started

Natasha Romanoff x Magic GN!Reader

Summary: You and Natasha live a complicated life together.

Warnings: MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS, lots of Angst, fluff, not a happy ending, main character death and near death.

You had always been close with Natasha, ever since you joined the team all those years ago but after Thanos won and you lost half the universe you two grew closer in your grief.

During the battle in Wakanda you didn't think you could fight any harder then you saw Natasha, she was fighting off soilders of Thanos' army left and right until one of them was amount to get the jump on her. You could see it running up behind her and you harnessed a previously unimaginable amount of power and blasted the beast into a million pieces. You felt this new found strength coursing through you veins, you turned to the big purple bastard approaching you and with all your might knocked him down. It didn't seem like much but seeing everything he had done to your teammates, your friends, it was a very impressive feat. You were exhilarated when you saw him on the ground, that was until you collapsed.

Natasha ran over to you tears pricking at her eyes the moment she saw you lying in the mud, lifeless.

She picked up your body and you didn't move, she shook you and you didn't move, she cried out your name and you didn't move.

She placed two fingers on you neck checking frantically for a pulse, any sign of life but she was met with nothing.

She knelt in the mud crying her eyes out hold your hold in her arms, squeezing you tight wishing, praying that you would come back to her.

Then he snapped.

She only slightly looked up from you when she heard silence. The battle had stopped and she looked around seeing her friends start to turn to dust. She was so overwhelmed with grief, preoccupied with watching half the universe disappear Infront of her eyes that she didn't notice you flickering your eyes open.

'Nat' you croaked out voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

'Y-y/n?' she stuttered out through her sobs.

You reached up and placed a hand gently cradling her face. You wipped away the tears rolling down her cheek.

'I-I thought I'd lost you' she whimpered.

'You can't get rid of me that easily Romanoff'

She chuckled lightly through her tears.

She lowered her face impossibly close to yours.

'I'm so sorry, I'll never let you go again.'

You closed the gap, you lips pressed against hers weakly. Natasha strengthened the kiss, it grew more passionate and desperate as the two of you never wanted to be without each other again. Both of you clinging to each other feeling as though you would lose the other forever if you let go for a second.

You finally broke apart gasping for air.

'I love you'

'I love you too, Natasha'

During the next five years your love only grew stronger. It was tough in the beginning after losing so many people but you got through it together. She told you so many stories about her sister Yelena and of course her vest. You and Natasha decided to stay in New York at the compound.

You had always been pretty close with Tony and you stayed in touch. When he told you that Pepper was pregnant you were overjoyed and bought her heaps of baby stuff and insisted on babysitting once their little bundle of joy was here. Natasha loved seeing you this way, even more sweet and caring than usual.

You and Nat waited in the hospital for hours until you finally got to meet little Morgan. You were crying when Tony handed her to you and said 'Y/n meet Morgan Howard Stark, your goddaughter.' You didn't believe for a moment. Your goddaughter. You were over the moon.

You loved be a godparent and Nat loved being the 'cool aunt'. Every other weekend you would go up to Tony's cabin and Morgan would run out the door towards you, arms open and embrace you in the warmest hugs you and Nat had ever had. The three of you would run around the forest climbing trees and laughing for hours. Morgan's favourite part of your visit everytime would be when you showed her little fireworks in the palm of your hand. She would just sit there mesmerised starring at the little lights.

One night after you had tucked Morgan in and sung her a lullaby you walked down the stairs to see Tony and Nat doing the dishes. It didn't seem like much but they still had some bad feelings about the Sokovia Accords so seeing them together made you hopeful.

On the night of Morgan's 4th birthday after you tucked her in you walked over to Tony and said 'I think I've finally got you beat Tones.' he looked up from his book as you continued 'Morgan just said she loves me 1000'. Tony mock glared at you and feigned offence. Natasha came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. 'Sorry detka she just said she loves me 1001'. You sighed 'Good thing I love you 1001 or I'd be very upset'. You turned around in her arms, both of you smiling like idiots. 'Alright alright that's enough lovey dovey crap I'm going to bed' Tony said as he made his way upstairs.

You and Nat exchanged a look and made your way up to your room. Once you closed the door Nat took your hand in hers and said 'Detka you made my life better the second you stepped into it and you continue to do so everyday. I don't know what I did to deserve you but I'm so glad I did it, you make me feel complete. I love you with my whole heart, will you marry me?'. You froze. You didn't know what to say so you just kissed her. It was the best kiss you two had ever shared, by the end of it you were both crying. 'Just to clarify that was a 'yes' right?' you giggled 'Of course it was, baby. I love you and I'd love to marry you'.

When you got back to the compound and told Steve he gave you both the biggest bear hug until you couldn't breath.

One morning you were making pancakes for Nat and you saw someone at the front door on the monitor. You all greeted Scott Lang and he told you everything.

You tried to call Tony to give him a heads up but it went to voicemail. You all arrived at Tony and Pepper's cabin and you stood back and mouthed a 'sorry' but Tony was clearly unimpressed. When Morgan came running out towards you everyone was surprised and a bit confused. After everyone left you stayed and spoke to Tony. He told you about his misgivings and you comforted him as much as you could while trying not to worry about your own.

The day finally came you were all suited up, standing on the platform ready to go back in time. You held Natasha's hand and gave her a small smile as the two of you went to Vormir.

As you were being told what had to happen you felt like you were being repeatedly punched in the gut. The thought of leaving Natasha made you sick to your stomach. You looked at each other and said how much you loved each other and then you both realised what the other was planning to do. You were both running towards that cliff, Nat was outrunning you so you used your powers to push her back. You jumped off the cliff but she caught you and hooked the line on your belt to the rock face. She looked up at you tears pricking her eyes.

'Let me go'

'No. I can't. Please.'

'It's ok'

'Please'

Then she did it.

She pushed of the cliff, you watched her body land with a thud. Your whole world just... gone.

You sat up in a pool of water with the soul stone in your hand. You lost the love of your life for a rock. One stupid little rock.

When you were back on the platform everyone looked at the space Nat should have been occupying.

You all watch as the stones are put on the glove, you walk up to it.

'What are you doing? You'll get yourself killed.' Bruce said as he put a hand on you shoulder that you immediately shrugged off.

'Good'

'You are not strong enough, a god should do it!' Thor boomed. And you just ignored him.

Tony looked at you and you nodded. That was all he needed to trust your judgement. 'Do it, you're strong enough.'

With some more grumbling from the others you put the gauntlet on. You felt the power surge through you, you screamed with pain before you saw visions of Natasha and knew that you had to do this, not for the universe but for yours.

While the others starred at you worried looks on their faces you brought your fingers together and snapped.

3 Days Later

A small package was left at your door. You opened it to reveal the custom rings you and Natasha had designed with your initials.

1 Week Later

You sat in your car starring at the two bouquets of flowers in your prosthetic hand and the box in you other hand. You thought back to watching your fiancé due and then a few hours later watching you best friend die. You got out of you car and walking into the cemetery. You placed one bouquet on Tony's memorial and then you walked over to see a short blonde woman standing infront of Natasha's grave.

'You must be Yelena'

'Yes'

'She told me a lot about you'

'She did?'

'Yes'

'She wanted you to have this'

You hand her the box and she opened it to see and army green vest inside. A few moments of silence past as tears rolled down her cheeks.

You placed the ring Natasha never got to wear next to her name. The other sitting on your finger.

'She was engaged?'

'Yes, the wedding was going to be next month.'

'I'm sorry'

'So am I'

'What happened to her?'

'Why don't you come with me and I'll tell you everything'

The End

[changelingsandothernonsense]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You get a word and share a sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

Got tagged by both @skyrim-forever and @sulphuricgrin

tagging @archangelsunited @firefly-factory @nyarevar @scholarlyhermit @hircines-hunter @viss-and-pinegar @vehksfingerguns @saltymaplesyrup

I've got both BITE and NIGHT

These come from several separate wips. Most are Joshi's pov but Sydari's got at least one.

BITE

"Bed’s a little smaller than expected but I think we’ll fit,” She mused as she took off his helmet, the thin plait he had fashioned his hair into falling over his shoulder, “if you are still okay with sharing, I mean?”

Teldryn nodded, pulling down his scarf as she removed his goggles, “Told you, I don’t mind, Lukal.”

She smiled at him, her thumb brushing along his cheek, he could feel the leather of her gloves sticking to his skin a little. They had been doing this dance a lot over the last few years, though it had been getting increasingly more frequent since they arrived in Skyrim. One of them would linger too long or say something that implied they wanted the company of the other. He often wondered what would happen if he just stopped dancing and just admitted how he actually felt. Gods, he’d tried so many times but there was always something that would trip him up. The timing was never right and honestly, he was terrified that he was reading her intentions wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made an idiot of himself like that, fuck, it wouldn’t even be the first timed he’d fucked up things with her. What if she pulled away from him again? What if she left him?

I opened my eyes and took everything in. To say my surroundings were grim would be an understatement; this place was absolutely miserable looking. I found myself lying in the middle of a circular platform, its edges framed by pointed arches that reminded me of the Old City of Mournhold, only cold. Everything here was just so cold, an otherworldly chill that bit into my bones in a way that not even the furthest reaches of Skyrim did…even if it felt close. No, Hermaeus Mora’s realm was unlike anything I had seen before. The sky was cast in a hazy, almost sickening green that had me feeling nauseous whenever I looked up at the whirlwinds of loose papers suspended above me.

I slowly got to my feet, I could still feel that twinge in my hip as I reached for my cane, balancing myself before grabbing the rest of my things. I had hoped that maybe the part of me that Mora would pull into Apocrypha, was that same aspect of myself that wandered my dreams. I guess I was hoping to land here as my pre-Corprus self, at least I’d be able to move around without half my body crumbling.

I bit down on my lip, feeling that painful prickle that confirmed what I had first thought when I felt my hip twinge— My waking consciousness had been transported here and judging by the silence, I left Nerevar behind. I just hoped I could get all this shit over with before Nerevar figured out what was going on.

The Bosmer that was straddling his lap that night had hair that was almost as dark as his, and she had those strange, entirely black eyes that reflected the light in a way that reminded him of a large feline. It was something that usually haunted him— what with Mouse having similar features. Though she seemed eager, and he was…well…he’d had a confusing day, to put it mildly. What the Bosmer was trying to do made sense. Sex was simple and gods sometimes all he wanted was simplicity when his thoughts swam like they had that night.

“Erandur, I’m a travelling priest of Mara,” he replied, nodding towards her, “Your husband’s from Morrowind, yes?

She nodded, swallowing a little, “He has his own way of dealing with it but—”

“But you still worry,” Erandur replied, his voice calm, “I won’t lie to you, I do fear for the people of Dawnstar.”

She felt her heart jump into her throat for a second, “So there is a curse?”

“No, not a curse,” Erandur shook his head, his shoulder-length, silvery hair catching the light of the firepit, “But the cause is just as sinister, I’m afraid. These dreams are manifestations created by the Daedric Lord, Vaermina. She has a voracious hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves behind nightmares, not unlike a cough marks a serious illness. The nightmares echo her presence as she feeds.”

NIGHT

No…no he wasn’t mad at the Dunmer that stood before him. Not really, he had no idea who Teldryn was or why they were travelling north aside from what little information Hassour had given him. His guide was just trying to do his job and all Teldryn had done was fuck around for the past twenty-four hours! No, once again he was being reactionary— his fucking about was directly related to Cosades dropping that stupid fucking Nerevarine guarshit on him like he was some sort of Imperial marionette dancing on a string— and dance he must less his wardens choose to cut those strings permanently. Teldryn wasn’t angry at his Ashlander guide, he was angry at the Blades!

It always came back to this fucking conscription!

It keeps wearing her face!

Teldryn flung his arm over his face in a huff, last thing he needed was to get himself all fucking bothered over a woman who he had no idea of the availability of… not to mention the whole fucked up way they’d been acting towards one another wasn’t helping his anxieties. Sure, he totally got why she was shitty with him, he’d attacked her twice and she did say that he’d need to earn her respect. It’s just that every time he did that something would happen to make him slip up. He’d shove his foot in his mouth over and over again and she’d snap at him for it… which just made him want to win her affections more!

Gods he hoped so, he didn’t think he had the patience to roll himself another tin’s worth, he’d been going through a whole tins worth a day since coming off…whatever the fucking pain-killing tonic Sydari had given him that made his brain prickle like he’d tasted fucking skooma. He’d been seeking tobacco to dull the anxiety it was causing him, though he knew it would never leave him entirely. Only time and not fucking with the stuff would do that.

“He should accept them, ancestors willing,” Erra replied, Teldryn noticed that he began to fiddle with his glove, having taken one off as they were speaking. He watched as the mer’s rust painted fingers pulled at the dyed wool and wondered if his guide was hiding something from him.

“You don’t seem all that confident,” Teldryn prodded, “What aren’t you telling me, Erra?”

Erra’s eyes widened as he shook his head, “It is nothing— It should be nothing….”

Teldryn furrowed his brow and tilted his head a little, looking up at his companion, “No, it’s not that I don’t want to be travelling with you. You’re fine. It’s um…” he paused, drumming his fingers on his knee as he gathered his thoughts, “It’s this job, what they are getting me to do. I— I don’t want to be doing this.”

His guide sighed as he removed the cork from the vessel he was holding and gulped down the contents before gingerly placing it back in his pack, “Why do you not ask your khan to change jobs?”

“I can’t.”

To those tagged, your word is DREAM

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: depictions of domestic & verbal abuse are at the beginning of this chapter, please take care in reading. explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 3.0k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I wrote this in a fitful manic episode yesterday morning when I should've instead been working on uni hw instead... that's the story of my fucking life, apparently. 💀 we're finally getting to the very climax of this entire fic ya'll... and I promise that this won't be dragged on forever lmao, so there's only a few chapters left to this series~ 😃

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

“You are nothing, and you’ll never be anything else besides the girl I fuck on the side,” Chris was saying to you with a deep sneer on his face. He was staring up at you, as he leaned in and kissed Yeji in a lewd kind of way there on the sofa. “I never loved you as much as her.”

 “I fucking hate you…” You started to seethe out in a low voice, your entire body shaking. Yet you couldn’t stop watching - couldn’t stop looking at the train wreck unfolding in front of you. “I fucking hate you so much, do you know that?!” 

 Chris raised an eyebrow your way at your screams, and soon, he was standing up from the couch, trailing over to you silently with brooding eyes and sloped shoulders. Yeji glared at the interruption, clocking you with a nasty frown as she looked on with disinterest. 

 Your ex reached out to you, and despite your best efforts, you weren’t fast enough for him. 

 Soon, he had his hands wrapped in your hair, yanking your head back to display the redness of embarrassment that dusted your cheeks and nose at that moment. 

 “Look at you- all worked up like a pathetic little bitch because you don’t have my attention any longer,” He grumbled, yanking on your roots a little harder and making you yelp out in pain. “You’re truly astonishing— thinking I’d ever love you enough to keep you around.” 

 Instead of replying to his cruel words, you just leaned forward and spit on him. It sprayed across his face, and instantly, you knew that it had been a mistake. 

 The fire in his eyes darkened, and before your mind could even register what was happening, he was pushing you to the side so hard, that you fell across the floor at his feet. One side of your face hit the hardwood with a resounding slap, pain immediately radiating across your left cheek.

 Soon, he was getting on top of you, hitting you across the cheek before taking hold of the column of your neck and beginning to squeeze. 

 The grip was so strong, you could feel your pulse racing at the base of your throat. Your heartbeats clamored in your ears, drowning out all other sounds - the way you could hear Yeji snicker in the background, and how he was saying something. 

 His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. 

 Instead, you could only feel the way the warm tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, the way your limbs shook underneath Chris as he pinned you down to the floor. 

 “Stupid cunt- you think you have the right to spit on me?! I’ll teach you a lesson!” That’s the last words you caught before he squeezed even tighter. 

 The blackness took over everything, bleeding into the corners of your vision and blurring your surroundings. And soon, you were closing your eyes to stave off some of the hurt. To hide from the way the two of them looked on at you like that - their faces painted in evil streaks of crimsons and violets. 

 And for one last time, you let out a guttural, heart-wrenching scream. The kind that strained vocal cords and your throat and made your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. 

Too suddenly, you were being shaken. 

 At first, you thought it was Chris stirring you awake to torture you once more. 

 But, when you cracked your eyes open, you were met with glaring sunlight. The golden, yellow orb was hanging high in the sky, shining against a bright blue backdrop. It twinkled through the nearby curtained window, casting everything around you in a soft kind of hue. 

 Then, you realized the position you were in. And turning away from the window, you noticed… 

 Felix. 

 Laying right there beside you, in bed...

 In his bed. 

 And he was holding onto you - arms wrapped around your waist tightly. 

 He was the one who had been shaking you. 

 Shaking you awake. 

 Felix was staring at you, dark brows pulled together in concern and faded, blonde locks messy from the pillow he was lying on. Reaching out, he brushed a gentle finger underneath your chin, before resting his warm palm against your cheek. “Angel… are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice, swiping away your excess tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

 “I-I had a bad dream, that’s all.” You said, not being able to hold eye contact with him anymore and looking away. Slowly, you turned in his arms to catch small glimpses of his room. 

 It was almost the exact same as when you had last seen it, all those years ago, before he had left for Korea to attend university. His full bed frame was decorated with the seashells he had found on the nearby beach as a middle schooler, the ones he had glued into the wood with your help one weekend during the summer a decade before. He still slept with his dark blue comforter that was just as soft as you remembered it. The rest of his bedroom was decorated similarly, with dark blue and white accents throughout. 

 His desk was full of junk - crumpled-up papers and clothes and shopping bags. He was a spender, that was for sure. His nearby dresser had a collection of skincare products on top of it… ranging from different toners, about five moisturizers, and a bunch of other things you had no clue what the uses were for. 

 “Nothing’s changed in here.” You mused softly, turning on your side slowly so that he wasn’t holding onto you so tight. But Felix took your stirring as a sign that you wanted to be free of his grip, so he began to shift his arms away. “No— please, don’t.” You reached out to his retreating arms, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. “I— I need you right now.” 

 Felix gave you a faint smile, a tiny bit of his eyes sparkling in mirth as he reached out and pulled you even closer to him. Soon, you were nestled into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of musk and vanilla, and feeling comforted by his mere presence. 

 “We slept just like this, you know…” Felix began, and the sound of his voice so close to your ear sent a jolt of energy down the center of your spine. “You… you woke up when I got home and when I tried to sleep on the floor you were— were begging me to hold you. So I— I did.” And as he spoke, you could sense just a tad bit of hesitation from him. Like he felt uncomfortable telling you about the night before, afraid he'd possibly trigger you. 

 “Thank you,” You whispered, burrowing your face in the warmth of his t-shirt, half in embarrassment and half in sadness. “You’re always there for me when no one else is.” 

 “Not all of the time- not for the past four years.” 

 “I know- but that wasn’t your fault. You… You were just protecting yourself.” 

 Felix scoffed dryly, and there wasn’t an ounce of humor in the laugh. “Yeah— protecting myself, that’s what I was doing.”

 Slowly, you turned away from his chest and stared up at him. And only then did you realize how close the two of you were. You could practically feel his warm breath fanning against your cheek from the closeness. You could see every single dark freckle that was scattered in the constellation across his cheeks and nose. And on impulse, without even realizing it, you were reaching your hand out and brushing a few of your fingers against his smattering of freckles. You could feel the way he tensed up underneath the touch, holding your gaze as you studied his soft skin. 

 “You’re the single-most person to ever be there for me, no matter what, Felix,” You muttered in a low voice, tracing the slope of his nose and sharp jawline with your index finger. “And it doesn’t matter who was at fault for the last few years… it was both of us, I think. But despite all of that shit from the past— you came back to me. And you’re here now, unlike… other people in my life.”

 “Of course, I’ll always be here for you, y/n,” Felix started, clasping a warm hand over yours and squeezing it tightly, pressing your palm against his cheek and leaning into the touch ever so slowly. “And I’m sorry about the silence, from all of those years ago. It was shitty of me to do.” 

 “Yeah, I’m sorry too.” 

 “And I’m sorry about Chris— I… I should’ve warned you that—“

 “No. Don’t even start with that bullshit. You did nothing wrong. And besides, you tried to warn me. For such a long time. But I… I was blinded, like a stupid fucking idiot and I—”

 You felt slim fingers fitting across your mouth before you could say anything else, as Felix covered your lips to stop you from talking. “Do not call yourself that. You’re none of those things, I don’t care what Chris tries to tell you.” 

 Staring up at him, you saw all the emotions so clearly flowing through his eyes just then… adoration, sadness, and even anger. You swallowed down the feelings that were starting to bubble up around the lump that had formed in your throat from the night before. 

 “Do you… wanna talk about your dream?” Felix asked, hesitantly, like he had been wanting to bring up the subject but didn’t know how. 

 Your fingers grasped onto his wrist, pulling his hand back just gradually so that you could place a soft kiss against his open palm. Then you were guiding it back to your waist. 

 “It was— scary. He was scary in it, and… so was Yeji.” 

 “You know, you can cry about it if you want. This is a safe space for whatever you’re feeling right now.” 

 “Yeah, I know,” You flashed him a gradual, humorless smile. “I guess I’m just too exhausted to do anything else but lay here. I feel like— he doesn’t even deserve my time or emotional energy.” 

 “Well yeah, and you did cry yourself to sleep last night, so maybe that’s why you have no tears left.” 

 Your eyes widened in surprise at Felix’s words. But it made sense, from the way that your throat felt all scratchy and dry, and your eyes were puffy at the edges. “I bet I was a fucking mess last night.” Scoffing, you shook your head in disbelief. You wished you could’ve been stronger the night before, but at the time, you just had no more energy to fight off the feelings. 

 “A beautiful one, that’s for sure.” 

 Felix’s words were met with deafening silence for a few moments, as you processed them. All you could hear was the faint whirr of the nearby air conditioner wall unit and the soft lapping of waves against the shoreline just outside of his window. 

 Your eyes flicked up to him just then, and you raised a quizzical eyebrow to play off how badly his words had affected you. Shoving his shoulder playfully, you chuckled heartily. “Yeah, if you call runny mascara and a swollen face beautiful…” 

 After that, the room grew quiet once more. 

 But it wasn’t an awkward kind of quiet. It was the kind you had been so used to with Felix, the one that was comfortable and heartwarming. 

 And soon, you found your lips moving again and your voice flowing out once more. 

 “I should’ve known, that he would do something like this… I mean, he was the fucking star of the soccer team in high school. He had girls at his beck and call every single second of the day.” 

 “No one could’ve known, angel. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” 

 Felix’s words did little to soothe your racing heart and mind. 

 And while half of the emotions you were feeling were due to Chris and the fresh breakup, the other half were… things you didn’t know how to put a name to. Things you had no clue about. But all that you knew, what that they related to... Felix.

 “You did, Lix.” 

 Shrugging nonchalantly, Felix rolled his eyes dramatically to try and take some of the tension out of the stifling air around the two of you in bed. “I don’t count in this equation, ‘cause I always know these kinds of things.” 

 Slowly, you began to pull away from his arms. And the sudden absence of his hold around you forced anxious butterflies to stir in the pit of your stomach. But one look outside of the nearby window behind Felix, and you could tell that it was growing late in the morning. 

 “I was out all night- my parents will start to worry if I stay here any longer.” You said as an explanation when Felix tried to reach out to hold you again. Because as much as you wanted to stay there with him - basking under the warm sunlight and curling up against his side underneath the blankets - you also had other responsibilities to attend to. Like working at Angel Waves and studying for an upcoming exam you had. 

 “Don’t even worry about it, I understand.” Felix flashed you a gentle smile. But you knew him well enough - had grown up with him for most of your life - and you knew when he was feeling sad. Because at that moment, you supposed he would also feel your absence from his bed and arms. 

 It was only after you stumbled out of his sheets that you remembered what you had been wearing the night before on your date with Chris. The short, red mini-dress that he always loved. Too bad it wasn’t enough to keep him, though, the dark thought crossed your mind so quickly it was hard to stop it.But as quickly as it dawned upon you, you also decided to brush it away. 

 Because there was no use in crying over a man who didn’t love you. Who hadn’t loved you in probably a very long time. Who had been shanking you in the back with a knife since day one. 

 You could physically feel Felix’s gaze on you, as you awkwardly yanked down the sides of your dress. But it was so fucking short, it barely covered your ass. You reached down near the bed frame to pick up your purse and shoes that had been cast aside haphazardly. And when you stood up, Felix was already out of bed and right beside you, holding out a lengthy jacket. 

 “What’s this for?” You asked skeptically, as you took it from his hands. Raising a questioning eyebrow his way, you slipped it on and were immediately overcome with the familiar scent of him. It was comforting and pleasant and… made the butterflies in your stomach flitter around in a frenzy. 

 For a few moments, Felix’s gaze left yours and traveled down the expanse of your body, skirting up your legs and stopping somewhere at your… middle, before landing back on your face. From a few beats, a dark look crossed over his face. Like he was thinking about something entirely different than you covering up in his jacket. “Uhm— probably wouldn’t want your parents to see you wearing that when you walk in the front door this morning.” Felix chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when he was feeling awkward. 

 “It’s fine, I’ll just climb through my bedroom window.” 

 “Still, take it.” 

 “Why?” You said in a low voice, twirling around in your spot tauntingly with the jacket covering your shoulders. “Because it’s too... slutty?” 

 Felix gave you a deadpanned look, the sparkle in his irises twinkling just a little bit at your teasing. “No, I just mean that—“ 

 Laughing heartily at the way pink began to dust across his cheeks and the tip of his nose, you slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t worry about it Lix, I was just teasing ya.” 

 Just then, you caught sight of the clock that was on top of his dresser. The time read just past eleven in the morning. You could feel the anxiety beginning to rise inside of you as you realized how late it was... 

 And your mind registered just how long you had spent at his childhood house, in his bedroom, in his bed. With him. 

“Shit— it’s getting really fucking late, I gotta go!” You scrambled to slip your heels on, shouldering your small purse and wrapping the jacket a little tighter around your waist. Reaching forward, you grabbed Felix’s hand and squeezed it once. “Thank you so much, for everything. I owe you big time, Lix. Keep in touch, yeah?” 

 Felix tilted his head just marginally to the side, offering you an easy smile. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. It’s what... friends do.” 

 And the entire five-minute walk home, after you left Felix’s house, your mind kept repeating his last words to you over and over again. 

 But… 

 Friends don’t call each other beautiful, 

 Friends don’t hold each other in bed like that, 

 Friends don’t beg for the other not to let go, 

 Friends don’t kiss each other’s palms, 

 Friends don’t look at each other’s bodies with such a ravenous heat in their eyes, 

 Not like Felix had done just that morning when he looked you up and down. 

 Yes, friends definitely don't do any of that. 

To be continued...

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[moonbabylov3]

The other woman

Yuma has spent more time with kurumi than Shinigami, which makes her mad since he wasn't paying attention to her, but she felt lonely like she was just gone not in Yuma sight anymore, it was after yuma slove a little side mission that one of the kanai ward people had. Shinigami had enough of the loneliness and the Neglect "master..." she said in a serious way, which Yuma hadn't heard of "yes Shinigami?" He said to her when they were the only people in the Submarine. "...do you like kurumi?" She said in Hesitant but sad tone that Yuma didn't even know that she could feel sad."Wait!? No! Of course not she just a friend". Yuma knows there was no point in lying to Shinigami since she can listen to his thoughts. "You don't have to lie... Master," she said under her breath as she floated next to the couch where Yuma was sitting."I'm sorry...shinigami," Yuma said, knowing there was nothing he could do to calm her.

It was awkward. Investigation, but at least fubuki was there to uh...just helping out how she can after getting frame for Terrorist and murder (chapter 3) fubuki, kurumi and yuma are Cornered by the peacekeepers ( guillaume and Dominic too) shinigami decide to save yuma (once again) by opening the mystery labyrinth portal before kicking yuma and fubuki in before jumping in herself after yuma explain what the mystery labyrinth is fubuki already run into the mystery labyrinth before yuma could go get her shinigami place her hand on his shoulder "master..." She tightened her grab "p-please...don't leave me.." she said under her breath. Was she crying? Her hands were shaking, and her body yuma turned around, and he was right she was crying. "shinig-?" He couldn't finish his Sentence before she hugged him tightly."M-Master, don't leave me. Please don't leave me alone. I do anything I stop talking about you if it's enough to please you!" Yuma couldn't feel anything but guilt how he been treating her these days. Yuma hugs her back. "I promise shinigami I won't leave you...I stay with you until the end." Shinigami, stop crying and looking up to you ,"really?" She wips her tears."Yes," he said with a soft smile, which Shinigami replied with a soft smile too before holding his shoulders blushing. "I have a question master". Yuma tilt his head, little as she came closer "yes Shinigami?" Shinigami, look at the side of him before whispering "d-do you love me master?" Yuma blushed at her question but softly nodded,"Of course I do. "Shinigami cry of joy before kissing yuma,"me too master, " she said before pulling away from the kiss with a teasing smile."Now let go solve this case!" Yuma nodded before following Shinigami into the mystery labyrinth.

[ayukaze]

For the requests:

“Wanna hear a joke?” “Absolutely not.” TyHil obvs.

I HAVE A VERY GOOD REASON FOR WHY THIS TOOK SO LONG

This dialogue is so perfectly TyHil that it fit well with 3 of my ongoing WIPs and I tried to write all of them ( w h y ) and ended up getting too lost and invested in each of them that the reason for including the dialogue kind of slipped away from me...TyHil really is a virus in my brain...

So finally I'm deciding to post the one I think makes the most sense (who am i kidding) since I still have 2 more requests to go and not enough time lol.

This is from my Fake Dating AU which is also a Rich Girl/Poor Boy AU. Since this particular excerpt skips ahead in time I tried to add as much background information about what's happening as I could without it getting boring. I can't post the whole thing yet because it's around 8k and the main angst/fight scene hasn't even started yet (can't wait to dump a super long update 6 months later that no one will read haha 🥲).

Thank you for requesting, and so sorry that my power of TyHil brainrot actually ruined the whole thing in a way 😭

Post dividers by @/cafekitsune

Prompt: “Wanna hear a joke?” “Absolutely not.”

One of the most distinct memories Hilary had of her childhood was when she’d told her first lie, blaming one of their house helps for a vase she’d broken and having her mother catch onto her immediately. The disappointed look on her mother’s face as she’d told Hilary that the consequences of her actions would always catch up to her, was forever etched in her mind, and even now, every time she decided to lie, that scene would play in her mind like clockwork. Yet, somehow that hadn’t kept her from lying to make things easier and only made her a little more paranoid about getting caught. Almost two months had passed since she’d announced to a room full of her close acquaintances, that she had a boyfriend and his name was Tyson, and two more since she’d somehow managed to rope in that very Tyson into playing the part. 

She was spending every day looking over her back and covering her tracks, hoping that at least this time she would be able to escape facing any of the consequences of her actions. 

Tyson obviously, did not make things any easier for her. 

After she’d gotten him to agree to her ridiculous demand, they’d met once for coffee to set down some simple ground rules, every which one he’d managed to flout shamelessly. Hilary was very particular about keeping their stories straight, since any discrepancy would lead to suspicion, while Tyson on the other hand, loved to make up answers on the go. Even if she spent a whole evening texting him the correct responses to any questions they may get asked at the party they would attend the next day, he made sure to make up extravagant incidents that anyone would find hard to believe as true. Hilary would then need to improvise her own version of the story on the spot, and that often led to the two of them arguing in front of her friends. 

To her relief, however, this oddity in their so-called relationship had earned them the reputation of 'the cute bickering couple' and managed to keep her lie afloat so far. Not that it stopped Hilary from trying to get Tyson to listen to her plan, or Tyson from trying to make sure that Hilary always looked like the loser in his stories. For instance, in Tyson’s version of their first meeting, Hilary had been the sad nerd pretending to read in a corner when all she really wanted to do was have somebody ask her to dance. Hilary always tried to interject and make it clear that she had been enjoying reading her novel, but somehow people always gravitated towards Tyson’s version more. 

Tyson’s only rule throughout all of this was that they shouldn’t get involved with each other too personally, though he did a bad job of explaining his reasoning, what Hilary gathered from his incoherent stuttering was that if they got too close, this thing would blow up in their face. She agreed with him, to a certain extent. Since the two spent most of their time together attending parties and events in her social circle, Tyson knew more about her than vice versa. Her acquaintances were notorious for wanting him to know just how much Hilary didn’t fit in before his appearance, and in doing that they overshared information about her life that she wouldn't have brought up with Tyson had it just been the two of them hanging out. 

In an attempt to keep things even, she would try her best to coax information out of him, about his family or about college, but he was a master of evasion tactics. He’d already made himself aware of all the things that made her tick, so anytime she tried to flip the question towards his personal life, he’d go ahead and do something to annoy her. If that didn’t work, he’d give the vaguest answer which would keep Hilary guessing about what her follow-up question should be, and by the time she was ready, they would’ve reached the venue or Hilary’s house and it was already time to say goodbye to the small amount of time alone they got with each other.  

She couldn’t be too mad at him for this either, since he was still playing along to her ruse and if she was being honest, he did clean up well after himself. There was no denying the fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach every time Tyson held out his arm for her to take with a lopsided smile gracing his lips and dark eyes shining with excitement as he took the lead. It was also hard to control the giddy feeling that swelled in her chest every time he led her to the dance floor and heads would turn to catch a glimpse of them. And of course, she couldn’t hide the smugness she felt when the girls who’d spent years laughing at her non-existent relationship status, drooled at the sight of him showing up on his bike to pick her up. 

That’s also why it was hard for Hilary to be afraid of the lie and all the things that it could lead to when it felt so good to live it every day. Until one day the ripples she was most afraid of setting off finally took effect. 

Her parents were bound to find out about her boyfriend sooner or later, Hilary had braced herself for this from day one. But she’d hoped that she would gather the courage to lie to their faces before this news reached them via different channels. But she had so much going on in her mind lately, that she kept putting the task off until her parents very dramatically confronted her about it over dinner one night. Caught like a deer under headlights, Hilary found it hard to argue back and instead became part of a very one sided conversation where her parents lectured her about mutual trust. They spared no antics in expressing how sad they were about being left out of her life like this, and somehow, in the middle of apologising for keeping them in the dark and consoling them about how she was still their little girl, Hilary ended up agreeing to let them meet Tyson. 

The graveness of her mistake only set in when Tyson was the one to put his foot down about going ahead with it. He echoed all of her thoughts out perfectly, and she wished that it would’ve been him sitting across from her parents at the dinner table that night. But what stung Hilary slightly was how adamant he was about not wanting to see her parents. She tried her best to apologise for slipping up and offered many services, such as writing his assignments for a month, in return, however, Tyson didn’t budge until she broke down and cried. Knowing that the only way to get her to shut up was to agree to her plan, he finally gave up with a loud huff and sigh. 

Setting up the meeting had been easy, as much as her parents insisted on having Tyson over for dinner at their house, Hilary managed to convince them to do it in a much more private setting considering how short notice the whole thing was. She patted herself on the back for picking a party her mother was throwing for a friend as the meeting place, giving her parents the restriction of behaving well in front of their guests and Tyson the chance to manipulate that restriction to his advantage if things went south. 

Luckily the evening had gone exactly how she had expected it to so far. Her parents were busy attending to the many guests and only had the chance to wave at Tyson and her from afar once. Hilary hoped that by the time they finished their social round and reached the two of them, they would be a little exhausted, giving Tyson and her the upper hand in the conversation. However, as she stood close next to Tyson in a corner and watched her parents hop across the room, the tension in her veins kept rising when her father only looked more excited the closer he got to finishing the required greetings. 

“Wanna hear a joke?”

Hilary averted her eyes from the party in front of her and turned to look at Tyson, leaning against a wall column, completely at ease as he gulped down the champagne in his hand at an alarming speed. While she had been tracking the movement of her parents, his dark eyes were fixed on her and his voice lacked the usual charm and humour he used when he spoke to her. Even his eyes, she noticed, seemed to be clouded with an emotion that was difficult for her to read. 

“Absolutely not,” she said, feeling a shiver go down her spine at how distant Tyson felt from her tonight, despite of standing so close to him. In an attempt to mask her nervousness, she shot him an annoyed glare before asking, “Why would I want to hear a joke right now?”

He rolled his eyes at her reaction, shaking his head before turning it around to signal to one of the waiters. Within a minute, he’d exchanged his empty champagne glass for a new one, and once again made to gulp it down in a way that he knew would get on her nerves. 

“So that your parents think you’re happy in this relationship and not so much constipated.” His lips curved up in a smirk as he gestured behind her, choosing to gulp down his drink after all. 

Hilary turned away, partially annoyed and partially anxious, only to have her heart jump out of her chest. It looked like her parents had rushed through their greetings and were now heading towards her and Tyson. She waved at them half-heartedly, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves as she edged closer to Tyson, who straightened up next to her. Her heart kept screaming at her to grab his arm and run from the scene. It may have just been the anxiety of having to lie to her parents so straightforwardly, but she still felt like something was wrong with Tyson and he wasn’t being his usual supportive self. The warmth that she always felt when she stood next to him was missing tonight and that itself was enough to make the alarm bells ring her mind.

“Here they come,” Hilary stated out loud, more to keep herself grounded in the moment than to let Tyson know. Risking a glance at his face from the corner of her eye, she fought the urge to bite her lip at the impassive expression that covered his face. With whatever courage she could build up, she added in a low voice, “Please, remember everything I told you.”

For a brief moment, just before her parents announced their presence, their eyes met and Hilary felt as if time stood still around them. She searched for any signs of familiarity in Tyson’s face but was instead met with a look of hurt and what she thought was betrayal. It confused her and made her mind turn into a bigger mess than it already was, but before she could ask him what was wrong and why he was so mad at her, Tyson gave her his coldest smile ever as he gritted his teeth together in response, “No guarantees, sweetheart.” 

Thank you for reading!

[perceivedregret]

no more pain, except im lying

pt 4 of so it goes. i'm happy to say i've been consumed. rip my other wips tbh /: you can start from the beginning on my ao3 if you'd like. for now, here's pt4

Steve was thankful when he didn’t actually die the first time.

Now he kind of wishes he would have stayed dead.

He looks around, sees the way they’re all surrounded. Hopper stands by the cabin’s door as they all get meticulously taken down by the Suits one by one, their weaknesses being used in full force against them. Steve musters up what little bit of energy he has left and begs for Dustin and Max to run. Those brats have been through enough, they don’t need to see this happen to the three of them, not again.

Everything goes dark as he feels himself burn up from the inside, the injection coursing its way through his body until he can’t do anything but let it completely take him under.

—-----

"Come on! Stop worrying and just think about how cool this is going to be on the way over. Guys, back me up."

Dustin jingles the keys to Steve's car, holding it up near his face with a wide enough smile to make Steve's own face ache. The keys slip from his grasp and Steve instinctively reaches out to catch them, moving so quickly he disrupts the still air.

"Holy shit," Lucas, Will, and Mike gasp, eyes and mouths hanging open comically wide. Steve tries to limit his abilities, always trying to maintain a semblance of normality to their lives as often as he can, so to catch him slipping up is its own surprise.

"Watch it," he mutters, quick glance at the keys to make sure he didn't accidently bend them. "Last time you dropped these I ended up without a house key and had to climb in through the window."

Dustin's smile somehow gets wider as the back of his hands slap the arms of those closest. "I'm never gonna get used to that, holy shit. But whatever, think about it!" He's already shouldering his backpack and heading towards the door that leads to the garage, doesn't bother to look back to make sure the rest are following. "When has anyone ever had the opportunity to take a picture with their own headstone!”

“God, Henderson, I’d hope not ever. Why are you so fucking geeked about this, you twerp. Shouldn’t you be in like, mourning, or something.” He doesn't know why he's following him because he really shouldn't be entertaining this idea. Hopper would probably end up actually killing him if they got caught since he declared him dead a little over three weeks ago, and he doesn't think the guy would be all that opposed to making it happen this time.

“That's the awesomeness of this because you're not really dead. We did all our crying and grieving when we thought you died the first time when Heather snapped your neck. But then you woke up! You die-but-not-really-die a second time and it kinda loses its effect. Except with death number two you now have a headstone! You’re like Han, except less frozen in carbonite and just frozen at nineteen forever.” 

Mike scoffs behind them. "I didn't cry, did you cry?" He stage whispers. Steve rolls his eyes.

"I don't know." Will shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the buttons and knobs on Jonathan's camera that hangs over his shoulders. "I mean, I shed a tear. I think."

"Oh, fuck off," Dustin mutters, beelining straight for the passenger side.

When they get to Steve's car and are face to face from opposite ends of their respective doors, Dustin smiles so genuinely that Steve can’t bring himself to be the buzzkill. If he's honest with himself the idea does sound kinda cool, but he can’t let Dustin know that. Undead superhuman vampire or not, he needs to work on toning down this kid's damn ego.

“Han huh… that’s the cool dude who’s best friends with bigfoot and has the really fast spaceship, right?”

Dustin’s smile immediately drops, the other three bemoaning as they slip into the back seat.

“He did not just call Han Solo the cool dude with the fast spaceship," Lucas groans, slipping in behind the driver's side.

“Bigfoot? Bigfoot?!” Mike sputters, exasperated.

Dustin’s head drops, chin dropping to his chest so fast Steve can hear his neck crack. His head snaps back up, hands coming up as he taps his pointer fingers together. “First off– Han Solo is one of the greatest leaders of the Rebel Alliance. He helped fight for the freedom of the entire galaxy against the Galactic Empire. Okay, that man is a hero, a bad ass… The best smuggler!”

Steve tilts his head, corners of his mouth downturning as he considers the compliment.

“Oh!” Dustin snaps his fingers before his hand slaps the roof of the car. “He gets the girl!”

Steve’s eyes slip shut at the start of Mike cackling in the back seat. “So... he’s not like Han.”

—--

there's more to this part, catch the rest on my ao3

[verbenaa]

For your ask game!!! ☺️🫶🏼

🌵, 🛼, 🧃, 🍄, 📚, 🦷, 🥐, 🦋, 🌸, 🎨

sorry it's taken me forever to answer these! ilysm for sending these in 💕 also sorry this is so long everyone lol

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

so all my personal playlists are on private AND I have apple music instead of spotify (i am that person and I'm sorry 😭) so instead please have a screenshot of the first 12 songs on Rin's playlist that I listen to all the time. it's also such a large photo and i have no idea how to fix it lol

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

to eden chapter 12: 😠🎉💌🥺😰

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

oooooh. well. I feel like I have a ton since I don't delve super personal into ~me~ on tumblr! i kinda had to think for a minute because initially my brain was like "lore? what lore?"; but then I remembered that in 5th grade my dog LITERALLY ate my homework and when I told my teacher about it the next day they thought I was lying, and then at the end of the school year they gave out awards and I was awarded the "most dramatic" award because they still literally thought I was lying 😭😭😭 to this day, I am still always convinced that people think I'm lying the minute I have to explain myself lol

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

post-game, Rin likes to hide love letters for Astarion to randomly find around his atelier/tailor shop. Sometimes they contain something simple like an 'I love you', other times it's poetry, or even silly things like 'your ass looks marvelous in those pants, by the way'. but from time to time she leaves more sentimental ones, detailing her love for him or how proud she is about how far he's come and how hard he's worked 💌

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

the last thing I wrote down in my notes app is a few lines for an idea I have been mulling around in my thoughts for awhile about Rin's final character arc. for spoilery reasons, I cannot share it 🥰 but I am very intrigued by it!

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

I don't know if this is a life hack, necessarily, but when it's nighttime and I still have dumb chores to do like finish cleaning the kitchen, pick up a room, sweeping something etc; I like to tell myself that Morning Me will be very appreciative of the work that Nighttime Me did. It makes it feel a little better and the reminder that if I just take that 15 minutes to do a few chores now, the morning will be so much easier

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

I'M A COMPUTER STOP ✋ ALL THE DOWNLOADIN' has wrecked my brain since those videos came out a bajillion years ago on ebaumsworld and I still quote this dumb video to this day lol

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

i feel like there are a million things that are on my heart and mind as a perpetual thinker/feeler, but I've been thinking a lot recently about learning to be happy where you are in life and at the pace things move at. I think it's really easy to always feel the pressure to be more productive, or to be doing more, have the next best thing and so on; and while I don't really care about having the next best thing or anything like that I definitely feel the pressure to always be doing more and upping my productivity, and so I really want to learn to shrug off that guilt and just accept where things are at this precise moment in time. does this make sense? idk hahaha

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I unfortunately do not have any pets right now, sigh. but I am really hoping to maybe adopt a kitty this fall!! it's been almost 2 years since my sweet dog Audrey passed away and it's the longest I've ever lived without a pet and I am very much missing the companionship.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

WELL MY FAVORITE FANART IS BY YOU!!!! I think its obvious why I like it too, considering that A) my friend drew it!!! and B) IT'S OF MY GIRL!!!! no one has ever drawn me a picture before, so it really means so much 😭🫂

(writer's truth or dare ask game)

[astronite13]

check it out >:D multidimensional big bang piece by yours truly

you may or may not already know, but i participated in the mdbb event, and was teamed with the wonderful writer @elevenvolcanoes and amazing beta reader @memryse! you can check out ro's awesome fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41524974

go on, i know you wanna read it, dont be shy

as promised, ill be uploading some wips of this below the cut because oh man. this took forever

here are the character design sketches, i am not a very tidy artist

so the original plan was like this adhsjbcbs

i was just braindumping ideas onto a canvas (- -;)

THEN came the clean-ish sketch, where i had 'fun' with having to finalise where things went

(sausage and lizzie were added in later ajdhajfhs)

after that came what i dreaded most. lineart. BANE OF MY EXISTENCE I AJJDKSNC

at this point i was a solid week into this and it was barely halfway done T-T

i then worked on backgrounds and flats- funny thing, i barely ever complete pieces because i have the attention span of a goldfish, so i literally had no idea how to colour things in ┌(。Д。)┐

THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG

I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW PAINSTAKING THIS WAS

i was literally going insane over this ahdnsndn

FINALLY i was able to move onto shading/rendering(?)/details, and via the power of bullshitting my way through things, voila

at this point i had spent every day doing nothing but drawing for two weeks, but i was SO CLOSE to being done

then suddenly, the fire nation attacked something happened dun dun dun

because i was working with around 80 layers (i needed them all trust me <-lying), ibispaintx was running abysmally slow, and at this moment, it just CRASHED

i rushed back on and got this (0_0 )

i had to wait. FOURTY FIVE MINUTES. FOR THE WHOLE THING TO REPLAY AND TRY TO RESTORE MY FILE. at this point it was 3 am a day after the deadline and panic mode was activated

BUT i think the watchers may have been, well, watching over me at that point because miraculously, i got my file back, and i added a few finishing touches before collapsing on my bed in a heap

this whole thing overall was a fantastic experience, all the mods and participants in the discord server were super entertaining and friendly, and i want to thank each and every one of you for making this event so exciting >:D especially my teammates, and of course luna for creating it <3

funny thing this was literally my version of 100 hours hardcore since my canvas tells me ive been on it for around 150 hours ajdnjahd

anyway bonus aha:

[starlightsearches]

Truth Or Dare

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (WIP)

Here’s a little something I’ve been working on while trying to survive the last few days of school 😫

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 💖

Klitz x femme reader

Warnings: fake dating, language, sexual references

You’d never thought much about hell, but you have a sneaking suspicion it might look like a high school cafeteria.

Amber smirks from the other side of the table, sipping from her diet coke can through a straw as you stab half-heartedly at your wilty cobb salad. You can almost picture flames manifesting behind her.

If hell were in a high school, then she’d be sitting on the throne. 

“He’s looking at you again.”

The best response you can manage is an eye roll; there’s no need to ask who she’s talking about or wonder whether or not she’s lying. You’ve felt Luke’s eyes on you since the moment you sat down, fucking laser vision holes burned into your shoulder blades.

She drops the coke can onto the table, folding her arms primly. All of her expressions have a sardonic quality, but she nearly manages to convey sympathy.

 “How long’s it been this time?”

“About 3 weeks.”

Her tone is derisive, eyes wide in mock surprise. “A new record. And just in time for prom.”

Like you needed the reminder.

“After what he said, he’ll need to beg to have me back,” you respond, and maybe you mean it, maybe you don’t. Luke’s as constant as anything at Westport High—your sometimes boyfriend, sometimes ex, since the beginning of sophomore year. It was one of those things you’d felt you needed to do: get a popular, good-looking boyfriend who played football or baseball or soccer, lose your virginity at a house party, go to prom together, maybe even college . . . maybe forever. You’d been set, had it checked off your to-do list.

Until now.

“He’s not the only one who’s staring.”

That’s Tiff giggling, pointing in the opposite direction, where the socially-inept student body filled the tables. You know who she’s talking about, too. 

Tiff never had a mean streak before Amber had joined last year, turning your duo into a trio. She’d been nicer in middle school—a little ditzy, but always smiling. You like to think you’d resisted that part of Amber’s influence, but you could never really be sure.

And it’s not like Amber was all bad. She was generous—with her clothes, her time, rides in her little red sports car. She got you and Tiff off your couch on Friday nights and into parties, at football games with paw prints painted on your cheeks, to bonfires down at the beach. She could be sweet and genuine, and you never felt better about yourself than when she thought something about you was worth noticing.

But when it came to people like Klitz, she could be downright evil.

She’s got that glint in her eyes at Tiff’s observation, turning to the table where he and his friends always sit. Against your better judgment, you turn to look, too.

His eyes meet yours immediately—wide and innocent behind thin frames—and then he blushes, ducking his head. You watch him shake his long, sandy hair around his face, one finger snaking up his nose to push his glasses back into place. You’d think it would be impossible for him to hunch his shoulders any more, but he glances shyly back in your direction, practically folding in on himself when he sees you’re still looking at him. Amber offers a sarcastic little wave.

“God, he’s obsessed with you,” she says, flicking her long hair back over her shoulder. You wonder—more than a little wickedly—if she’s jealous that there’s attention on you instead of her. The sting of guilt that follows turns your stomach.

“He is not,” you say, unsure if you really believe it. You say a lot of things you don’t really believe around Amber.

“Yeah, okay,” she snorts, “should we ask him? I swear to god he almost cums in his pants when you look at him. Probably has to jack off every five minutes to keep himself from busting in class.”

“Don’t be gross.” You hope you sound disgusted—hope Amber can’t feel the heat in your cheeks, can’t sense the warm pit in your stomach at the idea. Thinking about his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he shakes, skin shiny and flushed . . .

God, it's been too long since you've gotten any action. Three weeks was a whole different kind of record for that.

Maybe Amber can read your mind. “You should ask him out.”

You’re not going to honor that with a response. She watches you roll your eyes, reaching out her hand to rest it on your own, her long, slender fingers and manicured nails stretched across the blue tabletop.

“I’m serious,” she says, and her expression would look at home on a Bond villain, “you go on a few dates, let him feel you up, give him some material for the spank bank. When Luke sees that you’re moving on—especially with some loser—he’ll get crazy jealous, and bam, you’re back together for prom. It’s a fool-proof plan. Everybody wins.”

It’s hard to tell whether she’s joking or not. You decide to laugh it off. “You scare me sometimes.”

 She cocks one eyebrow, sitting back in her chair. Definitely not a joke. “Fine, have it your way. Maybe I’ll ask him out. You know what they say about tall, skinny guys.”

Yeah, right. Amber would swallow him whole. Like a fucking anaconda.

Snake or not, she’s thrown down the gauntlet, and you know all too well how badly something like this could end if she didn’t get her way. It’s difficult to know which part of this she enjoys most—embarrassing somebody like Klitz, or getting you to do what she wants with so little effort. 

“You’re a real bitch,” you tell her, only half-serious, but you’re still standing, walking across the lunch room with more than a few pairs of eyes on you. Everyone’s eyes—except for Klitz.

He’s looking pointedly at the table, but his friends aren’t. You know Matt from some of your classes, and Eli’s house is just a few down from your own. He’s watching you wide-eyed, smacking Klitz on the arm, flinching when Klitz hits him back. You’re still too far to hear them, but you can read his lips well enough.

Dude, she’s coming this way.

Klitz thinks his heart is going to burst from his chest, like that scene in Alien that Eli made him watch even though he felt like he was going to puke for half the movie and had his eyes glued on the ceiling for the rest.

God, he hopes he doesn’t puke now.

Eli and Matt do their best to appear natural, which isn’t saying much. He watches Eli’s eyes flash in your direction and then back to him over and over again, their tempo quickening with every step closer you come. He knows exactly when you’re going to fall into the seat beside him and he still jumps.

“Hi.” You’re smiling up at him with sparkling lips, batting your lashes. You smell like a fruit smoothie—strawberries, peaches, pineapple. He can’t speak.

Eli jumps in with a cheeky smile, filling in Klitz’s silence. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi.” You shoot a glance and a smile in his direction, but your eyes always come back to Klitz.

He’s definitely going to puke.

Klitz waits for you to go in on him. Waits for you to say, what’s your deal, you fucking perv? I know that you think about me every time you touch yourself, know about all your stupid little disgusting fantasies. You can forget it. I’d rather eat shards of glass for breakfast than let you touch me. He hates to admit it, but the idea of you calling him out like that makes him kind of hot.

Instead you rest your head in your hand, crossing your legs under the table so your skirt rides up higher against your thigh. He watches your knee nudge his, and he wouldn’t believe it if he wasn’t seeing this with his own eyes. Everything from the waist down is numb.

Almost everything.

“So Tim—“ you start, and that shakes him a little from his haze.

“You know my name?” he asks before he can stop himself.

You actually laugh a little. Matt’s head falls into hands.

“Yeah, of course. You sit behind me in AP Lit.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He wonders if you’ve noticed him scooting to the edge of his chair so that he could peer over your shoulder, watching you fill your notebook with your bubbly handwriting, laughing silently at the little doodles that you draw in the margins. He wonders if you can hear the way he breathes a little deeper when he rests his chin in his hand, trying to catch a whiff of your shampoo.

“Anyways,” you brush off his odd behavior with a flick of your wrist, turning more fully to face him, your knee pressing higher up on his thigh, “they’re doing a special showing of Scream at The Obsidian tomorrow, and I really want to go see it, but my friends are too scared and I don’t want to go alone” —you pause, glancing down, looking up at him through your lashes like you know it’s cheat code for shutting off his brain— “and I guess I was wondering if you’d want to go . . . with me?”

What. The. Fuck.

“Of course he will,” Eli says, “Klitz loves scary movies.”

That’s a lie. He wonders what else Eli could make up in the next few minutes it would take him to remember how to make sounds with his mouth. Yeah, my friend Klitz fucks like a god. He may look scrawny and weak, but under that polo? It’s solid muscle and a twelve inch dick. 

“Really?” Now you have your hand on his arm, skin to skin contact. There’s a buzzing in his ears, like his head is full of hornets.

“Uh, yeah.” What had he just agreed to? It doesn’t really matter; you could ask him to do laps around the room naked and he’d start stripping.

“So you’ll go?”

“Yeah.” He’s lucky you’re not asking him tougher questions. He's lucky you don't seem to notice his eyes flashing between your face and your tits.

“Great, it’s a date.” You bend back behind him, shirt riding up over your hip, revealing more and more of your skin, the dip of your waist—the perfect place to dig his fingers in. He hears the rumble of his backpack zipper echoing through his skull, and he brings his hand to his lips, biting into the meat of his palm.

You pop back up into his field of vision and take his wrist in your grip, positioning him just the way you’d like before bending in close. His spit smears across your skin as you hold him in place, and he’s counting his breaths, trying to stay conscious.

“Here’s my number,” you write it carefully across the back of his hand, punctuating the digits with a heart, “text me.”

“Yeah,” he says again, a broken record.

“Cool,” you smile at him one last time, popping the cap back on the pen, tucking it behind his ear. With a wink and a flip of your skirt, you’re gone.

��Matt’s staring at the numbers on the back of his hand. “Dude. What just happened?”Klitz has no idea. Not a single. fucking. clue.

[periprose]

Snippet of the Peter italy fic if you feel comfy w posting any of it? 🙏💕

Here's the link to the original post describing the WIP in case you've never heard of it

what a lovely idea, anon! I would just like to say for context- this is very early on in the fic, and Peter wonders why you don't seem to care about him anymore. Snippet below, and continues past the keep reading mark:

Peter has never considered you not his best friend, and the fact that you might as well be pulling away from him now, possibly forever, makes him feel sick to his stomach. How can he rectify the issue when he doesn’t know what it is?

He’s been lying on his bed, throwing a tennis ball up at his ceiling, and then catching it. The repetitive motion usually allows Peter to turn the cogs and gears in his mind, but… Dr. Octavius had him working days and nights for the last six months, so Peter’s head just isn’t in the right space.

He thinks about the timeline, as he often does.

Peter met you in second grade at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. In Ms. Grey’s class- she was a pretty redhead, and Peter would often wistfully think about marrying her in the way that a second grader has a crush on their teacher- until, of course, he and you witnessed Logan and her in a very passionate embrace at a school dance, sometime in the fourth grade.

Peter shudders. 

Then around… the summer break where you were both nine years old, you headed to Florence, Italy. Just you, Logan, (not your mom as that was a touchy subject for everyone, and to this day, Peter has no idea who your mom even is), Aunt May, Uncle Ben, and Peter. It was really special- vacations were not something Logan or May or Ben could typically afford- but it was a seasonal package offered from Logan’s teaching job, and it included all five potential members of a family. 

Logan and Ben were drinking buddies, and they liked playing poker together, much to the chagrin of May, but she would sometimes join in too. Peter was- is- your best friend, and so it seemed obvious to Logan that the five of you should go. 

And every year, every summer break, from the ages of nine to just eighteen, you would go to Florence together. As you went every year, traditions would be formed, bonds would be stronger, and everyone would feel relaxed as the Italian sunsets warmed your bodies and minds.

Peter has many fond memories from those times. You and him would always sit next to each other on the plane, and watch movies for the whole duration for the flight, even if Logan would tell you guys that you needed to sleep at some point.

Then, because the bus taking you to Florence would drive from the Naples airport to your hotel there- you would always get Neapolitan pizza, and split it together. And there was always basil-mint gelato to be had, too.

Then, swimming on the lovely, warm beaches of Italy, and maybe some sightseeing- there’s a lot of gorgeous, religious art there. You also loved walking down the cobblestone streets of Florence with Peter- chasing random things that caught your eyes, and taking loads of pictures. He wasn’t religious at all, but he enjoyed visiting the churches by your side. You also went out of your way to hike a lot, through Italy’s marvelous architecture and fields. You visited a winery, even though when you went, you were both a little too young to officially drink, but Logan let you guys have a sip anyways.

Peter smiles to himself. One of his favourite memories was the year you both were thirteen- starting out into the world of teenagers- and you had just started your period. It was not a good time for you, and you were clearly very grumpy about it. He gave you a heating pad, and pain medication, and didn’t go swimming until your period was over, so you could go together. You had been so happy when he told you that- and you hugged him so tight, he’s been chasing that feeling ever since.

When you began high school, you brought all your textbooks and things with you on the trip that year- even though Logan, May and Ben called you a bunch of nerds- and studied for your exams together. Peter was glad to have you as a study buddy, because Harry slacked a lot and Peter didn’t want that kind of behaviour influencing him. MJ was pretty good at studying, too, but if Harry asked her to go out, she was the type to just give up.

There was that really sweet time that you and Peter went to the aquarium and watched a group of baby turtles swim together. And you bought a pair of turtle keychains- it’s still dangling off of his work bag. 

There was also that absolutely hilarious time that Peter heard you screaming in your motel room- you both must’ve been 15 at that point- and he leapt in there to see you coming out of the bathroom, still in your first bikini. Peter tried not to be a creep about this- but he was a nerdy 15 year old and it was difficult to avert his eyes from any young, budding, almost developed-woman- and he stared at you, face reddening, before you stammered out about a large spider in the bathroom. It was quite large, and he managed to catch it and get rid of it.

Peter remembers that you grabbed his arm in relief, and then let go, stuttering about how you needed to change your clothes, and he tried not to freak out over that mental image at the time. He snorts about it now- what a silly young kid he used to be.

He wonders why he still feels like one. Isn’t he twenty-six years old? How does he fix things?

You began to pull away, around eleventh and twelfth grade. It became easier for you to say that you were busy with something, and Peter was not the type to really push you back then. You started ignoring his calls- and his pestering about whether or not you wanted to go get pizza, like you usually always did on Saturdays. Did you even still like Neapolitan style pizza?

The last time he really remembered that you had a good time with him was the last trip to Florence- in the summer break at the end of twelfth grade- and after that, Logan no longer received the benefits for the trip, and you two were both on your way to university, anyways.

Peter sighs. He went to Empire State- and you, NYU. And that was where you guys began to drift quite quickly. People get busy, of course, and university took up everyone’s time. He just never thought you would let go of him like that. He misses you, a lot, to the point where he’s had dreams in which you’re just around him again, smiling. 

Peter doesn’t know if he’ll get over this.

[ramayantika]

Hi i had a book idea once for Satybhama. The wip has been abandoned since 2021 but here you go. I wrote this in 2021.

The Great War is over. My husband, Krishna, has left the earth. Dwarka has sunk, and my sons and grandsons have perished in the civil war. Some of my sister queens have jumped into the fire and the rest have busied themselves in meditation in various corners of this forest where I live. I can’t find them though.

Tall trees and thick bushes are the only things my eyes can see around. There is absolutely no human living beside me or in my vicinity. Here, the only edible items are fruits and tubers, which taste heavenly. Some years before, I would have grimaced at the mere thought of living on fruits in a forest due to my upbringing and royal status. It never fails to amaze me how time changes everything. A city once ruled by a tyrant is brought down and a city built by the finest of architects gets submerged under a sea getting lost to time and history forever. Time is indeed the ultimate killer. No one can escape it.

I am currently sitting under a Neelmohar tree. Maybe it is their growing season, for the tree is filled with purple flowers. Many of them are lying near my feet. I pick one and gently rub my thumb across one of its petals. The colour reminds me of my purple saree, which Krishna had gifted me, and the flower’s softness reminds me of the saree’s beautiful texture. The saree must be in the seabed now, drifting along the sea-waves. Bhadra loved that saree and would shower me with compliments whenever I wore it.

Dwarka — my second home, where I have spent almost all my life, now lies under the sea, hidden from sight. The once tall buildings where I once walked, the beautiful gardens where Krishna and I spent some lovely times, the archery room which Krishna had specifically built for me, everything now exists in my brain like an old dream. I do not remember how much time has passed since Krishna’s death and the submerging of Dwarka. All the time that I have spent in this forest has been devoted to contemplation about my life.

What is there to contemplate about my life? Do I contemplate about the riches I was brought up with? Do I think about the domestic tensions of my household? Do I wonder about the coming Kali Yuga?

There is so much to think about. What did I do in my life? What will happen once my soul leaves my body? Will someone mourn for me? Will I find Krishna smiling with his perfect rosy lips and pearly teeth in the afterlife? Is there even something beyond death? Wise men say that death is not the end, is it not? These are philosophical questions that Krishna would have answered had he been with me here. Now as I am talking to you, I wonder about my memories which appear in front of my eyes as if belonging to an old dream.

I see my childhood self, running on the corridors of my father’s home with my friends. The scene changes where I find myself aged a little older — I am probably fifteen there, I think. There is a bow in my hand and I am assessing the target ahead. Once again, the scene changes and I can see a marriage ceremony followed by the war and the end of Dwarka. But memories resurface again as if asking to look beyond the mundane. I can hear a voice inside me, whispering, ‘There is more to your story; you must go through it all.’

Now I see something else. There is my father’s house standing tall and proud, and a little girl is playing in the mud while looking at the flower bushes in wonder. I see my mother in a temple where I ask about the goddess Durga. My childhood memory flutters away and my teenaged form arrives. I am young, curious and hot-headed. I am travelling alone in Mathura where I see the exact condition of the people residing. It is pathetic. I see myself now as a wedded woman in the kitchen chatting happily with my sister queens about the day. Now I see my lord, my Krishna, putting flowers in my hair while we talk about the sea. He says, ‘Water when demure nourishes the land, bringing us delight and when water turns wild and frightening, it shall engulf all leaving not even remains behind.’

I realize everything. My life’s story does not start with archery, nor does it end with Dwarka. It starts with me being a curious child trying to understand nature and men, and my story is still incomplete.

“Who am I, mother?” I had raised this question once when I stared into a mirror for a long time, finding my reflection slightly different. I realize I never found the answer.

Who am I now? Who shall answer me?

My mother once told me that there are some questions whose answers lie within our hearts. One must introspect over it and they shall find the answer that has been hiding in their heart all along.

I can feel my heartbeat quicken its pace. My mind is busy with its chain of memories arranging themselves haphazardly. Each incident whispers its lessons to my ears and I feel overwhelmed. I want to share my thoughts with someone. Do you want to listen to me?

I will cease to exist after some time. Historians, poets, and scribes will write stories about me that will be read and heard by people across the world. Fame isn’t my concern nor my desire, for I have had a good share of it. The only thing that concerns me is will the Satyabhama in their scripts be me? How much of my life will they write about? What will they include and exclude? How much of my actions will be overdramatized if by any chance someone gains enough liberty to do so? My life story can even turn into a mythical story, and only I would know that I once existed in bones and muscles.

So before you read and hear about me, I want you to hear me speak about my life, Satyabhama’s life. Here, I promise you that I shall present my story with complete honesty. Satyabhama is my name, which means ‘beaming with truth.’ I promise to be true to myself and you.

Would you like to hear?

This is how it begins…

Taglist: @jessbeinme15 @swayamev @just-another-godless-god @merapehlapyaarwaapasaagaya @pokemon-master-elita @svapnakalpa-mareechi @ma-douce-souffrance @eugenephosgene @savlon-bhoi @arachneofthoughts @reallythoughtfulwizard

[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost