#I just know the second i put some colors it will ruin the drawing

[dorothywonderland]

I started doodling greek gods, it's over for me. I have to accept that I'm officially addicted to epic the musical

[blughxreader]

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

[gi4hao]

some vernon x acts of service fluff for you ♡

vernon dyed his hair black this morning. he kind of loves it, and he hopes you will too. obviously the execution isn’t perfect; there are some dark stains on his ears and his forehead and he ruined two t-shirts in the process. but he knows how much you love that color on him.

this afternoon, vernon did some shopping. he needed a new shirt and he remembered the pretty bracelet that had caught your eye last time you were in town. he hopes you’ll be happy when he gifts it to you.

and this evening, vernon cooked dinner. it’s not done yet, but it will be in about thirty minutes. mingyu sent him an easy yet sophisticated recipe which he followed to the letter, and it turned out pretty well, at least on the outside. he hopes you’ll like it.

it’s past 7pm when he hears your key turn in the front door’s lock. the oven is a bit greasy, there’s oregano spilled on the counter, the wrapping of your gift is a little messy, and his ears are red from his attempts to remove the dye from his skin. perhaps from stress too.

and suddenly it hits him. he feels stupid. what if he’s doing too much? it is too much, isn’t it?

“hi handsome” your voice pulls him out of his panic as he exits the kitchen, his hands a little moist. you’re ready to lean in for a kiss, it’s almost muscle memory at this point, but the sight of his hair makes you pause.

“love it. and love the new shirt”, you reply, letting your hand brush against the strands of hair on his forehead before finally going in for the kiss. “what’s that smell? did you cook something?”

his ears turn a new shade of red as he grabs your arm to lead you to his living room. “i did, but you don’t wanna go in there right now”, he warns you, grabbing your arm to lead you to the living room instead.

it’s rather unusual for vernon to look so agitated, especially around you. you look at your surroundings, trying to notice anything different.

“is everything okay?”

he nods, a bit faster than usual, before digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a small gift with a wonky ribbon on top.

“got you a little something today. but you can return it if you don’t like it, or even if you change your mind in a few days. or weeks. or even months, really.”

you’re only now noticing the dye stains on his skin, which draws a chuckle out of you. he looks so frantic it’s almost comical. without a word, you put the gift aside and stand up, pretty sure to know what this is all about.

“i already know i love that gift. i’ll love it forever and i would not trade it for any other. ever. because it comes from you, and that’s all i want.”

completely unfazed by how easily you saw right through him, he looks down at the hand you’re still holding, the one with a brand new silver ring on his fourth finger.

your words were heard and understood, but you can feel him internally tiptoeing around what’s really on his mind. his eyes, however, carry the same sweetness they always do when he looks at you.

“this is gonna sound really dumb but, i just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to love… my gift. or to commit to it. i promise i won’t be mad if you tell me you don’t want it”, he tells you, grabbing your other hand to get a look at your own ring, the exact same as him.

it’s now 7:25pm, meaning that it’s been almost 24 hours since vernon has gotten down on one knee to ask the most nerve-wracking question of his entire life. 24 hours since you were legally allowed to call him your fiancé, a much awaited upgrade from the ‘boyfriend’ status.

last night had been a dream come true. but this morning, an uneasy feeling had started crawling into vernon’s mind, making him feel like maybe that dream of his would never come true after all.

dyeing his hair, making dinner, buying gifts, he had really thought about doing anything in his power to keep you from second-guessing your answer from yesterday.

still, nothing would calm his mind except maybe hearing the words from your mouth.

“i’ll love your gift because i love you. and because i spent the last 24 hours on cloud nine, thinking about how lucky i am that you proposed”, you told him in your calmest voice. “i’ll be honest, i even spent my entire day practicing saying “my husband” instead of “boyfriend”… and it sounds really, really nice.”

and that is the exact moment when the crushing weight of doubt and insecurity is lifted from vernon’s shoulders.

he still feels a bit stupid, but in a way that feels great, warm and almost comforting. for the second night in a row, he’s overwhelmed by the pure yet simple feeling of knowing his love is perfectly reciprocated.

“so… does that mean you still want me to be your husband?” he asks with a relieved smile as you trap him in the tightest hug, one hand running in his freshly dyed locks.

he loves you and you love him, that’s the one thing he doesn’t need to hope for. he knows it, and oh how he loves knowing it.

[leafyisgreennotblue]

With Legends Z-A, I gave him the unavoidable design. I had written so much background and trying to get it on Insta was a hassle, but luckily I’ll be able to fully put it here with no issues,,:

It was hard to steer from the typical older Emmet look but I tried my hardest to make it seem like it would’ve been. I tried looking up France fashion from 1600-1900 but it was either some ridiculous outfits or suits, and since it mentioned the redevelopment of Lumiose City, it was either working up from something like Jubilife village or was upgrading from what it already is. I’ve heard a lot of theories that Legends Z-A will be taking place in the future or bounce back from future to past, but since it’s hard to incorporate futuristic outfits without knowing “how futuristic” it’ll be, I stuck to something from a layer time period in France. I drew him more of a square shape in his eyes instead of triangular, both to signify age and his lost connection with Ingo. Maybe not a permanent design but I think it adds a lot to his demeanor. He kept Basic stuff like he still has his coat, hat, etc. because Ingo got to keep all his old stuff too, but since the trailer looked more modern and Pokémon were with people, I don’t think it would be all destroyed like Ingos just cause it seems like a more civilized nation alongside pokemon and if it really did get destroyed in some way, I have a feeling he would be able to get it repaired without it getting ruined again. Also in terms of the suit I think the darker color is a good parallel to Ingos pearl clan outfits lighter colors. A lot of the design choices were meant to parallel him anyways. Since Ingo had lost his gloves in his Hisui design, giving Emmet new ones felt appropriate for some reason. In terms of the cane I gave him, not only is he an old man, I think it’s kinda needed. Ingo had that little wristband to signify he was a warden, while I think the cane could be useful for a mega stone wink wink nudge nudge. Cute little accessories for them I’m so nice 💀 he could definitely have a slower lifestyle in comparison to Ingo, and I definitely could see him working at Lumiose Station (if it exists in this game) and even though he would most likely have his memory wiped too, Ingo still said the same train themed quotes even with his memory gone, and even then he still had SOME memory, it was just very faint. Emmet definitely could feel some “connection” to the station and say stuff like “Some late nights I think I see a man who looks like me, but upon second glance it’s just my imagination. Even if I can’t seem to shake it from my mind, it seems I still wish to see him again…” anywho for the drawing, I made a few references. The main one just being a reference of design, but the one in the top right corner was a small reference to Alabaster Icelands. I’ve seen a lot of people use the snow to give Ingo flashbacks to Emmet, and while I think my station one is more closely related to Ingos darker color scheme, I think having him in the snow was a good nod to that. The bottom right corner was a reference to a drawing (that probably most people already know what I’m referencing) that had Pokémon that I thought resembled them, and one of the ones I had included for Ingo was Klefki. So just a little salt to the wound (it wasn’t even that bad.) Anywho, I know the design isn’t very refreshing, but I tried to keep it as canonical as possible.

[multidxni]

but "just friends" don't look at each other like that

pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: none, just a lot of kissing, kinda making out in the end

summary: Hyunjin comes over to help you with your homework, but you end up completely forgetting about it

Hyunjin is a very good friend. An amazing one, something which makes this so much more difficult for you to shut down or ignore your feelings for him.

How can you possibly not fall for him when he's always. Always there for you, with you.

How can you stop thinking about him after he leaves, when he lets you cry on your favorite shirt of his, completely ruining it, telling you it's going to be just fine with that soft, calming voice.

How can you not imagine how it would be like to be more than just friends when he's so, so perfect.

Even his imperfections seem to be perfect and he makes everything look so easy.

You can't help but miss him when he's gone, you can't even stand a day without him being around.

Sighing, you finish your cup of tea, placing it down, when your phone vibrates on the mini table of your living room.

"Hello?" You pick up, not looking at the display.

"Y/n, hey! Are you busy?" Hyunjin asks enthusiastically.

"Hyunjin, hi." You smile. "No, not at all, what's up?"

"Guess what?" He also smiles.

"What?" You bite your lip, a habit you picked up while talking to him.

You love it when he calls you randomly, just when you don't expect it.

"I got some yummy, fancy food. And your favorite wine. Are you free?" He says full of hope to see you again, the last time he saw you last weekend feeling so far away.

You want to scream "yes" in happiness, but then remember you have a homework you still haven't finished and got to study for the next exam too.

"That sounds amazing Hyunjin. But I have so much to study, I don't know how I'll make it to be honest." Your voice breaking, your disappointment and discouragement are obvious to him.

"Hey...it's okay." He knows you're about to cry. He knows you so well even through a call.

"I'll help you study. Then we eat together, what do you say? Hmm?" He suggests.

"Okay but...it's a lot Hyunnie, you better hurry." You let out a small chuckle, wanting to hug him so tight.

"I'm on my way cutie." He laughs silently hanging up.

You smile, spreading your books and highlight pens on the table, as you wait for him.

He always knows what to say or do to make you feel better. To make you feel special.

-

After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door. You rush to open it and reveal a tall, black hoodie dressed Hyunjin, with boxes of food in his hands, along with your favorite Rosé wine.

Your eyes soften at the sight of him, smiling so brightly at you.

You take one of his boxes from his hands and bury your face in his chest, hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his neck.

He chuckles in your hair, breathing in.

You can't help but stand up on your feet and press a light kiss on his cold cheek.

"Thank you Hyunjinnie." You say, stepping aside to let him walk inside your apartment.

"Something is different in here." He notices looking around.

"Yeah...can you guess what?" You smile walking into the kitchen with the food, sitting down on your bar chairs.

"Y/n..." He says in a serious tone as you look at his face.

His eyes light up with a new, completely unknown emotion to you.

"You hung up my drawings...even framed them, really?" The look on his face is so soft, you think you're going to start crying.

"Yeah...I just love your drawings. Also I painted the walls a different color and..." You shrug. "I don't know, I just felt that it really matches it and the atmosphere."

He stays quiet, starring at you for a couple of seconds, but then comes closer to you.

And man, your heart is skipping so many beats at once, is this even possible?

"Hyunjin...if you don't want it I'll put them awa-"

And then, he kisses you.

Places his lips on yours, not even moving them. Just holding them there. When he pulls away, way too quickly by the way, your legs suddenly become like jelly. Heart beating so fast, you fear he can hear it too.

It happened so fast, it was almost like just two seconds.

Your mouth hangs open now, the feeling of his lips still on yours.

When you don't have the power or idea to say something, he apologizes, looking away in shame, his ears and cheeks turning pink.

You think you're going to throw up eventually, the emotions overwhelming you.

"Don't. Don't apologize." You simply say, embarrassment making your cheeks become a bright shade of red.

"I just kissed you, oh God, it's not okay." He panics and you pray he doesn't regret it.

"But Hyunjin. I liked it..." You let out, now looking at the ground. Playing with the rings on your fingers, the long shirt you're wearing, anything.

When you say that he looks at you in surprise almost, exhaling.

"I just...I'm sorry it was so sudden." He pauses. "I'm such an idiot."

"You're my favorite idiot then." You hear yourself say, locking eyes with him for what feels like the first time after the kiss.

He's so pretty, all blushy like that, his lips swollen.

"It means a lot to me." He chuckles. "Also the way you hung up my drawings...thank you." He says looking you in the eyes.

"You're so passionate about the things you do...so delicate. I just find you really..." You can't find the right words to tell him.

"Perfect." You look up and feel your cheek burn like they never did before. Are you having a fever?

His eyebrows furrow together in a soft 'aww' way.

"I find you really perfect too." He smiles, finding your hands, holding them into his big ones.

He smells so good and you suddenly want him close. Need to feel him close.

"Hug me." You whisper looking at the way he holds your hands, brushing over your fingers with his thumb.

"Anything for you." He whispers back and it's so romantic that you can't help but melt into his large arms, and oversized, good smelling hoodie.

You're addicted to him, the way he looks, behaves, the way he is with you, how he smells...you're in love with everything he is.

"I love you." You let out, not caring about anything anymore, because you never needed anyone more than you need him right now.

"I love you too." He places kisses on your head and forehead and you think if you could die from feeling so full of love for someone, you would definitely die on the spot.

Still holding him in your arms, caressing his back, you look up to see him already looking at you.

"Can I kiss you? Just making sure I won't scare you away this time." He laughs, now holding your chin.

You nod, smiling.

Everything seems to be so easy with Hyunjin. It's like you're made for each other.

"The food is cold now." You say sadly after the kiss.

"Really? That's all you care about right now?" He looks at you with one of his judging faces.

"Hyunjinnnn, we have so much to do." You say, fake crying.

"We have timeee." He assures you, sitting down to open the boxes.

You sit down next to him, admiring his side profile.

"I have an idea." You suddenly say, standing up.

You bring some good smelling candles lighting them up, placing two big glasses for the wine on the table too.

"This is so romantic." He compliments, loving every second of it.

You look satisfied with your work and as you see the tteokbokki with extra cheese, your mouth waters.

"Oh God." You groan just looking at it.

"Indeed." He agrees. "Bon Appétit, mon amour." He says in a fake french accent and you laugh it off, saying the same.

You eat in silence, a few things such as "it's so good" and "thank you hyunjin", the only sentences spoken.

When you finish eating he opens the bottle of wine, with a bow.

"For you madame." He pours into the glass with so much elegance you can't help but think again, he really is perfect.

"For the lucky boyfriend." He pretends to talk to someone, bowing again. "Oh wait that's me." He quickly moves on the chair pretending to thank the waiter (who is also him).

You laugh so much your tummy hurts.

He loves to make you laugh, loves to hear your laugh.

"Are you my boyfriend?" You ask as he puts the bottle away.

"Well...are you my girlfriend?" He asks instead, smirking.

"Hyunjin-ah!~" You say tired of the playing.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Yes or yes? There's only one correct answer." He smiles like he said the most logical thing on earth.

You raise an eyebrow smirking. "Are you proposing to me, or asking me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Hwang?" You joke back.

"Both." He says with an eye smile.

"Anyways, yes." You shrug, ignoring his comment, drinking your wine unbothered.

He laughs again, and you want to learn lots of jokes to hear that sound again and again.

"Yes to what?" He raises his eyebrows like he's in shock. "Just kidding."

You push his shoulder and smile, while once again admiring his handsome face.

Taking your hand while holding his glass of wine in the other, he leads you to the balcony.

You didn't realize it already got late, but you're glad it did, because you hope he'll want to spend the night with you.

Looking at the night sky full of stars, you decide Hyunjin is still your favorite thing to look at.

Taking the almost finished drink from your hands, he sets it down on a small table next to him, along with his.

He holds your waist closer, pulling you into his chest, holding you close again.

"Don't ask me anymore if you want to kiss me again." You say when he stares at your lips.

He nods, kissing you for the 3rd time tonight, but this is the first time he holds your face, waist, and kisses you so deeply, full of passion.

"You're my favorite person." He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair away from your face.

The wind is blowing, and it's really cold, but he makes you feel so warm, it's insane.

"You're mine too." You say finding yourself holding his face close, putting your lips on his again.

His kisses are like drugs and you end up wanting more of them. More of him. All of him.

You end up kissing on your way out of the balcony. Then on the way to your room and finally on your bed, where it gets more intense.

He kisses you like he never gets enough, just like you.

"You're so beautiful." He says when kissing your shoulders and collarbones, neck and jaw, then lips again.

"Hyunjin." You sigh, throwing your head back, when he sucks on a certain spot on your neck.

"Hmmm." He says satisfied when he hears you squirm under him.

"Oh God, Hyunjin." You exhale, as he presses his knee between your legs.

Pulling his hair, you can't get enough of the feeling of his lips on you.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks, still kissing your neck.

"A lot of things... But for now just please... kiss me more." You tell him, holding his face in your hands.

"Where do you want me to kiss you, my princess?" He seductively looks at you.

"Anywhere, everywhere." You let out, pulling his face closer to yours.

Kissing him, you know that is a thing you'll certainly miss when he's not gonna be around.

"We have time the whole night, love." He whispers.

❤️

[lamorravailxoxo]

Here's the story I said I was gonna do, got busier than I expected so here's a quick one. Hope you enjoy, and if you do don't hold back in saying so:

It's been a few weeks since your brother came home from studying abroad. The two of you have an alright relationship. He's older so he always did his own thing and the two of you ran in different circles. You remember him getting into trouble when he was in high school as well as bringing a different girl over every month, but only when your parents weren't home. Part of you wanted to blackmail him for that, get him to cover you as you did some stuff you wanted, but something about your brother scared you a little. He had these...looks he'd give other girls. Almost like a sneer and almost always when they weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd do it right in front of them. You never saw their expression, but they'd usually meekly follow him up to his room and then the loud metal music would play. Sometimes, he'd give you that look. You only know cuz you accidentally saw him once and became conscious of it, your heart instantly sinking as you felt his eyes on you. But that was the past, surely he grew up and out of that after he went off to college, right?

A clap grabs your attention for a second, a chuckle following soon after. Guess something funny happened? Your parents were gone, taking a vacation. You yourself had a break from school, but nothing going on. Not that you wanted to leave the house anyway, in fact you were looking forward to staying inside for a while. But then your brother gave a surprise visit, and now your alone time is ruined. It was awkward, since you two weren't close. But it's strange, it's been a few weeks yet it doesn't feel like it. He's laying on the couch, watching something on Netflix and yet you get this weird feeling of deja vu. You feel like you've been here, seen this very scene. Your brother, sprawled out on the couch watching this very episode. You can't quite put your finger on- "What are you doing? If you want to watch, just sit down don't stand there like some middle aged dad." His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you feel them slip away just as quickly as they came. You turn to look at him, an amused expression on his face. "Yeah, sure..." you half mumble back. You feel a little dizzy all of a sudden, so you do as he suggested and sit down. "You good? You seem a little pale." "Just dizzy, for some reason. I'll be fine" "If you say so. But if you start sweating or something, I suggest taking some layers off."

Now that he mentions it, you notice that you are feeling a bit warm. How did you not notice the sweat beginning to form on your brow? You nod in agreement, and without a second thought about it start to strip. You pull your top off and slide your pajama pants down, sitting back down in just your bra and panties. It already feels better, good thing you listened. Your mind still feels...hazy, as you lean back into the couch. The tv in front of you blurs into a mix of colors and sounds, yet blinking your eyes does nothing. You turn your head yet your vision is fine, your brother isn't blurry and you can make out his handsome features just fine. But you can't look away from the tv for long, the noise drawing you back in.

You don't feel hot anymore, but your body feels like it's warm all over. The haze feels like it's spreading. Your start to breathe slightly heavier and you feel your thighs begin to rub together unbidden. You place your hands on them to stop them but that only proves to be a temporary solution as soon even your hands begin to slowly trail up your legs. You barely register a snicker to your left as your eyes close halfway, the lids feeling heavier with each passing pant. "You feeling alright?" a voice says from somewhere, worming into your brain. It has a mocking tone as it continues; "Why are you panting so much? And why are you spreading your legs like that?"

You glance down, seeing the voice was right. Your legs, closed previously, were now spread wide open. A damp spot was clearly visible, even through your half open eyes. One of your hands was very openly touching your clit through your underwear. Your other hand was cupping your breast.

"Huh?"

"Geez, didn't realize my little sister was a whore."

That word enters your brain and it feels like it kick starts that fire in you. You let out a moan immediately, loud and primal, as your fingers pinch your nipple in response.

You feel that look of his on you without even looking up. That sneer of superiority, of looking completely down on someone beneath him. It only stokes the fire inside of you, yet even now you can't cum. Something about this, in a situation where a simple word pushed you to the brink, is still keeping you teetering on the edge of release.

You feel hot breath on your ear and shudder in response. Your whole body tenses, as if it expects what's coming next.

"Unfortunately, I got plans to see some other bitches today. So we'll have to wrap this up here for now. But don't worry, I'll be sure to pound you into your sheets later just like before"

You whimper, looking up at him for the first time in a while with the most pathetic pleading expression you can muster.

"Aw, what's wrong? You want your nice older brother to help you cum?"

"Mhm!" your nod your head vigorously, making him laugh at you

He leans away from you and you feel that fire inside you sputter a little. You feel desperation and anguish as he goes further away, but soon that's replaced with more desire and excitement as he begins to slide his pants down. Back to his previous spot, he leans back and places his arms behind his head. His dick, to which your eyes are now locked on, is large and throbbing. Beckoning. You feel your mouth begin to water in response almost instantly.

"I suppose I have time for an appetizer before tonight. Go ahead, I'll let you ride me. But you can only cum when I do, go it slut?"

"Yes! Yes, please!"

"Then hurry up."

You all but scramble into his lap, shedding your underwear as quickly as possible. Your pussy is dripping, your inner thighs drenched in excitement. Practically hyperventilating, you hover right over his dick and look at him in anticipation. Waiting for permission like you've done this dozens of times before.

He smiles that familiar, superior smile as he looks you dead in the eyes and you shudder.

"Go ahead"

You immediately slam down, swallowing him in one swift motion. You feel a jolt of pleasure, like electricity, shoot straight into your brain. Your body twitches in response, but already your hips are rising. You were told you can't cum except when he does and you need to cum. You feel like you'll go insane if this goes on any longer. Soon, the tv is drowned out by the sounds of your hips slamming into his as you ride him with everything you have. Eyes half closed and half rolled into your head, your tongue is lolling out and droll is falling onto his chest. He doesn't seem to mind, instead reaching over and pinching your nipples as you bounce like a sex addict. You moan, you've been moaning, but it's like his touch is a drug. You can't help but feel immense pleasure every time he does something. A little voice in the back of your head wonders "why?" but it gets smothered in the sea of euphoria as your brain screams at you to go faster, to go harder.

"More!" you shout, echoing your thoughts. He's just laying there as you hammer yourself onto him as hard as you can. Your whole body tingles, from head to toe, but it's your womb that you feel the most. It aches in need, in desire, wanting nothing more than to drown in your older brothers sperm. You swear you feel it kiss the tip of his dick every time you bottom out, your cervix getting crushed in indescribable pleasure.

"Not bad," he grunts, "I wasn't planning on busting early but you're really squeezing down on me. Must love my dick that much, huh?"

"Yes! I love it! I love your dick! Please, cum with me!"

"Fine, but you better take it all slut!"

For the first time and last time he becomes active. He grabs your waist, encircling it with his hands completely, as he lifts his hips to slam them into you just as you go down to slam into him. Your eyes roll up as you feel him begin to empty himself inside you, the warmth that swells into your womb spreading out through your whole body. You cum, violently, your whole body beginning to shake and spasm as your mouth opens in a silent scream. You collapse, toppling off his dick, as your vision fades completely

"Wake up, how long are you planning on lazing around?"

Your eyes flutter open. Groggy and dazed, you find yourself in your lounge wear on the couch. You glance up and see your older brother with an amused expression looking down at you.

"I'm heading out to meet some friends, I'll be grabbing lunch. There's money on the counter if you want anything, but I'll be home in time for dinner. You gonna be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm not a little kid," you answer groggily.

He grins, and ruffles your messy bed head with his hand. Your body jumps slightly, a damp spot beginning to form in your pants.

"You'll always be a kid to me, dork. See you later tonight, don't miss me too much."

"As if," you manage to respond.

You get up and stretch, deciding you better take a shower if it's already almost noon. You even fail to notice the lack of underwear under your clothes

"You'll always be a kid to me," he says, my pussy still sore and my womb full of his cum. What I wouldn't give to have someone so shamelessly own me. I wonder how long it would take me to finally realise I was spending more time desperately fingering myself than I was questioning his behaviour? How long it would take me to realise that it didn't matter how I felt, that only one thing mattered?

[starvity]

— ☆ lo$er=lo♡er

gn!reader x zb1 taerae

genre: fluff, bsfs to lovers // warnings: loser taerae, drinking implied, hint of angst at the end?

author’s note: i am so here for stuttering loser taerae attempting to flirt... thank you for the request!! (★ω★)/ [requested♡]

it all started with subtle and soft touches. taerae found himself yearning to become closer and closer to you. he noticed how he would think about you more often and he would smile to himself whenever he received a notification with your name on his phone. he didn’t think much about it at first, considering that it was just because he cared for you a lot, as a best friend.

but then his mind would get completely clouded when you’re with him. his heart beating faster and faster when your thigh would slightly press against his. when your fingers would graze his neckline and when your lips would be ridiculously close to his ear at night. taerae thought he was starting to go crazy, his crush on his best friend becoming so intense that it would actually distract him in his daily life. so one day he decides to let you know, through small actions at first to test the waters, in hope that you’d feel the same.

it was getting late but taerae and you were still outside in his backyard. he had begged the rest of the friend group to find a way to spend the evening alone with you while they went partying and taerae was both happy and flustered when he noticed that you didn’t take any second guesses on the situation. bottles were almost emptied after taerae and you played several games. it was getting a bit chilly outside so taerae had draped a blanket over his legs and yours. and as the night grows darker, you subconsciously throw a leg over his, looking for some warmth. taerae twitches in his seat and clears his throat, clearly embarrassed about how this small action had such an effect on him.

he uses the slight breeze outside as an excuse to slide his hands under the blanket and draw patterns on the skin just above your knee. he studies your reaction from the corner of his eye, a red color prominent on his cheeks. "i am so sleepy" you turn around which makes taerae immediately averts his eyes from you. "are you not sleepy, rae?" you settle your face on his shoulder and look at his face from under. the boy starts sweating, his back becoming completely straight and his tight fists resting on his thighs.

rae?? the nickname made him scream internally. was this a hint of flirting, was it pure friendship? should he make a move or should he wait for you? should he risk a confession and possibly ruin your friendship? "what’s up with you today?" you suddenly sit up and watch beads of sweat roll down the side of his face. "do you have a fever, rae?" you softly grab his jaw to make him look at you and his eyes widen as you place your cold hands on his forehead first then on his cheek. "i-i i’m fine, leave me alone" he stutters as he stands up and walks to the door. "but you’re red, let me take care of you" his legs almost give out and his heart was jumping out of his chest. "i…’ll… just! rest!! that’s fine" he tries to act composed but he struggles at even putting the key in the hole.

"rae, don’t be reckless. best friends need to take care of each other" you wrap your arms around his waist but taerae grabs your wrists right away, turning around to face you. his grip softens as he tries to calm himself down "never have i wanted to be your best friend." he says, much more serious than he was before. tears start to poll in your eyes, clearly hurt by his words but before they even start to roll down your cheeks, taerae speaks up. "i’ve liked you every since i’ve known you and i’ve always wished we could be more than best friends" he stutters a few times and avoids eye contact with you, his hearts immediately beating faster again.

"sorry for being too oblivious" you look at him with soft eyes and chuckle, finally realising that all of his actions was him trying(?) to flirt. taerae finally locks eyes with you, blushing at how they shine under the moonlight. "can i kiss you? i also want us to be more than friends" you blurt out. "i mean. i’d like it but. i guess if that makes you comfortable. i mean. we don’t have to do it! you don’t have to do it to make me happy-" taerae starts to rant as you lean in. "you’re a loser" you giggle before pressing your lips against his.

[circeius-invidioso]

Finished Garran's cape. And I have a hot take.

The road to being good at painting minis begins by failing at painting them in every cursed and unholy way possible.

Let me explain.

I spent my whole evening on this bit. It took me a billion layers of water thin paint but I did it.

And I say you know what. Things have been going quite groovy.

Let's try decals.

I have decal softener.

I put it on the edge of the cape.

I put a lot on the edge of the cape.

That place was drowning.

I say perfect. The softer the decal becomes the better.

Boy was I wrong.

Long story short. The decal looks bad. So I change my mind and go to remove it.

I lift the decal.

A whole section of paint just pealed off alongside it.

I placed too much softener.

The section began to melt off.

At that moment I believe.

No I am certain. I lost like 5 years of my life.

You could see the color drain from my face in real time.

Watch me spend even more hours trying to fix my error and covering the places that were simply beyond salvaging with a freehand design.

Which I RUINED AGAIN. Around 5 times before it began looking halfway decent.

But I don't think the experience was awful.

I learned so much.

Like

How to scrape paint off with an exacto knife.

How to merge different sections of paint and unifying the piece.

That decals are not for me.

Practised my freehand skills under duress. So if someone keeps me hostage I would still be able to draw a pattern.

Some might say what happened was very stressful, to see hours of work peal off within seconds.

But I call it ✨️a lesson learned and one to never forget✨️

[do-not-lick-the-walls]

a devil put aside | chapter three - renaissance

masterlist | read on ao3

(gif by @goodsirs <3)

beelzebub x fallen angel!reader

summary: you wash off the blood, and make a deal with the devil.

(she/her pronouns are used for the reader, no description of any sexual characteristics for the reader, no use of y/n)

warnings: non-sexual nudity & being undressed, religious themes & trauma, aftermath of injury, references to slight cosmic horror, some sexual undertones

ineffable taglist: @sarcastic-sourwolf <3

-----

You don't want to go in the bath.

Filthy is an understatement for you right now. Sticky with dry blood, covered in grime, clothes ripped up and hair swept into tangles. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, how dirty you are. Too many layers made for Heaven's air-conditioned climate stick to your body, soot and ash mix with sweat to cover you in smears of dull gray. It's the third-worst thing you've ever experienced.

But you don't want to go in the bath. Sixty centuries worth of instinct is telling you not to touch molten sulfur, not to go near anything this hot, and certainly not to sink yourself in liquid hellfire. Your brush with death mere hours ago hasn't left you eager for a second try, no matter what godawful sensations you keep discovering.

You don't want to go in the bath. Because if it doesn't kill you, you'll know what you are, and you're not sure that would be any better.

So you just stare at it.

"Yes, you have to."

You shake your head and keep your feet firmly planted on the tile. You do not want to. It's not going to happen.

Beelzebub sighs. "You have to, love. I told them you would."

Tongues of steam-smoke curl around the little room, slowly licking at the air as the fire throws shifting pieces of darkness along the walls. Whirls of yellow sulfur float lazily within the red-orange fire. Dried blood sticks your shirt to your back.

"I don't want to."

They place a hand on your shoulder.

Every time you look away, the swirling patterns of the bath draw your eyes back. It's mesmerizing, in a horrible kind of way. Bright, like you're meant to be. Glowing with the vibrancy of colors found in fine stained-glass windows; the shades of red somebody could cut a depiction of Eve's apple straight from, hues of yellow fit for halos.

"You'll be okay." Beelzebub's voice is gentle, coaxing as they pull your suit jacket down your shoulders. You move to cling to it, but by the time you manage to tear your gaze from the fire, it's already been dropped on the floor, and they're undoing what's left of the knot in your tie. "It won't hurt, I promise."

That's what I'm afraid of.

Your tie follows your jacket, and though your brain wants it back, your body untenses at the loosening of your collar. The air feels cool in comparison to the humidity that's been building between your clothing and your skin, despite its actual temperature.

They peel off the rest of your clothes like that; carefully, slowly. Every button undone lets your skin breathe a little more. It's a relief. It's a deathmarch.

You fall into a detached kind of state, simply exist while your clothes turn into a pile of ruined fabric on the floor. Let time move through you without intervention. Only when Beelzebub holds out a hand to help you into the tub do you return to the active world, and by then your fear has settled into something less frantic. You have to go in, whether you want it or not. The quiet sinking of the inevitable wraps around your hand as you brace yourself on theirs, and step into the bath.

It doesn't kill you. It doesn't even hurt. It is a little uncomfortable when you sink all the way in, but you're quick to start adjusting to the heat, and it's nothing you can't handle. You haven't been smelling the sulfur this whole time, either. The scent is still there, but it's like somebody turned down your receptors to it. You're both thankful and concerned.

Beelzebub sits leaning against the tub, fidgeting with their hands in a way uncharacteristic to the calculated mannerisms you've come to expect. You don't dwell on it; the bathfire is starting to feel good, and you want to get this filth off your body before you explode.

You take a breath, close your eyes, and sink underfire. It's oddly peaceful, not altogether different from being underwater. There's the same bubbling noise, the same semi-floaty feeling. It'll take scrubbing for the blood to come off, but some of it is already starting to loosen while you soak. You wonder if it'll still be you underneath it all.

A tightening in your chest reminds you of your new need to breathe, and you resurface with a gasp and a slosh, fire-soaked hair sticking to your face and the back of your neck. Rivulets of sulfur run down your skin to drip back into the bath, rolling over your face and along your neck like rain on a window. A quick glance to Beelzebub reassures that you didn't splash them.

The cuts and bruises from tumbling around the office seem to have disappeared, though a general soreness remains. It's your back that truly hurts. From your shoulderblades all the way down past your ribs, a deep ache pulses angrily beneath your skin. You decide to save the back and the wings for last. Hopefully the fire will soothe in the meantime. You pick up a cloth.

Scrubbing the dirt from yourself isn't easy, and the blood's even harder to deal with. Your legs aren't too bad, but from the hips upward you're caked in blood that ran over your shoulders and down your chest, or around your sides to your waist. Your hands are particularly disgusting, bits of dark red-brown are mashed into every line and stuck underneath your fingernails. So the hands go first.

You weren't bloody after the war. Having a full cardiovascular system wasn't really your forte as an angel. When you took an injury, it was always pure light that shone out of the wound, clean and easy to manage until you or someone else could miracle you back to full. And you didn't take blows very often in the first place. But now a beating, bleeding heart's been shoved inside your chest, and you have a feeling it won't be going away. You've been cursed with a heart and lungs and guts. Your wounds will never be beautiful again, just messy and impure.

"Tell me how it happened."

The suddenly-broken silence makes you jump a little, knocking you out of your bitter thoughts. You stop scraping the ash from your forearm.

Some things are hard to say out loud. Hope leaves you lonely when you run out of denial to feed it with, and once the truth is past your throat it's never going back in. Your cardinal sins cannot be unconfessed, to others or to yourself.

When you answer, you answer quiet.

"Pride."

"Yeah," they sigh. "That'll do it."

A silver thread of understanding passes between you. You don't really want to say any more, and they don't push. The silence becomes a little more comfortable. You return to scrubbing the blood and grime off your body, probably ruining the washcloth forever in the process, and things are okay for a minute. As long as you don't think about where and what you are.

Eventually, you manage to get most of the gunk off. All that's left is whatever mess your back must be. The fire's helped the ache some, but your shoulder starts complaining when you move to reach behind you. The other one fares no better, and after a few attempts on each side coming up fruitless, you swallow the pride that led you here. "Um... would you...?"

Beelzebub turns around, and you gesture to your back sheepishly. "I can't reach. My shoulders won't, ah..."

"Oh." They blink a couple times. "Oh. Uh... yeah. Sure,"

You must've caught them off-guard, to get a reaction so much less confident than their usual demeanor. Or maybe you've just been assuming their patterns wrong based on first impressions. This could be how they actually are, and the confident, authoritative Beelzebub could have been the outlier. You don't really know them.

And yet, you have a feeling the truth lies somewhere in between.

They pull off those odd little gloves of theirs, and their sash follows, then their blazer. Your throat catches at the sight of them left in mostly white, then catches again as they roll up their sleeves past the elbow, carefully tucking them so they won't unroll. As you hand them the cloth, your fingertips meet for half a second.

The fire-soaked cloth drags once across your back, and you're about to relax into it, when they inhale sharply. "Shit, angel..."

Their finger runs along the spot where one of your upper wings used to connect to your back. Ah. It must've scarred when they healed you, then.

"Did they...?"

You nod.

Beelzebub sighs, curses under their breath, and continues their work. The repetitive, slow swipes across your back are somewhat comforting.

"I miss the eyes more," the words fall from you suddenly, and without prompt. After all the crying and heavy breathing yesterday, your voice has gone hoarse, but you have an urge to talk again. Your thoughts have been racing around in your head like scattering rats, and you want them out. "I've still got two wings, I'm sure i'll be able to fly eventually, but the eyes..." you trail off, unsure of the right phrasing.

"You've still got two eyes. You can see, can't you?" They pour fire over your hair and start to work their fingers through it, and you lean into their touch without thought.

"No, I--- I meant the other ones. In here." You tap the side of you head.

"Well yeah, maybe you can't see in three-sixty or anything, but you can still see."

You pause, try to figure out a way to explain this to them.

"No, the ones on the inside aren't just eyes, really. They don't just see, they... they think."

"...How do you mean?"

"They're not just extrasensory, they're---" You struggle to find the right words for a moment, "They're a part of my brain. They're on it, they're in it. It's not just sight, it's foresight, it's insight, and now they're all closed, and I can't understand the things I usually do. It's like... like somebody's stapled a part of my mind shut."

The longer you think about it, the more frustrating it gets. You're stuck in the here and now, seeing only in three dimensions, unable to slip into bits of future or past or places far away. You can't see behind you, or through the walls, or what's going to happen. You can't see the answer to infinity, or how to divide by zero. You just sigh again, and stare at the curlicues of sulfur drifting through the bath.

"Do you want me to get your wings?"

You hesitate, then let them out. They fixed your wings themself yesterday, you can probably trust them with cleaning your feathers. You swear you can feel the missing sets unfurl too, but there's nothing left behind. Michael made sure of that. Sliced them clean off, left your upper and lower back flat like a human's. But Beelzebub healed you well. The remaining set feels perfectly uninjured, if a little sore, and all the other damage has been fixed alongside.

Nobody but you has ever groomed your wings before. It's a kind of intimacy you don't find in heaven. Even if you ever wanted to, if you had someone close to you, it wouldn't have been proper upstairs. It's probably not down here either, now that you think about it, but it's not like anyone's watching. The security cameras are all broken or fake. There are dark corners to hide in, dark little rooms to make secrets in. This can be one of them, you think, while their soft hands brush over you. I won't tell anyone.

They're careful not to dislodge any feathers, or bend them out of pattern while they clear away the blood. It's almost contradictory, how gentle their touch is for someone who's fallen so far.

Did their fall hurt just as bad?

A pang hits your chest at the thought. You want to ask, but can't bring yourself to.

How many did you send falling in that battle? How many lost their halos to your spear? How many did you put through this?

You beat the thought back. They're demons, it was justice when you struck them down. And it doesn't matter anyway, because if you didn't get them, someone else would've. It was inevitable for them all to fall. You were doing your job.

When your wings are free of blood and put away, Beelzebub offers their hand to help you out of the bath.

You shake your head. "I don't feel clean yet."

They give you a look that falls somewhere between sad and resigned. "You never will again."

You're dried off and wrapped in a long silk robe. The red looks wrong against your skin, replacing the beiges and whites and soft blues that should be there. While Beelzebub rolls their sleeves back down, you look at your pile of clothes, stained beyond repair, and let yourself mourn them. The last visible trace of angel is gone from you.

Your stockings lie at the top of the pile. They're ruined, of course. But maybe not quite so much as everything else. Maybe, if you could find a way to wash them...

You doubt they're compliant with hell's dress code, and although they've been kind to you, you really doubt Beelzebub wants you hanging onto a piece of heaven. But... they're pretty. And nobody would ever have to know.

You sneak a glance at Beelzebub. They're facing the other way, distracted with pinning their sash back on.

You take your stockings from the pile, and slip them up your sleeve.

Barely a second after you finish, Beelzebub turns back around, pulling on their gloves, and waves for you to follow.

---

Beelzebub's throne room isn't much of a throne room. It's a small, undecorated concrete box with a short platform, a gold-edged old sitting room chair, and as of last night, thanks to you, a bloodstain on the floor. But there's one thing to say for it: it's a lot cleaner than the rest of hell. The huge piles of newsprint and paperwork are tied into neat-ish stacks, likely never to be finished, and although the chair trying to be a throne is old, it doesn't look infested with anything.

Beelzebub flops onto it, throwing a leg over the side, and gestures vaguely to a collection of newspaper bunches stacked like haybales. Seeing no other chairs, and not wanting to sit on the floor beneath them, you follow their suggestion. It's not actually the worst place you've ever sat.

The silk robe moves and falls with you in a way so elegant it has to be borderline sinful. The feeling of it against your skin, too, is horrifically pleasant. Empresses from long-gone dynasties come to mind, in their bright dresses and golden hairpins, or perhaps more similarly the lush dressing gowns of golden-age Hollywood stars. You try not to look at yourself.

"So," Beelzebub starts, "We've got a lot to talk about here, I suppose."

An icy sinking along your spine pulleys your heart up into your throat like a double elevator shaft.

They sigh. "Don't look so tense, love. I'm not going to bite you. Go ahead, relax."

You make an attempt at relaxing into your seat, at first trying to mirror them before quickly realizing that's not going to work with your setup, then fumble around for another couple of seconds trying to find some other position. It feels unnatural, to lean back at a time like this. You're not sure you like it. You must not do a very good job of it either, because they wince, and wave you off. You go back to sitting straight up with your feet together like you're meant to.

"But you just did it in the--- no, not important, actually. We can work on the uh, relaxing thing later. More pressing matters." In a seeming attempt to reset themself, they exhale, and straighten their lapels. "Alright, I'm assuming you know who I am, or you would've asked by now, and I know who you are, or I would've asked by now, so thankfully we can skip that bit, yeah? Good. Okay," they pause, then reset themself again.

"I don't know how a Seraph managed to get the boot after so long. But however it happened, you've joined the Fallen now, and you're clearly not faking it. Making you," they sit up a little, focusing. You're stuck between wanting to break eye contact, and wanting to lean in closer. "An unprecedented phenomenon. And an important one, too."

Still stuck in your throat, your heart flutters.

"Point is," they sit up fully now, resting their elbows on their knees. "You're something special, pet. So,"

Their mouth twitches upward, so slightly that you would've missed it if you'd blinked. Their eyes flash like they're letting you in on a joke. You brace yourself for the words.

"I have an offer for you."

It was always going to come to this. To a deal with the devil. Your heart sinks back down the shaft, pulling the icy dread up again in counter.

"Let me train you."

You blink.

You're not sure what you expected. Maybe a threat, or something more candy-coated, an obvious temptation. Something other than an internship with the Prince of Hell.

Tentatively, you poke at the idea with your foot. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I'm not trying to trick you into something. Be my apprentice, let me teach you to be a demon. There's still power in you, I'll help you tap back into it."

They look you dead in the eyes, and you almost say yes right then. A sudden want to bury yourself in that obsidian gaze comes rushing through your veins and down to your fingertips, hot, then cold, then hot again. You stare into the void, and the void stares back.

A second passes.

Cut it out, traitor! Your rationality slams you over the head with a laptop full of reasons why you're an idiot. They are a demon. They are Prince of Hell, patron unsaint of the flies that follow them. They are distracting you. Demons are liars, no matter how beautiful, how kind, and you cannot afford to forget that. You are in enemy territory.

You clear your head, and move with caution as you prod at this a little more. "What's in it for you?"

They chuckle. "You, sweet. You're drowning in potential. I'd be a fool not to want you on my side."

They say it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you have to look away to avoid being hypnotized again. The idea of being wanted drips into your head, starts to melt into the cracks like honey while your brain tries to scrape it off.

Didn't they just say you're something unprecedented? Important? Whispers the scars on your back. Even missing wings and eyes, they still want you.

"Come on, love. It's a win-win. I get to teach you, you don't get fed to something, everybody's happy."

That sobers you again for a moment, furrowing your brows. There's the threat, then.

"You don't have to worry about it," they take your hands, moving closer, an honesty in their undertone that you want to believe is real. "I'm offering to bring you under my protection. Nobody would ever touch you again, and if they did, I'd kill them."

A finger traces your cheek, like it did yesterday, and your face untenses. Such a violent idea should scare you. Instead, it makes your heart skip beats and tremble in a different way, slowly trying to push the lid closed on your moral compass.

You swallow. "Tell me more."

"I'll train you myself. Teach you to be a proper demon, and keep you by my side while you learn. You'll assist me with things, if I need you to." They pull your hands in so slightly you might be imagining it. "And you won't just be some errand girl. You could have status. Who knows, in time, you could be a Duke of Hell."

You want to say that's not tempting, but so help you, it is. Technically, you fell high in the ranks of Heaven, but not in the way they're offering. Seraphim think, not lead; that's an Archangel's job. God trusted you with higher cosmic knowledge, but what else did she ever give you but commands?

Images flash through your mind: more red silk, jewels and pins, comfortable sofas, ignoring your paperwork. Darkness, depravity, hedonism. The kinds of sin that make your body go hot just thinking of it. Giving the orders instead of only taking them. Wine. Music. Velvet.

Suddenly, you become very aware of the stockings hidden in your sleeve, take another laptop to the face, and frantically shove your visions of grandeur back into the box labeled 'SIN: DO NOT OPEN.' You have to get out of here. You're being corrupted already, and worse, you're starting to like it. God forgive you, you're starting to like it.

But where else is there to go? If you say no, you're getting fed to something, probably over and over for all eternity. And short of an intervention from God herself, you're not getting out of hell entirely.

"So. What'll it be?" Beelzebub drops your hands, then reextends one of theirs, inviting.

Those hands have only been kind so far. Every touch from them has been to help you, to heal you. You want their touch again, that feeling of another that's so rare to find in heaven, their hand on your face, in your hair. You want them to want you.

You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

You slide your hand into theirs.

They smile.

[multi-fandom-agereg]

If Hunter was a Caregiver ☕ (headcanons)

💬 A/N : Only since there's like two caregiver hunter posts, so caregiver!Hunter deserves some love too. (Not 100% accurate hc btw)

🌲| you kept your age regression a secret, and only trusting about one or two of your friends to keep it a secret (Luz and Gus). But once hunter became speculated of something he asked if you wanted to talk about it

🌾| once he figured it out (or you told him) he didn't understand it at first, but he ended up supporting your coping mechanism (or you do it for fun) spite not fully understanding

🩹| "Do whatever you want to do, I'm not the one to judge of what you do in your spare time. If you ever need anything you can come to me anytime"

📝| once he became your permanent caregiver education was a must in his book. During the travels and an hour before bedtime, he'd try and keep your mind sharp with things like geometry, science and knowing your shapes and numbers. He won't let it go, and if you're fussy with it he'd let you take breaks. But if it's something you physically can't or won't do, he won't force it on you completely

☕| strict caregiver at first, but then becoming relatively more soft and protective. He's not overprotective or anything, but he'd get upset and sometimes frantic if he doesn't know where you are.

🧣| he puts his hoodies/coats on you if you get cold. If you're outside and you're cold he'd personally give you the hoodie or whatever he was wearing to keep you warm. Even sometimes putting it on your shoulders before carrying you in his arms

🧮| a perfect someone who you can go to for show and tell. He absolutely loves to watch the things you make for him. Wether that be drawing, coloring, arts and crafts or really anything like objects.. (rocks, pillows or stuffed animals). When not making something, he participates into things you do while little. and he may not may not have a tapping stim

☀️| If you take medication he'd find a way to make it more fun for you. He'd usually spend up to an hour to convince you or think of a way to make the experience more.. exciting.

☁️| if he has a bad day he'd ask if he could color with you or watch a movie with you. He never lets his negative feelings ruin your time in agere; however just a hug from you or just spending time with you would make his day

🍵| the only few people he's willing to let babysit you is Luz, Gus and Willow. If it's anyone else he'd probably be WILLING to let them babysit you just depends how close he is with that said person. Aaaand a few exceptions here and there

🎶| I like to imagine he set up a playlist just for you. or he'd just sing for you no matter if he couldn't sing or not.. the thought is nice though

🐦| Flapjack stays close to you if Hunter isn't nearby. And most of the time is seen perched on your shoulder while you do your thing.

💛| I feel like he would be between a Guardian caregiver and a big brother CG.

🐾| if you're a pet regressor, he'd buy heaps of chew toys and loves to scratch behind your ears if you let him. Depending which animal you regressed to, he'd make foods more suitable for you. (Ex; if you're a bunny regressor he'll make carrots and verities of vegetables)

🧇| your main petname (if you don't mind petnames and/or nicknames) are "kid/buddy"

🧇| “Hey, Kid, can you come over here for a second? I need you to deliver something to Willow. Can you do that for me? Yeah?.. awesome!"

💬| he will always keep you on your feet during the day (mostly) and lets you run little errands as your little heart wants. But he makes sure you can't go far. if you happen to do so, he'll come up to you and gently nudge you to where you need to go.

🍉| he doesn't regress, but he loves to sometimes join into the mischief you end up getting yourself into. Once when being babysat by Willow you pulled the puppy eyes to get what you wanted (he was there) and would do the puppy eyes with you.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 1.30.2024

Good news! I have finished Chapter 7, including the parts of Chapter 7 that is now in Chapter 8. I mentioned last week that Chapter 7 was running really long with 3 scenes left to go, and I wasn't sure if I was just going to let it get really, really long, or if I was going to shunt those scenes into Chapter 8. In the end, I did both--I moved the longest of the three scenes to Ch 8, and kept the other two in Chapter 7. I had it in my mind that this would ruin the pacing, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed Fine, Actually, and I think it is.

Finishing "all the stuff allotted for Chapter 7" was kind of a big milestone for me, so I celebrated by...editing Chapters 5 and 6 and sending them to my beta. The editing was a bit of a bigger project than I expected--I had run into a couple of places where I wrote things out of order, and I ended up with "well, does this character know about X or not?" problems that I had to resolve. Anyway, I got a very positive review, so that's exciting!

What's next? Well, the second scene of Chapter 8 was already written, although it had more integration problems, so I cleaned those up and got it into place. That puts Chapter 8 at about 5k words right now (I'm always aiming for 8-9). I've got one more, fairly hefty scene on the outline, so that should fit just about right.

My plan was to try and finish Chapter 8 and then skip ahead and try to write the end. Usually, for fanfics like this, I have a very clear end in mind, and I honestly did not for this one. A while ago, I sat down and came up with one, but I'm not all that sure if it's gonna take up a whole chapter, or if I'm gonna have to pad it a little. I figure that once I have the end in place, it will be easier to fill in the canyon between what I've got and where I've got to go. Right now, the outline gives me one chapter to do that. I feel in my heart like it's more realistically two. I am not excluding the possibility I might get carried away and need three (geez I hope not tho). I've had a little trouble getting started on that last scene of Ch 8 tho-- I'm gonna give it another day or two, and if I can't get some juice on it, I might just skip ahead to the end and come back to it later.

Word count: Part B is now 34,983, for a total of 71,862 (+7265 from last week, although about half of that was already written, so let's call it a 3600 word week).

I also spent a lot of this week drawing. It's a Kuchiki sibs piece for both their birthdays. It was very hard and I won't say I'm happy with it, but I fanart-failed the last two things I tried to do, so I'm just pushing forward. I want to have something to show for January. I've finished up the linework and the flat colors, but it still needs shading and I need to half-ass a background of some sort. I hope I'll be able to do all that in time to post it tomorrow. This is also the phase of the project where it looks the least good, and the part that comes next is where it rapidly starts to look a lot better. I also need to do A Special Effect, and I think I'm going to have to look up a tutorial, because my usual brush-mashing was not turning out to be fruitful. We'll just have to see, I guess.

[rwprincess]

Blinded Me With Science (Part 5)

Masterlist

Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Teasing toes the line into flirting; You and Fred have an argument about Dungeons and Dragons

CW: mild language, flustered nerd flirting, talk of germs

“I can’t believe you’d even entertain the thought of playing a game with so much math again. Traitor.” Fred spit his joke at you as you collaborated on your article regarding germs-by-class. You made the unfortunate mistake of bringing up The Hellfire Club’s generous contribution and all you observed that night.

“I’ve told you before, I can do addition and subtraction,” you rolled your eyes at his accusation. “Besides, that guy..uh, Gareth, was there to help me figure out what number to put where.”

“Oh yes. Can’t forget about Gareth,” he said in a sardonic tone.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” You asked, completely oblivious to what he could be getting at.

“Nothing.” He said with a slight smirk but when you continued looking at him with confusion, he dropped his shoulders and tried to push it aside. “Really. Nevermind.”

You wrestled with asking a follow up or demanding to know, as he had somewhat piqued your curiosity. However, you also knew that Fred was stubborn and probably wouldn’t crack easily, so maybe it was best to just let it go. “Anyway…” you tried to pivot the subject back to what you were initially talking about, “the results are in from the experiment.”

“And?”

“The hypothesis wasn’t right on the money, but the freshmen definitely had the dirtiest--most scientifically bacteria-filled, I should say--hands.”

“Well of course,” Fred snorted back, “not much surprise there, right? That’s why it was the hypothesis. It’s the obvious conclusion from observing the unwashed masses.”

You pursed your lips, trying not to give in and smile at his jab. You were still trying to act as professional as possible. You had assured him that you would approach this without judgment, as a scientist, when he was worried about contributing his own sample. You couldn’t go back on that and ruin the facade now. “Right. But, surprisingly, age did not equal maturity and the seniors were in second place.”

“So you’re telling me that it’s the little kids and Eddie Munson and his cohorts? Color me shocked.” He barely raised an eyebrow in response, flatly and sardonically taking another jab.

“Fine. Fine! Yes, you could draw those conclusions from this study, but remember: it’s a small sample size, so it doesn’t really justify your bias.”

“Me? Biased? Whatever gave you that idea?” He asked, playfully, so you responded in kind.

“Oh, just your strong opinions about, y’know, everything.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that those ‘opinions’ come from hefty research.”

“Oh, do they now?”

“Yes,” he insisted and you were more amused with his straight-laced demeanor, knowing he didn’t particularly mean it, “they’re not just some baseless ideas I come up with on my own. They’re logical deductions from facts and data. What do you take me for?”

“Me, apparently. God, I’m rubbing off on you. ‘Facts and data,’” you quoted him with a scoff.

“And what would be so bad about that?” He asked, “To have you rub off on me.”

You hadn’t noticed how incredibly close he was standing until now. The playful banter had made you unaware, and now you were mere inches apart. The realization flustered you and you almost automatically leaped back, out of self-preservation. Instead, you tried to play it cool and took a slight step away from him, nervous to alert him to how he truly made you feel. “Yeah, I guess…I mean, I don’t know,” you muttered a half-baked answer to his rhetorical question, then quickly covered it up with, “If we start talking about data, we might actually begin valuing numbers and then that is a slippery slope to liking math, I bet. Can’t have that,” you joked.

“No, can’t have that,” he said, and his agreement put you more at ease, thinking that the awkwardness had passed and that you could move on to something else. But then he looked at you strangely, an emotion you couldn’t read flashed behind his eyes as they lingered on you just a bit too long.

*~~~*

Despite Fred’s ribbing, you agreed to another session of Dungeons and Dragons, or ‘D&D,’ as Eddie insisted was the ‘cool’ way to refer to it. “You can come along again, if you want,” you posited to him when he mildly objected to you going again a couple weeks after your initial game.

“I know I said anytime you wanted to scope out a Satanic cult, Y/N but c’mon, you can’t be serious. It doesn’t have that much appeal.”

“You only think that because you didn’t actually play, Mr. ‘Conscientious Observer.’ Maybe if you take off your little reporter’s cap and join us, you might have a little fun.”

“Good lord, Y/N. Whatever made you think I was interested in fun?” He gave you that signature deadpan look you’d become accustomed to and secretly favored.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “I don’t mind going by myself.”

“Or…” he drew out the one-syllable word far longer than it needed to be, “you could just not go.”

“I’m not really doing anything better.” 

“We could, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, study for math. That would be better.” 

You raised your hand to his forehead with fake alarm, “Are you ill? I can’t believe Fred Benson of all people would say such a thing. I’m not so sure you’re my Fred.”

‘My Fred’ echoed in his head and caused a dull ache in his chest. He wanted to be nothing more, and hearing you say that out loud made him weak in the knees. He lost himself for a moment and then, in an effort to save face and pull himself back to reality, swatted your hand away. “That’s my point. That’s just how bad this is and how much I wouldn’t want to go.”

“Oh my gosh, then don’t!” You had become exasperated at this point. You had offered to have him join because you liked his company, but didn’t need him to go, and he was putting up one hell of a fight. “They were all plenty nice last time. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

That jogged his memory, causing him to relive the way Gareth looked at you and talked to you. Maybe he needed to insert himself as a barrier after all. But he couldn’t look like he was worried about that, so he pretended to acquiesce to you instead. “Jeez, if you’re gonna get all bent out of shape and mad about it, I guess I could come. If it means that much to you.”

“It doesn’t. You’re free to do whatever you want. I don’t want to put you out and make you bored.” You weren’t sure what he could possibly want at this point and he was hurt that you were willing to go without him,that you could just forget about him that easily.

“I…ugh, I’ll think about it,” he finally offered. He felt like this was a compromise: he could save face and appease you at the same time. You, however, worried about trapping him somewhere he didn’t want to be; but the argument was over, for now.

Tags (aka Fred-lovers)

@wowthisisastupidblog @kendallmm @its-the-autism-innit-luv @yeaimchloe @waiting-to-stop-fixating @pineaplesoooodaaaaa @toastnfrostedflakes @jade-04 @executethyself35 @losersclub848 @rem-e-jea @teeth-boy @anxious-runes @bighe4rtt

@antique-whiskey @frog-cultist @wormrw @sincerely-a-terry-apologist @xxblossombunnyxx @chipycookie @carnivalsofsilverfish @itcomesback @yhs-headcannons @velvet-ames @silkcherubs @guilloween @drizzlingminds

@slut4boomerang @schoolrumor @firey-phoenixs @foggypkryptonite @evanpetersissohot

@trashfireambrose @goldstarsoup 

~If you’d like to be on the Fred Benson taglist, let me know with a comment or an ask/direct message! (Same if I’ve falsely tagged you and you’d like to be removed)~

[void-wolfie]

Hiiiii me again mom ☺️

🧡 what is your sexuality?

🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog

💜 describe yourself in five words or less!

🧟‍♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you

🍊 favorite season?

🍒 what is your earliest memory

🖇️ what are your favorite asks to answer

Please feel better! ❤️

heyyy kiddo!! 😊

🧡 - sexuality?

I go by queer or bi!

but in total honesty, I'm still figuring it out as I go lol

🖤 - hobbies?

I technically already answered this one, so here's just the answer from earlier lol

gaming and drawing, I'm not very good at either but who says you have to be good at your hobbies lol

i generally game by myself since most of my friends like first person shooters and those might just be my least favorite lol, and when it comes to drawing I usually just trace stuff and then put my own twist on it

💜 - describe yourself in 5 words?

funny, charming, introverted, resourceful, cunning?

(might've stolen the last two from my Hogwarts house description but it's fine lol... I ran out of adjectives that fit, don't judge me 😂)

🧟‍♀️ - scariest thing that I've experienced?

a while back, right around the time where my friends I started getting cars and driving, I was in a car accident with some friends

everyone was alright, no one was hurt (physically) but it's still one of the scariest memories I have

one second everything was... well I wouldn't say alright since I literally got dumped by my ex that morning and was miserable... but one minute we were all fine, and then next thing I know the car in front of us was stopped, every single airbag in the car had gone off and there were all kinds of gases and stuff filling the car... pretty scary

I didn't realize this till after when the firefighters were pulling our belongings from the car, but apparently we hit the car in front of us so fast my glasses flew off my face and I didn't even realize 😂

everyone was ok though, so it's alright, some slight ptsd but nothing too serious 😂

🍊 - favorite season?

either fall or winter, but I think fall wins

the color changes, the orange leaves (not that we get any where I live lol), it's not too hot or too cold, the holidays that come with it, love it all lol

🍒 - earliest memory?

my family and I used to live in this house, and I guess they wanted to redo the flooring, and my bedroom at the time has carpet

so my parents, tore out the carpet and cleaned the floors, and let their crazy, chaotic, creative 5 year old, paint and draw all over the concrete flooring 😂

I got to paint and draw and do whatever and my parents never had to worry about me ruining fancy flooring, it was a win win for everyone 😂

🖇️ - favorite asks to answer?

literally all of them!

despite being a raging introvert, I love people and I like hearing what you guys have to say!

funny, kind, unhinged, serious, I don't care, ask whatever you guys want (just please be respectful about it lol)

thanks for the asks kiddo! and go back to sleep, it's late where you are 😂

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Before I Go

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Two:

Remus tells Janus what he did the next morning while Janus is making them breakfast.  Janus does not seem happy about it.

“Roman,” he says flatly.  “Your brother.  The one who stood by while your parents kicked you out of house and home.  That Roman.”

“Yes, Janus, that Roman,” Remus says, sketching another line on the drawing he’s doing of Janus’ very attractive ass.  “He’ll be here later this week.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?” Janus asks, turning around and putting his hands on hips.

“Nope, I’m dying.”

“You can’t use that as an excuse every time!”

Remus raises an eyebrow.  “‘I’m dying so let me try and fix things with my brother one last time’ isn’t an understandable want?”

Janus growls something under his breath, but turns and starts moving the scrambled eggs around the pan again.

Remus casts his eyes downwards again and picks up the pencil, but Janus turns back around before he can really get proper inspiration.

“I don’t want him to ruin everything,” Janus says through gritted teeth.  “You have half a year left at the most, I want it to be good.”

Remus gives Janus a soft smile, then stands and walks around the kitchen island and wraps his arms around him.  “It will be,” he murmurs.  “You’ll be in it.”

Janus sighs in exasperation, though it’s clearly wet and shaky.  “Dammit Remus, that’s not fair,” he says weakly.  “You know I can’t deny you anything when you get all sappy on me.”

Remus turns and kisses Janus on the ear.  “All the more reason for me not to stop,” he purrs.

“Let go of me,” Janus says.  “The eggs are going to burn.”

“An acceptable casualty,” Remus says, letting his hands wander lower, purely so he can get some more inspiration for his drawing, of course.

“Mm, Remus, seriously,” Janus says, though he certainly sounds very averse to Remus letting him go.

Unfortunately, a second later the sound of sizzling on the stove starts to get louder, and Janus actually pries himself from Remus’ arms and turns to move the eggs around again.

Remus pouts, moving to lean over on the counter next to him.  “Meanie.”

“This meanie doesn’t want you to starve,” Janus says, giving him a look.  “Go sit down, the eggs are almost done.”

Remus blows a raspberry that turns into a couple coughs, but he just waves off Janus’ concerned look and moves to sit back at his seat, picking up his pencil and starting to draw again.  He’s just finished with the last of the sketch when Janus sets a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of him.

“You really want to do this,” Janus asks quietly, sitting down opposite Remus with his own plate.  “Even if it blows up in your face?”

“Especially then!” Remus says with a bright smile.  “What better way than to go out with a bang?”

Janus reaches over and puts his hand on top of Remus,’ then shifts their hands around until they’re clasped together.  He gets that sad look in his eyes when he’s thinking about something he doesn’t want to say, then lifts Remus’ hands to his lips and presses a kiss to it.  “Okay,” he murmurs.  “Then I’m here, Remus.”  He looks up, a sudden dangerous look in his eyes.  “But the second he tries something—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus says, lifting Janus’ hand to kiss it back.  “You can stick your teeth in ‘im.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Janus says lowly.

“I hear you,” Remus says, giving him a fond smile.  He lowers their clasped hands onto the table and takes a bite of egg with his other, and the two of them lapse into silence as they start to eat.

…

It’s a couple days later when Roman arrives.  Janus has positioned himself in between Remus and the doorway for most of the day, and Remus has pretended not to notice.  Just after lunch, Remus is hanging his picture of Janus’ ass, which he has colored and shaded and framed.  It’s going to hang above the coffee table for as long as Janus wants, after.

Remus finishes hanging it, climbs down from the coffee table and steps back slightly, looks at it and tries to be satisfied.  He isn’t.

Janus steps closer and smiles up at the drawing anyway.  “It’s very you,” he says, sounding slightly exasperated.

Remus huffs, crossing his arms.

“What?” Janus asks, turning to look at him.

“It’s… hmm,” Remus says, moving to sit back on the couch.

“Remus, I like it,” Janus says, moving to sit next to him, still in between Remus and the door.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Remus grumbles, crossing his arms.  “It’s… it’s fine.  It’s just not right.  I’ll just have to make another one until I get it right.”

“Remus,” Janus says, giving him a look.  “That’s like the fifth time you’ve said that.”

“I haven’t gotten it right yet,” Remus says.  “I’ll say it until I get it right.”

“And when exactly will that be?” Janus asks, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know,” Remus says, rolling his eyes.  “I’ll know when it happens.”

“Remus—”

A knock on the door interrupts them both, and they turn, going quiet.  They don’t get a ton of visitors since Virgil stopped coming, and this is the day Roman is supposed to arrive.

Sure enough, a second later he calls out, “Remus?  Are you there?”

Janus stands before Remus can make a move, and walks across the living room to the door.  He pulls it open, and Roman blinks, startled.

“Uh, hi,” Roman says.  “Do I have the wrong apartment?  I’m looking for—”

“Yo!” Remus calls, and Roman’s gaze shifts from Janus across the room to Remus, who is now laying over the back of the couch in an attempt to appear as casual as possible.

Roman’s gaze falls slightly in relief, before scrunching up again in confusion.  “But then who—” he starts, turning back to Janus.

Remus snickers, practically feeling Janus’ annoyance and exasperation.  “For fucks sake,” Janus mutters, turning to stalk back across the living room.

“We’re really close roommates,” Remus calls with a grin over at Roman, right as Janus sits down on the couch and slides up to Remus’ side.  He slips under Remus’ arm and looks pointedly back at Roman.

Roman at least has the decency to look a little sheepish.  “I… thought you would be alone,” he says.  He drags two suitcases in the door and sets them to the side before shutting it after him.

“Ah yes, the poor lonely gay,” Remus says, leaning against Janus.  “It’s so sad.  Isn’t it so sad, Janus?”

Janus gives Remus an unamused look, and Remus beams at him.

Roman doesn’t say anything, but he does look a little bewildered as he comes over to stand in front of the couch.

Remus raises an eyebrow at him.  “Well?  Spit it out.”

“You… sounded very different,” Roman says.  “On the phone.”

“Ah yes, that was 3AM Remus who was exhausted and had just finished hacking his guts up,” Remus says, ignoring Roman’s flinch.  “Just because I still want you here doesn’t mean we’re playing by his rules.”

“You…” Roman says hesitantly.  “Aren’t you scared?”

“I’m fucking terrified,” Remus says plainly.  Janus goes still next to him, and Remus tightens his grip around him.

“Just like I was terrified to come out to our parents,” Remus continues to Roman.  “And just like I was terrified to live on the streets.  And just like I was terrified to ask Janus out.  Being terrified is not a new thing for me.  I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

Roman doesn’t say anything to that.

“So,” Remus says, sitting up.  “Toss your shit in the guest room.  Tonight we’re going to a drag show.”

Roman goes pale immediately.

Janus chuckles in amusement, leaning more heavily against Remus.  “You know maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea,” he muses.

“I—” Roman says hesitantly.  “I don’t know how comfortable I am with—”

“He’s dying,” Janus says with a smirk.  “Go put your shit in the guest room.”

Roman swallows, then heads off to grab his suitcases.  As soon as he disappears down the hallway, Remus turns to Janus.

“What happened to not using that as an excuse every time?” he asks.

“I’ve suddenly become more amicable to the idea,” Janus says.

Remus rolls his eyes and leans against Janus’ shoulder.

“Uh, guys?” Roman calls from down the hallway.  “There’s only two bedrooms.  Doesn’t Janus need one?”

Remus doubles over cackling, and he’s too amused to even care when it devolves into coughs.

…

The guest room was small and plain, and Roman hadn’t brought any decorations.

He set his suitcases over by the wall, but all that was in the guest room was a bed and a tiny desk, so it looked like Roman was going to be living out of his suitcases for a couple months.

He promised Clarissa he’d call when he got there, but now that he was there the idea honestly sounded so distasteful that he was seriously debating putting it off until tomorrow.

He could still hear Remus talking with Janus out in the living room.  Janus had apparently just said something amusing, because Roman could hear Remus’ cough-filled-laugher from here.

Janus was definitely not something Roman had expected.  But then, the times he had considered Remus in the past ten years, what had come to mind was Remus struggling to make it by on the streets or making a living in… less socially acceptable ways.  Living in a perfectly normal apartment with a… a boyfriend had never been on the mental table.

But then, neither had dying.

Remus’ phone call hadn’t helped either.  Nothing about how scared and lost he’d sounded had suggested he had a boyfriend to help him.  If he had Janus, why would he want Roman?  It’s not like the two of them were close.  He hadn’t expected to hear from Remus ever again.

Roman sat down on the bed, not liking the way that thought felt all of a sudden.

Maybe this would be good, then.  He was going to stay even if it wasn’t, for Remus’ sake, but maybe it would actually be good for him too.  He might actually get some kind of closure with his brother, which he’d needed for… he didn’t even know how long.

And yet you had to wait until he was dying to try for that closure, hissed a voice in his head.

Roman winced, dropping his head with a sigh.  Maybe, on the other hand, this would just fill him with guilt and make him miserable and Clarissa was right and right and he should have stayed home.

He looked towards his door, still easily able to hear Remus and Janus talking, light and almost carefree, except it couldn’t actually be carefree.

No, Clarissa wasn’t right.

Roman wasn’t sure he’d be ready for everything Remus would want them to do together, but Clarissa still wasn’t right.

And Roman was going to call her tomorrow.

...

Chapter Three

[sunnyie-eve]

8 | Just Stop

Series: A Zombie's Serenity 

Paring: Zed Necrodopolis x OFC Buchanan!

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Might be a few mistakes, and I'm using Brenna D'Amico as how the OC's looks

| MASTERLIST |

~~~

"You good?" I laugh walking over putting a hand out to him. 

"I'm good. Yeah." He takes my hand and I help him up. 

"You sure? She tackled you pretty good." I can't help but laugh some. 

"Did it look as bad as it felt?" He rubs his shoulder he landed on. 

"Yep." Zoey walks up to us. 

"So are you ready to work on the homework? Don't forget there's still a curfew." I remind him. 

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Eliza." Zed picks up Zoey playfully and starts to walk towards his place. 

"Good luck with him." Eliza tells me. 

"I'm gonna need it." I follow him. 

"Welcome to my lovely home." He says as I walk in. 

"It's feel homey compared to my place." I look around. 

"We can either do work at the table, couch, or my room." He lists. 

"Umm the table is good." I walk over to it. 

"I thought so." He joins me.

While we work on the homework at times, I noticed Zed would just stare at me instead of doing the work. "Does Zoey have colors we could use to decorate the board?" I look up from my notebook. 

"Yeah, I'll do get them." He starts to stand up but I stop him.

"I'll get them because you need to copy this down since you keep zoning out." I pass him my notebook. 

"It's the second door upstairs. It should be open." He lets me know. 

"Zoey." I knock on the door making her turn to face me. "Do you have any markers and crayons we can barrow?" I ask her. 

"Yeah." She gives me the crayons then I follow her to Zed's room. "He hasn't brought them back yet." She huffs handing me the pack. 

"Thank you." I give her a smile. 

"Of course." I turn to leave and a picture catches my eye making me slightly smile.

"Did you get them yet?!" Zed shouts from downstairs so I leave his room. 

"Yeah, you made Zoey do more work because she had to get the markers out of your room." I explain to him. 

"Right, I forgot to return them." He nods his head. 

"So I'll write all this, and you'll write this. I made sure you have less to do." I explain. 

"So I wouldn't complain?" He raises an eyebrow so I nod my head. "You know me so well." We continue to work at the table till his dad came home and we had to move to his room. 

As we were finishing up, we were just drawing and decorating it to look nice. "I have to agree it is a nice picture to hang up. Zoey and I look adorable together at the football game. I also remember your dad took another one with us, Eliza and Bonzo. Why isn't that one up? It has your best friends in it." I decide to bring it up.

"Bonzo's eyes were closed in that one so it ruined the whole picture. Plus he was holding the sign upside down." He awkwardly laughs. 

"So why put that one up if it's just two out of four?" I ask him. 

"Because the two of you are the main girls in my life I care about." He just looks at me. 

"I have to get going home. It's late and almost curfew." I get my things together. 

"Serenity." He follows me down the stairs. 

"You need to stop Zed. Stop the little flirting you do with me because things are different now. You have Addison and I don't want to mess that up for you. You have some feelings for her if you decided to move on quickly. I un-," I get cut off by his lips on mine. I wanted to kiss back, I really wanted to but I push him away, "You made up your mind." I rush out of his house running home.

"Seren...ity..." I slightly hear my mom as I rush to my room upset. I plop onto my bed beginning to cry even though I shouldn't be crying over him. "Sweetheart?" My mom comes into my room, "What's wrong? You can talk to me." She sits next to me. 

"Addison took the boy I like but he still likes me but he also developed feelings for her." I turn to look at her. "Plus he just kissed me." I sigh. 

"Zed, was his name, right?" She smiles. 

"Yeah." I whine. 

"Sit up." She pulls me to sit up. 

"And this is the same boy who messes with his Z-Band to make himself look human just to meet us when we hated Zombies?" She holds my hands and I nod my head. "Your aunt Missy, my dear sister, tried taking your father from me in high school... but I wouldn't have it and I made sure he was mine. You show Zed and make him know if he stays with Addison he's making a mistake." She kisses my forehead before leaving my room.

~

"Howl's it going Serenity?" I can't help but laugh at Wyatt walking up to me at my locker. 

"Alright, I guess." I force a smile reaching for my book but remember I left it at Zed's, "Great." I put my head in my locker. 

"You okay?" He asks. 

"I'm fine..." I say with my head still in my locker. 

"You sure? Then why's your head still in there?" He chuckles. 

"It's cool in here." I huff. 

"I know we don't know each other very well but you can talk to me. Us wolves stick together and listen." I lean out of my locker. 

"I'm not a werewolf, Wyatt. My hair doesn't mean anything." I tell him again. 

"It has to mean something no one is born like that if it doesn't mean anything special." He steps closer to touch it.

"Well for me it means nothing. Maybe for Addison since our grandma said she's more special than me." I snap. 

"Maybe you're not a wolf, you won't know till you put on a moonstone necklace, but I'm sure it means something if not a wolf." He steps back. 

"Why make a fool of myself putting one on and nothing happens?" I asks putting different books into my locker. 

"Because it will let you know you're meant to be something else. I can sense you are." He makes me eye him.

"You don't know me, Wyatt." I laugh some. 

"Then let me get to know you." He steps toward me and takes the book out of my hand. 

"You're one strange werewolf." I shake my head at him then see Zed at his locker.

Wyatt turns around to see what I was looking at then turns back to me, "He's the reason, you're fine?" He gives me a look. 

"Umm, yeah." I take my book from him to put up then put my head back into my locker. 

"I'm sure he can still see you. What happened? I thought you two were friends?" He asks.

"We are but last year we were sorta a thing before my parents sent me away. Then when I got back I found out Addison got him to fall for her. But him and Eliza say he still likes me. And that him and Addison aren't really dating but still are sorta together. He kissed me last night after we finished our homework." I tell him everything. 

"Get out of your locker, Serenity." Wyatt wraps his arms around my waist picking me up moving me away. 

"But it really is cool in there!" I whine as he shuts my locker. 

"You're too good to pout into a locker about a boy. Come on, we have class to get to." He hands me my bag then takes me by my hand.

-

"Zed! You did what?!" Eliza hits him as they walk to school. 

"I know but she was leaving quickly and didn't even give me the chance to talk. She told me stop but I can't help it because I love her." He shouts then covers his mouth. 

"You just said you love her..." Eliza looks at him with wide eyes. 

"I did." He uncovers his mouth. 

"Then why are you haven't you told Addison you don't 100% feel the same way? That you see her mostly as a friend? Why did you give in, in the first place?" Eliza asks him. 

"Because I'm a idiot. I'll talk to her when I see her." Zed walks over to his locker. 

"But it really is cool in there!" Zed hears Serenity shout so when he looks towards her locker he sees Wyatt with his arms wrapped around her. He places her down to shut her locker before taking her by the hand and walking off.

"Are you kidding me?" He gets upset. 

"What's wrong?" Addison walks up to him. 

"The werewolf has a thing for Serenity." He closes his locker slightly hard. 

"So?" Addison gives him a confused look. 

"Addison, I know you're smart and you know why it bothers me. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry but I never stopped having feelings for Serenity and I can't return the same ones to you. I thought her not coming back I could try to move on but I lied to myself and then I saw her again..." Zed apologizes to her. 

"It's okay, Zed... I know and like you said I can see it. Plus Serenity deserves you and you deserve her. But I still got your back as a close friend." Addison give him a smile. 

"Thank you for understanding. I am sorry." He keeps apologizing. 

"Don't worry about the werewolf and Serenity because I know you mean a lot to her." Addison heads off to class.

"Hey, Addie. Is it okay if I watch you lead cheer practice today?" Serenity walks with her to the gym. 

"Sure. It's still not to late to join again." She nudges her. 

"I'm still gonna pass. Maybe I'll join again next year." She tells her. 

"I'll be holding you to that." Addison points her finger at her as they go in. 

As Serenity takes a seat the werewolves come in, "What doing?" She asks Wyatt. 

"Came to watch. You?" He sits next to her. 

"Same as you." She says before Addison notices the group. 

"Sorry, but this practice space is for cheerleaders only." She tells them. 

"Ha! Just try and get us to leave." Wynter stands up.

"No, I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay. Show us what you can do. The cheer team is for everyone." She smiles at them. 

"Come on." Wyatt tries to get Serenity to join. 

"I'm good. I came to watch." She tries to stay seated. 

"So did I but changed of plans." He pulls her up dragging her to the group causing her to whine. 

"You love cheer and this will remind you." Addison pats her back before they all cheer together.

"So you told Addison everything?" Eliza changes the subject from Zed's election to Zed's love life. 

"Yes but this was after seeing that furball, Wyatt, flirting with Serenity. He was making her smile and was all touchy." Zed gets annoyed. 

"Maybe you were looking into it too much because of everything. It probably wasn't that bad." Eliza tells him as the two of them and Bonzo walk into the gym to see the end of the cheer and everyone cheering. 

"See you had fun." Wyatt wraps his arms around Serenity's waist hugging her making her laugh. 

"Yeah, I was wrong. That scruffy, super handsome, fine-smelling Wyatt is really into Serenity." Eliza looks at Zed while Serenity talked to Wyatt and Addison about missing cheer.

"No, we were both wrong... They're just cheering. And laughing again. Maybe she's just trying to convince him to get the wolves to vote for me. I'm not threatened." Zed lies to himself so Eliza just pats his shoulder leaving. 

Wyatt tells Addison, the whole we werewolves work well together, making her say she's not one like Serenity told him. "Hmm." He looks at her then at Serenity.

"Really again." She gives him a look. 

"I still think you're special." He touches her hair again making Addison look at him confused till Bucky comes to talk to her. Wyatt looks over at the doors to see Zed standing there watching so as Serenity steps back she looks too. Zed rushes off and Addison tells Serenity to go talk to him confusing her why should she.

[patstevens5]

For the final project, for my keeping, I used one of my favorite quotes along with a variety of colors to kind of put a spin on the meaning. The quote says “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” and this almost haunts me daily as I feel as though I currently am in the good old days. I don’t have a worry in the world and I live with 7 but really 10 guys that have turned from friends to family over these last couple years at Bonaventure.

I used a variety of colors in the background that we have learned about throughout the semester and in our reading of the secrete lives of color to show that just because what I think will be the best years of my life are ending, I won’t let that ruin the ones ahead.

This class has taught me the history and meaning behind not only various pieces and techniques of art but rather behind the colors we see everyday that I once overlooked and thought was meaningless.

For my second artwork, I decided to make it for my good friend Mitch. Mitch deeply loves America, sports and hanging out with friends. Over this past year, there were a few key events that really scared Mitch in regards to things he truly cares about but most importantly his friends and country. some of these events are depicted throughout the collage in various ways.

I made Mitch this collage, a technique we used through the semester and I would argue this was my favorite. For someone who isn’t very artistic, I learned while reading the secret lives of color you do not have to be a stereotypical artists to embrace creativity and color.

This style of artwork allows me to “paint” a picture without actually having to paint or draw. The pieces throughout the semester that challenged me the most were the ones that required free hand drawing or a great deal of creativity. This class certainly made me think outside of the box in very different ways than other classes.