#I love the colors and the contrast and shadows here!!! so cool!!!

[noxlotl]

Art style breakdown /tutorial(??)

Some friends asked so here we go : disclaimer im bad at explaining (so feel free to send an ask or smth)

Final art (long read so theres a timelapse at the end)

If its not for something important (commissions), i dont usually make a lineart for a drawing but just clean up the sketch , it wont be used anyway

I usually separate them by colors , mostly so i can Alpha lock them and not worry about coloring over parts

When coloring i use a soft airbrush to have gradients within the shading , so its not one solid color . How i shade is very blocky , lots of triangles lol (if im using CSP i love using the lasso fill tool ) but there are parts especially in the skin where I keep it smooth and blended, usually nose and cheek area . Using an asaro head is usually a good start to learning how to shade faces with planes in mind

Depends on the character, but I like adding shadows on the lashes/brows itself , make it look solid and 3d , it makes the eyes pop more imo

Using multiply layer to make the shadows darker for more contrast

At some point I’d merge everything together so i can just paint in one layer, easier to fix things with liquify too ; if im in CSP i keep the separate layers in one folder just in case i need em later but i cant really do that in Procreate cos of layer limits

This is the part where i make the shading more painterly .,To make the shading look sharper , i like adding lines on the edges .

The fun part : adding the ✨

This is the part where I add textures , either from texture images or with screentone/hatching brushes. This is also around the part where i add the character’s accessories and stuff like scars and freckles (its just easier to add smaller things near the end than having them accidentally painted over at the start)

Whenever I feel like the drawing looks too much of a similar shade / temperature , I use a gradient map+layer effects (masked) on parts to give it variety . Technically you can do this by just having a layer effect on and manually adding colors but gradient maps make me go “ooooh didnt think of that color there “

CSP also has a posterization filter that i like using when i feel like some part looks too smooth to me.

I sometimes add in sketchy lines , and seeing how cool it looks in Marvel Rivals art ive been adding it more lol

Artists that influenced me are : Nesskain, Toni Infante , Valorant’s 2d art(their main artist is Suke) ,Arcane , Spiderverse and the most recent one ive been obsessing over is Marvel Rivals ( its got everything i want my art to be when it grows older lmao )

[astrcmoni]

ೃ❀࿔ sweet surrender ೃ❀࿔

MASTERLIST

synopsis: so…basically you and billie fuck, but like sweetly. ( i don’t feel like writing a proper synopsis)

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 11.2k….it goes up every post i swear😓

warnings: cussing, soft switch! reader & soft switch! billie, nicknames, fingering (both receiving), cunnilingus/oral (both receiving), scissoring, talk of orgasm/cum, aftercare..i think that’s it lmk if i missed something.

authors note: your weekly bedtime story is here…why this kinda eat hold on🫦, who wanna recreate this with me🤨 (jk jk…unless)

soft light spills into the living room, a warm, flickering glow from candles scattered like secrets in the dark. their flames whisper, gentle and alive, from the coffee table and shelves. the scent of vanilla and sandalwood curls through the air, weaving into billie’s perfume— grounding, familiar, like home found in a person. the tv glows faintly, its screen casting soft shadows as it flickers with old reruns of i love lucy— a memory stitched to your childhood, to moments spent with your grandparents. the grayscale images shift and shimmer, the faint crackle of audio tugging you back, making you feel like you’re sitting in the past.

you’re stretched out on the couch, body languid and unwound, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, cradling your head. your legs sprawl lazily across billie’s lap, the fuzzy fabric of your socks brushing against each other in a slow, absent rhythm. the anklets on your right ankle sway with each movement, their gold bands catching the light like small constellations. her thumb traces soft, looping patterns against your bare thigh, the warmth of her hand seeping into your skin. her touch is unhurried, deliberate, each stroke sending quiet sparks through your nerves, grounding you in this fragile, perfect moment.

billie leans further into the cushions, her black plaid button-up hanging loose over a white undershirt, sleeves rolled carelessly to her elbows. silver chains and dog tags glint faintly against her chest, their edges catching the candlelight. her rings shift and gleam as her fingers move, the brim of her cap tilting forward, shadowing her face. but you see her, clear as day— the way her lips curve into the smallest, softest smile, the kind that speaks of quiet contentment, like she’s found something she didn’t know she needed.

you’re dressed in something equally soft— a low-buttoned teddy brown colored cardigan draped over a spaghetti-strap tank, paired with fluffy shorts that skim your thighs. the contrast between you two is striking: her laid-back edge against your cozy simplicity. but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. this is your space, your sanctuary, and all that fills your mind is how perfect this feels. how the air between you hums, tension so palpable it feels like the room itself is holding its breath.

her gaze shifts, and you feel it before you see it— the weight of her eyes settling on your face, studying you with the same intensity you’d reserved for the tv moments ago. turning your head, your eyes meet hers, and the world narrows. her gaze is deep, blue oceans pooling with something that feels too heavy for words. it’s the same look she gave you the night you met, six months ago, in some dimly lit club in l.a. where the music was too loud and the air was too thick, but none of that mattered.

you remember sitting in the corner, a drink in your hand, your feet aching from dancing too long. and then she walked in— quiet, unassuming, but magnetic in a way that pulled all the air out of the room. her presence was effortless, the way she carried herself a study in contradictions: cool and commanding, yet soft and inviting. you’d noticed her almost immediately, the dark fall of her hair brushing against her cheekbones, the way her eyes swept the room like she was searching for something. and when her gaze landed on you, it was like being found.

she crossed the space between you two with purpose, her voice low and steady as she introduced herself. there was no pretense, no false charm—just something raw and real. her dark hair fell into her face as she leaned closer, her words slipping through the noise like a secret meant only for you. and just like that, the thread between you tightened, drawing you closer without effort or explanation.

what started as late-night conversations and quiet companionship turned into something you couldn’t define but couldn’t let go of. it was soft nights spent in each other’s company, your laughter mingling with the sound of her playlists, the kind of intimacy that feels like breathing. and then, one night, everything changed. it was quiet, like the shift of the tide— a hand brushing too close, a glance lingering too long. and when her lips found the curve of your neck, the world tilted. the air sparked, the room blurred, and all that existed was her. that was the moment it became inevitable. that was the moment it became everything.

now it’s become a regular thing, these quiet nights wrapped in each other’s presence, existing in a rhythm that feels almost too easy. no schedules, no expectations—just the way you both fold into each other, however and whenever you want.

“ricky! you can’t be serious!” lucy’s exasperated voice bursts from the tv, the laugh track bubbling up to fill the room, the sound bouncing off the soft glow of candlelight.

you smirk, turning your head slightly. “are you even trying to watch the show?” your tone is teasing, but there’s nothing sharp in it—just warmth, just the comfort of familiarity.

“why would i want to do that,” she murmurs, her lips curving into the faintest smile, “when my girlfriend is right here?” her fingers squeeze gently against the plush of your thighs, the cool metal of her rings biting against your warmth. the contrast is startling and grounding all at once, like her touch is meant to anchor you here, in this moment.

“you comfy?” she asks, voice softer now, almost like the question is more for her than you.

“wouldn’t be sitting here if i wasn’t.” your fist curls under your head as you shift, propping yourself more comfortably. the action presses your body further into hers, the space between you almost nonexistent now. a soft smile tugs at your lips as your gaze meets hers fully, your eyes locking in a way that feels heavier than it should.

she lets out a low groan, the sound rumbling in her chest and spilling into the quiet. “you’re always talking, huh? why can’t you just say yes like a normal person?”

you shrug, the teasing glint in her eyes pulling a soft chuckle from you. “where’s the fun in that?”

her hand slows, her touch shifting from absentminded to something more deliberate. her fingers slide from the outside of your thigh to the tender skin on the inside, her movements light but intentional. her gaze drops to watch the path her fingers trace, her focus sharp and quiet, like she’s lost in her own thoughts. faint whispers fall from her lips—soft, incoherent murmurs that seem to spill out without her even realizing.

and you’d be lying to yourself if you said her touch didn’t make your breath hitch, didn’t make the air feel just a little heavier.

“huh?” your voice breaks through the haze, low and teasing. “i need you to speak up, my love.”

her hand stills, her thumb pressing just a little harder into your skin, the faint pressure pulling a spark of heat up your spine. she looks up at you, and her gaze is different now—something deeper, heavier, like the weight of an unspoken truth. her thumb resumes its path, slow and deliberate, but her eyes remain on yours, studying you in the dim light.

it feels like she’s memorizing you—every curve, every shift in your expression, every shallow breath you take. and in the quiet hum of the room, you feel it again: that thread pulling tighter, wrapping around you both, binding you closer than words ever could.

“you’re so unfair, you know that?” her voice drops an octave, thick with something unspoken, the sound wrapping around you like velvet.

your eyebrows lift, a subtle quirk that dances between curiosity and teasing. “i am?” your voice is soft, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

her head dips in a slow, deliberate nod, the silver of her chains swaying faintly with the motion, catching the warm glow of the candles. shadows flicker across her face, her expression unreadable but her eyes speaking louder than words.

“how so?” you breathe, your playful smile blooming fully now, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something knowing.

her free hand moves, fingers grazing the side of your knee, the touch light as air yet impossible to ignore. her fingertips trail back down, her movements slow, deliberate, like she’s mapping every inch of your skin. “you sit here,” she murmurs, almost to herself, her words dragging in the air between you, “looking like that… looking at me, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

her voice sends a spark straight through you, a thread of heat winding itself tight in your chest. a laugh escapes before you can stop it, light and airy, your body jolting with the sound. “what am i doing, baby?” you ask, your voice dipping into something soft, sweet, and maddeningly coy.

her hand lifts, leaving your skin cold in its absence. she drags it up to her face, her palm covering the flush that spreads like wildfire across her cheeks. your voice—the way the nickname falls from your lips, slow and deliberate—undoes her. it’s the low tilt of your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips, the ease with which you say it, like you know exactly what you’re doing to her.

a deep groan escapes her, muffled by her hand, her body sinking further into the couch like she’s trying to hide from the weight of it all. your laugh spills out again, fuller this time, bubbling over as her flustered state only seems to grow.

her eyes cut to you, sharp but soft, like she’s annoyed and enamored all at once. her hand slides down her face slowly, the motion deliberate, landing softly beside her. she exhales, her head tilting back slightly, her cap casting shadows across her flushed face. “you’re impossible,” she mutters, the words carrying no real bite, just the lingering weight of her vulnerability.

and you smile, a warmth spreading through your chest as you take her in—the way she tries to compose herself, the way her gaze softens despite the tension in the air. because in this moment, with the light flickering and the world quiet, it’s just you and her. and that’s all it ever needs to be.

your stomach tightens at the way she looks at you, with longing and desire etched so plainly across her face. her voice curls around her words, low and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin. but you hold your composure, tilting your head slightly, letting your cardigan slip further off your shoulder. the exposed skin feels cool against the air, but the weight of her gaze sets it alight. your eyebrows lift, an unspoken challenge lingering between you, as you wait for her answer.

before she can speak, her hands find the underside of your calves, her grip firm yet gentle. you let out a surprised yelp as she pulls you closer in one smooth motion, dragging you across the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your thighs slide against the fabric, your breath hitching as her hands settle there again, warm and commanding. the sudden proximity leaves you breathless—your faces so close you can see everything: the deepening blue of her eyes, their edges dark with lust, the faint constellation of freckles scattered across her skin, like stars glimmering faintly against a quiet sky.

you notice the way her lips part, soft and plush, glistening slightly as her tongue darts out to wet them. she catches her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it briefly before releasing it, her gaze locked on yours. she exhales sharply through her nose, the sound low and ragged, her breath fanning warmly against your face.

“you’re so pretty,” she whispers, her voice thick with a quiet ache that sends a shiver down your spine. “it’s not fair. you’re driving me out of my mind.”

your lips twitch into a teasing smile, the heat rising to your cheeks impossible to ignore. “yeah?” your voice is soft, a little breathy, but still teasing as your hand moves up to cup her cheek. your thumb brushes gently across her skin, and you keep your eyes locked on hers, unrelenting, daring her to close the distance.

“yeah.” her voice is barely above a breath now, her face tilting ever so slightly as her lips press into yours.

her kiss is slow at first, deliberate, her lips moving against yours like she’s savoring every second, every taste. her hand slides further up your thigh, her grip tightening just enough to send sparks racing along your nerves. the weight of her free hand against your face steadies you, her thumb grazing the edge of your jaw as she pulls you closer, deeper into her.

your hands find their way to the back of her neck, fingers threading through the soft strands of her hair, your thumbs brushing the skin behind her ears. you tug her closer, her groan reverberating through you, a warm, low sound that seems to settle deep in your chest. her hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you into her lap, the shift effortless, like you were always meant to be there.

your legs straddle her hips, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of her as her hands find your waist. her thumbs draw lazy circles there, the light pressure grounding you even as her kiss grows hungrier. her teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging lightly before her lips crash back into yours, leaving you breathless.

your fingers tighten against the nape of her neck, nails dragging lightly against her skin, and she shudders under your touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. the sound makes your heart race, the heat between you two building, the world fading into the soft glow of candlelight and the quiet hum of your shared breaths. nothing else exists but her—the weight of her hands, the press of her lips, and the quiet intensity that burns between you, igniting something you can’t name but never want to end.

the taste of her is intoxicating, the faint trace of mint on her lips mingling with something sweeter, deeper—something that pulls you under, leaves you wanting more. every kiss feels like a promise, slow and deliberate, building into something that leaves no room for air, no room for doubt. her hands find the hem of your cardigan, slipping beneath it, the cool press of her rings on your skin like tiny shocks of electricity that ripple through you, making your breath hitch.

her lips part from yours, trailing a path of warmth and want from your cheek to your jawline, each kiss deliberate, unhurried, like she’s memorizing you in pieces. when she reaches your neck, she pauses, breathing you in, the scent of your laundry detergent mixing with the soft trace of vanilla candles and the rich warmth of your body butter. “mm—mama, you smell so good,” she murmurs, her words vibrating against your skin before she presses another kiss there, teeth grazing lightly.

your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of her neck, nails grazing her scalp, earning a low, drawn-out moan from her. the sound alone makes your stomach flip, heat blooming low in your belly. she bites down, just enough to make your breath stutter, her tongue soothing the sting, but before the bruise has time to settle, you pull back.

her hands are quick, catching you instinctively, clasping behind your back as though to steady you, to keep you close. her brows furrow, the expression subtle but telling, her lips swollen and slick from your kisses. she’s looking at you like you’ve just shattered a moment she wasn’t ready to let go of, confusion pooling in the depths of her blue eyes.

“what’s wrong?” her voice is low, threaded with concern, her chest rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath.

a grin spreads across your face, slow and teasing, as you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the laugh bubbling up in your chest. “we’re not fucking on this expensive-ass couch, babe,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully, the lilt of your voice light and teasing.

she blinks at you, a beat passing as your words sink in, and then the corners of her lips twitch upward into a grin, crooked and lazy. “seriously?” her tone is laced with amusement now, the sharp edge of desire softened but not gone. “you don’t trust me on your couch?”

you shake your head, the grin still playing on your lips as you make a small sound of disapproval. “not in this outfit, i don’t.” your fingers find the flannel draped over her frame, brushing the fabric lightly as you fluff it out, your touch featherlight and deliberate.

she laughs, a low, throaty sound that rolls through you, her messy brown hair swaying as she leans back slightly, her hands returning to your hips like they belong there. the tension between you shifts, still heavy but now threaded with playfulness, the kind of ease that makes your chest feel lighter. “ you really don’t wanna stay out here?”

“um…no,” you say, letting your gaze flick around the room before meeting hers again, your eyes glinting with mischief. “besides, i’m just saying, if we’re gonna fuck, i’m gonna need more space than this, babe.”

her grin widens, crooked and endearing, her eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “are you serious right now?”

“dead serious,” you reply, your voice steady, your expression a mix of challenge and amusement.

“you’re such a diva, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are,” you shoot back, the smirk tugging at your lips impossible to hide.

she groans, loud and dramatic, but the spark in her eyes betrays her excitement. her black hat tilts slightly as she stands, her movements easy and fluid. “lead the way,” she mutters, her voice still low but threaded with anticipation.

you slide off her lap, your hand slipping into hers, fingers lacing together as you tug her to her feet. her grip tightens, grounding you for a moment before you turn, the soft patter of your feet against the floor the only sound as you lead her to your room.

you smile, the energy between you two shifting again, this time in a direction you both have grown to know so well. every step carries the weight of the unspoken tension that’s lingered between you, each echoing softly in the quiet as the anticipation coils tighter. when the door clicks shut behind you, the atmosphere thickens, the air charged, electric. it feels like stepping into a new world—one that belongs only to the two of you.

you turn to face her, letting your eyes rake over her frame, unhurried, deliberate. really looking at her feels like a privilege, like witnessing art up close. billie stands there, her plaid button-up shifted slightly askew, the white crop top beneath clinging to her in all the right ways. the silver chains around her neck glint softly in the low light, catching your attention like they’re daring you to touch them. her rings shimmer as she flexes her fingers, the subtle movement making you want to trace their paths over her skin. she stalks closer, slow and measured, the faintest smile curving her lips, but her eyes give her away—darkened with desire, the hunger in them mirroring your own.

you toss your head back with a groan, overwhelmed by the way she looks at you, by how effortlessly she owns the moment. “oh my god, you’re so fine. like, what the actual fuck,” you whisper, half to yourself, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

billie’s lips part as though to respond, but you don’t give her the chance. instead, you close the distance, your lips colliding with hers in a kiss that’s urgent, desperate, all-consuming. her hands find your waist almost immediately, the heat of her touch burning through the fabric of your cardigan as her fingers trace the outline of your frame with a reverence that makes your knees weak.

your own hands slide up her chest, palms pressing against the cool press of her chains, the metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. your fingers reach the buttons of her shirt, and you work them loose one by one, savoring the soft hitch of her breath with each undone clasp. her lips never leave yours, the kiss deepening with every second, every layer of fabric removed between you adding fuel to the fire.

when the last button falls free, her shirt slips open, revealing the soft curves of her stomach beneath the hem of her crop top. your fingers ghost over her skin, tracing the faint lines of muscle, dipping lower to the curve of her belly. your touch brushes against the delicate silver of her belly piercing, the small charm swaying lightly, catching the light. the sight of it, the subtle movement, makes your breath catch.

billie lets out a soft moan, the sound rippling through you like a wave, her body trembling beneath your hands. your nails scrape lightly against her skin, just enough to make her gasp, the sharp intake of air like music to your ears.

your hands move upwards, palms grazing the curve of her chest before sliding even higher, finding their place on her shoulders. your thumbs brush back and forth over her exposed collarbones, the motion slow, deliberate. her breath hitches, her lips parting as her head tilts back slightly, giving you an unobstructed view of her face. the way her brows knit together, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the faint sheen of sweat gathering at her temple—it’s all so breathtaking, so unguarded.

you can feel her body reacting to every touch, her soft moans and sharp gasps filling the space between you, grounding you in this moment. her hands find your hips again, her fingers digging into your sides just enough to leave you craving more, her touch equal parts grounding and electrifying.

your hands wander down her back, tracing the planes of her body, mapping her with a devotion that feels almost sacred. every dip, every curve, every inch of her feels like it’s yours to discover all over again. her skin trembles beneath your touch, her reactions beautiful and raw, each sound she makes wrapping around you like a melody, pulling you deeper.

you marvel at her—at the way her body responds to yours, at the way her moans become softer, more desperate as your fingers glide lower again. there’s something intoxicating about the way she melts into you, like you’re the only thing that matters, the only thing tethering her to this moment.

but billie being billie, she’s always so impatient. “oh my god—” she breathes, her voice trembling as her hand slides up to cradle the side of your neck, pulling you into another searing kiss. it’s hurried, electric, but beneath the urgency lies something deeper, something tender. her lips press against yours like she’s afraid you might slip through her fingers, and for a moment, nothing else exists but the heat between you.

her hands find your waist, fingers curling around the fabric of your cardigan as she moves, never breaking the kiss. step by step, she guides you back until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs, sending you tumbling softly onto the mattress. billie follows instantly, her body hovering over yours, the weight of her pressing you gently into the bed as her lips trail back down to your neck.

she takes her time, scattering a mix of hickeys and featherlight kisses along your skin. her lips drag over the curve of your throat, her breath hot and uneven as her teeth graze you ever so slightly, each nip leaving a trail of heat in its wake. her hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, fidgeting with the buttons of your sweater. but her frustration mounts quickly as the fabric refuses to cooperate, her movements becoming more frantic with every passing second.

“fucking hell—” she mutters, voice low and husky, her breath hitching as she sits up slightly, straddling your hips. her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, grounding herself as her fingers tug impatiently at the stubborn clasps.

“what?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to see what’s wrong, your own breath catching at the sight of her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks.

“these damn buttons, babe. why did you decide to wear a sweater?” she grumbles, her lips pressing into a thin line as her fingers fumble. the frustration is written all over her face, but there’s a fire in her eyes, a hunger that makes you ache in the best way.

you bite back a laugh, your heart swelling at how adorably flustered she looks. “hey, be gentle. this is my favorite cardigan, okay?”

her hands pause for just a moment, her gaze flickering up to meet yours, lips parting as if to argue. but then she groans, a soft, almost desperate sound escaping her. “i don’t care. i’ll buy you another one—just take it off,” she whines, her voice trailing off, heavy with need.

her yearning is palpable now, written in the tension of her shoulders, in the way her fingers twitch against the fabric, in the way she looks at you—like she’s starving, like you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy her. but there’s something more behind her frustration, a depth to her longing that catches you off guard. it’s not just about the physical connection; it’s about being completely, utterly yours in a way that words could never fully express.

you take her hands gently, stilling their restless movements as you guide them away from the buttons. “relax, babe,” you whisper, your voice soft but teasing as you take matters into your own hands. your fingers make quick work of the buttons, sliding them free one by one with practiced ease.

billie watches intently, her gaze flickering between your hands and your face, her breathing shallow as the sweater falls open, the fabric slipping from your shoulders to reveal the fitted spaghetti-strap tank beneath. the hem of the top has ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of your stomach and the tiny diamond piercing that glints in the low light. her eyes darken as they trail upward, lingering on the curve of your breasts peeking over the neckline.

“see?” you murmur, your voice soft and playful as your eyes meet hers. “you just have to be gentle sometimes.” a small, knowing smile tugs at your lips, and for a moment, all the tension eases, replaced by something sweeter, something that feels like an unspoken promise.

billie swallows hard, her lips parting as if to respond, but the words don’t come. instead, her hands move back to your waist, her touch gentler this time, almost reverent as her thumbs trace slow circles against your skin. her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her gaze fixed on you like you’re the most captivating thing she’s ever seen.

“i guess,” she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper before grabbing you once more, pulling you into another kiss. it’s softer this time, slower, but no less intense. your fingers thread through her hair, the strands silky against your fingertips as you accidentally knock the baseball cap from her head. it falls behind you, landing on the comforter with a soft thud.

without breaking the kiss, you reach back blindly, your hand swatting around until your fingers brush against the cap. grasping it, you pull it forward and carefully place it on your own head, twisting the brim backward in one fluid motion. it’s a small gesture, playful and unassuming, but the effect it has on billie is immediate.

her breath catches, a sharp inhale that seems to echo in the quiet room. her hands tighten on your waist, gripping you as though the sight of you in her hat has stolen whatever composure she had left. her lips part, her pupils dark and blown wide with desire as she stares at you like you’ve just set her entire world on fire.

“you… fuck,” she breathes, the words spilling from her lips in a low, shaky exhale. her voice is thick, raw, dripping with something primal, something almost desperate.

you don’t miss the way her hips press into yours, the way her entire body reacts to the simple act of you claiming her cap like it’s yours now. it’s intoxicating, the rush of power and intimacy swirling between you like a storm neither of you can control.

her hands are on you again, roaming your body with renewed urgency as she tugs at your cardigan, sliding it off your shoulders with a rough but measured pull. your undershirt follows shortly after, the fabric soft as it glides over your skin, leaving you in just your bra.

your own hands are anything but idle, sliding beneath the hem of her black-and-white flannel. your nails skim her skin, drawing goosebumps in their wake as you work the shirt off her arms. the flannel slips to the floor in a quiet heap, followed by the white crop top she’s been wearing. the cotton clings briefly before you pull it over her head, her chains catching the light as they fall back into place, swaying gently against her chest.

the air is thick with the weight of the moment as you both stand there, stripped down to bras and pants. the silver of her chains glints with every rise and fall of her chest, her breathing heavy and uneven. the cool metal contrasts sharply against the flushed heat of her skin, a juxtaposition that feels almost poetic.

her hands slide down to your thighs, her palms warm as they press into your skin, urging them apart. her body fits perfectly between them as she lowers herself, her lips returning to your chest. she trails kisses over your collarbone, her mouth soft and deliberate as she works her way downward.

her fingers glide up your torso, slow and steady, until they find the clasp of your bra. with practiced ease, she slides the hooks free, the tension releasing as the straps slip loose around your shoulders. she hooks her index finger beneath the center of the fabric, the touch deliberate and teasing as her lips venture lower, kissing a steady path toward your navel.

your breath hitches as you feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. it drags down your sternum in a maddeningly slow motion, the chill of it sharp against the warmth of your skin. she pulls the bra along with it, the fabric slipping away to leave you completely exposed.

billie’s lips don’t stop, their pace shifting between urgent and languid as if she’s memorizing every inch of you, leaving no part of you untouched. her hands follow the curve of your body, reverent and hungry all at once, like she’s trying to make up for every second she’s ever spent without you.

“you think it’s cute to play with me like that?” she asks, her voice low and teasing, though the hunger in her tone is unmistakable, wrapping around you like smoke.

you don’t answer right away. instead, you reach down, fingers grazing the cool metal of her chains, the links warm from the heat of her skin. they clink softly as your touch trails lower, over the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her chest, down to the subtle rise and fall of her abs. her muscles tense beneath your fingertips, and you deliberately let your nails drag lightly, just enough to leave a tingling path in their wake.

“i think you love it,” you whisper, your voice soft yet edged with challenge, your lips curling into the faintest smirk as you look up at her.

she doesn’t dignify the statement with words; her response is instant and all-consuming. her lips crash against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs in a kiss so searing it sets every nerve in your body alight. her hands grip your hips with a desperation that makes you dizzy, pulling you into her as if she can’t get close enough. the weight of her body presses against you, grounding you, tethering you to this moment as your fingers slide up into her hair. the strands are soft against your skin, and you give a gentle tug, earning a throaty groan that vibrates against your lips.

“fuck,” she breathes when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at you. her chest heaves as she takes you in—the way your bare chest glows in the soft light, the hat perched on your head backward, your lips kiss-swollen and parted. her blue eyes burn as they trace over you, drinking in every detail like she’s trying to commit it to memory. “you’re so perfect,” she murmurs, her voice raw, almost reverent. “you don’t even know.”

her lips find your neck again, moving with purpose. she lingers at your pulse point, where her teeth graze your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. the sting is fleeting, soothed almost immediately by the warmth of her tongue, and the combination sends a shiver down your spine. your back arches involuntarily, pressing you closer to her as a soft, unbidden moan escapes your lips.

her hands explore you with a sense of ownership, gliding over your body as if she’s mapping you out, committing every curve, every reaction, to memory. her touch is deliberate, possessive yet achingly tender, like she’s determined to make you hers in every possible way.

when her lips descend lower, trailing a line of heated kisses down your neck and over your collarbone, your breath catches. the anticipation is electric, each kiss leaving a spark in its wake until she reaches your chest. she pauses there, her movements slowing as her eyes flick up to meet yours. for a moment, the world stills. the vulnerability in her gaze is raw and unguarded, a quiet question unspoken between you, and your heart stutters in response.

slowly, she leans down, pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your breast. her lips are soft but purposeful, the contrast making your body hum. when she finally takes your left nipple into her mouth, the warmth of her tongue against your skin sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. your gasp is sharp, filling the room, and you feel her smile against you.

her hands knead your thighs as her mouth continues its deliberate exploration, the cool metal of her rings biting into your skin in the most delicious way. she takes her time, savoring every reaction, as if each gasp and whimper from you feeds something deep inside her. every touch, every kiss feels like a promise—silent but unbreakable, binding the two of you together in a way that words never could.

“billie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your left hand pressing against the bed behind you, propping yourself up as your right grips the back of her head, guiding her where you want her.

she hums against your skin, the vibration seeping deep into your bones, a shiver running down your spine like a whisper of fire. “say it again,” she murmurs, her voice dark, smooth, commanding, drawing out every syllable as if it’s a secret just for you.

“mm—billie, baby,” you repeat, louder now, desperate, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer, and it’s enough to drive her further, spurring her on. her lips continue their slow, relentless descent, teeth grazing, biting in all the right places, leaving marks that will linger into tomorrow. she revels in the thought of you carrying her with you, a part of her left behind even when she isn’t there.

by the time she reaches the apex of your thighs, your body is trembling, every inch of you electrified, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. billie pauses, her lips brushing against the soft skin just below your hip bone, and you feel the tender press of her breath, her hands gently coaxing your legs wider. she looks up at you, and the sight of you—skin flushed, chest heaving, her cap still perched on your head—makes something fierce stir in her. her voice is low, rough, as she speaks, the words laced with a hunger that matches your own. “sweetheart, you’re everything i’ve ever wanted.”

you’re too far gone to respond, but the way your fingers tighten in her hair, tugging just enough, says everything she needs to hear. her hands knead the inside of your thighs, her touch light, teasing, before she slides your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, discarding them carelessly. a sharp gasp slips from you as the cool air brushes against your skin, the dampness of your pussy already betraying your need.

her middle finger hovers over your slit, teasing you just enough, before she presses a kiss just above where you ache for her. the soft, teasing pressure pulls a frustrated whimper from your lips, and billie smirks against your skin, her own desire too fierce to be denied for long. without warning, she gives you exactly what you’ve been begging for.

her lips press against your clit, light, teasing kisses that send shivers through you. then, her tongue darts out, slipping between your folds with a slow, deliberate motion, tasting you. the sensation causes your back to arch, a soft cry escaping your lips as her hands slide down your right leg, propping it over her shoulder, opening you up further. the taste of you, mixed with the soft jangle of your anklets brushing against her ear, makes her moan, the vibrations sinking into your pussy, intensifying the pleasure.

her mouth moves with a rhythm so perfect it feels like she’s made for this, her lips and tongue working together in a dance that makes every nerve in your body hum. your hand drifts down to the side of her face, fingers brushing against her cheek as you tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. she lays her head on the inside of your thigh, leaving one last lingering kiss on your clit before her fingers take their place. her middle finger teases your entrance, slick with your essence, and she spreads it gently through your folds, rubbing you with a slow, sensual rhythm.

the room fills with the sound of your soft cries and her low groans, the air thick with the need building between you. her hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you writhe beneath her, your body trembling with the overwhelming sensation. “my girl’s so pretty…” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust. “gonna cum for me, mama?”

you nod, the wordless answer spilling from you as you can barely form coherent sentences. “yea—‘m gonna cum—fuck…”

“yeah?” she teases, her voice thick with pleasure, as she removes her fingers from you, making you whine in frustration. but she’s quick, taking her middle and index fingers—both slick with you—and tapping them lightly against your clit before thrusting them inside. your eyes roll back, the sensation overwhelming, and you shut them tightly as a moan rips from your throat. the cold metal of her rings against your skin, the sight of her inked angels curling around her fingers, is enough to make you gush, your body trembling beneath her touch.

“uht uht gotta look at me, baby.” her words are hot against your thigh as she pumps her fingers inside you, your cum dripping down onto her digits. you struggle to open your eyes, the pleasure so intense it makes it hard to focus, but when you do, you meet her gaze—her blue eyes darkened with lust, locked on yours through the fluttering of her thick lashes, her stare searing into you with an intensity that makes everything else fade away.

your hands reach to the back of her neck, fingers trembling as you try to pull her face back to your cunt, guiding her with the desperate urgency building in your chest. billie doesn’t hesitate, her fingers curling inside you, flexing in a ‘come here’ motion, and the sensation makes you moan once more, a string of curse words tumbling from your lips, breathless and broken.

without missing a beat, she places her mouth back on you, her tongue lapping at your juices in long, slow strokes, her fingers moving in tandem, creating a rhythm so perfect it threatens to unravel you completely. each movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the euphoric feeling almost too much to bear. your hands scramble for something to hold onto, your fingers desperately clawing at her skin as you start to break, your body trembling under her touch.

your release comes like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity it leaves you gasping, your body shaking as billie fucks you through it, her steady pace never faltering. “my sweet girl, doing so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice low and possessive as her mouth pulls away from you. you watch, breathless, as the taste of you drips from her chin, glistening in the dim light like a mark of ownership.

but she doesn’t stop, not until you’re completely done. her fingers remain inside you, caressing you softly through the lingering tremors, her touch almost reverent as you come down from your high. through hazy eyes, you watch her lift her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste you, her eyes fluttering closed as she moans softly at the sensation, savoring the taste of you like it’s the most exquisite thing she’s ever experienced.

billie watches you as you slowly return to yourself, your body still trembling lightly, chest heaving with each shallow breath. the sight of you—flushed, glistening with sweat, her hat still perched on your head, tilted just enough to give you an air of control—makes her heart race in her chest. she swears she could combust from the sheer magnetism of you, the power in your presence, the way you hold her with just a glance.

you catch your breath, a lazy smile curling on your lips as you gaze down at her, fingers trailing lightly over the smoothness of her neck before you grasp the chains, tugging her up until your faces are barely inches apart. “your turn,” you murmur, your voice low, thick with desire. the words send a shock straight through her, and she swallows hard, nodding with a hunger that matches your own as you push her back onto the bed.

billie’s breath hitches as you straddle her hips, her hands instinctively finding purchase on your thighs, gripping them with a tenderness laced with urgency. the weight of you on top of her, combined with the dark intensity in your eyes, ignites something deep within her, setting her whole body on fire. you lean down, your gold necklace glinting between you, and let your lips trail along her jaw, kissing her in a slow, teasing rhythm that makes her shiver beneath you.

“keep the hat on,” she breathes, her voice trembling, breaking slightly as anticipation clouds her every word. “please.”

you smirk against her skin, the corners of your lips curling with a mixture of mischief and adoration. your fingers graze over the silver chains around her neck, following their curve before sliding lower. her bra clings to her, damp with sweat, and you take your time peeling it off, savoring each moment, each inch of skin exposed to you. her breasts, her toned stomach, the glint of her belly piercing, all draw you in. billie groans when your nails trace lightly over her nipples, a shudder running through her before your hands travel lower, gliding over her abs, the sensation making her grip your thighs tighter.

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmur, voice thick with awe, your fingers brushing delicately over the piercing. you dip your head, placing a kiss right above it, before trailing your lips back up her chest. billie lets out a soft curse when your mouth finds her skin, kissing and nipping along her collarbone, your lips moving with reverence as your hands roam across her body.

the rings on her fingers clink softly as she grips the sheets beneath her, trying to stay grounded, but it’s impossible when your nails graze her chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, or when the ink on your skin brushes against hers, creating an electric contrast to the softness of your lips. her head tilts back, a low moan escaping her, your name falling from her lips like a whispered prayer as you continue to worship her, exploring every inch of her with maddening focus, leaving no part of her untouched.

and then you lean back slightly, hands settling on the waistband of her jeans, your gaze locking with hers in a silent question. billie nods quickly, lifting her hips to help you slide them down. the sight of her—bare, vulnerable, completely at your mercy—makes your heart race in anticipation.

your fingers trace the contours of her tattoos as you kiss your way down her body, moving with purpose, savoring every sound she makes, every tremble of her muscles beneath your touch. your nails brush lightly over the dragon inked into her skin, a sensation that sends a shiver through her, while your tongue lingers on the cursive “hit me hard & soft” tattoo, tasting her, each movement slow and deliberate.

when your lips finally reach her most sensitive spot, billie’s back arches off the bed, a low groan escaping her as her hands fly to grip your hair. her movements falter when she sees you—hat still perched confidently on your head—looking up at her like this, all control and hunger in your eyes.

“jesus christ,” she groans, her voice breaking, the words barely coherent. “you’re gonna kill me.”

the sound of her surrender only spurs you on. you let your nails trail lightly up and down her thighs, teasing her, your touch languid and calculated. with a satisfied smile, you pull back, a thin string of her slickness attaching itself to your lips. billie watches, her eyes hazy but still alert, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. you shake your head gently, crawling back to her, your lips capturing hers in a kiss, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

a moan slips from her as she savors the moment, her hands pulling you closer. you shift your position, straddling her, grinding your body against hers as you break the kiss to adjust the cap on your head, the motion subtle but commanding.

a small, playful smile spreads across your face, a light laugh escaping you as you take her in, her face glistening with your essence. her eyes, clouded with desire, wander over you as you hover above her, your lips bending down to nibble and lick at the skin of her neck. your bodies align, a slow and deliberate grind causing a wet, audible sound as your slickness meets hers, the sensation of your clits kissing sending electric shocks through both of you.

billie’s hands leave the sheets, finding purchase on your body, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other skimming the curve of your back as you move against her, slow and deliberate, savoring the intimacy of each motion. each shift sends a jolt of electricity through both of you, the friction of your bodies igniting a deeper craving with every passing second.

the pressure builds, subtle but undeniable, as your clits brush against one another. the sensation is intoxicating, the heat of her body against yours becoming a drug you can’t get enough of. her fingers slip into your hair, gripping the roots, tugging gently to pull you from the sensitive spot on her neck, forcing your gaze to meet hers.

you whine softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to focus, the sensation of her pussy against yours overwhelming you. the feeling of her so close, so perfect against you, makes you ache, your body begging for more, even as you’re already on the edge of losing control.

“i need you to look at me,” billie breathes, her voice a soft plea, but you’re too consumed by the rush of sensation to fully register her words. your body is a storm of fire and need, and it’s all you can do to hold on.

she tugs your hair again, harder this time, and the sharp pull makes your eyes snap open, catching the intensity in her gaze.

“there she is,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky, “need my pretty baby to look at me, okay?” the words break through the haze of pleasure, and you nod, your breath coming in short gasps, teetering on the edge of your release.

“oh… billie…” your voice trails off into a soft whimper, your body trembling under the weight of it all.

“i know, mama, come on. cum for me sweet girl” she coos, her hands moving with purpose now, one finding the side of your throat, the other gripping your hips, guiding your movements with steady pressure. the cool metal of her rings presses against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding your body. her tatted hand caresses your neck, her thumb gliding along your jugular, a rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of your pulse, squeezing lightly every so often, grounding you in the moment, urging you closer to the edge.

both of your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound thick with need and the pull of release. your movements are rhythmic, steady, as you bring her closer and closer to the edge, her rings catching the dim, sultry light with each twist of her wrists.

and when she finally falls apart, her body goes rigid, every muscle tense, before she lets out a long, drawn-out cry, her release crashing over her in waves. you don’t stop. your hips rock back and forth, chasing your own high, each thrust a mix of need and pleasure, the sensation of overstimulating her clit pushing you further. her name spills from your lips like a prayer, each syllable a whisper of devotion, and you feel yourself unravel, your own release flooding over her, warm and consuming.

when billie finally collapses back against the pillows, her body trembling beneath you, she pulls you with her, your weight sinking into her as her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. her hair sticks to her damp forehead, but the dazed expression in her eyes quickly melts into one of pure adoration. the softness in her gaze is all-consuming, making you feel like you’re both in this space where time has stopped.

you sigh, your chest still heaving as you bury your face into the crook of her neck, the cap brushing gently against her jaw. her fingers find their way to your back, scratching lightly, grounding you as you try to catch your breath. your fingers trace shapes over her collarbone, the coolness of the chains brushing against your fingertips, dragging them back and forth.

her touch sends a tremor through you, and as she turns her head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you feel anchored, her love a steady force that calms you. she holds you close, and for a moment, everything else fades.

you smile softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face, the motion tender. “you okay?” you murmur, your voice gentle as your fingers trail down her cheek, the warmth of her skin grounding you.

you roll yourself over, your body shifting to settle against hers, your chin resting on her chest. the soft rhythm of her heartbeat lulls you, a soothing pulse against your skin. your fingers graze the sides of her neck, the touch absentminded but intimate, each stroke of your nails a quiet reassurance, offering comfort in the stillness.

she nods, a lazy smile tugging at her lips, her hair tousled, sticking up in places, a wild mess of strands framing her face. her blue eyes are still hazy, but they sparkle with adoration, that soft, tender look that makes your chest ache. “more than okay,” she whispers, her voice a quiet murmur, as though she’s still lost in the moment. “you?”

“never better,” you reply, your voice low and warm, bringing her down for a gentle kiss, your movements slower now, more deliberate. your hands cup the sides of her face, your thumb brushing gently over her lips as you try to erase the remnants of the passion you shared, as if it could all be wiped away with the lightest of touches.

a hearty chuckle bubbles up from her throat, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you. the vibrations of her laughter send a current of heat through your body, and you fight your own smile, not quite managing to keep it at bay. “stop laughing at me,” you say, your voice a teasing whisper, though it holds no true reprimand. “you’re so pretty…” you trail off, your thumbs now wandering over the delicate curves of her face, brushing over her smooth skin, memorizing every inch of her softness. her eyes follow your movements, wide and full of affection.

“oh, is that why you were screaming like that?” she teases, her voice playful, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. your smile falters, and you stare at her, blinking, trying to process her words. the playful shift catches you off guard, and in an instant, you quickly remove your hands from her face, sitting up sharply.

“okay, cause see, now you ruined the moment,” you grumble, but there’s no true bite to it. you can’t suppress the giggle that rises in your chest as she laughs. her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back toward her, her fingers locking behind you, caging you in, and you instinctively grab onto her biceps, the muscles flexing slightly under your touch. you steady yourself, feeling the solid warmth of her, the strength beneath the softness.

“you were all like, ‘oh billie, please—fuck me.’ ” she fake moans, her voice high and exaggerated. your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but laugh at her poor attempt to mimic you, the mockery both endearing and ridiculous.

“oh, shut up! i was not. besides, don’t act like you weren’t worse. as if you weren’t loving it,” you retort, your tone playful but full of truth. you jab a manicured nail lightly into her chest, the sharp point making her flinch slightly, before you press the flat back of the chains against her sternum, the cool metal a contrast to the warmth between you.

“i wasn’t, it was mid. i’d rate it a 7.5,” she says, her shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. the glint in her eyes tells you she’s just playing, enjoying the way your attention sharpens on her every word.

your eyes widen in exaggerated shock, and you lift the cap off your head, fingers brushing against the brim that’s now facing backward. you point to your hair, the strands sticking up in all directions, messy and unkempt. “so who did all of this? hm? baby, tell me?” you tease, your voice soft but full of challenge.

she licks her lips, the slow motion of it drawing your gaze, and her eyes flutter closed briefly as she takes in the way the nickname rolls so easily from your tongue. “i don’t know, but it definitely wasn’t me,” she says with a playful tilt of her head.

“it wasn’t you? okay, bet.” you place the cap next to you, feeling a small sense of humor bubble up. leaning down, your body hovers halfway over hers, your arms stretching out to the side to grab whatever article of clothing you can find. you return with her plaid button-up in hand, the fabric soft in your fingers as you shrug it on, its warm scent wrapping around you like a reminder of her.

“what are you doing?” she asks, eyes following your every move, her fingers instinctively tightening around your waist. it’s a subtle sign, but one that doesn’t escape you—she doesn’t want you to leave.

“i’m taking my 7.5 ass somewhere else,” you say with a grin, your voice light but purposeful. you reach behind you, trying to unlock her hands, but she holds tight, not giving an inch. “…girl… the fuck—let go of me, you heathen.” you tug once more, and with a small sigh, she releases her grip, though you can feel the reluctance in the gesture.

billie groans dramatically, flopping back against the pillows with a hand draped over her face, hiding from you as if the drama of it all could somehow shield her. you laugh, grabbing the cap and tossing it playfully at her, the hat landing perfectly on her face, obscuring her vision of you. with a last glance, you rise to your feet, your body lingering in the moment, letting the warmth between you both settle before you finally make your way to the door.

she sighs contentedly as she removes the hat from her face, knocking it lightly to the side before pulling your comforter around her. the soft, plush fabric wraps her up like a cocoon, the weight of it a comforting embrace. her head sinks into the fluffy pillows, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she reaches out, grabbing the remote on your dresser. with a quick click, the tv flickers to life, a random cartoon playing softly in the background.

time passes slowly, the quiet moments stretching on, and soon enough, she realizes you still haven’t returned. “babe!” she calls out, but there’s no reply. she calls your name again, louder this time, her voice cutting through the stillness of the room as she waits for you to respond.

“no, billie! leave me alone,” you drag your words, the irritation clear but fake, she can tell. a grin plays at the corners of her lips.

“hurry uuuup,” she mutters, her voice muffled by the pillows as she rolls over onto her stomach, pressing her face into the softness. the fabric feels cool and feathery against her skin, and she closes her eyes, letting herself drift for a moment.

she senses you walking back into the room before she hears the jangle of your anklets, the soft sound alerting her to your presence. the quiet clattering of objects against your nightstand follows, the rhythm familiar, like a soft heartbeat in the background. she hears you move toward the bathroom, the water running as you clean yourself off, and then the sound of drawers opening.

after a moment, you walk over to your dresser, the creak of the wood under your fingers as you grab a fresh pair of underwear and bottoms for yourself. she can hear the rustle of fabric as you grab the same for her, along with a black wife-beater tee she had left over a while ago, the soft cotton now carrying your scent, familiar and comforting. it makes her smile softly to herself, the mundane moments with you somehow making everything feel right.

shuffling over to the bed, your hand traces the curve of billie’s back, fingertips brushing against the inked lines etched into her skin, the swirls of tattoos a story in themselves. your nails leave a faint trail, and the goosebumps that rise on her bare skin are a silent response to your touch. the warmth of the rag in your hand contrasts with the coolness of her skin as you gently lift her face, tilting it just enough so she faces you. the rag meets her face with a light dab, and she sighs softly, the heat from the cloth making her eyelids flutter closed in contentment. you’re careful, gentle, as you wipe away any remnants of the moment that clung to her skin.

when you’re finished, your thumbs move to her cheeks, coaxing her eyes open slowly, her gaze still soft and clouded with affection. they find yours, blinking a few times before she’s fully focused, the warm affection clear in her eyes.

“roll over,” you murmur, voice soft, coaxing, and she responds with a low whine, reluctant but not unwilling.

“billie, move. i need you to roll over,” you say again, your voice taking on a slight edge as your fingers slide from her back to her stomach, gently pressing against her ribs. with a soft grumble, she shifts, her body moving slowly, obediently. you reach for the covers, pulling them down her legs with delicate precision. the fabric slides like silk under your hands, and you move the rag to a new spot, gently wiping any trace of slickness from her skin.

you close her legs softly, your touch lingering for a moment as you toss the rag aside. your hands move to her arms, guiding her to sit up, your fingers brushing over the smoothness of her skin, trailing down her arms like a whispered promise. you hand her the clothes with a soft gesture, the fabric cool to the touch.

billie looks at the clothes for a long moment, her expression thoughtful, before her gaze shifts back to you. you’re already standing, dressing yourself with slow, deliberate movements, and with a sigh, she does the same, pulling the clothes on with the same quiet grace. there’s a calmness in the air, a quiet intimacy shared between you both.

turning around, you move toward your desk, the sound of your footsteps barely audible against the soft hum of the room. you grab her signature blue water bottle and your own, the cool plastic in your hands a brief contrast to the warmth still lingering between you both. a charcuterie board filled with light snacks follows, the delicate arrangement of cheeses, fruit, and crackers a comforting touch. you place them carefully on the nightstand, the soft click of the items settling on the wood the only sound that breaks the silence.

stepping in front of billie, you watch her as she works the tee over her shoulders, the fabric sliding smoothly against her skin. her fingers move to adjust the chains, making sure they lay perfectly over her shirt. she does the same for you, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as she tugs at the necklace, positioning it just right over your collarbone. the gentle touch makes your pulse quicken, though she’s unaware of the effect she has on you in this moment.

“thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft and full of affection. she presses a quick, tender kiss to your lips, her fingers slipping between yours, the warmth of her hand settling against yours like it belongs there.

you lean down, grabbing her jug off the sleek nightstand, handing it to her with a soft, knowing smile. “of course. now drink up,” you say, the words light but the meaning behind them deeper than either of you can put into words.

billie raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. her lips twitch, pulling into a mischievous smirk. “bossy,” she teases, her voice a soft lilt.

“okay, and?” you challenge, a small grin tugging at your lips as you meet her gaze. the look you give her is enough to make her snicker, the sound light and carefree, filling the space between you. she takes the bottle from your hand, her fingers brushing over yours before she lifts it to her lips.

she drinks slowly, her throat moving in rhythmic swallows. you can’t help but watch, entranced by the sight of her. when she pulls the straw from her lips, she suddenly collapses back onto the bed, dragging you along with her, the movement fluid and easy. your head falls against her chest, the steady beat of her heart like a comforting lullaby. her hand rests against your side, moving slowly up and down, tracing patterns on your skin that send a shiver through your body, just as it did earlier. the intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, soft and warm like the glow of the room around you both.

“aww, you made a little charcuterie. you’re so cute.” she says, her voice softer now, the teasing lightness replaced with something deeper, more affectionate. she looks down at you, her eyes warm with tenderness. you shy away, half-laughing, as she peppers kisses all over your face, each one a little sweeter than the last. “oh my god, billie, why are you like this?” you mutter, half-embarrassed, but the affection in your voice betrays you.

she pulls back, her gaze never leaving yours, filled with nothing short of adoration. you can’t help but notice the way the soft light catches in her eyes, making everything around you feel like it’s fading away. it’s just her and you, in this moment.

you meet her gaze, your heart doing that stupid little flutter thing it always does when she looks at you like this, when she makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to her. “because, i love you,” she says softly, the words falling from her lips like they’ve been waiting to be spoken for so long.

a bashful smile weaves itself onto your lips as you bury yourself further into the warmth of your bed, the soft sheets and blankets wrapping around you like a cocoon. “i love you too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but it holds everything — all the things you’ve never had the words to say.

billie smiles, her expression softening even further as she leans forward, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. her lips press against yours, slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t. it’s a promise, a reassurance, and in that single moment, you both know exactly how much you mean to each other without needing to say another word.

the two of you drift off slowly back into your normal routine, wrapped up in each other, the space between you shrinking with each passing moment. you pick at the snack tray, the small, comforting bites feeling like nothing more than an excuse to keep touching, to keep sharing this quiet space. conversations flow easily, from the silliest of things — the kind of random banter that only you two could share — to deeper thoughts that weave between the cracks of the mundane. there’s a moment when the two of you spill tea about the latest gossip, laughing so hard your sides ache, but even in those lighter moments, there’s something grounding in the way you fit together.

the earlier passion, still lingering like a sweet ache in your bones, gives way to something quieter, more intimate. the heat fades, leaving room for a tenderness that wraps around both of you like a soft blanket. the love you share, now resting in this peaceful space, is just as powerful, but it moves with the calm of a river, flowing beneath the surface, steady and unshakeable.

this, you think, as she holds you close, her breath warm against your skin, the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat a lullaby in your ear — this is what home feels like.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part one

images are not mine! all artwork credits go to termesart for their beautiful drawings!

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

series summary - what's easier to love? a crackling flame or a spiraling shadow? rhysand's sister, emissary of the night court, finds herself delving into her feelings for the seventh son of the high lord of the autumn court while pushing aside something possibly deeper she feels for the night courts infamous spymaster.

chapter summary - before amarantha's party, the emissary of the night court, rhysand's sister, seeks out her lover in the spring court in an attempt to issue a warning of what's to come. she finds a small comfort in his warmth much to the disapproval of her family back home, especially a certain shadowsinger.

word count - 1.6k

read the rest of the series here!

Music floated through the air around her. Fae danced around her in whooshes of color and laughter. She observed the festivities raging around her with a cool separation. 

Her black dress a sharp contrast to the bursts of color covering every person and every inch of her surroundings. The bottom of her dress swished around her ankles with every warm spring breeze. The glittering blue embroidery is a sharp contrast to the sweet pastels adoring the clothes of the revelers.  

Every inch of her out of place. 

She heard her name wrapped in an all too familiar voice. 

Cinnamon and crackling flames. The smell wafted towards her like ember red leaves falling to the ground. She straightened her spine, a small show of composure. She felt him before she saw him. At her back, his breath fanning across the side of her neck as he leant down to whisper in her ear. 

“I never knew shadows celebrated the summer solstice.” 

She turned slowly, facing him at last. 

Lucien Vanserra. 

Small braids weaved their way through the fiery river of hair flowing over his shoulders. His eyes glitter with something roguish as he watches her eyes flit from his hair, across the planes of his chest, and down the tall expanse of him, before coming back up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m here on business.” 

“So you came to spoil the fun.” 

She let her eyes roll before her hand came up to pull on one of his carefully woven braids. She twirled it between her fingers. 

“Who said emissary business can’t be fun?”  

He leaned down, closer to her now than he should be. The tip of his nose just brushed hers. His lips mere millimeters away from her own. It was like they shared one breath. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

The music of the celebrations outside were muted against the windows. An easy quiet flowed through the room as he watched her dress. Slowly pulling the straps of her dress back over her shoulders. She flipped her hair away from her face and he let himself be mesmerized by the way the curls, black like shadow, tumbled down her back. He stretched his arms over his head and let them settle there. Content to watch her flit around his room trying to find her shoes. A small smile snaked its way across his face as he watched her grow more frustrated in her search. 

He leaned down and picked a silver slipper from the ground next to his bed. He let it dangle from one finger. 

“Looking for this?” 

She turned to him and let out a huff of irritation. She grabbed for her lost shoe but missed as he moved his hand a little further. Losing her balance she fell across his chest and he used his free arm to pin her. 

“So what was the business you came to discuss with me?” 

She glared at him, still reaching for her shoe. Realizing it was a losing battle she gave up and slumped against him, maybe even letting herself savor the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of it. 

“My brother wishes to meet with Tamlin” 

Lie. 

Lucien raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for explanation. 

“Is he going to try to kill him again?” 

She scoffed and pushed away from him, “You really do know nothing Lucien Vanserra”

He winced at the name, the harshness with which she said it. 

“Don’t” 

A small warning. Don’t inflict his family name on him. The reminder of it a petty way to rip him from the sanctuary of the moment. A flicker of guilt lit behind her rib cage and she let the haughty draw of her shoulders fall. 

“Rhysand just wishes to issue a…warning.” 

Lie. She had come of her own volition. Wanting to warn Lucien and only Lucien about what her brother thought was to come. 

“A warning?” 

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin. 

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.” 

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.” 

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm. 

“So why trust me?” 

Her words came out softer than she’d intended. Like she was asking some unspoken question. He smiled, brushing an inky strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.” 

The playful glimmer in his eye contrasted sharply with her serious expression. He sighed and handed her the shoe still dangling between his finger tips. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

Her family was scattered around the lower level of Rhysand’s townhouse. Mor and Amren sitting in the dining room pouring over some books and whispering to each other. Cassian, Azriel, and the high lord himself lounging in the living room. 

She tried her best to slide into the room unnoticed. 

Late. 

She had missed dinner and she had no good alibi. 

She prayed no questions would be flung her way as she slid onto the couch, tucking herself under Cassian’s arm. The shadowsinger found her eyes first. They flitted over her form, studying it for anything even slightly out of place. His eyes narrowed as he took her in and his shadows curled tighter around his forearms. 

Rhysand didn’t bother to look up from his stack of papers and sent a bored question her way, 

“Where have you been?” 

She shrugged and watched Azriel shift in his seat in what could have been discomfort. Cassian saw it too, the way his friend tried to hide his annoyance at her absence. He wore a wicked grin as he turned towards her, leaning into her, and mumbling, 

“New perfume?” 

She looked up at him confused for a second, “Excuse me?” 

“You smell faintly of…” Cassian rolled the word around on his tongue, “autumn”. 

Rhys looked up at this and studied his sister. Cassian’s insinuation rippled through the room. 

“Again?” Rhys kept that bored tone, something else behind it now though. 

“I was working,” She said, clipped and stern. Not wanting the conversation to continue. But Rhysand pushed forward, 

“I didn’t send you anywhere.” 

“And since when am I not allowed to do things of my own volition?” 

Azriel let out what could only be described as a snort. When she whipped her head towards him there was no humor in his eyes. The small laugh disapproving more than anything else. 

“What?” 

She was getting defensive now that the shadowsinger deigned to be involved in this discussion. He shook his head at her, 

“What exactly were you working on?” His question came out cold and quiet. His shadows creeped towards her as if they could pry the information from her. Cassian laughed. A real laugh. 

“She was working Lucien Vanserra.” 

She cast an annoyed glare at his crude statement.

“I’m sorry when did my personal affairs become the business of this court?” 

Amren’s voice floated from the dining room now, “More like the entertainment of this family.” 

She rolled her eyes and looked at the males in front of her. Challenging. 

“It’s unprofessional is it not?” Azriel pointed the question more towards Rhysand than to her. “Emotional entanglements.” 

“And who are you to say it’s an emotional entanglement? Maybe it’s just someone to get tangled in.” 

He winced at the sharpness of her words. The innuendo behind them. She tried not to note how it bothered him, how deeply it seemed to bother him. He shook it off fast though. 

“Because I know you.” 

Rhysand strained his neck, trying to make eye contact with Mor, trying to get her to come interrupt this conversation. She would not look at him, choosing this time to not get involved. 

His friend and his sister glared at each other still. Azriel using his face of stone cold disinterest as a weapon against her. Waiting for her to push at some unspoken boundary. She broke the silence first. Her tone withering. 

“Since when do you care who I fuck?” 

Rhysand grimaced. Not particularly caring to hear about this aspect of his sisters life. Not particularly happy with whom she chose to share this aspect of her life with. His disdain for Lucien was made evident to her since this whole affair started many years ago. As unsavory as this conversation was he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Azriel, waiting for his friend’s response, waiting to see how far the spymaster was willing to push his sister. 

“I don’t” 

Azriel’s answer was quiet and laced with some sort of simmering contempt. He leaned back in his chair, signalling and end to his involvement in this semi pointless discussion. His response washed over her exactly the way he had intended. A wave of cold. Triggering a pounding dissapointment in her. She hadn’t really realized how she had leaned closer to him while they sparred. The embarrassment of it hit her as she let herself fall back into Cassian, let his arm snake its way around her shoulders again. She didn’t look back at Azriel as she said, 

“Good. Cassian is next.” 

The warrior beside her pumped his fist in mock victory and exclaimed with teasing tone, “FINALLY”

Before putting his fist down at the first glower from his shadowy brother. Cass shot him a smirk before leaning down to her to very audibly whisper, 

“I’m free anytime little star. Just give me a shout.” 

She pushed her elbow into his ribcage and Cassian laughed through the cough the blow sent through him. Rhys studied Azriel’s features. Noting the jealousy etched across them.

“Enough.” 

The one word from Rhysand was enough to quiet his friends.

[originalwinnerfanfish]

And here is the last part

Predaking - Oh, my fiery boy! I have so much to say about him…

He was probably the main reason I got into the Transformers fandom when I was a kid. My thoughts were like: It's a dragon! And a robot at the same time!? And he turns into a hot looking man!?! *mind blown*

Of course, over time I realized that behind the beautiful cover, he was a rather naive and very foolish character with a storyline too much like Dreadwing's. But despite all this, I still love him. Predaking is a real gem of the third season, and perhaps the coolest character in the entire series, and you can’t deny it!

In the WOF version, he is a resurrected dragon from the extinct skywing tribe. Being the largest dragons in this AU, their tribe was the most powerful on the continent until it completely died out due to a wave of cataclysms.

So, Predaking is a real giant compared to other characters. And, in the final addition, he is firescales! Because it’s BADASS!🔥

(and actually, because he gives me pretty strong Peril vibes)

Unfortunately I couldn't give him a bright color, so his firescales nature is shown through glowing areas on his body, creating the effect that he is literally burning from the inside. I also just noticed that his face looks very much like a skull, and I tried to pay attention to this in the design by giving him dark spots around the eye sockets and nostrils

Hardshell - I don’t wanna draw some random insecticon, so I chose this guy. Here I will be short. He’s appears in only two episodes and died almost immediately. He’s more of a plot tool than a real character

His stripes look cool, but drawing them wasn’t easy at all (I hate floating shapes). I wanted to make him look more like his beetle form, adding a big front horn and green plates on his neck. I also think that insecticons should be more different in coloring in this version

Skyquake - Same story - appeared in one episode - died in the same episode. Most of the fandom remembers him only as a zombie from the shadow dimension, and it's kind of sad. I believe he had potential. I always imagined Skyquake as the "brawn" in a duet with his brother, while Dreadwing was more of the "brain". And it would be great if we were shown this contrast, giving Skyquake a chance to prove himself in at least a couple of episodes

His design is, as expected, almost the same as his brother, but I still decided to add some small differences in details to make it more interesting

Vehicons - STEEEEEEVES!

I like these silly dudes)

I didn't want to make them actual clones or something, so here they're just regular nightwings and icewings, but they may look the same because of the iron masks that hide their faces. Like many other dragons, they are victims of a war they may not have wanted to participate in. Actually, in that case their deaths don’t seems so meaningless and even give the autobots actions a darker subtext (although I believe in the theory that they could simply pretend to be dead on the battlefield (I really want to believe in that))

I know there are still a few possible undrawn characters left, like Skylynx and Darksteel or Unicron, but that's probably enough for me. I'm happy with my closed gestalt)

[wasyago]

how do you choose colors?? i love your color choices and wanna know how you do it

oookay, i don't actually know what i am doing with colors 90% of the time, but there are some guidelines that i follow, so, i hope this will be useful ":3

so. one of the main things that i use almost all the time is complimentary colors! a very cool very useful thing, good for everything. complimentary colors are the ones that are opposite each other on a color wheel. a proper color wheel, not the one that drawing apps use, because that one most of the time has the colors distributed wrong 😔

the thing about complimentary colors is that they make each other stand out more. so if you use them in equal amount and saturation they will fight for attention and don't look as good. another thing is that if you put gray on one complimentary color it will appear to have changed the hue to its pair. uhhh its hard to describe with words, but just try to fill a canvas with one saturated color and draw something gray on it, its an optical illusion of sorts.

so uhhhhhh, what im trying to say is, complimentary colors compliment each other (wow), so using them for accents and shadows and backgrounds will generally make both stand out and look better? idk, here are some examples so it hopefully makes more sense

and so you change the amount of color, it's saturation, hue, warmth, tone, other smart words, and it changes the feeling of the picture! as you can see i really like my greens and reds, they're almost in every picture, but it still looks different (hopefully). if you can't full on change the color of something, if you have a set design for example, bringing the complimentary color in shadows and highlights or background works too! try different things see what's for you!

and, of course, using complimentary colors doesn't mean you can't use any other color! its more like, complimentary colors establish this connection that's pleasing to the eye and everything else is whatever you want it to be! i also have no idea about using more than one pair, generally one is enough but technically it works?

i also try not to use more than 3 main colors for a piece, like, blue-red-yellow but no green, or green-blue-yellow and no red, and stuff. (key word is "try" of course lol) this has nothing to do with the color wheel, just uhh general color balance? but this is about um, "clean" colors. you can absolutely use all 4, if one of them appears different because of the lighting and stuff? again, its hard to explain color with words. plus it all depends on a style, its not a rule, that's just how i do it

and then all the things outside of theory, like, don't use black and gray for shadows, it looks dirty. a lot of artists don't use pure black at all, but i just can't help it i like it too much. i try not to use pure white for things like clothes and eyes and other things that are in-universe colored white. its fine for highlights but for everything else i usually use grayish yellowish color, it looks much more pleasing. things that are closer are more saturated and have more contrast, things that are far have less saturation and less contrast. things that you want to attract attention should have more contrast, and the other way around

aaand i think that's it? all that i can remember at least

[chiiroptereh]

[Please zoom in, there's a lot of detail! And a massive file size...ouch]

Hi guys, long time no post! Been working on Art Fight and life stuff, but I've got something kinda fun for you.

This is a compilation exploring how a mortal Bill may interact with our world if there were still some kinda Euclidean instincts buried in there. Y'know, before the Book of Bill ruins all my headcanons >:P (EDIT: IT HAS BEEN READ. YAHOOOOOO)

Also quite an experimental piece as you can probably tell. Lots of details on both said headcanons and the art stuff under the cut, but I invite you to study the colorful texture yourself beforehand and think about what it might be representative of, just for fun because I got some really cool answers from my friends when asked :]c

TL;DR: the headcanon is that Euclideans have exceptional eyes for geometry. They find things like symmetry, tessellating patterns, graphs and fractals very aesthetically pleasing. If pushed into our 3D world, they feel comforted by the familiarity flat objects/spaces bring, as well as high-contrast patterns. Shadows especially are a familiar dimensional reduction that may bring them much comfort.

Bill would surely not be happy about these inclinations, constant reminders of a past long gone, but I'm not sure he's even aware of them here :P I think his ego gets in the way to the point where he just views these interests as common sense, which, of course, us lame humans just don't understand because we aren't nearly as cool as him. Of course he likes perfectly symmetrical leaves and staring at the kitchen floor, it's called taste, look it up!

And yet, he can't seem to shake the strange sense of melancholy he gets from viewing his own shadow.

~ End of TL;DR, long version below! ~

🔺 Headcanon Development

So, the catalyst of this idea was in relation to my friend and I's AU ( @love-triangles-au ). TL;DR, Bill's brought back mortal, meets another triangle named Y.V. (it's his hand holding the paper in the piece, actually), at some point they fall in yaois together, you know how it is. And, in writing a pair of triangles (or, more broadly, writing from the perspective of a different species), something I've had to consider was that you really can't get much further removed from a human being than sentient geometry.

The anatomical aspect was mostly figured out (see my piece on Bill's eye-mouth), but I wanted to consider what psychological differences might be at play. I wanted them to be weirder, more alien, double-so for Bill. At first I explored these possibilities through the lens of Bill and Y.V.'s relationship, specifically the question "what might a triangle find appealing about another triangle?"

Well, really the only things that came to mind were straight lines and symmetry, anything related to the geometric form of such a creature. That's more-or-less where that ended until the thought struck me that there's no reason this aesthetic appreciation couldn't extend to the rest of the environment, and then further when I realized, "wait, this is a species that is designed to live in a 2D environment. Like, they should seriously be really weird. I need to push this like 200% more."

So...yeah! I did some thinking and brainstorming with others and came up with a pretty long list of things a Euclidean in our world may be inclined to enjoy or find some level of comfort in. It's worth noting again that in this piece specifically this is a mortal/powerless Bill, so he can't really escape this Earthly environment. IF he's aware of these instincts at all (and that's a big "if"; when have you last been cognizant of your own instincts let alone known where they were stemming from?) I think he'd have snuffed them out in immortality and/or purposefully gone against them; he doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.

In order from left-to-right, top-to-bottom, here's an explanation for each!:

Flat objects such as paper are something he may find particularly engaging. It's basically 2D!

Tessellations are especially fascinating, and our world has them everywhere in the form of tile floors. Symmetry and such a predictable pattern...as the infinity of the starry sky might for us, the infinite potential of tessellations might invoke a similar sense of awe in him. Add on the maximum contrast of black on white kitchen tiles and the forms are only even better defined! A sensitivity to contrast would be very helpful for a 2D being navigating their environment.

Fields are flat and open, much like Euclydia itself. Laying flat may make him feel a little more at home.

More tessellation in the honeycomb of hymenopterans (bees, wasps and friends)! It helps that pain is hilarious.

The city is an absolute treasure trove. Rectangular buildings, precise architecture, square sidewalks and straight lines abound...he may as well be looking at a rainbow or an art gallery! I think a Euclidean's brain is very fine-tuned to mathematics, especially in regards to trigonometry. What may appear to be a straight painting might appear obnoxiously crooked to him.

Zebras are high-contrast :]

Another flat surface, another relaxing space <3

I think graphs are about as high as high art gets to most Euclideans.

I've touched on shadows before, and for good reason; truly they must be something borderline magical to the Euclidean and perhaps bitterly nostalgic.

This one kinda speaks for itself. Dweeb.

🎨 The Artsy Stuff

Lately I've been trying to find ways to fit more color into my work, as color is perhaps one of my favorite things in the world. My wardrobe is rather garish; my dad jokes that you could see me from space. My fursona is obnoxiously bright for a reason -- I feel my soul is a very colorful one!

I also realized recently that I don't actually know the exact style that speaks to me. I could talk about the phenomenon of the "style crisis" that many artists have all day, but in my mind the best cure for this feeling is to go against it entirely and begin stealing as much as possible.

So, I've tried to keep an eye out for more sources of inspiration everywhere I go, physical and digital. I've tried to train my mind into making a habit of considering, "can I do anything with this?" everywhere I go, and it recently paid off!

The glittery rainbowy texture you see plastered all over Billiam is this one, a photo-manipulated set of fruit stickers. I must confess I've been obsessed with this image for the past 72 hours, and this seemed like a good excuse to try it out!

I worried throughout the process if it might be so abstract that it loops back around to being horribly deliberate, if that makes sense -- like each sparkle was not a piece of a whole but rather an object in itself -- but it seems like that hasn't been a problem, so I'm grateful for that :Dc

I hope it can dazzle and delight you as it does me, but as long as you find it fascinating at the very least then I consider it a success! I really enjoyed hearing my friends' interpretations while workshopping it, and got tons of amazing answers from opal to kaleidoscope to fossilized bone marrow! I truly believe that the best art has some room for interpretation and it really excites me to be surrounded by that kind of creative energy that follows said pieces. That definitely adds to my pride in this work. It's weird, it's colorful, it's detailed and yet ambiguous. I'm feeling pretty autistic about it

Alright, I think that's about it. Thanks for listening!

[greenroze2]

your rendering is so good how do you do it

Thanks, I love your rendering too!! Gonna try and make a tutorial ^^

To start off, I'm on Clip Studio Paint and these are the brushes I use! First two for rendering characters (round brushes) and the other two for mostly backgrounds (square brushes)

I used to do lineart, but it takes too long >:( now I just make a sketch and sorta clean it up!

Next I fill it in with a gray color. For simpler pieces I just put in the flat colors, but for more paint-y pieces I do grayscale -> color! I'll be doing that here :)

Also, I make 3 clipped layers on top of the gray - two are multiply, and the top one is screen. On the first multiply, I do a soft gradient using an airbrush

On the next multiply layer, I fill everything in with either a cool-ish or warm-ish gray, depending on the mood ^^

I also determine a light source, and use the lasso tool on the screen layer to block out where (I think) the light hits! Tbh I just do wherever feels right lmao, but I recommend having a reference! I like doing it in triangle patterns

Then adjust the opacity of each layer to whatever feels right, and merge everything (I don't merge the sketch/lineart yet, I do it before adding colors in!)

Now... rendering. Some tips I have are color pick (greys) off of the canvas and use them to paint! Clean up the sketch more, erase edges, but I save details (like Galaxia's red gem, his eyes, etc.) for the end, or during coloring.

After I'm sorta happy with it, I merge the sketch layer, then duplicate it, and add a gradient map! I did this sunset-y one but changed the hue to yellow-ish, then lowered the layer's opacity ^^

Play around with the hue-saturation-luminosity setting!

Now go crazy with blending modes! Multiply, overlay, color, glow/color dodge, etc. Feel free to layer them up on top of each other too, and this is to add the character/piece's actual colors in. For example, I used a white-blueish overlay layer for his mask and glove, blue for his cape, blah blah

Now I clean the sketch up/refine it more. Also, to "harmonize" the color palette, you can add a colored gradient on top. Then set it to multiply, and add overlay/glow dodge layers with any colors you see fit! I like using teal and light/warm orange! Here is an example of a colored gradient:

Another tip is to add saturated colors on the edges of both lighting and darker shadows, before blending it:

Also I usually add in a light blue/grey in shadowy areas, and lower the opacity for reflective light:

Also! You can lasso + use an airbush with a light blue to block out parts of the background (his cape here, for example). It helps with more depth!

Finally, I like adding sparkles on low opacity :3 And gaussian blur to certain areas! I'm using radial blur on this piece though ^^

For the background, I like doing blocky shapes!! I use my square brush on 90% ish opacity, to color pick different hues from the piece. For lighting I use a glow dodge layer, here's a mini timelapse as well as the finished art!

At the very end, play around with the hue/saturation and contrast tools to change the colors :)

[ryanseslow]

How to Create Paper Cut-Out Reliefs: Tips and Techniques for Beginners

Back again with another lil' series of 2D wall relief paper cut-out forms. Both of the pieces below follow the same process and technique. Im really happy with the process and outcomes. Im working on animating them as we speak. I'll add them to this post later. My paintings inspire my drawings, and my drawings are inspired by those same forms found in my paintings. It makes sense that every so often I want to make those forms "pop out" and off the surface of a flat plane. Alas, it all starts with a quick sketch. See below, just a series of light loose free flowing lines take the lead, forward ->

Here we have a dude posing for a profile style portrait. Most likely, this is inspired by the NYC B-Boys from the years 1983 - 87ish. Either way, it's nostalgia for me. Once the sketch feels good, I'll break out the paper and x-acto knife. I keep telling myself that one day Ill work with another material other than paper for these works, perhaps wood or metal.. It will happen, I can foresee it for sure, hang in there. Im using a white bristol paper for the cut outs, I believe it is the vellum type and not the glossy, but either or will work just fine. I love to cut paper and the whole medium of paper art in general.

Paper cut-outs, also known as paper cutting or Kirigami, is a traditional art form that involves cutting shapes and designs out of paper. The history of paper cutting can be traced back to ancient China and Japan, where it was practiced as a folk art. The Chinese and Japanese would create intricate designs, often featuring animals, plants, and mythical creatures, and use them as decorations for festivals and special occasions. I always loved it and have felt inspired by these pieces.

Using the sketch above, I apply the "map" of the shapes and forms that I see. Sometimes I redraw those forms on the paper that I will cut out, and sometimes I just "draw" with the x-acto knife to recreate the forms. Sometimes, it's a combination of both of those techniques. There is also a series of "out-take / byproduct" cut outs that do not make the final piece, those can be saved and used for the next piece, obviously!

I layer the forms on top of each other to compose the arrangement as a whole, its fun to watch it all come together, in the next phase, you will need some kind of durable tape or you can make little paper forms that can be pasted to both sides of the forms as they stack, this will create the gauge and depth of the piece once it is placed onto the wall.

This is the final composition above, I love it! I used a roll of duct tape to make small cylinder forms that connect the pieces together, the piece as a whole comes "off of the surface of the wall" by about 1.5 - 2" inches - you can play with this a bit but keep in mind, the tape makes the piece heavier and it will want to comply with gravity :)

I hung the piece (also temporarily adhered via the same duct tape) for the photoshoot and to also get a good look at how it will function on the wall. I have an old painted fire place in my studio that is a great surface for hanging things, I love the contrast of textures between the bricks and the paper, as you know, the shadows will be super cool to see too.

Once I had the whole piece constructed I took a few pictures of it. I immediately wanted a clean vector line drawing of the whole character. I brought the photo into adobe Fresco and used a vector brush to draw this lovely variation. This is how my brain works, I switch paths because I know they are really pipelines to the "next thing" that I will push this to, so forward we go.

Then, it was light source and photo shoot time. Im not really happy with these picture as traditional "photographs" as I know I can do a much better job, but, as a series of "sketches" for a planned photo shoot, these will really help to make those plans a reality. I love neon colored lights. I have a bunch of them from various places and spaces that I found on the internet. Amazon has a great selection of flashlights with various colored light options. Get a few and play around with how the light can effect your work and the shadows that it creates. This is where the depth and gauge of your pieces play a role. The photos below are also a part of the same session, which all took place over a few days.

Here is another variation with a different character.. What do you think? Shall I make more?

[handonthemouse]

90 GENETICIZED SKINTONES + DEFAULTS

EDIT: NOT POSTING THIS ON MODTHESIMS ANYMORE BUT THE MEDIAFIRE DOWNLOAD HAS BEEN FIXED. REASON BEING THAT SOME SKINS HAVE DISCOLORATION THAT I DON’T HAVE THE TIME TO FIX : /

First of all, Happy holidays!

This is my second post, and the whole purpose of this Tumblr account is for me to share Sims 2 content that I personally use.

Now, for my game, my favorite skintone set is by oepu, which were defaulted by Sadisticpyro, both on modthesims.

I love this skin because it's not too cartoonish and also not too realistic/shiny. I like that it too has two-toned lips, and has the same lip color as mine. It also goes well with the proportions of how I make my sims.

Anyways, I don't like the skintone shades of any default skintone replacements out there because generally, they make skintone 1 and 2 look the same, and skintone 3 wayy lighter, so I created my own variation and modified the oepu skin: - I made skintone 1 lighter, skintone 3 darker and more saturated, and skintone 4 more saturated and less contrasted. - I made the male and female sims have the same skin so that they don't look too drastic from one another. - I also lightened the nose and browridge shadows so that the skin is compatible on monolids and non-prominent noses.

picture comparison of sims 2 skins: base game, oepu's, and my edit

Afterwards, I used python to turn the 4 skintones into 10 skintones first, each skintone number has these genetic values (using Wardrobe Wrangler):

1 - 0.1 2 - 0.15 [default skintone 1] 3 - 0.2 4 - 0.3 [default skintone 2] 5 - 0.4 6 - 0.5 [default skintone 3] 7 - 0.6 8 - 0.7 [default skintone 4] 9 - 0.8 10 - 0.9

Then, per 10 skintones, I made 3 sets of undertone variations: cool, neutral and warm. So now you have 30 skintones. I thought the first set of 30 was too saturated, so I made the "Natural" versions of them. Then I also decided to make them even more desatured, these are the "Pale" versions. So overall, 90 skintones.

Because I used python, some skins are pixelated, but I really don't mind it. Also, the teeth for some is yellowish but I'll make cc teeth overlays.

DOWNLOAD HERE (MEDIAFIRE) 👈 mediafire link has the default edits, the nondefault geneticized skintones, and a gif preview of the skintones.

Note: If you choose to use the default replacements, remove any default skin replacements you may have in your game.

Again, huge credits to oepu and sadisticpyro for the og skins. I don't think they're active, but if i'm asked to take this down I will gladly do so. I'm just here to share what I already use in my game.

Happy Holidays everybody! 🎊🥳

[xuune]

Hii first of all, I FUCKIN LOVE YOUR ART! ITS GORGEOUS AND IM SURE EVERYONE CAN UNDERSTAND YOU REALLY GIVE YOUR SOUL INTO THAT🤧 Your color palette looks so good, What do you pay attention to when painting? (Like when do you think its better to use multiply or something like that and etc.)

first off, I'M HAPPY YOU CAN TELL THAT I PUT MY SOUL INTO MY ART!!! im genuinely in love with drawing and am always finding ways to make creating art enjoyable and impress myself with what i can achieve and learn :D

second, thanks for asking your question!! i dont mind answering it, but my response is quite long. here's my thinking process:

(you specified layer modes like multiply, so im gonna gear my answer towards that a bit) 1. REFERENCE SEARCHING IS KING. color is actually extremely hard for me, so i search around for artworks with palettes i'd like to use and study how an artist uses it. some situations i have a clear idea of what i want, but usually the images in my head are extremely vague, so i borrow palettes from various other artworks that fit the vibe of what i want. an example is this one. my main palette reference were from these artworks. im looking at this artist's use of high saturates and how drawings are overlayed on top of each other. while looking at references, im asking myself how is this artist using warm/cools, where are these warm/cools placed, if their illustration used any form of texturing (like halftones, hatching), how do they use their palette to render form/shape/gradient, when/where do they saturate/desaturate their colors. those questions inform my decisions when using colors too.

2. USING LAYER MODES WHEN NECESSARY. i used to be reliant on multiply for everything, which atp i dont do since i can definitely push colors more first before using layer modes. only when i feel like my current colors are lacking do i start tinkering with tone curves and/or brightness/contrast/hue/saturation/luminosity settings. and if that doesn't work, then i start using layer modes. using layer modes do help with achieving certain effects, color corrections, or when i want to fuck around and find out. i think having a better understanding of what these modes can do makes you more decisive on how you can properly utilize them and to achieve a particular look (like using multiply for a cel shaded style). here's an example:

this leads into my next point:

3. BALANCING OUT VALUES. big thing that makes an illustration hard to read is if values blend together which affects the hues and contrast. i check for what elements need to be distinguished from one another and if it can be read clearly. using layer modes can either help with this or not help at all. it's very dependent on the type of layer mode. here's this example where i applied pin light:

back to #2, there are various instances where i'm using layer modes for quick color corrections and/or to help with readability:

other times, i start off having my entire subject in gray and to figure out main shadow/lights (similar to the multiply cel shaded process i linked ealier). im thinking about what this should look like if i only used 2 value tones:

when in doubt though, i check my artwork in grayscale to ensure values aren't overly blended into each other, especially if i didnt start with grayscale like this one:

painting for me takes into consideration a lot of different aspects. im thinking about how colors should interact, where/when to give contrast, checking/balancing out values, etc, but im also making it a time to study off of how other artists use their colors through the references i collected.

hope this answered your question! lmk if there's more :]

[ochiody]

First of all i can't believe you're 16?? That's fucking insane, you're so talented.Second, would you ever consider making some sort of coloring tutorial?

oh my goodness thank you,, that means a lot hahah. insert chiikawa reaction image here i dont have them on my computer

secondly, sure! my process involves a lot of bullshitting and kinda intuition based stuff so idk how to explain it that well but i will try.

ok here is how i would render a colored ball + grayscale ver. i dont use value ? or darkness to create shading as much as color contrast. ex yellow is lighter than green which is lighter than blue/purple. this is shown in grayscale but since im using the colors to indicate value it shows up better in color (idk how to say it)

this is personal preference but i don’t use color palettes at all, because every setting will have a different kind of lighting or mood that i need to adjust for. so why even bother? i think im just really used to picking things out by eye, buti would not recommend this because stuff can get inconsistent really quick

i dont use blend modes for shadows anymore, but heres an example with multiply for how i do shading (left)

in my art i dont like the look of straight up darkening shades so i always go for a darker, more saturated shadow. i love bright colors so im always pushing for more saturation. enhancing existing color in a 'properly shaded' areas is a fun way to do this

for example in this wing, i make the shadows bright ass blue instead of grayish blue/tan. this is because i made the faint light source from the left yellowish, so the shadow will be blue in comparison. i just amped that way up lol

you can also see it in the yellow on the inside of the wing. the lighting is yellow, so i took the faint bits of yellow that wouldve been present if i shaded it normally and just made it way more saturated

hope this helps, feel free to ask questions because idk what im doing half the time. usually its just 'oh this would look cool lets keep it'

[bright-side20]

Guilty as a sin

This is a scene of Elain inspired by the song 'Guilty as a Sin.' I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Elain stood alone in her room at the townhouse. She often preferred to spend time here for some privacy. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a glow across her delicate features. Her heart ached, a deep pain that seemed to echo the loneliness of the night. Her thoughts were a mix of desire and doubt, all centered around one person: Azriel.

She leaned against the window frame, her fingers tracing the cool glass as she gazed out into the garden below. The flowers were bathed in shadows, the same garden where she had spent so much time with him, sharing comfortable silences. She often wondered how his rough, dark warrior features contrasted with the garden, yet he seemed to fit perfectly in it. Her mind replayed every stolen glance, every brush of their hands, every moment where their eyes met and spoke a thousand unspoken words. She missed him... missed their little conversations, his understanding, gentleness, and sense of humor that matched hers. She hated how they had just pretended nothing happened that night and how their relationship had become so formal.

Elain shuddered at the memory of that night: the way his eyes had darkened with hunger, the way she couldn't do anything but yield to his touch, the way he had made her body react. Heat spread through her as she recalled the memory. She longed to feel his hands on her skin again. What would have happened if they had kissed? Would they have stopped there or craved more, done more? But did it really matter? It was a mistake, he had said.

She belonged to Lucien. The bond that tied her to him was undeniable, an unbreakable thread by fate itself . What she felt for Azriel, what she wanted to do with him, was wrong. It was unacceptable. It was a sin. She should feel guilty, shouldn't she? What would the others think if they knew she was aroused by another male in the family room while her mate was sleeping upstairs? Shame.

Why? she wondered, her heart aching with anger and sorrow. Was it her fault to be bound to a stranger she had no feelings for by a bond she neither wanted nor asked for? Was she even allowed to cry? It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t chosen Lucien, the Cauldron, or whatever cruel twist of destiny, had decided to bind her to him without her consent. She was a pawn in a game played by forces beyond her control.

"I'm no one's property," she whispered fiercely. "I have the right to fall in love, to give my heart to whom I choose." She looked up at the sky, as if it held the answer, as if someone were witnessing the battle in her mind... the Mother, perhaps.

In a moment, she was in a different place, under a starry night in a field of roses and violets, standing in front of Azriel, who was dressed in one of the suits he wore on special occasions. 'Sorry? You're sorry? It's not about apologizing. I thought you understood me!' she said, her voice breaking. Azriel looked at her with a pleading expression. She couldn’t bear it anymore. 'I didn’t choose it, and it doesn’t define me. I thought you, of all people, would understand that,' she said, frustration filling her voice. 'I want you. I want to be with you. And I thought you wanted the same, but it was a mistake, wasn’t it?'

"Elain, you don't really understand," he said, his voice tight.

"No, you don't understand!" she shot back, stepping closer, her heart racing. "I have spent too long being told what I am and who I should be with. And you..." She shook her head, "You have no right to stand here now and act as if I misunderstood."

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as if he felt offended. She turned her back to leave, but then he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. She gasped at the contact of their bodies, the heat of him sending shivers through her. He looked at her, his gaze so intense she could see the different hues of his eye color under the moonlight. Then he grabbed her jaw, leaned in, and captured her lips in a burning kiss, all the anger and desire, the time they had spent holding back, resisting, poured into the act. It was consuming, almost punishing, but she met him with equal fervor, standing on her tiptoes and holding his neck as she pulled him closer. The kiss was a delicious clash, as if each of them were trying to prove something to the other.

Azriel buried his hand in her hair and pulled it until he broke the kiss, causing her to open her eyes and whimper in protest. 'You think I don’t fight myself every damn day?' he growled. 'You think I don’t dream each night about you, about touching you, holding you? You think I’m not dying each day for not being able to spend time with you, to talk to you like we used to?'

Why can’t you? she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t voice anything at the moment. "You think I wouldn’t fight the world, damn the Cauldron, just for a taste of you?"

"Is that what you want, Elain?" he whispered softly, his breath hot against her mouth, his cedar scent filling her lungs. "To be consumed by this? By us?"

She scanned his eyes, searching for any sign of what he was feeling, she saw a storm of longing and desperation, a deep ache that mirrored her own. There was a a raw intensity that spoke of how much he yearned for her, and a hint of resolve, as if he was finally allowing himself to act on his feelings. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. She saw a flicker of relief in his eyes before he leaned in and deepened the kiss further, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth. She arched against him, her breasts pressing into him as his hand gripped and kneaded her ass possessively. Then he pulled up her dress parted her legs, gripping her thighs as he lifted her. She immediately crossed her legs around his waist, careful not to touch his wings.

Gods, she could feel his arousal pressing against her core. She broke the kiss and looked at him, her breath quickening. He smiled at her, his eyes so luminous. At that moment, She was lost in him, she didn’t know where she was or who she was, all she knew was that Azriel was claiming her, and she was gladly surrendering her heart. This was everything she desired, no one else could ever make her feel this way. She only realized she was biting her lip when his teeth replaced hers, and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue soothed the sting. Shadows gathered around them. Would they lay here in the grass, or was he taking her to his bed?

Elain blinked and came back to reality, frustration washing over her. She was alone in her room. Her legs shook with need, her skin felt unbearably hot, and she could feel the silkiness between her thighs. Why did it feel so real? His touch, his scent, the kiss... Was it a vision or a dream? Was she losing her mind? Her fingers tightened around the window frame, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on to her sanity.

"What if I'm just being selfish?" she wondered, guilt stabbing through her. "What if I'm hurting everyone around me by wanting something that isn't mine to have?"

But another thought rose defiantly. "It's my right to choose my own happiness. What if the bond is just a cruel trick, and I deserve to find love where my heart truly lies?" She held her head, trying to concentrate for a moment, then made her decision: If she was doomed to be shackled for the rest of her life to someone she didn’t love, she would at least let herself live the desire consuming her. How could she be guilty as a sin when she wasn't even touching Azriel?

She turned away from the window and crossed the room to her bed. She lay down on her back, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on her throat, gently stroking it with her thumb while recalling how Azriel had done it that night. She remembered exactly how it had felt, never forgetting the way her knees had trembled with desire and how he had easily made her soaking wet. She moved her hand from her neck to her breast, squeezing it until she gasped, imagining it was Azriel instead. She began slowly pulling up her nightgown with the other hand until it reached her stomach, drawing lazy circles around her belly button. She could feel the pressure building in her core as her heels dug into the mattress.

Her hand reached her underwear. She slipped two fingers underneath it and audibly moaned,oh she was ablaze, then rolled onto her stomach. She had never dared to say his name out loud, but here she was, screaming it into her pillow: "Azriel, Azriel, please," she whimpered. She could vividly picture him moving inside her, her hands gripping his arms, her nails digging into his biceps, drowning in his eyes, his glorious wings spread behind him and moving with each thrust. He growled, "Come for me, Love," and waves of pleasure crashed through her as she whispered, "You're mine, Azriel."

He was hers, even if it was only in her mind.

She opened her eyes, breathing heavily and sighing. Her cheeks and chest were flushed. She was still unsatisfied, but deep down, she knew the answer. What if Azriel reciprocated her feelings? What if what she saw earlier was real? Even if it was just a dream, it was a dream that made her feel alive and gave her hope. She had always been a quiet dreamer, hadn’t she? If there was even a small chance that this forbidden love could become a reality, it was certainly worth the risk. Maybe, just maybe, dreams could come true. And if they did, no matter the cost, she would choose him… Religiously.

[sidsledge]

i know Bastogne is universally recognized as the Best band of brothers episode and listen, I get it and also agree in the sense that the story portrayed is the most interesting and overall it's incredibly well written. but I'd just like to point out the excellence that's episode 5, "Crossroads."

(Crossroads is the episode that focuses the most on Dick Winters — ep 1, 2, and later 10 also do but it's not as centralized as it is here — We follow Dick through an anachronistic series of events, and the episode ends with E company moving towards Bastogne. It's directed by Tom Hanks.)

I love this episode because of all the different creative choices it has and how it stands out visually and sonically in comparison to all the other eps. so in technical aspects, it's my favorite of the bunch. this distinction is exemplary in the sequences that go from Dick writing his report quietly in his office to him leading the attack on the SS companies. It's very interesting to me how loud and obnoxious the typing gets for both Dick and the audience after a while; in the battlefield, there's nothing to pull Dick out of his concentration, always the focused leader. he has a mission to do, and he intends to carry it out as smoothly as possible (as seen in this episode). in the office, though, he's distracted, losing track of time, almost physically feeling the noises of the typewriter as if it was the sound of a gun going off inside his ears.

the back and forth between time periods is amazing. the sound design in this episode is my personal favorite (in a show with explosions and rifles, you wouldn't think a clacking typewriter and a man out of breath would be the reason for this). the combined sounds of Dick writing with the gunshots going off, the change in paragraphs with the tearing of the tape? Dick and the company running towards the enemy (clearly screaming) with nothing but the sounds of their breaths and footsteps making noise? just excellent sound design.

also, the cinematography. I could talk for hours about how good this episode's photography and lighting are. there's this particular moment I love after Alley is shown to be hit and bleeding on the barn table, where we immediately cut to Dick writing about this in his report. it's all about the stark contrast between the lived experience of seeing one of your men badly wounded and then simply writing and reading about it.

the night shots as well. it's very easy to fail in making a night scene both properly lit but also indicative of the time (some shows make it look dark as shit basically), but band of brothers does it well: in the first pic, you only have the moonlight as illumination, which is not much, but it helps to get you into Dick's perspective of having to go through this mission in the depths of night with such a limited field of vision.

there's several night scenes in this episode, most notably the battle on the Crossroads, but also Operation Pegasus, the night Moose is shot, Dick in Paris, and then Easy company going into Bastogne.

finally, the color grading. band of brothers is a strange show that's always changing in its color grading — maybe the different directors had no prior discussion before filming the episodes, as it happened with the writers' room, but I doubt this — nevertheless, Crossroads' color grading stands out, specially in the long-awaited scene of E company charging against the SS companies.

the high contrast of the dark shadows with the desaturated greens (and later reds) make for quite a sight, especially if you compare it to the warmer tones of the present scenes of Dick writing. the show wants you to know how different these moments are for Dick, who under fire is collected and focused but is ultimately crumbling under the bureaucratic pressure.

also I freaking love all the shots and framing of the typewriter. nothing to say other than they're cool as hell.

and this isn't even covering the emotional and character-driven aspects of the story! (that's a post for another day, maybe). for me Crossroads is a masterpiece of an episode in what it means to use camera, lighting, and sound to make your story as immersing as possible; it connects beautifully all technical aspects of filmmaking and, in my opinion, delivers one of the show's best episodes (that's accompanied with a great script.)

[aquanutart]

SHOUTOUT to this little blob of JOY who is having SO much fun out in the sunshine!!

These illustrations by Yuu Nishida make Bulbasaur and Ivysaur look SO round and squishy, I love it?!!  The light hitting the top of Bulbasaur's head feels so bright and glowing, I can feel the sun breaking through the clouds, all lit up in shimmering yellows and pinks and blues! Even the bright blue shadows feel so clear and fresh as the brilliant sunshine chases them away, and Bulbasaur is SO thrilled to be out catching the rays beaming down on it! Looking up from the ground at Bulbasaur, I can feel how little it is with the big wide world all around it! I love the way the light follows the curve of Bulbasaur's leg and the glow of reflected color on the other side, its body has a very solid yet elastic feel?! The colors are so vivid and bright, I love the rich blues and greens highlighted with yellow and just a touch of pink, it feels so fresh like new grass! The rippling grasses and deep blue mountain framing it make me feel the open space all around, the wind rushing by as the cloud break open with shooting rays of light!

The light is so INTENSE at this clearing in the forest where Ivysaur has found a spot to gather sunlight! The contrast between the bright yellow rays and the deep blues of the surrounding forest make me feel how strongly the light beats down through the trees, as Ivysaur turns its bulb upwards and the petals pop open to catch the sun!

Again I love how the light follows the curves of Ivysaur's body, falling in streaks along its head and ear; I feel the warmth of the sun on its bulk, glowing so bright on its spread-open leaves! Ivysaur is bracing against the ground to get just the right angle; I can just picture it trundling through the forest looking for a place like this, and lying down here all day to soak up sunlight! The colors are so vibrant and it feels so vivid and sunny in this pool of light, yet the cool blue shadows also make me feel dark of the forest all around it! I love how the pink of the bulb is echoed in the flowers n the silhouetted bushes in the background, the green leaves of the trees fading to rich blues--even with the dark of the forest, the colors are just so crisp and fresh!

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 50: In Which Devil's Come Out To Play Pt. 3

::UNDER 18? DO NOT INTERACT. This chapter contains material NOT SUITED for you::

Cassandra had dropped off another outfit for you this morning while you were in the shower. Alcina answered the door half ready and smiled down at her daughter with a bit of amusement.

"Da, fiica?" (Yes, daughter?)

Handing the article to her mother, Cassandra dead-panned, "aici. Pentru iubita ta." (here. For your girlfriend.)

Alcina took it and her smirk only grew wider, an eyebrow arching incredibly high, "ti-ai luat asupra ta să o îmbraci în toate evenimentele acum? (have you taken it upon yourself to dress her for all events now?)

"Ei bine, cu siguranță faci o treabă proastă. Dragostea ta este oarbă, nimeni altcineva." (Well you're certainly doing a poor job. Your love is blind, no one else is.)

She tsked, "haide, hainele ei nu sunt chiar așa de rele." (come now, her clothes aren't that bad.)

Cassandra huffed and folded her arms, "nuuuuu, dar nu funcționează pentru curriculumul vampirilor." (noooo, but they don't work for vampire curriculum.)

"Ei bine, apreciez interesul tău intens de a te asigura că ea este îmbrăcată conform standardelor noastre atunci... Dar, de asemenea, cred că îți place puțin și mă bucur să văd că te încingi cu ea." (Well I appreciate your intensive interest in making sure she is dressed to our standards then... But I also think you enjoy it a little, and I'm pleased to see you warming up to her.)

"Da, ok, la revedere - ne vedem când suntem gata să plecăm." Cassandra rattled off with a flick of her wrist and a heavy rolling of her eyes. (Yeah ok whatever bye - see you when we're ready to leave.)

Alcina chuckled under her breath as she left and closed the door.

She held out the article to see what kind of pleasant distraction you'd be wearing this time, and realized it was one of Cassandra's favorite dresses.; long and pitch black, the neckline made a large upside-down spade of cards shape on the wearers neck and chest; long, nearly sheer lantern sleeves; a sheath waist; and a cascading free flowing bottom half. This was going to do you so many favors Alcina licked her lips in anticipation for you to put it on.

And yes, it fit you just as perfectly as she had anticipated.

Admiring your reflection as you were fixing your hair at Alcina's vanity, you caught her from the mirror waltzing out of her closet in the same style dress as her white one, only this time it was black.

Goddamn. You didn't know which color looked better.

Her makeup was also much darker today. Lips as black as her gown and eyeshadow that gave her a menacing, albeit stunning, otherworldly grim reaper vibe. A nice cool shudder made its way down your spine.

You turned and crossed your leg, eying her with a grin, "a black one too, hm?"

Alcina caught your glance and smiled, returning the pleased expression, "black is always worn for anything involving the vampire court," she explained while fastening the back of her earing, "Donna had this made for me when I became Matriarch. I've always favored my white gown; I considered having it made in every color but, sometimes less is more." She winked.

Rising off the bench you approached her with the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, a heat rushing through you as memories of last night, er, day, replayed in your mind.

The dark goddess at your fingertips had your head floating in airy, hazy white clouds as she did exactly as you asked of her. She laid back on the chez lounge and let you drink the sight of her in; the length of her languid but perfectly poised body, the shadows playing in the room from the far off fireplace the only light to be had, making every line, curve, valley and peak of her a mouth-watering contrast of magnificence in an otherwise blank canvas of the room. All you could see was her. 

You'd dressed down to nothing but a satin robe by now, and Alcina's teeth ached at the sight of how perfectly complex and simple you were all at the same time. The hunger in your eyes, the devotion, the loyalty, the love. Things she's not really taken the time to ever appreciate in her long life in any light or darkness of her existence. You were so perfect she still could not grasp it. But here you were, slowly inching towards her, every drop of uncertainty she'd ever known rolling off her feathers as her utter trust in you allowed her to drop walls and barriers that had been in place since she could remember. What pure and perfect surrender to safety you'd given her.

The smile of satisfaction took over and you climbed on her lap, straddling her hips as you were now impossibly close. You pressed into her and listened to the hitch in her breath, locking your eyes in the depths of her slate oceans; the spark of gold began to crackle and you leaned to her lips and kissed them soft and gentle. Your deft fingers began to trace delicate patters on her neck, trailing to her collarbones, the neckline of her dress; tracing; memorizing; teasing. The pads of your fingers ghosted along the plump roundness of her breasts that were held so expertly by the white fabric, feeling the prickles that were left in trails you smiled and moved your lips to her cheekbone, smoothly searching for her ear.

"You're the dream come true I never knew I wished for," you whispered, pecking her lobe, "I want to give you everything."

Alcina's hands had planted on your hips and she gripped you tightly, her eyes snapping shut at your admission, pulling you closer to her as the desire and fire in her heart spurred into a rolling heatwave, "you took the very words from my mouth, dragoste." She whispered back.

You hummed and slipped your hands from her buxom chest up and to the back of her head, combing your fingers through her thick black curls at the base of her neck. You tugged, gently but firmly pulling her head back to look into her eyes, enjoying the beam of gold and dripping lust that was now much more prominent, slowly inching your lips back to hers and claiming them with passion. Her moan lit you up inside and you flicked your tongue, requesting a dance that she was more than happy to oblige.

She was aching for you painfully but she was pleased to let you take the reigns, tease her, play with her, enjoy her on your terms and she knew this would only make the pleasure so much more rewarding. Alcina whimpered into your mouth and tongue as her thighs began to quiver, raking her nails firmly down your back as you rocked your hips and core into the rhythm you both set. Oh how alive she felt for and because of you.

When you couldn't take it any longer, you broke the closeness and sucked in a much needed breath through your swollen lips, feeling the crackling of her desires all around you, you took the eclipsed moons of her eyes as urgency to please continue.

Leaning back your eyes went back to her form; the heave of her chest spurring you to place open mouthed kisses to the exposed flesh, your hands greedily kneading the clothed and confined nipples that you could still feel harden at your touch. She groaned and you continued to paw and kiss, lick and nip, drag your fingers up and down her sides, refusing her the direct contact she craved but knowing this was somehow just perfect the way it was. A pent up growl escaped her throat as one of your grabbing hands went for her hip and pulled at the fabric of her dress; an unspoken 'yes', and plea to progress.

Expertly lifting yourself from her lap, gliding down her body to kneel at her feet, kissing your way down her dress leaving the heat of your mouth in the wake, you finally peered back up to her, matching the darkness of her eyes with your own, watching her visibly shudder at your eagerness. 

Her breath hitched once more as your hands, so delicately precise, slipped under the hem of her dress, inching it up her long legs that were tense with anticipation, eyes locked as the most simple yet excruciatingly intimate action made her feel the need to fall apart within the second. You pushed the fabric to her hips, fingers immediately gripping to the lace of her underwear, jerking it once, over and under her, down her thighs and tossed away. Immediately reaching back under the soft material, you wrapped your demanding hands around her backside and pulled her to you, her hot, soaked core pressing against your stomach as you watched her parted lips quiver with the release of her breath.

God, she was so stunning.

Keeping one hand gripped to the crease of her hip, your other reached for the back of her neck and pulled her in for another searing kiss, moaning yourself as she shoved her tongue inside your mouth.

Alcina whimpered, every nerve gone haywire as the need for your touch and ardor took her over, "I'm yours," she husked, "take it."

Oh how that rattled your core.

"Yes, my lady." 

You responded with a darkness she'd never heard before, causing another twitch inside of her she wanted to feel more of.

She let you push her back into the chez and watched your lips descend again to her clothed breast, the heat not enough and too much, feeling you but not feeling you, the ghosting of it making her crawl with need.

Your hands mapped their way back down her body, memorizing the softness of her dress, the new curves and valleys it gave her, when finally you had knelt again at her feet.

Parting her legs with purpose, you pressed heavy kisses to the inside of her knee, further, further, inching your way with painfully slow accuracy until you had reached her throbbing core.

Your lips ghosted a kiss to her sex, your fingers gripping firmly to the inside of her shivering thighs before slipping your tongue passed her threshold and lapping with slow, agonizingly soft strokes.

Alcina moaned without meaning too, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, a needful pant overtaking the control she thought she had. She didn't care. You felt so good, too good, a gentleness she had no idea was possible.

Wrapping your arms under her thighs and holding to her quivering hips, you hunkered down and pressed harder with your tongue, searching, probing, lapping harder and harder, only to release and suckle her pulsing clit, taking the time to feel the twitch as you allowed only the tip of your tongue to trace the tiniest circle around it, lavishing the the choked whines and growing whimpers from the goddess in your clutches.

Her stomach muscles clenched and twitched, fingers digging into the cushions of the lounge, drinking and gulping down air to fuel her moans of approval of how tender and precise your tongue fucked her, needing and wanting so much more yet wordless demanding this torture continue. It was so intense for being so soft, Alcina's thoughts became a barrage of smeared paint on canvas and she was forced to relinquish all control to you, a perfectly willing thing in her heart and body as the pleasure continued to rake her over the hot coals of pending release.

You watched her from between her legs, over the bunched up skirt of her dress, chest heaving, dark crimson lips parted spilling her tangled 'oh's' and 'uh's', admiring the beauty that was coming undone as your tongue kept the slow and feather soft pace; the soaked, puckered, swollen flesh of her cunt telling you even without her vocal reassurance that you were doing everything she needed. Releasing one hand from your grip of her thigh, you trailed it to her midsection and gripped her dress, holding her firmly and she too placed a desperate hand over yours and held fast.

Alcina could feel the pressure and tingle of her climax aching so deep for such a surface-level bliss that she forced her eyes open and searched for you in the dim light, wanting to see your beautiful face as she tumbled down the slope to remember and brand it to her memory just how much this orgasm was going to ruin her. She reached her free shaking hand to your head, sinking her fingers into your silken locks as she felt the twig of release snap with a sharpness inside of her.

Her golden eyes stitched to yours as she nearly cried out her whimpers of utter satisfaction, the feel of her hips desperately trying to buck at the release but instead quaking with need, your tongue refused to give up on the ministrations that brought her here, locking her into a loop of one; two; and three painfully perfect orgasms that finally ended with her tossing her head back into the chez with a cry of defeat.

It was only then that you all but stopped, carefully and expertly taking her down to a low purr as your tongued coaxed the last bit of her orgasms to a lull, lapping up every bit of her that you could muster.

Oh, oh yes. This is how you worshipped a goddess dressed in a white gown of power.

You hummed again with a satisfaction as you returned to the present, "yeah... something about this style really does make you look like a towering pillar of exquisite power and beauty... my lady." You smiled as you snaked your arms around her waist, leaning up to kiss her.

She chuckled happily with a smile of mischief through your lips, "intimidation has always been my strong suit."

"It's hot," you replied, "very, very hot."

Alcina sighed and pulled you into her, "multumesc, iubirea mea. I'm so very pleased you think so." (thank you, my love.)

Watching her as she revered you, you melted into her fingers as they traced the outline of your face, down your neck, and to the neckline of your dress. Her slate colored eyes beamed at you and her smile made you weak in the knees as usual.

"And you, my darling fae," she spoke with such gentleness, "I'm in awe of you with every new day. Sometimes the gravity of it all crashes on me in unintended moments, makes my world spin, my balance teeter, and somehow your face pulls me back into this living dream over and over," Alcina's eyes grew even deeper, admiring the darkness of your make-up also, the pop it gave your features almost convincing her you belonged here in the underworld with her all along, "the pace at which all of this has happened still freezes me at times... but I couldn't be more grateful for you... everything you are..." she pulled you into her embrace and closed her eyes hard, whispering her next statement, "the love and hope you've given me can never be repaid. I wish I could make you understand."

Squeezing her, nuzzling your face into her, you sighed, "I still don't think you understand how you've also flipped my world upside down, giving me the same love and hope, so don't think for a second I don't feel the same way."

Alcina smiled, "never."

The girls were at the ready in the foyer as you and Alcina finally made your exit from the bedroom. They were also drenched in all black, dresses a little similar to yours, but much more fitting and with plunging necklines that almost made you blush. They certainly could pull off the look. 

Daniela met her mother with a glass of blood-wine and a great big smile.

"Oh, nu am nevoie de niciunul, dar mulțumesc dragă." Alcina smiled back, rubbing her daughters cheek with a gloved thumb and a hinting look in her eye. (Oh, I don't need any, but thank you darling.)

Daniela took a second to process what her mother was meaning, then seeing you at her side, the light-bulb immediately dinged, "oh, ahh... duh." She blurted, put the glass to her own lips and downed it in one gulp.

Alcina grinned, "well, you all look wonderful. Are we ready for this grueling trial to begin?"

"I'm always down for justice." Cassandra beamed menacingly.

"You mean death and blood," Bela nudged her sister, "and yes mother, we are."

"Excellent. Shall we then?"

There was a slight aura of ominousness as the five of you walked to City Hall. The city itself and its inhabitants seemed quieter than normal. Bela could sense your notice and quietly explained on the journey that vampires being put on trial was big ordeal, and one of this magnitude, even now that things had slightly mellowed, still had everyone unsettled. The vampires and lycans wanted more answers, and they wanted blood. Revenge under the guise of justice, in a way. Ethan, Mia, and Salvatore were the only ones currently known and alive close to Mother Miranda through this and they would face consequences; Alcina and the council would be sure of that.

This trial was to take place in the same great hall where the showdown between you, Mother Miranda, and Alcina had happened. It looked drastically different now with fire-lit torches hung on the walls and around each pillar; the new ambience giving the space heaviness. The blood splatters and stains on the walls, pillars, and sunken floor from that very same battle were still on full display. You assumed this was not just for dramatic embellishment. Alcina liked to make a point, and a scene if necessary. 

The hall was packed with vampires from the city. All dressed in black, mingling in a hush as the moment passed. As your eyes continued to pan about, you then noticed there were nine black gothic spire chairs lined at the back of the hall on the steps that overlooked the empty floor, the largest and most ornate directly in the middle.

Bela once again leaned to your ear, "the big chair is for mother, the other seven are for the clan leaders."

You recounted, "that only makes eight, who is the ninth for?" You whispered back.

"You." Alcina replied, looking over her shoulder at you.

Oh hell.

Your nerves shifted gears. You didn't know how to sit on a council trial, not in the human world and sure as hell not in the land of vampires.

Alcina let you catch up to her strides and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "don't worry, draga. You won't need to do anything tedious. You'll be right by my side - "

Dmitri's loud booming voice broke Alcina's words apart as he announced her arrival. The conglomeration turned in her direction and began to bow respectfully. Alcina straightened her posture, broadly nodding graciously in return as you all approached the chairs.

The girls and Alcina exchanged nods of their own and they fluttered to the back of the wall out of the way. The door directly adjacent to where you stood now, where you remember entering with Alcina to fight Miranda, opened and out poured the rest of the clan leaders. Dmitri introduced them one by one by name and title, and with the guidance of Alcina, you all took your seats.

You hoped your heartbeat wasn't giving away your tension, but the quick and generous squeeze Alcina gave your hand before fully situating helped ease the turbulence inside you.

Your eyes meticulously scanned the scene before you; Donna, Angie, Dmitri, and the other vampire leaders from this cities faction were gathered to the right, though you noticed there were no lycans present. Karl, Sybil, and Mitch, were all missing and you wondered silently why. 

Alcina cleared her throat and the utter slice that put through the already palpable haze of whatever climate the room possessed caused your breath to hitch. Every sense you had was becoming increasingly aware and alert.

"Today, three shall stand trial before us - Mother Miranda's servants, Ethan and Mia - and our own Salvatore Moreau of the Shadowed Dominion." Alcina stated a little bitterly, "I expect silence. And I expect order." She turned her attention to Dmitri, nodded the large brim of her hat, and he headed to the neighboring door.

The clanging of chains echoed in as the three in question were lead in by military escort, familiar blue glowing collars bound their necks and heavy chains  bound their wrists. Ethan and Mia were surprisingly docile from how you remember them previously, and Salvatore could not have been meeker or smaller. You almost pitied him.

Alcina did not.

You heard the twisting of leather from your left and you saw Alcina's hand balling into a tight fist, her lips had turned thinner as she pursed them together upon the sight of these three.

She'd not seen Ethan or Mia since the fateful day in the town square just out front. Somehow she'd almost forgotten the hatred she bore these two the most, while the withering Salvatore just simply annoyed her. Lifting her chin, Alcina peered down her nose as they were brought into the center of the floor beneath her, relaxing her features just slightly as she took one more steadying breath.

"Let the trial proceed."

  Donna, Dmitri, and Angie of all people, took turns presenting evidence. It took a good half hour of back and forth between jury and presenters to get to the actual questioning of the defendants in question. Salvatore would have crawled under the stones of the floor below him if he could have; it seemed with every passing minute his shame and guilt drove his already hunched posture into a doubled over, clothed, breathing boulder at this point. Ethan and Mia seemed dismissive of their accusations and you could tell all too easily how their arrogance was twisting Alcina's patience.

"Ethan," Alcina enunciated with all but a shout, gaining his attention for what seemed to be the first time tonight, "and... Mia... with the accusations and evidence brought forth by the council, how do either of you plead to these allegations?"

A pitiful exchange of looks between the two finally gave way to a deep breath taken by Ethan, he craned his neck under the weight of his shackle and opened his mouth to respond. 

Instead of his response the sound of the great hall doors bursting open flooded the room, shattering the intensity of the silence and creating a new, followed by hasty shouting; "Lady Dimitrescu! My lady Dimitrescu!" 

Out of the shadows came Matteo and Mitch, both displaying a look of chaotic urgency.

The commotion ruffled Alcina's feathers in the least appealing way possible and her visage torqued, "have you lost your minds, we're in the middle of -"

"We know," Mitch interrupted, "we know, and we apologize but it can't wait; you need to come with us to Miranda's property in Connecticut immediately. This cannot wait."

The pit in Alcina's stomach grew ice cold and her eyes narrowed.

She gritted her teeth, looking from Mitch to the three at her feet, to Dmitri and Donna, each now baring a reflection of Mitch and Matteo's urgency.

Alcina rose and tsked loudly, "take them back to the dungeons," she barked, "everyone is dismissed until further notice. Clan leaders, with me." Her final command starch and cold.

You barely had time to keep up as she swooped down the step to meet her men on the other side. Verona hooked her arm with yours and helped you weave through the crowd, much to your relief, and soon you two were right behind Alcina as she followed Mitch and Matteo's lead.

Donna also caught up to the group but Alcina requested she stay behind and keep things in order until her return, she relented but did as commanded. Dmitri took her place as the entourage hastily made their way to the new tunnel underneath that was the most direct route back to Miranda's territory.

This was not good. Whatever it was.

"Mitch?" Alcina questioned, "are you planning to keep me in suspense or are you going to explain yourself?"

The lycan shook his head, "this is something you have to see for yourself, please don't make me describe it."

Everyone heard him but kept their questions silent, gnashing curiosity be damned as they sped on.

While it took about three to four hours to get to Miranda's manor by the regular tunnels, the new one she had dug from her hide-out only took about an hour and a half. You noticed Mitch looking behind and back at everyone frequently throughout the journey, unsure why, but feeling his unease even though he tried very well to hide it. The nervousness inside of you only getting worse the closer you all got.

The mouth brought everyone to a crypt that Alcina, nor anyone else for that matter, had ever seen of Miranda's abode. It was blessedly empty and their footsteps seemed so loud as they followed Mitch up a vast set of stairs, through a confusing path of halls and corridors and into yet another area no one knew existed. 

It may have well been stolen from an evil scientists lair straight from a movie. Only severely more twisted.

The 'experimentation room' they had discovered next door to their own city was anything but.

The vastness of this room, lit by a sickening ochre, held the left-overs, or perhaps one could say the beginnings of Miranda's genetic modifications. Dozens upon dozens of bodies of vampires, some mutated beyond recognition, were bottled up in body-sized tubes filled with a sienna colored liquid. Their glass, watery coffins lined the walls, the eerie sound of cycling water and bubbles through them the only permeable sound amongst the stiffening silence of every person in attendance. How could anyone catch a breath with such an excruciatingly somber scene. 

You could feel the color drain from your face as the coldness of this shock overran your system. You didn't want to look but you couldn't not; the vampire closest to you stopped you in your tracks and you looked upon its face. It was contorted. Broken. Its body, twisted. The skin had lost nearly all of its color, you could only fathom how long it had been there, and in its translucence you could see the blackness of the many veins under the pale flesh, flesh that was bulging and sprouting bulbous lesions and growths; masses of pockets that looked as if they might burst at any second. You could not tell if you were still breathing, the harrowing loudness of your thought of the terror this person must have endured at the hands of this utterly mad woman, the lingering remains of what once was a living breathing human now discarded and on display like some science project. You felt ill, but had no time to dwell in it.

Alcina stood in the middle of the horror. Her stark eyes scanning, imprinting the scene in the depts of her mind in a more ravenous way than you. Not a breath from her lungs as the tension in her muscles began to eat at the rest of her sanity. The billowing heat she felt in the depths of her core. The hatred. The dread and gnashing urge to scream in fury. For how many long centuries had they all lived under the rule of a complete psychopath, not a one of them aware of the atrocities being done to their fellow vampire. Not a clue. Not even a hint.

Her blackening slate-colored eyes landed on a tube. The body floating there within, a woman, the only solidifying trait was half her naked body was still in tact; the rest was bulging and broken and looked as if an alien had been born and ripped from inside out of her left side, leaving her to some excruciating death, Alcina was sure.

This could have been her.

This could have been Donna, or Angie.

This could have been her daughters.

Alcina was spinning in a way she almost did not think she was going to come back from.

Mitch was leery to break the Matriarch's concentration, but he carefully stepped closer, eyeing everyone around, "my lady, come with me... there is more."

All eyes turned to the lycan in disbelief and strangled hesitance. But without a word, everyone followed.

Alcina's jaw had grown painfully tight as she turned the corner and followed him through a doorway into the neighboring room. Karl and his men, along with a few vampire military ranks, were standing around a large table with piles and piles of what appeared to be photographs and paper documents. The walls in this room were covered in the same manner as Miranda's room at the hide-out; pictures, scribbled notes, red lines drawn from one side to the next, a visual conceptualization of the twisted territory of her mind.   Karl's eyes shot up as Alcina and everyone else entered. You could feel the suspense triple as everyone gathered and watched as the calculation of their next moves seemed to play out like a silent chess move. Something didn't feel right, as miniscule as it almost appeared.

He took a deep breath, "come in, everyone." Karl motioned hastily, watching as Matteo closed the door behind, "the uhm - the next room - " he pointed haphazardly to his left to a black door, clearing his throat searching for Alcina's eyes, "that's where it is, the cadou, the thing that made all of - all of these vampires like this," his jaw tightening as he said it, locking his sights now with her, "but that's not all that's in there."

Karl was acting stranger than she could ever recall and Alcina felt her spine prickle, narrowing her eyes as he seemed to be desperately trying to tell her something without any words, unsure how to proceed yet doing her best to feign the gameplay.

"Cadou?" She asked cautiously.

"The parasite - that's what it is - Miranda called it a cadou. It's what she used to create her army," he said a bit more calmly, watching as Dmitri approached the table to join Anjelica and his crew, "it's one of the ugliest and creepiest fucking things I've ever seen... but..."

"But?" Alcina pressed, trying to understand what the fuck he was at.

You watched on with every sense in your body electrified as something was clearly about to happen.

It was then you realized Dmitri was the first to figure out whatever it was. He reached for something on the table that Anjelica had so expertly guided him to. A photograph. He plucked it from the pile and gazed at it with his best poker-face, swallowing softly as he naturally made his way around the table, scanning the other items with interest, to finally come to Alcina's side and gently hand it off to her.

Her back was to everyone so you could not see, even from your vantage somewhat off to the side, as to what was there, but the wall of the tension dam was on the tipping point of bursting.

Silence.

There before Alcina in a black and white polaroid was Mother Miranda with a dead subject, pointing to a specific lesion on said subjects stomach. But that was not the issue with the subject matter of this picture, the issue was the person standing at her side in the same lab coat attire; that person was Auguste Winter.

Her eyes spun around in the same blink of the eye as Auguste had dashed to another neighboring door, burst through it and out of the room.

"That leads into the manor and to a quick exit!" Karl spat, "after him!"

Alcina threw her hat and was off faster than a gunshot.

She had one thing on her mind and it was to kill.

Her thoughts were all rage as she followed his scent through the hallways, his smell getting stronger and stronger as she flitted, "RUNNING WILL GET YOU NOWHERE!" She bellowed.

Alcina took a sharp left down the hall, a familiar hall, one she knew, and knew exactly which exit he was heading for. Only, she was violently close-lined by Auguste's arm to her sternum as she tried to fly passed a dark doorway.

Her body slammed to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath as Auguste launched from inside the dark room and pounced, taking advantage of her shock socking her in the face several times. 

She did not hold back once she got a grip. Thrashing her claws with force, she caught him three times; twice across the face and down his arm. However, the backhand with the butt of a heavy gun stunted her reaction time bluntly.

Taking the new window of opportunity from his blow, Auguste reached around and gathered a huge chunk of her hair in his hand, yanked her up, flipping her over, landing her on her knees and pulling her back into his chest and pressing the barrel of said gun to her temple.

"This is your little lycan puppets weapon," he huffed, "if I pull this trigger I will paint the wall with your brain, blood, and fragments of skull and that will be the end of it."

Hissing in pain as he yanked on her hair once more, Alcina licked her blood off her lips and stilled her desire to fight him, knowing very well she would not survive this gunshot, not even with the help of your blood. The situation suddenly got a lot more dire.

"Good choice, you indignant bitch." Auguste bit, his thick Dutch accent very present in her ear, "you've never been able to leave things alone, you've never been able to just do as you're told and leave it at that, no, and even after all of that, Mother Miranda was still going to make you her queen - did you know that?" He asked, jerking her head once more, pressing the barrel harder into the side of her head, "not me a king, no, you - her queen. How you remained her favorite I will never know - I was at her side, I did what I was told, above the expectations! But yooooouuu... always you."

By now everyone had arrived on the scene and Auguste met all the eyes now upon him.

"NOBODY MOVE OR I BLOW HER HEAD OFF!" He hollered, smiling as he saw everyone take a giant pause, "that's right - not even that little human can save you now," he uttered, a visible shake now coating his words, "if Mother Miranda can't have her glory, then really why should you -"

There was nothing in your tangible cognizance that could have prepared you for the jump to action your powers demanded.

You'd seen your Alcina in such a similar predicament once before that the overwhelming fear and anger that sprung through your blood had your vision tunneling to her and only her. Seeing the blood smeared from her lips to her cheek, Auguste with the gun to her head, knowing without all doubt this situation was worse than Miranda, you didn't have a conscious thought in the action.

With a glacially smooth slip between Verona and Pablo who were in front of you, your palms outturned and the need to protect and attack sought the intended target and latched on. Violently.

Auguste's words died in his throat with a crack and churn of his windpipe. His body contorted so strong and so fast the gun fell from his grip, the searing pressure in his head and behind his eyes finally broke free with a wail as his eyes exploded from their sockets, blood pouring from the holes as he chokingly screamed all the way down to the floor with a thud.

When your vision returned from the abyss of blinking black, the lightheadedness overtook you and Verona was the first to grab your arm and steady you. Alcina was looking at you with severity but you had to close your eyes and try to gulp down some air and a semblance of composure.

Alcina was off the floor with grace and agility, turning to the broken man still wailing on the floor, the need to take his life now slipping away as she somehow liked this so much better. But with actions come consequence and she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck by her claws and threw him into the arms of Dmitri and Anjelica, "take this piece of fucking shit to the city! Jail him! If he makes it that far." She commanded, those fierce eyes searching for you in the madness.

Verona and Pablo had leaned you to the wall, Karl was behind you with his hand on your shoulder, everyone else wide-eyed and completely unsure what to do next.

"Mitch, get everyone back to where we were... we'll be right behind you," Alcina ordered respectfully, nodding at him, "thank you."

You were still spinning. And almost a little nauseous. You weren't sure from the obscene burst of power or the sight of what you'd done to Auguste. Your body began to quiver uncontrollably as the sight replayed over and over. Alcina was safe and that was the only comfort you currently had at the moment; you damn near had no control over what you'd just done and that scared the ever loving fuck out of you. 

Verona finally brought you out of your spiral, her cool hand on your much warmer cheek causing you to look at something other than the floor.

"Dolce ragazza, respira, respira... sei buona," she cooed, looking into your hazed eyes, "you're alright," Verona repeated, cupping your face still, "breathe." (Sweet girl, breathe, breathe, you're alright,)

Karl was the next to chime in, squeezing your shoulder firmly, "yep, c'mon back down to earth fae-bae. That was fucking awesome, and please remind me to never piss you off. I wanna keep my eyeballs!"

In normal Karl fashion he was trying to lighten the mood but you could also sense the gravity of the narrow escape Alcina just made in his tone, it still didn't make you feel much better.

Alcina was finally in front of you and you sucked your breath back in as she reached for you.

"Thank you," she said to Verona, nodding to Pablo and Karl, "please go back with the others, we need a moment."

There of course was no argument and as the seconds flew by you were alone in the hallway.

You didn't like the way she was looking at you.

"You hurt yourself, didn't you," Alcina stated quietly looking you over, rubbing your arms ever so gently, "are you alright? You look very pale. Do you want me to take you back to the city?" She asked with concern, finally catching your gaze that had been wandering.

"N-no," you uttered, studying her carefully, "no, I'm ok."

"You're not," Alcina said a little too quickly, "my gods draga, please, what do you need? Let me help you."

That lightheadedness you'd fought off came back with a punch and you felt yourself tipping over, but she caught you, of course she caught you, and you simply collapsed in her arms.

Holding you in the silence, she could hear the erratic beating of your heart and the fear she'd felt previously for herself took on the fear for you instead "oh, my love," she whispered, "you've saved me once again, and I don't know how to help you, please tell me what I can do... please draga, tell me what to do."

With the little strength that was returning you gripped to her and closed your eyes, "I don't know," you admitted, "I think I just need... a minute to regroup is all. I'm... I feel really sick."

Alcina winced at your words, "we will take as much time as we need. I will hold you until it passes, whatever it is you think will help, I will do it."

You smiled softly, "this works," you sighed, ignoring the rest of your thoughts and fears, knowing there was no time for that right now, "thank you."

Without caring what it would look like if anyone came back to check on the two of you, Alcina slid down to the floor with you in her arms, leaning up against the wall and keeping you close while she took some steadying breaths herself. 

My fucking gods, what else could possibly go sideways at this point, she thought, swallowing some left over blood down her throat.

"Are you ok?" You finally asked in the silence.

Alcina scoffed and pressed her lips to the top of your head, "draga mea I am the last of my worries, and should be the last of yours right now."

"Mm, yeah, ok, as if that's ever going to be the case for either of us ever."

Alcina was almost taken aback by your spicey response, but then she started to chuckle, "you are awfully saucy for someone who was just about to pass out, miss."

Thank god, some normalcy in banter. You smiled and giggled shortly, "answer the damn question," you prodded, "I want to make sure blowing someone's eyes out of their head wasn't in vain."

She closed her eyes hard and squeezed you a little tighter, "yes, dragoste... I'm fine, thanks to you."

"Good, because that was horrifying."

"But impressive, nonetheless."

You shook your head. 

Karl's patience was wearing very fucking thin by the time Alcina and you finally made it back into the room about ten minutes later. The incessant nagging and questions and comments and tsking from that French bitch about had him coming apart at the seams. He knew he had to keep his shit together. He knew he had to behave. He knew he needed to be the bigger lycan but she was so infuriating! 

"How many goddamn times have I told you!" He snapped, "I'm not answering SHIT until OUR Matriarch is BACK IN THE ROOM because I am NOT repeating myself OR getting put on the burner for FILLING YOUR NOSEY MOTHER FUCKING ASS IN before the one person that ACTUALLY FUCKING MATTERS!!"

Well. That was certainly not what you were both expecting to walk in on as you stepped through the threshold.

Alcina was the first to chime in, of course, "my goodness, does it really take less than 10 minutes of my absence for this kind of contention to unravel?" She asked with a cocked eyebrow as she waltzed to the table where everyone was gathered, you in tow.

Karl's eyes about bugged from his head, "my fuse is short, you know that - and this bitch tests it at every given opportunity!"

She turned her gaze to the redhead who was perfectly content with herself and Alcina's lips twisted, "can you please just not be yourself for 10 minutes?"

Marguerite's face soured, "you demand a lot of respect for someone whom I'm not entirely convinced deserves it."

Oh boy, here we go.

She took her time staring at Alcina, almost waiting for her to back down, but insisted on continuing, "it is just a thought, but, perhaps the crown of power has been misplaced?" Marguerite mused a little too happily as she tossed a look to you and back, "it seems this fae has come to your rescue more often than not; maybe you're not as strong or as dangero - "

Alcina had had it. She turned on a dime and clocked Marguerite square in the mouth, sending her flying back and into the brick wall with a deafening thwack.

No one said a word, but you know you heard Karl choke on his own tongue while everyone watched Marguerite slump to the floor completely unconscious.

Not misplacing a second, and ignoring the pursed lips of Pablo trying to stifle his laughter, Verona's forced deadpan face, Belinda's wide eyes though blessedly free expression otherwise, Emiliano's slow blink, Ishaan's raised brows, your thin-pressed lips and stifled expression of 'welp', and everyone else's great relief yet stuffed display of it, Alcina replaced her attention back to Karl.

"Now, where were we."

[lifeofpriya]

The Courtside Surprise - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @schumi-nadal]

summary: you take a bold step out of your comfort zone to support your boyfriend at the US Open...

"You did so amazing out there, babe, " you couldn't help but beam at your boyfriend, Jack, as you talked to him on the phone. "I just wish I could've been there to cheer you on in person."

Jack chuckled, his voice warm despite the distance. "Thanks, love. I felt your energy from all the way over here."

You watched as he took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bustling city outside the hotel window. The light from the streetlamps painted a soft glow across his tired yet triumphant features. He was in New York City, living his dream.

"You know, I've never told you this," he began, turning to face you, "but I've always been a bit nervous before the big matches."

Your heart swelled at his admission. You knew how much he loved the sport, but you had never realized the weight of the pressure he carried on his shoulders.

"Jack, you're a pro," you said, trying to reassure him. "You've got this. Just focus on your game, and remember that no matter what happens, I'm proud of you."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know. It's just…this is the US Open, the last Grand Slam of the year. And the quarterfinals, wow."

"Get some rest, Jack," you softly urged, noticing the shadows under his eyes. "You had a tough match today. You'll need to be in tip-top shape for the next round."

Jack nodded, the weight of his weariness evident in his every movement. "You're right. I should probably hit the sack. But I'll miss you tonight."

"I'll be with you in spirit," you promised, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. The truth was, you wished you could be there with him more than anything. But your fear of flying had always held you back from traveling to his matches, and Jack had been so understanding about it.

After hanging up, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were missing out on something special. You felt a sudden jolt of courage, a determination to overcome your fear for Jack. You grabbed your laptop and started searching for flights to New York City. Your heart raced with every click of the mouse, but you didn't let the anxiety deter you. You had to do this.

The next day, you called in sick to work and booked the earliest flight you could find. The price was steep, but the thought of seeing Jack play in the quarterfinals was worth every penny. As you packed your bag, your hands trembled slightly, but excitement began to outweigh the fear. You didn't tell anyone about your plans, not even Jack. You wanted it to be a surprise.

The flight was long and turbulent, but you kept your eyes glued to the in-flight entertainment, focusing on the movies and TV shows to distract yourself from the rumbling beneath you. Each jolt of the plane sent a shiver down your spine, but you breathed deeply, reminding yourself why you were here. You had to do this for Jack.

Finally, the plane touched down in the early hours of the morning. You emerged from the airport into the warm embrace of the New York City night, a stark contrast to the cool air-conditioned aircraft. The city lights danced in the distance, a dizzying array of colors and life that filled you with a strange sense of exhilaration. You hailed a taxi, giving the driver the address to your hotel. The ride was a blur of yellow lights and honking horns, but you were too tired to let the chaos of the city overwhelm you.

As you checked into the hotel, the receptionist offered you a sympathetic smile. "Long flight?" they asked. You nodded, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. "Just a bit," you replied, taking the key and heading for the elevator. The room was small but clean, with a view of the city that seemed to stretch on forever. You collapsed onto the bed, the adrenaline of the journey subsiding into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, the sun streaming through the blinds. You had a few hours before Jack's match, so you took a quick shower and got dressed. Your stomach rumbled as you realized you hadn't eaten anything since the flight's in-flight meal. Deciding to grab a bite before heading to the stadium, you stepped out into the bustling streets. The smell of fresh bagels and coffee filled the air, mingling with the sounds of traffic and distant chatter.

You found a small café and ordered a breakfast sandwich and a large cup of your preferred hot beverage. As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. You were actually in New York City, and you were about to watch Jack play in the US Open quarterfinals. The thought was surreal.

After finishing your meal, you decided to explore the city a bit, wandering through the streets, soaking in the vibrant energy that seemed to pulse through the concrete and steel. The buildings towered above you, and the sidewalks were a river of diverse faces, each with their own story to tell. The sounds of the city were a symphony of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens. It was overwhelming, but you felt alive.

As the time for Jack's match approached, you hailed another taxi, the anticipation building with each passing minute. The driver navigated through the city's veins, weaving in and out of traffic with a confidence that made you slightly queasy. You focused on the destination ahead, your heart racing faster than the meter.

Upon arriving at the stadium, you were met with a sea of faces, all dressed in their vibrant outfits, ready to cheer on their favorite players. The atmosphere was electric, a buzz of excitement that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You found your seat in the stands, a perfect spot to watch Jack play, and felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as you spotted the pristine courts below.

The match was about to start, and the tension in the air was palpable. The unmistakable thwack of rackets echoed through the stadium as the players warmed up, sending chills down your spine. You scanned the court, looking for Jack, but it took you less than a second after you spotted the infamous beetroot gradient baggy kit that clung to his muscular frame to find him.

Jack looked up into the stands, searching for familiar faces. His eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment, you held your breath, hoping he wouldn't spot you. The last thing you wanted was to distract him before the match.

You ducked your head, hoping to stay out of sight as Jack's gaze swept over the sea of faces. Your heart hammered in your chest, fearful that he would see you and your surprise would be ruined. But as the seconds ticked away, you realized he hadn't spotted you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach.

The players took their positions, and the umpire announced the start of the match. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound washing over you like a wave. You watched as Jack served the first ball, his muscles coiling and uncoiling with precision and power. The opponent returned the serve, and the game was on. You found yourself leaning forward in your seat, your heart racing with every point.

Jack played with a focus that was almost tangible, his eyes never leaving the ball. You could see the sweat glistening on his forehead, the determination etched into his features. Each volley was a dance of skill and strategy, a silent conversation between the players that spoke of years of practice and passion. The crowd around you was alive, their energy feeding into the game, urging the players on.

You watched, transfixed, as Jack moved across the court with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. His strokes were a symphony of power and finesse; each one met with a roar of approval from the spectators. The score was tight, and every point felt like a battle won or lost. Your heart ached with each victory, your nails digging into the armrest as the tension grew.

The match progressed, the sun moving slowly across the sky, casting shadows that grew longer and more dramatic across the pristine green of the tennis courts. You were surprised at how quickly the time passed and how each serve and volley held you captive. You had never felt so connected to the sport, so invested in the outcome of a game.

As Jack took a break between sets, you couldn't resist the urge to check your phone for messages. You had turned it off during the flight, and now it buzzed with notifications. Most of them were from work, but there was one from Jack that stood out. "Love, I miss you. Wish you were here," it read. Your stomach flipped, and you felt a warmth spread through you, knowing that you were about to make his wish come true.

The second set began, and the tension grew even thicker. The crowd was a mix of die-hard fans and curious tourists, all caught up in the thrill of the game. You felt your palms growing sweaty, your body mirroring Jack's exertion on the court. Each point was a battle, and you found yourself whispering words of encouragement, as if he could hear you from across the stadium.

As the game reached its climax, the crowd grew quieter, their collective breath held in anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass. The final set was a nail-biter, with both players giving it their all. The rallies grew longer, the points more intense. You sat on the edge of your seat, your eyes never leaving Jack.

Jack's opponent was formidable, a seasoned pro with a powerful serve and a fiery spirit. Each point was a battle of wills, a silent duel that had the audience leaning forward, their whispers punctuating the rhythm of the game. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the court, but Jack's energy remained unflagging.

You felt a knot in your stomach tighten with every passing moment. Each time Jack scored, you couldn't help but let out a little cheer, your voice lost in the roar of the crowd. The match was a seesaw of emotions, the score yo-yoing back and forth. The intensity grew with each set, the tension so thick you could almost touch it.

Jack's opponent served, and the ball rocketed towards him. He lunged, his racket making contact with a satisfying thwack, sending the ball back over the net. The rally was on, the players moving like dancers in a choreographed routine, each step precise and calculated. The crowd watched in silent awe, the only sounds the squeak of sneakers and the occasional grunt of effort.

The score was tied at five games apiece in the final set. You could see the fatigue etched into Jack's face, his eyes narrowed with concentration. His opponent, however, showed no signs of slowing down, each shot a testament to his experience and skill. You bit your lip, willing Jack to find that extra gear, to push through the exhaustion and fear.

Jack took a deep breath, wiped his brow, and readied himself for the next serve. The silence in the stadium was deafening, the air charged with anticipation. The ball was tossed, Jack's racket swung back, and time seemed to slow down as he sent the ball hurtling over the net. The opponent returned it with a ferocity that had you clutching the armrest even tighter.

The volley continued, each player giving their all, their bodies moving in a blur of speed and precision. You watched, your heart in your throat, as Jack approached the net, his racket poised. The opponent lobbed the ball high into the air, and Jack leaped, his body a perfect arc of power and grace. The crowd gasped as he slammed the ball down with such force that it barely kissed the line before bouncing away.

The umpire called out, "Game, set, match, Draper!" and the stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Jack looked up, his eyes searching the stands, and for a moment, they locked with yours. Shock and disbelief registered on his face before it broke into a wide grin. He knew you were there, and you could see the love and gratitude in his eyes.

You couldn't hold back the tears as Jack approached the net, shaking hands with his opponent, both men displaying an immense respect for the battle they had just fought. The crowd's applause grew louder, and you felt the warmth of their shared victory. As Jack made his way off the court, he pointed up at you, mouthing the words, "Thank you."

The match was over, but the excitement in the stadium lingered like the echo of the final point. You gathered your things, the thrill of the game still reverberating through your body. The crowd thinned as people made their way to the exits, but you remained in your seat, watching Jack interact with his coach and team, his movements now loose and relaxed.

As the courts cleared, you made your way down to the player's exit, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The anticipation grew with each step, your heart racing as you approached the barricade. You spotted Jack talking to some fans, signing autographs, and taking photos. He looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd again, searching for you.

Your heart skipped a beat when he finally saw you. He broke away from the group, jogging over with a look of utter astonishment. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and joy.

"I had to come," you replied, your voice shaking slightly as you handed him the bouquet of flowers you had picked up on the way. "These are for you, by the way."

Jack's eyes widened, and he took the flowers with a gentle smile, his calloused hands brushing against yours. "You really did it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You came all the way here to watch me play."

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you met his gaze. "I had to. You've worked so hard for this, and I wanted to be here to support you."

Jack's eyes searched yours, a warmth that made your knees feel like jelly. "Thank you," he said, the sincerity in his voice making the words feel like a warm embrace. He leaned in, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, and you felt the world tilt on its axis for just a moment. The barricade between you felt like it was made of paper, and you wished you could just reach out and pull him into a tight hug.

But there were fans waiting, reporters eager for a soundbite, and a stadium full of people still watching. You stepped aside, allowing him to continue his victory lap, but not before whispering, "See you after the press conference."

Jack nodded, his eyes shining with appreciation. You felt a strange sense of pride swell in your chest as you watched him move through the throng of people, signing autographs and sharing his victory with his fans. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, this public figure who could handle the spotlight with such ease.

As he disappeared into the bowels of the stadium for his press conference, you found a quiet spot to wait, your thoughts racing. You had done it. You had faced your fear and made it to New York City to support Jack. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if he had lost? Would your surprise have felt like a burden instead of a gift?

The minutes ticked by, and you could feel the buzz of the match slowly fading from the air. Eventually, Jack emerged from the player's tunnel, his eyes scanning the now-deserted stands. He spotted you, and a genuine smile lit up his face as he made his way over.

"How did you pull this off?" he asked, his voice still carrying the excitement of the match. "You hate flying."

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I had to be here. For you."

Jack's eyes searched yours, the weight of his fatigue lifted by the joy of your surprise. "You know you didn't have to do this," he said, taking your hand. "But it means the world to me that you did."

You squeezed his hand in response, the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment. "I know, but I wanted to. Plus, I had to see you in that kit," you teased, nodding towards his sweat-soaked outfit.

Jack chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate through the now-quiet stadium. "It's not my best look," he admitted, "but I'll wear it for you any day." His smile grew more serious. "Love, I'm so proud of you for facing your fear. This means more to me than winning today."

You felt a swell of emotion, unsure if it was the adrenaline from the match or the weight of Jack's words. "I'm just happy to be here," you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. "Now, let's get out of here and celebrate your win."

Jack nodded, and you both made your way out of the stadium. The cool evening air was a welcome relief from the heat of the day. The city lights twinkled like stars against the darkening sky, casting a warm glow over the concrete jungle. The sounds of the city were a comforting cacophony that had grown familiar over the past few hours.

You walked hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of the city's outskirts leading you to a quiet Italian restaurant that Jack had mentioned wanting to try. The smell of garlic and fresh bread wafted through the air, making your stomach growl. You hadn't eaten since the small breakfast you'd had before the match, and the thought of a hearty meal was incredibly appealing.

Jack was quieter than usual, his mind likely still racing from the high of the match. You didn't mind the silence; it was comforting in its own way, a shared understanding of the monumental event you had both just experienced. As you approached the restaurant, the soft glow of the lights and the sound of laughter spilling out onto the street made your heart race a little faster. This was it, the moment you had dreamed of.

The hostess led you to a cozy table in the corner, far enough from the bustle to feel intimate but close enough to the kitchen to enjoy the symphony of sizzles and clangs. You ordered a feast of pasta, pizza, and antipasti to share. The warmth of the room and the smell of garlic and tomato sauce filled your senses, grounding you in the present.

Jack, still on an adrenaline high, recounted every moment of the match, his eyes lighting up as he described the points that had you on the edge of your seat. You listened intently, marveling at his ability to recall every stroke and strategy. As he spoke, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within you. You had been there, witnessing his triumph firsthand.

The food arrived, a feast of color and aroma that seemed to match the vibrancy of the city outside. You both dug in, hunger winning over the need for conversation. Each bite was a symphony of flavors, the cheese stretching like a warm embrace around the tender pasta, the crust of the pizza crackling with every slice.

As you ate, Jack's eyes never left yours, a silent conversation passing between you that transcended the need for words. The fear and the thrill of the day had brought you closer than ever before; the air between you charged with a newfound understanding of what it meant to support each other through thick and thin.

The meal was a celebration, not just of his victory, but of your courage. Each bite of food was a declaration of love and support, a silent promise to always be there for each other, no matter the challenge. The clinking of glasses and the low murmur of the other diners faded into the background as you shared stories and laughter, savoring every moment.

After dinner, Jack suggested a walk around the city to burn off some of the carbs. You agreed eagerly, eager to explore the vibrant streets of New York with him by your side. The air was cooler now, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of the nearby river. You strolled along the waterfront, the lights of the city reflecting off the rippling surface like a mirror of stars.

Jack was still on a high from his win, his stride long and confident. He pointed out landmarks and shared stories of his previous visits to the city, his eyes alight with excitement. You listened, content to be the silent companion, soaking in his happiness. It was as if the fear and nerves of the flight had been a distant memory, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment.

You stopped at a small park, the quiet a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets. The moon cast a soft glow over the greenery, and you could see Jack's reflection in the calm pond water. He leaned down to kiss you, his breath warm against your cheek. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "This is the best surprise ever."

You smiled up at him, feeling the weight of the day's events settle in your chest. "You're welcome," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was perfect, untainted by the fear that had once consumed you. You felt brave, standing there with Jack; the city lights your backdrop.