#I wish my sketches were this clean

[demonmew25]

I love it, he looks amazing!! 😍🥰

Muzan sketch 🖍️

Not the biggest fan of this one but hey~ gonna post it anyways because it’s ok to have bad art days 😌

[zae-heeyyy]

Causerie

Summary: You send Arthur a letter. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word Count: 2,185 Tags: Male Masturbation, solo handjob, mentions of oral and unprotected p in v, dirty talk, long distance relationship, high honor Warnings: 18+ MDNI

an: So this came out of nowhere LMAO It's a bit different from what I'm used to, but I ran with it. The mentioned photo was heavily inspired by @sir-walton-goggins's under-the-cut sketch of their OC, Kris Blake. 😍😍😍 I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Causerie: an informal conversation

Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office. An envelope addressed to Tacitus Kilgore in familiar dainty cursive teased him from inside his satchel. The nagging twinge in his gut could only be satiated by his fist wrapped tight around himself in the solitude of his tent. 

He didn’t know how he’d make it through the rest of the day without losing his sanity. Once you’d unknowingly planted the seeds, his thoughts of you grew wild and untamed like the weeds at your feet. He’d never seen something so ridiculous—a woman in her day dress, the lacy hem stained with dirt, trying to repair a loose fence post on her own.

“No man ’round here?” he had asked, holding his hand out for the hammer.

“There is now.”

You beamed, your smile stunning him like a camera flash. Unbeknownst to him, that grin was a brand, marking him as yours for a long time to come. 

Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadicea’s reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet he’d still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in.

An innocent lamb you were not—he was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you must’ve been a witch or a succubus; he’d never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.

And guilty, too. He couldn’t even look at you as he confessed to his life of criminality, finally admitting what he’d come to tell you in the first place. After this job, he was leaving for good.

To his surprise, you didn’t put up a fight—just wished him well—and dammit, that made him want you even more. You didn’t follow him outside—only watched from under the blanket as he said his last goodbye and promise.

“I’ll write t’you.”

Receiving your letters kept his heart ticking and dick aching. What started as a pile of polite notes quickly transformed into a library of erotica. His hands trembled in anticipation as he opened the latest letter. 

Dear Arthur, 

Are you still alive? I hope you haven’t gone and gotten yourself killed. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. A new photographer opened up in town, and I stopped by the studio one evening just before he closed. I may have batted my lashes and stood a little too close when I asked for his help. A special photo of me would be the perfect gift for my dear husband, who was about to be shipped away to war in the Philippines. You should’ve seen how red he got when I dropped my blouse. I tried to sit pretty. Did it work?

A photo? Arthur checked the discarded envelope, searching for the supposed gift. A small photo was still tucked away in the envelope. He took it out and held it up to the lantern to get a good look.

Christ.

You were directly in the center of the camera with a lazy smile on your face. Pearls adorned your neck, and velvet cloth draped over your shoulders, just barely covering those twin humps on your chest. Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographer’s head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the man’s hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.

And for what he was about to do with it, he was going straight to hell. Setting the letter aside, the gunslinger undressed down to his union suit with the ardor of his twenty-year-old self. As he settled back onto the cot, he locked on to your sultry eyes and sighed contently.

I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?  

The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. He’s too old and weathered for this—pining over some girl and touching himself like he’d gotten a second wind of puberty. 

But he couldn’t help it. Even after deafening gun fights and vicious animal attacks, he’d find a letter to re-read, and now he had this picture to accompany his fantasies. His gaze shifted from the photo back to your words on the page. 

We were in this beautiful room in a palace or someplace like that, swimming under blankets. It was far from my humble bed, but it felt like paradise. 

If only you knew, that little bed was his paradise.

Dream you tasted like whiskey and ash and smelled like leather and gunpowder. I don’t think it was too far off from the real thing. We weren’t wearing any clothes, of course, and your head was tucked between my thighs. 

Breath shaking, his hips shifted upward, the memory of your thighs on either side of him overwhelming his senses. Arthur sucked in his bottom lip and didn’t waste any more time undoing the bottom two buttons of his union suit. His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him. 

Oh, Arthur, I could feel your lips on every part of me at once, kissing up my stomach, bosom, arms, thighs, legs, all over. But when you found my lips again, I don’t know how my pounding heart didn’t suck me out of the dream. Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are or how heavenly your hands feel? And your back, Mister Morgan, is like a brick wall. How I wish I could’ve dug my nails into it.

Arthur’s fisted pace quickened as he stifled a groan, trying his very best to keep the sounds of his sin quiet. He urged himself downward into the cot, hoping the friction could mimic the sting of your nails dragging down his spine, but it was no use. Tightening his grip in frustration, he turned his attention back to the photograph of you. He wanted to study your hands, to imprint them in his mind’s eye so he could imagine them scratching his back and pleasuring his cock.

But the photo was too close up, only your face and a peak of your breasts captured at that moment in time. Would he be too brazen to ask for another? To request a pose? Hell—he’d stuff the money in an envelope with a list of the depraved positions he’d like to see you in. Your hands on your bust, legs spread open, on all fours, one with your pretty fingers in your mouth, and a full body shot with just the pearls. Dammit—he’d kill for it. 

But then, at the very end of the list, he’d ask for a respectable one. One of you with your hair pinned up under a fancy hat, dressed in your finest, wearing a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet with your hands folded politely over your lap. One that was sweet and proper. One that he could tuck in his journal, frame, or pin up on the wagon. One that he could take out in broad daylight and pretend, just for a moment, that he really was that war vet admiring a photo of his loving spouse.

His hips moved involuntarily again, jutting up into his fist—the placeholder for the pussy of the woman he’d one day make his wife.

I didn’t plan to get you in bed that night, as unbelievable as that may sound. You were just so damn handsome and so so kind. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know how you’d feel inside me. I hope you don’t see me as just some Jezebel.

“No,” he gasped out. Wet sounds of his strokes accompanied his declaration.

I really did and still do have feelings for you, Arthur. It’s quite scary, actually. Maybe that’s why my dreams about you are so vivid? I realized just how much I cared that night, looking down into your eyes. I don’t take you as the type of man to just give yourself away on a normal day like that, so I hope you feel the same way as me. Did I ever say thank you? Thank you for being such a giver. I have a tendency to take, take, take when I’m on top, but you got payback in my dream. You had me pinned under all of your weight, damn near suffocating me. It was the good type, though. When you pushed into me, I forgot all about it. I never took you for an eager man either, but you were drilling me into those blankets with the fervor of a threshing machine. Are you an eager man, Mister Morgan?

He answered in shallow pants, twisting his fist around his length and rocking his hips. 

I have a curse of waking up right when I’m on the edge, so as you can imagine, I had a wet problem to take care of. My fingers just don’t quite do it like you. I wish we could’ve had more time together. I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and don’t get that in return. Am I right? I’d take care of you, Arthur. I’d keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night.

They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.

I know you’d never ask because you’re too nice, but I’d get on my knees for you and take care of you in that way. I’m sad we never got to try it, that I never got to taste you. The thought gave me the silliest idea. Are you looking at my picture? Imagine that pearl necklace is your spend on my chest.

Jesus—the perverted imagery hit him like a train. He looked at the pretty pearls atop your chest. Goddamn, minx. 

Don’t think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock?

“Yes, darlin.” 

Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes.

Do you imagine it’s me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything you’ve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me?

And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, he’d made a mess of himself on account of you.

Shame crept in as he floated back to reality and stared up at the canvas of his tent. He brought the letter back to his face to read the last paragraph. The least he should do was finish it—dirty old bastard. But when he landed on your words and processed them, he was left with a numb, longing ache in his chest.

If we were together, I’d help clean you up, then maybe we could spend the rest of the night all tangled up in each other. I’m sorry I’m not there to touch you for real, but I hope these letters bring a little light to that hard, lonely life of yours. If I can make you feel good, even from far away, that’s enough for me. I miss you. Any chance you could come see me soon? 

Yours.

Arthur sighed and folded your letter back up neatly, tucking it away in his now hollowed-out copy of Rambles Through Woods and Plains. Though your photo and letter were out of sight, his mind refused to wander from the subject of you.

An assortment of motion pictures flickered in his memory: the way your head tipped in laughter at his dry sarcasm, how you so graciously welcomed him to that sitdown meal, the way you worried about him just as much as he worried about you, and how your words, even from afar, brought him unmeasurable comfort. Making it back across the Upper Montana could be a brutal fight, but he’d outrun the law and take a few bullets if he had to. He’d bare it all to bring you back with him. 

As he relaxed into the cot, another thought drifted by, small and almost weightless like a dandelion seed in the wind: maybe he wouldn’t have to bring you back at all. Perhaps he could stay right there with you.

[alllgator-blood]

I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

[princepinkart]

"Finally. Mine."

I have a lot to share about this drawing. I've detailed all my thought-process under the cut below :]

The idea is simple: I wanted to draw Magolor getting his hands on the crown, but surrounded with symbolisms of regret.

About the color palette:

Purple is the main color of regret in occident

It is complementary with yellow, the crown's color

Everything that is yellow has a connection to the crown

For the crown, it is obvious, its own self

For Magolor's eyes, they are the same yellow as the crown, as if you could see it reflected in his eyes. It represents his obsession, his ambitions, and most of all, the eyes are the soul's window. The moment Magolor put his hands on the crown, his soul wasn't his to control anymore.

The roses and the sand are detailed below

The roses:

From my research, I found that yellow roses were a symbol of regrets and asking for forgiveness in ancient greek mythology

It stuck with me, firstly because the color yellow is important to my drawing

But also because Magolor isn't a character represented by flowers

He's represented through magic or technology (like gears)

However, those roses do not represents him as a character, but his wish to be one day forgiven for all the wrongs the crown forced him to do.

Magolor is a liar and a traitor. In order to show his sincere apology, it had to be something that did not mirror his usal image (like magic and trickery and technology), but instead something that mirrored his feelings.

Thus, yellow roses.

The hourglass:

The hourglass symbolises time, by nature

Here, it represents the unforgivable nature of time. Mistakes cannot be erased, pain cannot be forgotten.

No matter how strong Magolor may regret his actions, he will never be able to take them back.

The last grain of sand falling means that he cannot go back on what he is about to become.

He sealed his fate, touching the crown signed the contract.

Overall composition:

The yellow roses and the crown follow a fibonacci curve

The crown resting at the apex. The most important point of the composition is the crown, because in this picture, Magolor is not the one in charge.

The hourglass is in the exact middle of the frame, disregarding the rest of the composition.

The houglass, time itself, represents balance, something eternal and abstract, perfectly symmetric

A mechanical beauty surrounded by a flower field

The stars of the galaxy in the background.

The very same stars Magolor wished to rule over, with the power of the crown.

He may have looked so close to accomplishing his ambition, however, much like the stars, there were still a billion miles more to go.

And lastly, the title:

"Finally. Mine." is meant to be ironic. Because there wasn't a single instant where the crown was his. As I said multiple times already, he is the one bowing to the crown.

Ok that's all I had say about what I thought about when creating this piece!!! XD

Now let me show you how I turned a quick doodle on a notebook into the finished drawing!!!

It started with simple notes I took while at work today, with a quick thumbnail.

Did a quick sketch on my pc as soon as I got back home, just to have a rough idea of the composition with all the elements

I went over everything now that I had the composition in order to have a better sense of proportions and perspective

I cleaned the lines. Those roses were so tedious to draw XD Originaly I wanted to do a very clean, sharp line art, but I changed my mind and settled with this as my line art

I added the flat colors. I didn't use a palette from somewhere, I went with my gut feeling all the way through XD I really like how Magolor's colors turned out!

And finally, the finished product. Added more vibrance to the yellow, added the light rays and the details in Magolor's eyes.

Extras of the finished drawing with the fibonacci curve on top of it :D

A job well done if you ask me :]

[konansock]

Mod Update: Club & Business Activity Expanded

Sul Sul, Simmers! Sorry for taking so long to update this mod, I hereby announce that my Custom Club Activity Project is now officially renamed to Club & Business Activity Expanded.

In the new version, not only is all the activities updated to be compatible with new update, a lot of new activities were added specifically for Small Business - Like Tend Market Stalls, Offer Occult Training, and Tend Gravesite!

You can have a detailed list of all the activities and  whether they're available as Club Activities, Small Business Customers or Small Business Employees  here.

Base Game: View Aquarium, Attend to Babies, Back Float, Bake and Eat Cake, Bake Cake, Bake Cupcake, Charity, Complain, Cowplant, Cowplant's Cake, Critique, Critique Art, Cupcakes, Dig for Treasure, Friendly Ghost, Ask Future Cube, Game Livestream, Gossip, Haunting Ghost, Open Holiday Cracker, Do Erratic Things, Lounge on Chairs, Brag, Play with Molding Clay, Mourn the Dead, Parent-Kid Activities, Write to Pen Pal, Take Photos, Take Photos, Take Photo for Others, Sell Art, Use Social Network, Talk about Vampires, Tell Stories, Tip Performers, Care for Toddlers, Care for Infants, Help with Homework, Rummage Trash, WooHoo, Try for Baby, Practice Typing, Use Toilet, Witness Death, Fruit Punch Fountain, Use Vending Machine.

Cross-Pack: Care For Birds, Play with Birds, Be Mean to Birds, Order Street Food, Tend Market Stalls, Give Gifts, Go Shopping, Window Shopping, Listen to Stories, Offer Makeover, Toy with Motives, Influence Other Sims, Create Negative Emotions, Spread Positive Emotions, Freeze, Mind Control, Transform Objects and Sims, Play with Animals, Be Mean to Animals, Make a Wish at the Well, Offer Occult Training, Request Occult Training.

Cats & Dogs: Be Mean to Pets, Train Pets, Use Vet Objects, Craft Pet Treats.

City Living: Ask for Bribe, Ask for Donation, Bubble Bottle, Critique Food, Critique Performances, Deface Murals, Fireworks, Attend Festivals, Attend The Flea Market, Attend The Romance Festival, Try To Find Love At The Romance Festival, Attend Geekcon, Attend Spice Festival, Attend Humor & Hijinks Festival, Join Jokesters at Humor & Hijinks Festival, Join Pranksters at Humor & Hijinks Festival, Be Friendly to Talking Toilets, Be Mean to Talking Toilets, Have Fun with Talking Toilets, Sabotage Talking Toilets, Paint Murals, Haggle, Sing Karaoke, Watch Living Statue, Collect and Trade Posters, Collect and Trade Snow Globes, Protest, Play with Hand Sparklers, Play Console Game, Watch Speech.

Cool Kitchen: Make and Eat Ice Cream, Make Ice Cream.

Cottage Living: Collect Farm Products

Dine Out: Color Placemat, Discuss Food

Discover University: Grade Homework, Ride Bikes, Play Ping Pong, Play Juice Pong, Use Keg Stand, Do University Coursework, Write Research Papers, Contribute Knowledge

Eco Lifestyle: Craft Candles, Drink Juice Fizzing Products, Recycle and Compost, Dumpster Dive, Play in Acid Rain, Sketch Blueprint

For Rent: Snoop On Others, Clean Mold, Spread Spores, Spread Mold, Cook Tomarani Cuisine

Get Famous: Perform Scenes, Flaunt Fame, Flaunt Wealth, Interact with Fans, Play in Money Pile, Use Streaming Drones

Get To Work: Contact Aliens, Dance with Mannequin

Growing Together: Play on Treehouse, play in Splash Pad, have Pillow Fights.

Horse Ranch: Ride Horses, Be Friendly to Horse, Be Mean to Horse, Use Horse Obstacles, Harvest Prairie Grass

High School Year: Ride Pier Attractions, Make and Eat Ice Cream, Drink Boba Tea, Use Photo Booth.

Home Chef Hustle: Bake Pizza, Make Waffles, Make Prepped Ingredients

Island Living: Ride Aqua-Zips, Collect Seashells, Go Sailing, Sand Activities, Play with Dolphin, Sunbathe, Make and Drink Kava, Make Kava.

Laundry Day: Watch Laundry

Life & Death: Tend Gravesite

Movie Hangout: Discuss Movies

My First Pet: Play with Rodents, Be Friendly to Rodents, Be Mean to Rodents, Study Rodents, Clean Rodent Cage

My Wedding Stories: Collect Message in a Bottle, Prepare for Wedding

Outdoor Retreat: Roast Food on Campfires, Use Tents, Brew Herbalism Potions.

Paranormal: Explore the Haunted House

Parenthood: Show Gross Manners, Make a Mess, Play with Doctor Playset, Work on School Project Carefully, Work on School Project Sloppily, Shout Forbidden Words, Write Private Journals

Realm of Magic: Have Magic Duels, Set Fire, Offer Magic Training, Read Magic Tomes

Seasons: Bond with Bees, Disturb Bees, Give Romantic Gifts, Give Mean Gifts, Play in Kiddie Pool, Rake Leaves and Shovel Snow

Snowy Escape: Attend Light Festivals, Attend Youth Festivals, Buy Simmi Capsules, Eat Hotpot

Spa Day: Soak Feet, Get Foot Massage, Get Body Massage, Polish Nails, Ask for Manicure and Pedicure, Take Soak Baths, Relax in Sauna, Use Face Masks

Spooky: Carve Pumpkins

Strangerville: Hail to Mother! Use Listening Device, Military Spar, Do Military Training

Vampires: Dark Meditation, Vampire Duel, Have Vampiric Training

Vintage Glamour: Use Vanity Table, Play with Makeup, Study Globe

Werewolves: Werewolf Spar, Hunt for Food, Scavenge for Relics, Mark Territory

DOWNLOAD HERE.

Translation update: @kimikosoma created the French update for my Additional Bucket List mod, check it out here! https://www.curseforge.com/sims4/mods/mod-additional-bucket-list-skills-par-rex-trad-fr

[bullet-prooflove]

You Should See Me In A Crown: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood

Companion piece to:

The Choice - In the wake of his brother's suicide John goes against his parents' wishes and makes a choice about his residency.

Prequel to:

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

Daywalker - You and John discuss something that could cause a big change in your relationship.

John didn’t know his brother Michael was an artist, not until he finds the portraits he painted in the attic of the house he’s cleaning out. Their stunning, bold, contemporary pieces that reflect a side of Michael he never knew existed until this moment. He studies the dates on the back, organising them into order and discovers the painting stopped just shy of his 18th birthday.

He understands the significance. His parents had forced Michael to attend business school, he’d spent his evenings and weekends shadowing their father in his own company. There had been no time, no energy for his passions.

He sets them aside the pocket sketch book he found downstairs in the office and takes them with him to Pittsburgh when he moves a week later for his residency. He gives them pride of place in his living room above the battered sofa in his townhouse apartment he rents only a couple of blocks away from the hospital.

It’s later that night he finds himself flicking through the sketchbook. After business school Michael’s taste had became monochrome it seems, all clean lines and geometric shapes. John flicks to the last image he ever drew, dated the week before his death.

It’s five triangles, each with their own unique personalisation. Michael’s written what they represent in a margin he’s created.

Mind, body, spirit, soul and heart.

The characters for John’s Chinese name are written in the bottom left corner and he realises that in his final days, his brother’s thoughts were of him.

The next day he takes it to the tattoo shop on the corner and books out their afternoon slot. He finds himself straddling the tattooist’s chair, his shirt off, waiting for them to print out the stencil of the design.

“First one?” A voice asks and he raises his eyes to meet those of the girl sitting across from him. She’s seated in the same position as he is, her chin resting on her forearms as the artist inks a design between her shoulder blades. She wearing a black sports bra that fits her just right over black running leggings, her tied up into a messy bun.

It takes John a minute to speak because she’s just so fucking pretty.

“Yea.” He says, his voice rough as he watches the artist dip the needle into the gold ink cup. “What about you?”

“My third.” She says, her gaze locked on his with an intensity he admires. “I won my first belt last night so I’m commemorating the occasion.”

“Belt?” He questions, drinking in her physique. Small, athletic. He would have pegged her as a runner or a swimmer, not the kind of girl ready to throw down.

“I’m an amateur boxer.” She informs him with a smile he’s sure lights up the whole city of Pittsburgh.

“So a certified badass then.” He complements, making her laugh before he gestures to her tattoo that’s now being wiped down by the artist. “You got any advice for a first timer?”

“How long have they recommended?” She asks as the cellophane is placed over the fresh ink, the medical tape fixing it into place.

“Three hours.” John tells her as she thanks the artist before raising to her feet.

“You need snacks.” She informs him, reaching for the light, powder blue shirt she’d left hanging up alongside her purse and folding it over her arm. “Getting a tattoo can create a stress response which expands energy and can cause your blood sugar to drop. It can make you faint. Did you bring any?”

He shake his head, feeling like an idiot.

“Don’t worry, I got you covered.” She says kindly as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of Peanut M&M and a bottle of coke. She places them on the stool beside him. “Trust me these will stop you feeling lightheaded.”

“Thanks.” He says before she turns around to show him the tattoo she’s just had etched into her skin.

It’s a stunning piece of artwork. A simple gold crown with sharp points and a delicate flourish, it looks both regal and dangerous. Perfect for the woman standing in front of him.

“How does it look?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder.

“Like you’re a fucking queen.” He tells her and she gives him that smile again before she begins to tug on her shirt.

“Just what I wanted to hear.” She says, heading towards the counter to pay her bill. “Good luck with that tattoo…”

“John.” He supplies, the edges of his mouth tipping up as she tucks an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, while swiping her card.

“Cici.” She says, collecting her receipt. “Maybe I’ll see you around soon sometime.”

“Yea.” He says, the bell above the door jingling as she lets herself out. “I’m sure you will.”

Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Stormlight Characters in the Middle Seat Next to You on a Budget Airline.

As requested by anon. :)

1. Kaladin

Cons: His legs are so long. His hair is so luxurious. His shoulders are so broad. This large, beautiful man is not trying to be in your space, but the budget airline seat cannot contain him. Pros: You started what you thought was an idle conversation, but by the end of your flight, he had diagnosed your chronic pain and become your therapist??

2. Shallan

Pros: Well, she's more of a regular-sized human and she's friendly but quiet. She seems to just want to sketch the whole flight, so no complaints! Cons: Why does she keep staring directly at a space across the plane and sketching the creepiest symbol-headed creatures you've ever seen with her eyes vaguely glazed over like she doesn't even know she's doing it holy shit is this a Twilight Zone situation where there are invisible gremlin monsters on this plane that only she can see and is it your imagination or do you hear humming from somewhere

3. Adolin

Cons: Listen, this is a budget airline, and this guy seems to think it's a fancy spa?? He's got the slippers, the posh eye mask, the luxurious travel pillow, some really nice face creams, and he seems to be video chatting with a girl even though the internet on the plane doesn't even work. Frankly, you're jealous and grouchy about it. Pros: Okay, he actually seems really sweet and he gave you some of his way-too-nice-for-an-airplane snacks. You take it all back; this guy is awesome.

4. Szeth

Pros: He is so still. So quiet. Almost folded in on himself. Barely...breathing? Honestly, you keep forgetting the middle seat is occupied, and how rare is that! Cons: You just...you think you'd feel better if he just blinked. Just once. Please.

5. Lift

Cons: You had to sigh just a little when a little kid plopped down next to you. Also, she goes to the bathroom every five minutes, and comes back with food every time. You think she might be robbing people. Pros: She complimented your butt quite sincerely. You've always been kinda self-conscious about your butt! But apparently yours is the "second best she's ever seen." Feels nice.

6. Jasnah

Pros: Like, is it possible for someone to just be really good at flying? She came in, expertly stowed her luggage, sat down elegantly, did her seatbelt, used a wipe to clean up the tray table and surrounding area, and immediately starting reading some thick tome. Do you have a crush on her? You might have a crush on her. Cons: She glanced at the book you're reading, and you know she judged you for it.

7. Wit

Cons: Does this guy EVER stop talking? Pros: Okay, actually, you found him kind of annoying at first, but that story he told you about the temple and the duck might have healed years of trauma? Did you just realize that you don't have to forgive your mom and that's okay?

8. Renarin

Pros: He sat down and you were like, "Okay. Cute nerd. I dig it." Cons: You just wish he wouldn't scrawl foreboding-seeming numerals on the back of the airline chair in front of him. Is it counting down to...just before the plane lands? What does it mean???

9. Amarem

Cons: He came in and was IMMEDIATELY like, "I am taller than you and so I should have your seat." And then he just...waited? Like he thought you'd just comply??? Pros: He seems intent on pretending that never happened. Fine by you. That guy seems like an asshole.

10. Zahel

Pros: He falls asleep, like, immediately and doesn't stir for the entire flight. Cons: He's just kinda stinky.

11. Dalinar

Cons: He sits down and, unprompted, says something like, "In my youth I would always battle to occupy every armrest but now, after reading The Way of Planes, I have realized that it is the journey, not the armrests, that matter, so you can have them" and then you're like, "Dude, the person in the middle seat gets the armrests that's just common courtesy" and then he looks at you and you look at him and it's vaguely awkward the whole flight and nobody uses the armrests. Pros: Actually, after a while you do take the armrest and the tension goes down a lot.

12. Taravangian

Pros: He just kinda seems like a nice old man, you know? Kinda confused about stuff, but harmless enough. Cons: He falls asleep partway through and droops his head onto your shoulder and drools a bit and you know you sound ridiculous but it feels somehow calculated. Intentional. Evil.

13. Sebarial

Cons: The very second beverage service starts he's all, "Bring me a BOTTLE of wine" and you're like, "Oh no. It's one of those dudes who gets way too drunk on planes!" Pros: You know? This guy actually seems pretty jolly and chill. You catch yourself thinking, "I wish I could pretend he was my uncle." You're not sure where that came from.

14. Rock

Pros: He scoffs at the provided airline snacks and gets out this thermos and gives you the best damn soup you've ever had in your life. Cons: He's just a large, warm man. Very large. Very warm. Not his fault, of course, but now YOU are very warm.

15. Elhokar

Cons: Every time there is plane turbulence, he mutters something about how it's the assassins coming to finish the job. Poor dude must be really scared of flying. Pros: You feel a warm, parental feeling growing in you as you look at this sad, scared man. Maybe your mom was right. Maybe you WOULD be good with kids.

16. Eshonai

Pros: This lady is, just, SO excited to be traveling that it can't help but make YOU excited to travel. Like, you always thought plane travel sucked, especially budget airline travel, be she is so delighted by everything that you find yourself thinking, "You know, it IS pretty amazing that we're soaring through the sky right now traveling to a new land." Cons: Cons? No cons. You wish you could ALWAYS see flying through this woman's eyes.

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[hinamie]

the sci-fi x factor wolf is winning

inside me there are two wolves one says four armed sukuna the other says ivantill alien stage

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

unclean // long distance scout!Levi x Reader

[cw: hurt/comfort, canon-typical gore, mental health, angst]

Levi narrows his eyes as he scrubs the rough bar of soap between his palms. The scummy bubbles at the bottom of the bucket are tinged a pale, visceral pink in the fading twilight.

He swallows down bile at the sight of it, disgusted by the way the gore clings to him, burrowed into the lines on his hands and the beds of his nails.

It’s filthy. There’s no running water in a camp this far outside the walls, so he fills and refills the bucket whenever it gets too murky for him to stand. He feels briefly guilty for the waste of so much clean water before disgust blots it out.

Finally, the droplets from his scoured hands run clear. The tightness in his chest loosens, just barely. Enough to take a full breath. His hands burn from the shitty ration soap, but it’s better than leaving them unclean.

Levi staggers into his tent and pulls the cloth flap tightly shut. There, in the privacy of darkness, he permits himself to collapse. He digs his nails into his forearm to keep from crying.

He still feels tainted. He smells a phantom stench of the battlefield rising from his hair, his clothes, even though he’s cleaned them. He can still feel the stomach-churning steam of fallen Titans against his face.

He wants to soak himself in scalding water, wants to slough off layers of himself until he reaches something that has never been stained with blood. But Levi is no longer sure that there is anything left within him that isn’t contaminated, if there ever even was.

After all, he’s seen enough of his comrades ripped apart, enough of his friends turned into unrecognizable meat. There’s nothing sacred hiding underneath their skin. Why would he be any different?

Levi spreads out his bedroll carefully, making sure that the interior doesn’t touch the ground. He always packs and unpacks it the same way, so one half remains pristine. It gives him a little comfort.

He mechanically lights a lantern, running on routine. He rifles through his pack and comes up with your picture. You had asked Jean to make a sketch of you, and Levi begrudgingly admitted that it was a very good likeness. He’s taken it with him on every mission since you gave it to him.

With your picture beside his pillow, Levi relaxes another fraction. He’s survived today, and more importantly, so did his squad. He tries to focus on that and not the sting of his hands, scrubbed raw.

As he moves to dim the lantern, his eyes catch on a flash of metal in his pack. Metal that shouldn’t be there. Levi swears under his breath as he lifts out the unfamiliar object, preparing for anything.

Almost anything, that is. He doesn’t expect a tiny metal tin, certainly doesn’t expect the paper covered in your handwriting folded around it. He unwraps it carefully and holds it up to the light.

My love,

I wish I could be there with you. Know that you never leave my thoughts. And because I have the privilege of knowing you well, I fear that you are suffering more than you admit.

There is nothing that could ever taint you in my eyes. No amount of filth that I would not gladly wash clean, knowing you were beneath it.

Please don’t be annoyed that I spent money on this- I’d been saving and thought there could be no better purpose. I hope it brings you the comfort that I cannot while you’re beyond the walls.

Come home to me soon, my Levi.

The words blur with tears before he reaches the end, but Levi doesn’t let them fall. At least, not until he opens the tin and sees that it is full of lotion, not the tallow you rub into his skin when it cracks and bleeds on bad days, but real lotion from the pompous merchants in the inner walls.

It’s a ridiculous luxury, made more ridiculous by its place here in the wilderness, in a soldier’s tent. But it smells like you, and though he can hardly bear to disturb the pristine surface, it feels like heaven as he hesitantly smears it across his hand.

It soothes the pain instantly. You must have known it would. That’s what makes him cry at last- the burden and the blessing of being known, being loved all the more for the knowing.

He uses an entire precious layer of the lotion on his hands then extinguishes the lantern and curls onto his blanket. He holds his hands over his face and breathes you in, allowing peace to settle warily on his aching chest.

[osiiiris]

2025 is Meliora’s 10th anniversary and I’m not going to be quiet about it.

Recently, I’ve been focusing a lot (…again 😅) on the cultural movements that inspired the entire Meliora era, especially Futurism.

Knowing from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis II that Terzo studied the Futurist manifestos during his formative years in Krakow (most likely Marinetti’s), I like to believe that the main inspiration for Meliora’s aesthetic came from the architectural drawings of Antonio Sant’Elia. The parallels between Filippo Tommaso Marinetti and Antonio Sant’Elia with Terzo and Necropolitus are quite evident:

(...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave.

BP Necropolitus

We had stayed up all night, my friends and I, under hanging mosque lamps with domes of filigreed brass, domes starred like our spirits, shining like them with the prisoned radiance of electric hearts. (…) Alone with stokers feeding the hellish fires of great ships, alone with the black spectres who grope in the red-hot bellies of locomotives launched on their crazy courses, alone with drunkards reeling like wounded birds along the city walls.

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

Easy to imagine Terzo and Necropolitus—half stoned, half dazed, and inexorably intoxicated by a party that had been going on for hours—retracing, for the hundredth time, the highlights of the Futurist Manifestos they had read over and over, fervently discussing the future and the modernity they dreamed of bringing with his papacy.

Sant’Elia was a contemporary of Marinetti, fathers of the Futurist movement, and his Manifesto for Futurist architecture shares much of Terzo’s vision for Meliora, the city he created.

Each generation will have to build its own cities. Sant’Elia said.

that, just as the ancients drew their inspiration from natural elements, we – materially and spiritually artificial – must find our inspiration in the new mechanical world we have created, and our architecture must be its most beautiful expression, its most complete synthesis, its most effective integration; (…) by architecture, I mean the effort to freely and audaciously harmonise man with his environment, that is, to make the material world a direct projection of the spiritual world; 

A. Sant’Elia - Manifesto of Futurist architecture

(...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years.

BP Necropolitus

The Futurist movement embraced all forms of art, from painting and sculpture to architecture, music, and literature. It was characterized by a burning hatred for the past, which they wished to destroy, and a glorification of machinery, new technologies (we’re talking about first 20 years of 900), dynamism, speed, modernity, and rebellion. Nothing was meant to stay still, everything had to move, transform, evolve… very much in line with what Terzo seemed to believe.

But there was a downside. The original Italian Futurism became closely tied to fascism. It also celebrated violence and war, seen as tools to “clean up” and make space for the new. Most of the founding artists died in a war (World War I) that they had glorified and willingly taken part in. And when the dictator fell, so did the Futurist movement.

The lives of these artists were brief, but they remained true to their ideals, for better or worse, from beginning to end.

Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl defiance to the stars!

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

At this point, I’d like to explore the association between the shapes in Futurist painting and the shapes of Terzo’s face paint, slipping swiftly into Cubism and Piet Mondrian’s simplification of form as a parallel to Terzo’s geometric, minimalist design… but that’s a story for another time.

[desultory-novice]

...Did everyone Read The Announcement Post Very Carefully?

That's right. Kirby of the Stars: The Magic Crystal and The Mysterious Maze was my "A.P.R.I.L. F.O.O.L.S" joke! Sorry! XD

It started at the end of January when I remembered that I'd made a joke grouping of the four Dream Friends that get consistently left out of the novels: Marx, Adeleine, Ribbon, and Dark Meta Knight. I wanted to do something special for them and, partly inspired by Jojo's roleswap cover emulating the FL novels, I thought to make a fake novel cover just for MY forgotten favorites! Gryll and the Fairy Queen are a bonus, because if I was doing this, I would go all out!

I took a huge amount of reference photos, both from the novels and from Tau and Poto's "Find Kirby" books (the only place they've ever drawn Gryll! The Fairy Queen I referenced from Wave 2's ending picture in Star Allies - that's why her crown looks slightly different. Speaking of, Ripple Star Castle (?) is WEIRD looking, y'all!)

At ~40 hours~ of sketching, drawing, painting, refining, trying to get those distinctive Kirby novel touches right (don't get me started on emulating the cover's texture. I was a dumb bunny and remade it by HAND out of a clean scrap about the size of Kirby's body!) this was an immense challenge and the most time I’ve ever put into any illustration, but it was also a huge labor of love for Kirby and its cast!

For what it's worth, I actually did come up with a full on "plot" for this fake novel of mine! (And yes, it was a big stretch to combine Kirby 64 with Amazing Mirror, Milky Way Wishes, and Star Stacker!!)

Here is the "chapter list" (in English and Japanese!)

1 / "Marx the Magician Comes to Town!" 魔法使いマルクがやってきたのサ！

2 / "Into The Mysterious Mirror Maze" いざ！不思議なミラー迷宮へ

3/ "Ribbon The Fairy and The Missing Crystal" 妖精リボンちゃんと失われたクリスタル

4 / "Moving Reflections?! The Maze's Secret!" 動く反映？！迷宮の秘密！

5 / "Adeleine and The Path Leading Out" アドレーヌと出口への道

6 / "Oh No! The Jumbled Dimensions!" 大変！バラバラの次元回路！

7 / "Marx's Mocking Laughter?!" マルクの嘲笑？！

8 / "Catch That Clown!" あの道化師を捕まえろ！

9 / "A Day Packed Full of Delights" 楽しい満喫な一日

-

In the "backstory" Marx attempted to steal/use the large Crystal from Ripple Star ("It's just a prank, bro!") but something happened (maybe the Queen did something) and the Crystal split into shards.

So Marx makes up a fake show and comes to Popstar to dupe all the simpletons there (his words, not mine) to do the bothersome task of gathering all the shards for him to fix the crystal while he sits back and waits, disguising this arduous task as a "fun game."

Kirby and the rest fall for it and start to do Marx's dirty work, going into the mirror maze (related to the Mirror World?) But there, Kirby meets the hardworking fairy, Ribbon, who is working all on her own to try and get the crystals back before Marx can. (Or, if Marx duped the folks of Ripple Star that he'd fix his own mess, he then trapped Ribbon in the maze once they were out of sight!) But so far, she has failed to convince any of his "guests" that she is anything other than a clever attraction. Kirby believes her though and offers his help!

I hadn't fully figured out how the mirror worlders were connected, but I thought it might have been possible they were working with Ripple Star/the good guys (but seemed to be "bad" because they were "scaring" the carnival attendees) or maybe, DMK and Shadow Kirby (who I was originally going to put in the cover as well but it got too crowded for him) were there as guardians to warn everyone to stop messing around with powers they don't understand.

Bandee spends most of his time in the novel outside the maze (to skirt any questions of a mirror Bandanna Waddle Dee) waiting for everyone alongside Marx, where he will eventually figure the jester's game and goes into the maze to warn Kirby and friends. Just as the group seems lost, they will encounter Adeleine, who will be all big sister like and help guide the kids to the exit (using the never fail maze escape strategy of "keep your hand on the right-hand wall")

However, just as things seem to be going well, Marx has used what pieces of the crystal the Popstarians have collected for him to pull his prank, and the gang find themselves lost not in the maze, but in a cartoonish jumble of dimensions!! (Picture each door you go through, whether it's to the kitchen or the castle, leading you to an entirely different planet!) It's amidst this wacky dimensional comedy, trying to grab Marx to get him to Cut! It! Out! that they meet Gryll, who knows Marx well and gives the gang a tip to lure him out (probably involving them all NOT panicking and instead sitting down amidst the chaos and enjoying a simple Adeleine-sponsored picnic, pretending like they're having a great time without him.)

They defeat Marx once he shows up to confront them, complaining they aren't "playing along right" and Gryll takes the battered, bruised jester back for "remedial magic training" or something equally embarrassing for Marx. Back home at last, they find it's sunset now and Marx's One Day Carnival (now being run by the Waddle Dees, who just can't help from helping out) is coming to an end!

However, Kirby, Bandee, Meta Knight, and King Dedede invite Ribbon (and Adeleine and the Mirror Worlders) to enjoy the last hours of the carnival with them before bidding everyone goodbye.

They promise to remain friends, however!

-

Speaking of friends...

I'm taking a long break from fandom to tackle some new things and take on a new direction in my life. As such, I have taken down all my old work from this blog to get some much needed emotional distance from certain things. That said, I don't require anyone who reblogged any of it in the past to delete those reblogs, nor do you have to cease sharing/distributing things of mine. Just know that if you ask questions, I probably won't be here to answer them.

My love for Kirby and its cast will continue, despite this change. And I do hope the fandom will continue to bloom in my absence.

To everyone who left me such beautiful messages on my previous post, thank you so, so much. I won't forget you all. I hope if our paths cross again, it will be as friends once more. And if not...rest assured that you will forever be a part of my precious memories.

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 7: 65 Days

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Sorry for the delay on this chapter!! My laptop broke, so that kinda put writing to a halt for a bit. We're back in business, though!

ALSO!! In incredible and crazy news! @nervousandaggressive made fanart for this fic?!?!?! Which is so cool and I am so incredibly honored that my writing inspired it. I straight up cried when I got the notification, because this is genuinely the coolest thing ever. Links below for the art, and check out their page for their other work :)

Vik in his party outfit from last chapter

And some Vik + Rio sketches!!!

Read on AO3

When you woke in the morning, you told yourself that the memories of last night had just been a dream, the type that turned into a nightmare right before waking up. The ache in your jaw and Lest’s empty bed told you otherwise. Viktor’s heavy coat was still wrapped tightly around you, holding in an unnecessary amount of body heat. You shifted uncomfortably, sitting up on your forearms with a groan. You felt dirty, in the same sweat soaked clothes as last night, makeup smeared around your eyes, and teeth unbrushed. Which, considering the service you had provided last night, was particularly uncomfortable. 

You slid off the bed. You hadn’t felt drunk when walking home last night, but a wave of nausea and the way your legs shook told you that your body was still struggling against the alcohol in your system. You steadied yourself against the bed, waiting out the feeling. When you were sure you’d be able to walk without throwing up Red Bull and vodka, you pulled the blinds shut and began to peel off last night's layers. 

You shrugged out of his coat, inspecting it for any rogue makeup or glitter you may have left on it. Luckily it stayed clean while you slept. During your examination, you did find ‘V. Sýkora’ stitched sweetly into the back of the collar, just above the flannel lining. The red thread was faded and fraying on some of the letters, worn in with the jacket over time. You pressed the collar to your nose, breathing in the scent of him. It was stronger on this than on either of the shirts you had stolen from him, you wished you could live in it forever. He wore this coat nearly every day though, he'd want it back. He probably wanted his t-shirts back, too. Tears pricked your eyes, not at the idea of giving him back his clothes, but at how much of a mess you had let this become.

You sighed, draping the coat over the back of your desk chair and continuing to get undressed. You had fallen asleep fully dressed, only managing to kick your sneakers off before climbing into bed. The tall socks had left itchy red lines around your thighs and the grass stains on the knees reached your skin. You tossed them, along with the rest of your clothes, into your laundry bag before heading to the shower where you were sure to spend most of your time overthinking.

-----

Before your hair even had time to dry, you were hesitating in front of Sky’s door. Every time you were about to step foot onto her cutesy welcome mat, a fresh rush of cowardice would send you reeling back down the hall. You stood there, fine-tuning the apology you had written in the shower for a few more seconds before walking back to the door. You did this what felt like a dozen times. 

You did this until Sky’s door opened on its own as you retreated once again. You gasped and spun around, expecting to see Sky heading out to enjoy her Saturday. Instead you were met with the sight of Viktor in the open door frame. He furrowed his eyebrows, taking you in for a moment before glancing over his shoulder and shutting the door behind him. He took a hesitant step, fist tight around the handle of his cane. His face held the same slight tension as when he was pouring over a new concept in class he didn’t quite understand yet. He opened his mouth, words hanging just behind his teeth, but decided against it. You couldn’t speak to him. Not right now, and to some degree he could tell. He let out a short, shaking breath and walked past you without a word. 

That was enough to force you to Sky’s door, giving a sharp knock before you could back down. Your fists were balled at your sides in an effort to keep you from picking at the skin around your nails. Instead you opted to dig the tips of your nails into the palm of your hands, hard enough to leave marks. When Sky opened the door a tired question of Viktor’s name was halfway out of her mouth, falling short when she saw it was you instead.

“Oh,” She eyed you with a tired hesitation. 

“Hey,” You said, curling your shoulders in on yourself and slouching, hoping to ease any idea that you came here in anger, “Could we…could I talk to you?”

She nodded, still watching you cautiously as she let you into her room. Her bed was unmade and she was still in her PJs. Viktor must have woken her up. Part of you felt bad for interrupting her morning, but this had to happen now or you knew you’d never do it.

“What’s up?” Sky shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arms were crossed over her stomach protectively, fingers yanking at a loose thread on her sweatshirt.

“Sky I…” Your throat closed up, the apology speech you had rehearsed on the walk to her dorm room drying to a crisp on your tongue.

“Listen, It’s fine,” She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head as she tried to brush you off, “Lest shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t need to be a thing.”

“It already is a thing,” You pointed out, nails back to digging in your skin, “Just…give me a second, okay.”

She sighed, looking at you the same way someone would look at a wet stray cat, with pity and disgust.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” She said, turning to the counter under the window behind her. Two used mugs already sat there, she must have offered Viktor the same thing.

“Yes please,” Having something in your hand would make this easier.

Sky pulled out a fresh mug, dropping a teabag in as she started the kettle up. You followed her lead as she took a seat in her desk chair. The other one already angled towards her, where Viktor had been only minutes ago. The water only took a few seconds to boil, already warm from earlier, and she stayed sitting as she reached over to fill the mugs. You took the one she slid towards you, holding it tightly. Letting the hot water reach through the ceramic to burn your palms. She watched you expectantly, waiting for you to say what you came here to say.

You took a heavy breath, hoping you didn’t look too pitiful when you told her, “I’m so sorry, Sky.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. Letting you go on.

“I’ve been a horrible friend,,” You tried to organize your thoughts from earlier, “and I don’t…I don’t expect to be forgiven. I just need you to know that I know. I know how I’ve been acting. I know I’ve been childish and nasty. I knew you liked him, I knew you were talking to him first, and I still crossed that line. I tried to lie to myself and say it didn’t matter, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but we both know that’s not true…” 

You let out a shaky breath, realizing your apology was on the verge of becoming a jumbled mess, “And I’m so so sorry. If I could go back and undo it all, I would…but I can’t. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Sky stared into her mug. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she conjured up a response.

“Viktor turned me down,” She told you, meeting your eyes and giving a sad laugh, “Just now. Part of me knew he would when I asked him out, but when he didn’t give me an answer right away, I just…hoped I guess. I shouldn’t have, I mean, he’s obsessed with you. I don’t think everyone else sees it yet, but for months I’ve been watching him watch you.”

“Sky I-” You shook your head, trying to protest, but she raised a hand to stop you.

“C’mon, I know you know,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes at you, “How couldn’t you? It honestly baffles me that you won’t just date him, like fucking around with him at parties and spending all your time with him isn’t practically the same thing.”

You tried to hide the way her words made you flinch. You wondered if the rest of your friends could see what was going on. If you were really this obvious. 

“I never thought you’d be…mean?” She said the word like it wasn’t quite the right descriptor, “To me. Despite all of it. Despite the fact that I am certainly not a threat to whatever it is you want from him. Then last night you went out of your way to get what you wanted, because you always have to get what you want.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, she didn’t let you.

“Don’t pretend like it wasn’t on purpose. I saw you.” She said, leaning forward in her seat, “I saw you last night, watching us. The second you decided he was giving me too much attention, you took him back, blew him in the backyard to remind him who he really wanted.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes, blinking them back. Urging them not to fall. It was an odd feeling, to be scolded by the kindest person you knew. It was embarrassing.

Sky gave an exhausted sigh, “But, at some point I think I moved on without realizing it. I expected it to hurt when he told me no. I expected to be a mess, the kind that can only be cleaned up by romcoms and a pint of ice cream. But, when he gave me his answer, I didn’t care. I’m glad he apologized for being a dick,” She laughed softly, “But I’m also glad he didn’t decide that he wanted to be with me all of the sudden, because that's not what I want anymore.”

You stared down at the undrank tea in your hand. Still hot, but going cold as you tried to piece together what she was saying.

“Basically,” She huffed, “I just don’t give a fuck anymore. You and Viktor can do whatever the hell you want. Fuck him, marry him, kill him for all I care,” She snorted a laugh, you could feel the tension ebbing away, “I don’t want him. All I want is for everything to go back to the way it was. I miss hanging out with you without feeling like you want to push me into traffic.”

Her tone was joking, but the idea that she had been able to sense the misplaced animosity you harbored was rough.

“I…okay,” You nodded, setting the tea to the side, “So we’re good?”

“Mostly,” She said, as you both stood up, she let you pull her into a hug, her curly hair tickling your cheek as she decided to reciprocate, holding you close to her. She laughed against your shoulder, “You and him are still dickheads, though, and you’re lucky I’m not vindictive.”

You laughed, “I know. I’m glad you're being…cool about this. But I want you to know I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive me. I do really love you, Sky, I should never have let myself act like that.”

She pulled away, hands on your arms, “Do me a favor and work on that jealousy thing, yeah? You’re too pretty to act like that, really.”

“Okay, mom,” You laughed, “Can I get you lunch today? I know you said we’re good, but I’m still willing to buy your forgiveness.”

“Not today,” She said, squeezing your arm and stepping back, “Me and Lest have plans, but next time we get drinks, it's on you.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of Lest. She had spent the night here as far as you knew. She must have been heading back to the dorm as you were on your way here. Sky was quick to forgive, even if you didn’t deserve it. Lest, on the other hand, was going to be a wild card. She was most likely still carrying all the rage that Sky refused to cling on to. You wondered if she’d still be in the room when you got back. You weren’t sure if you wanted her to be or not.

On the way out, you grabbed Viktor’s jacket from a coat closet that probably hadn’t been used since the dorm had been built over half a century ago. You had hid it there as you came into the building, knowing that wearing his coat to talk to Sky would’ve been a bad look. You realized you should have told Viktor to grab it on his way out. It’d be fine. You were heading to his house anyways, your truck was still parked in his driveway. If you were lucky you’d be able to drop his coat off and snag your keys without running into him.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. It was that you had no idea what to say to him. You had created this mess of friends and feelings and bad decisions, and it was going to take more than one conversation with Sky to smooth it all over completely.  You didn’t bother zipping up the coat as you stepped outside. You let the cold air slither in along your body, embracing the bite of it as a kind of punishment for your mistakes.

You flinched as a grey car came to a stop against the curb a few feet in front of you. You bristled, preparing to tell off whatever man felt like bothering you today. When the window rolled down, you found yourself wishing it had in fact been a random man.

Viktor watched you in the side mirror, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” You lied, refusing to move closer to him. 

“Your dorm is in the other direction,” He pointed out, when you didn’t say anything he sighed, “Would you like a ride to pick up your truck?”

“No, it’s fine.” You shook your head, “I can walk.”

He scolded you with your name, “It’s five degrees, you’ll get sick.”

“It was colder last night,” You said stubbornly, feet planted.

“Yeah, well you were drunk and upset last night,” He said, “And you shouldn’t have walked home in the first place.”

“Why do you care so much?” 

“God above,” He groaned, shaking his head. The backlights of the BMW lit up as he shifted into reverse and backed up until his window was where you were standing. “Because you are my friend and I care about your wellbeing. “

You crossed your arms over your chest, fighting off a shiver as a particularly strong gust of wind pushed against you, “I’m fine.”

He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, eyes squeezed shut, “Get. In. The. Car.”

You resisted the urge to stomp your foot on the ground like a toddler. Instead you walked around the front of his car, dropping yourself into his passenger seat. You shut the door with more force than necessary and turned to him with a huff, “Happy?”

“Yes,” He nodded, putting the car into drive, “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Put your seatbelt on, please,” You leaned over, looking at him pointedly.

He rolled his eyes, then plastered a sickeningly sweet expression on his face, “Will you please put on your seatbelt, Darling.”

“Hm, that’s more like it,” You turned up your nose, sitting back in your seat and buckling up. 

“Spratek,” He muttered under his breath as he pulled the car away from the curb.

You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you were glad you accepted the ride. His car was warm and overly clean and smelled like him. It felt like him, too, all clean lines and stoic shapes. Your European car knowledge was certainly lacking, but there was something eerily familiar about the interior of his car. 

“Is this a…Touring,” You asked, running a fingertip over the handle of the door.

“Yes,” He confirmed, “19…89, yeah, 89. Not the nicest car in the world, but it does the job.”

“It’s the same car my first boyfriend had,” You scoffed, thinking about the junker you had spent too much time in, “I hated it. It was ugly and red and a mess all the time… lost my virginity in that piece of shit car.”

“Oh, hm, I’m…sorry,” He said it like a question, a little taken off guard by the admission.

“I like your’s more,” You mused, leaning back and watching campus grow smaller in the side mirror, “It’s nicer, feels better. The car, I mean… well, I guess the sex, too.”

You laughed softly at your  own words, looking over to find a blush gracing his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” He nodded awkwardly, staring straight ahead. The way his demeanor shifted never failed to amuse you. One second he’s demanding you get in his car like he owns you, the next he’s turning red when you mention you liked having sex with him. 

“So…” You led, spinning one of your bracelets around your wrist, “What did you say to Sky? You don’t have to tell me… just curious.”

“I apologized,” He said, shrugging, “and I told her that I am not interested  in her in that manner, and I shouldn’t have led her to believe that I was by not turning her down immediately. I did tell her that anything that is happening between us is none of her concern.”

You hummed to yourself, taking in his words. The way he said ‘us’ left a weight in your chest. Us. Us. Us. 

“What about you?” He asked, glancing over, “What did you say?”

“I apologized for being a jealous bitch,” You scoffed, picking at the edge of your nail, “For being mean to her, breaking ‘girl-code’ and all that.” You rolled your eyes, feeling childish.

“I don’t understand,” He frowned, “What are you jealous about? What’s girl-code?”

“Girl code is basically, like, rules we’re supposed to follow,” You shrugged, realizing you had never had to explain the weird intricacies of being a girl to a man other than your father, “I mean, not like hard and fast rules, but basic stuff. Guys have the same thing, I’m sure. Things like keeping secrets or protecting each other, ya know. The number one rule, though, is to never ever fuck around with a guy your friend is interested in. Like, ever.”

“Hm, that only seems partially reasonable,” He said, “I told you that I was not interested in Sky before we had sex.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t matter,” You said, “I knew she liked you, and I fucked you anyways. That wasn’t cool.”

“But even if we had not had sex,” He frowned at the road like he was looking at chemistry on a chalkboard, “It wouldn’t change the fact that I am not interested in Sky.”

“Yes, I know, but that's not the point,” You exasperated, “It’s the principle of it.”

“That is dumb,” He said plainly.

“Well, fine, you can think it’s dumb,” You tossed your hands up, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I hurt Sky’s feelings.” 

He was quiet for a moment, “How did she respond?”

“Graciously,” You sighed, “As always.”

“Why do you sound disappointed?” He asked, the car slowing as he pulled into the neighborhood.

“I’m not, It’s just that it felt,” You hesitated, trying to find the right words, “too easy? I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know… I mean, she said that she doesn't care anymore,” You shrugged, “that she wants things to go back to normal and everything to just be cool, but I’m worried she’s still upset. That she’s just forgiving me to make it go away?”

“Well, if she is forgiving you before she’s ready,” He said slowly, “Then, that would be her problem, no? It’s not like you forced her to forgive you.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess?” Damn him for being so practical. You opened your mouth to continue to debate but he cut you off.

“Listen, you are not responsible for how other people feel,” He looked over sternly, “You apologized to Sky and, whether she’s ready to or not, she forgave you. At this point, it sounds more like you don’t forgive yourself, regardless of what she is feeling.”

Read you like a damn book. You huffed, dropping your head into your hands and scoffing a laugh, “I didn’t realize you were so introspective.”

“Jinx called me a fortune cookie last week,” He told you, “I’m not introspective, I’m just observant…and I think you are being too harsh on yourself. What good comes from dwelling on something that you aren’t even sure of?”

“I’m a scientist,” You laughed, leaning back in your seat, “Dwelling on the unknown is kind of our thing, right?”

“Kind of,” He agreed with a soft laugh, “But this is unproductive dwelling, not scientific dwelling.”

He slowed to a stop outside his house, car idling but not in park, both of you hesitating. Raindrops were beginning to darken the sidewalk and slide down the sides of your truck that sat waiting in the driveway. The wind whipped around a tree in the front yard.

Viktor spoke your name cautiously, “Do you have plans today?”

“No.” You said, looking over and meeting his eyes.

“Do you want to go on a drive?”

“Yes,” You spoke before he even finished his words and he was pulling away from the curb as you finished yours. 

Picking up your truck and going back to your dorm room ment you’d either be laying around all day overthinking or you’d be having a conversation with Lest. You wanted to talk to her, you did, just…not right now. Sky had seemingly forgiven you, but that wasn’t a guarantee that Lest was in the same mood. Being on the good side of Lest’s rage, you knew how long it took for her to cool down. Being on this side was new to you, but you knew well enough to leave her alone for as long as you could. You weren't sure of Viktor’s reasoning for not going home, but you were grateful either way. 

He just drove and you let yourself relax into the passenger seat. You watched him drive. Watched the perfect side profile of his face as he focused on the road, only moving as he glanced in the mirrors. He looked relaxed for the most part, but the tiniest motion of his eyes and lips let you know that thoughts were racing through his head. He glanced over you sideways, the corner of his mouth tugging just slightly upwards as he met your eyes.

“What?” You caught the slightest sight of his canine when he smiled.

“Nothing,” You shrugged not looking away from him, “You’re just nice to look at, is all.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the blush creeping past the collar of his sweater, “You are a strange girl.”

“Maybe,” You said, leaning forward to pull his jacket off your shoulders, you kept it gathered up on your lap.

“Here,” He grabbed his phone from where it was under the radio, an aux cord already plugged in, smirking as he handed it to you, “Stop staring at me and be useful, yeah?”

You scoffed, teasing him, “You thought I was useful last night…”

Another blush, he looked away from you this time as he sputtered, “Just- Just play the music, okay?”

“Yes sir,” You nodded firmly, taking his phone already opened on his music app, “Any requests?”

“Hm, no you choose.” He told you, hitting the blinker as the highway entrance came closer, “Just no Radiohead.”

“No Radiohead?” You mocked a gasp, “But If I wanted to be insufferable today?”

“I was insufferable enough for the both of us this morning,” He told you, “Pick something else.”

You laughed thinking about him listening to Thom Yorke whining over his radio as he drove to apologize to Sky, “Fine, but if it starts really raining later, we’re listening to In Rainbows, it’s only right.”

He just shook his head at you lightly as you scroll through his music to pick something. You took your time combing through his music. You always thought that music taste was the most telling aspect of a person. Some were what you’d expect from a guy like him - Radiohead, Arctic Monkeys, Fiona Apple, Jeff Buckley - some others you were a little surprised by - Paramore, Boygenius, Maya Hawke, Deftones - all of it what you’d consider good music. You were pleased to see female artists in the mix, older music, newer music, some classical and jazz, a few movie scores. Most of the albums were in English, a handful were in what you were pretty sure was Czech, and you could see one or two that were in Spanish - the same albums Jayce had put you onto. 

You picked one of the ones you thought was in Czech, the green and white cover art interesting enough to get your attention. He made a little noise of surprise when the first song started playing.

“You know this band?” He asked, an eyebrow raised as he glanced at you.

“No,” You told him, the music was definitely pop, teetering on the edge of bedroom pop, “The cover looked cool, what does ‘nedělní Luka’ mean?”

“Sunday Luka,” He told you, “This EP is good, I’m not a huge fan of the stuff they released after this. They're a pretty good band, though.”

“Hm, interesting,” You tapped your thigh to the beat, listening to the words you didn’t understand, “I like this alot actually.”

“Even though you don’t understand the lyrics?” He smirked.

“Eh, I mean I like the Cocteau Twins and I definitely don’t understand the lyrics even though they're mostly in english,” You shrugged, “I’ll google the lyrics to this later, probably. Can I text it to myself?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, “I can send you more czech stuff if you want?”

“Make me a playlist?” You asked, knowing how hopeful you sounded.

He laughed softly, “I can do that, I’ll pick the best stuff. Round out your music taste a little.”

“Hey, I have great music taste,” You scoffed in mock offense as you copied the link to the album and opened up his contacts. 

You found your own number easily, starred at the top of the list along with Jayce and who you figured was his mother. You bit back a smile at the little ‘<3’ he had put at the end of your name. The picture above it wasn’t one you remembered him taking. It was from much earlier in the semester, when the weather was still nice. You were laying in the grass, probably on the quad telling by the abandoned textbook next to your shoulder, wearing that white sundress that only came out when the weather was particularly good. Your hands were behind your head, eyes closed as you basked in the sun. It was a good photo, you wondered if he’d be embarrassed if you asked him to send it to you.

A little embarrassment of your own was lifted off your shoulders. Clearly he stared at you as much as you stared at him.

You closed his phone before the urge to scroll through his camera roll became too strong and put it back where he had it originally. The eastbound highway that stretched out in front of you was fairly empty, rush hour having just ended. He stayed in the middle lane, shifting gears as he passed other cars he deemed to be going too slow.

“Where are we going?” You asked idly, reaching over to his hand that rested on the gear shift and pulling the cuff of his sweater between your fingertips. It was a little rougher than you had expected, You wondered if it was homemade. 

He pulled his hand away from the shifter and caught your hand, fingers lacing into yours. In a friendly way of course, “Unsure, anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Hm, wherever,” You told him, rubbing your thumb over the side of his hand.

“Let’s just see where we end up, I guess,” He shrugged, glancing over at you, “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agreed, squeezing his palm.

You learned pretty quickly that Viktor preferred to drive fast. You noticed him glancing over for your reaction each time he really stepped on the gas. It was sweet, though you didn’t mind the speeding. You trusted him not to kill you in a fiery car wreck, maybe a little too much. When the highway had narrowed, he was forced to slow down, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and clearly doing his best not to tailgate the people in front of him. 

------

You weren't sure how long you had been on the highway. You hadn’t taken notice of the time when getting in Viktor’s car, but it was long enough for the suburban sprawl of Piltover to give way to dense pine forests divided only by farmland and tiny towns. Eventually the highway narrowed down to two lanes, winding through the trees until it hit the coastline where it took a sharp curve north. You watched the sprawl of the Atlantic outside your window, the waves dark and rough due to the weather. It had stopped raining above you, but out over the water you could see torrents falling in dark grey sheets. 

An irritated noise from him pulled your attention away from the oceanscape to your right. He was pouting at the car in front of him, thumb bouncing against the side of the steering wheel. You looked ahead at the car in front. An old sticker covered a Subaru wagon, not going below the speed limit, if anything it was probably going almost ten over. Clearly that was not fast enough for Viktor, and a fairly consistent stream of traffic on the other side of the highway kept him from passing. 

You laughed, leaning forward to examine the stickers on the car in front of you, “You’re in quite the rush to go nowhere, aren't ya,”

“Hey, I’m not rushing,” He insisted waving a hand at you, “I just want to be driving faster.”

“Well chill out speed racer,” You rolled your eyes at him, “You’re probably freaking out this poor lesbian in front of us, she’s gonna start break-checking you.”

“How do you know she is a lesbian,” He scoffed, but eased off the gas to give the subaru more space.

You leaned forward and read the sticker that had caught your attention, “I like my men how I like my coffee. Not at all, I prefer tea.”

Viktor barked a laugh, “Sounds like Cait.”

“Oh my god, literally,” You giggled, wondering if you'd be able to find a similar one online to gift her. You read out another sticker, “Honk if you think the moon landing was fake.”

“I don’t understand those,’ Viktor admitted, “Does that mean the driver thinks the moon landing was fake?”

“No, I think it means, like, ‘if you honk at me for my bad driving, you're actually admitting you think the moon landing is fake’ or something like that,” You explained, remembering when Lest had explained the same thing to you only a couple of years ago. 

“Hm, Interesting.” He nodded.

“What do you think?” You asked, leaning back in your seat.

“About?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“The moon landing,” You said, “Do you think it was fake.”

He side-eyed you, eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Do you think it was fake.”

“Well, not exactly.” You shrugged.

“Not exactly!?” He gaped at you, glancing between you and the road, “Actually, we’re going home.”

“No no, wait listen,” You laughed waving your hands at him in defense, “I don’t think the moon landing was fake! I one hundred percent believe that those guys were up there in ‘69.”

“Sakra, ‘those guys’?” He scoffed, “Really, are you not a scientist.”

“Hey, listen I know their names. But the good one is dead and the other is a psycho republican,” You laughed, “plus I’m not a space gal, you know that. I find the ocean far more fascinating.”

“Okay, okay, anyways,” He steered the conversation back to your original question, “Do you think the moon landing was fake?”

“No, like I said, I’m sure they were on the moon, but,” You held a hand up at Viktor, forcing him to let you finish, “I wouldn’t be that surprised if one day it was admitted that the footage everyone knows is fake.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, fighting back a smile, “I supposed that is an acceptable take, but you’re on thin ice.”

“I can give you some more of my bad takes if you’d like, but you might not want to hang out with me anymore,” You laughed, a growl from your stomach cutting you off.

“It’s past noon,” Viktor pointed out, laughing with you gently, “What was the last thing you ate? Did you have breakfast?”

You thought for a moment about the question. When you realized what had technically been the last thing you put in your stomach, you burst into a fit of laughter, and covered your reddening face.

“What?” He asked, confused as you tried to pull yourself together. 

“Nothing, it’s just, uh,” You bit back a smile and glanced down to his lap pointedly, “nothing.”

“Oh, fucking gross,” He scoffed, pushing your shoulder away from him playfully.

“You didn’t think it was gross last night,” You pointed out, teasing him with a poke in the arm. 

“Stop,” He pleaded, looking away from you, his face turning red as he resisted laughing.

“Oh come on,” You said, leaning closer to him, chin almost resting on his shoulder as you invaded his space and dropped your voice, “You don’t have to be shy about it, you can admit you loved coming in my mouth.”

He swallowed hard, hands tightening on the steering wheel in your peripheral vision, “You are very hard to deal with sometimes.”

You tapped your fingers against the bottom of his chin quickly before retreating back to your own space, “You wouldn’t like me very much If I made it easy on you,”

He didn’t respond to that, just shook his head as he hit his blinker and pulled into the center lane, “Well I’m making you eat something that has calories.”

“I’m sure cum probably has some calories, right?” You said only to get a rise out of him.

It worked perfectly of course, he whined your name, “stop talking. If you mention that one more time, I’m sending this car into the ocean with us in it, I swear to god.”

You raised your hands in defense, silently vowing to keep quiet as he waited to turn into the parking lot of a worn out roadside diner.

“Thank you,” he sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled into the lot.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the Beamer slid into a parking spot. The diner was incredibly unassuming. Weathered and faded, but fairly busy with a Saturday crowd. You stretched when you stepped out of the car, shoulders popping as you pushed your hands to the sky. Viktor freed his cane from the back seat, waiting for you by the hood. When you reached him, he was twisting his spine awkwardly, a hand on his hip and a grimace on his lips as he tried to pop his stubborn joints. 

“You good?” You asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m used to it,” He groaned, then motioned for you to come closer, “Actually, could you come here.”

You stood in front of him, looking up as you were only a foot away. He took your hand gently, placing it on his hip, “Just, like, resist against me when I turn, yeah?”

You nodded, pressing against his hip. You did as he asked, holding his hip back as he rotated his upper body the other direction. A loud pop came from under your hand, and he hissed sharply before relaxing. He sighed, straightening up and grabbing his cane from where he lent it against the hood of the car.

“Feel better?” You asked him, looping the hand on his hip around his lower back instead of retreating, 

“Very,” He nodded, dropping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer, he squeezed the top of your arm, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” You returned the gesture, squeezing his hip where your hand rested as the two of you walked up to the diner door.  

Inside it was warm, the smell of coffee permanently staining the air. The space was narrow but long, almost ironically classic in the way it was set up. A long counter was against one side and booths were pressed to the windows. The counter was occupied by blue collar men in their work clothes. This close to the coast you were sure they had all just come in from an early morning catch. They reminded you of your dad. 

“Go on ahead and find a seat anywhere, kiddos,” An older woman behind the counter waved at you before pouring another cup of coffee, “Someone will be with you in just a second.”

You nodded and followed Viktor to an open booth, untangling yourself from him to slide into the vinyl seat. He watched you from across the table for a moment before dropping his gaze.

“What did you mean earlier, by the way?” He asked, picking at the edge of a sticky menu.

“What?” You tilted your head, unsure of when exactly earlier was.

“You said that I wouldn’t like you if you made it easy,” He said, mouth quirking to the side as he thought about the moment, “What did you mean by that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” You shrugged, chewing on your lip, “I guess…just most of the time, guys tend to like the chase more than the actual girl. It’s fun.”

“And you think I am like this?” He asked, meeting your eyes almost sadly.

“I don’t know,” You said honestly, “I mean, you don’t have me. Who's to say you’d still like me as much if you did?”

“I would,” He said firmly, “I know I would.”

Before the conversation could continue, a waitress appeared at the end of the table. An overly sweet smile plastered on her face, curly blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail on the crown of her head. She looked between you, eyes hesitating on Viktor just a second longer than you would have preferred. 

“Good morning, my name’s Nancy, I’ll be taking care of y’all today, ” She said, her voice was high and smooth, “How are you two doing?”

 “Good Morning Nancy, we are well, and you?” Viktor responded, polite as ever.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking,” She smiled wider, glancing at you briefly, “Can I get ya started with some drinks?”

“Just coffee for me,” Viktor told her, looking to you for your response.

“Me as well,” You nodded, attempting your best polite smile. She was just being friendly, you told yourself. It’s her job to be nice.

“Two coffees,” She repeated as she scribbled down the order, “Room for cream?”

“Yes please,” Viktor answered.

“Mine too,” You copied him. Normally you’d just drink diner coffee black, but that nasty little voice in the back of your head was answering for you.

“Easy-peasy,” She said, “I’ll have that right out for y’all.”

You watched Nancy walk away, curls bouncing as she went to get the coffee. Viktor was paying no mind, already skimming through the menu. You picked up your own. Standard diner food, easy enough to choose from. 

“What’re you getting?” You asked casually, glancing up at him over the menu.

“Hm, unsure,” He hummed, glancing up and catching your gaze, “Choose for me?”

“That’s a lot of trust,” You laughed, leaning back in your seat and raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, “I trust you.”

“Okay, then,” You looked over the menu again, “Breakfast or lunch? And what do you hate?”

“Breakfast,” He nodded, “And nothing, I don’t think…eh, actually, no sourdough bread.” 

“You don’t like sourdough? That’s crazy, it’s like the best bread,” You scoffed, offended on behalf of the baked good.

“No, actually, I really like sourdough bread,” He said, “but, I’m sorry, it’s not very good in America.”

“That's a very European take,” You rolled your eyes, “You guys always think you’re better.”

“Listen, with this I am right, trust me.” He assured, “America does have some better… things.”

“Hm, like what?” You smirked at his tone.

“Most fruit is better here,” He nodded with an air of nonchalance,  “Oranges and pineapple, mango as well.” 

“Oh yeah?” You asked, pretending to be busy with the menu despite having already made a decision,  “Good fruit is a plus, for sure.”

“The women here are different, too.” He nodded, “All smiles and low-cut shirts. Very…eager to please.”

You scoffed, glancing back up at him with a retort on your lips already. It died in your mouth when Nancy, with her low cut shirt and wide smile, returned to the table with a set of mugs and a pot of coffee.

“Sorry about that wait,” She laughed, setting the mugs down and beginning to fill them, “Technical difficulties.”

“No worries at all, Nancy,” Viktor said smoothly, sitting up, “Thank you.”

“Of course, honey,” She drawled, you tensed at the term of endearment, “Are you ready to order or do you want a few more minutes with the menu?”

“We’re ready,” You jumped in, immediately regretting how snappy your voice was.

“Perfect,” She stayed facing Viktor, “When can I get going for ya?”

Viktor turned his face to you, nodding for you to go ahead.

“We’ll have the Florentine benedict,” You told her, placing the menu down in front of you.

“Perfect,” She said, turning halfway to you as she wrote it down, “Fries okay with that?”

“Yep.” You nodded and before she could ask, “and he’ll have the same thing.”

She turned to him anyway with a questioning look that he either didn’t see or chose not to acknowledge, “Okay, well, I’ll have that out for you here soon. Holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you, honey,” You gave a tight smile as she walked away.

“Ah, I see it now,” He nodded, narrowing his eyes at you slightly as he pulled his coffee towards himself.

“See what?” You leaned your chin on your hand, circling the rim of your coffee cup with the other.

“That jealousy you were speaking of earlier,” He smirked, “I hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe you hid it better, maybe there was too much going on.”

You hummed, nodding slowly as a blush creeped up your cheeks, “Maybe you just didn’t notice me.”

“That is funny. If there is anything I notice in a room, it is you,” He told you, then casually as if he hadn’t just said what he said, pushed the bowl of cream and sugar packets towards you, “Sugar?”

You swallowed hard, then pushed your mug towards him, “Make it for me?” 

“Are you sure? I make mine sweet,” He warned.

“I trust you,” You pushed the mug farther until it was next to him, “I’m not jealous, by the way.”

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, “So you were just glaring daggers at the waitress for fun?”

“I…I wasn’t,” You huffed, poorly defending yourself.

“You know,” He began, tearing open a few packets of sugar and pouring it into your coffee, “I don’t find jealousy attractive, but on you…it’s endearing.”

“Well, that’s sweet, but I’m not jealous.” You said sternly.

“Ah, okay,” He poured the same amount of sugar into his own drink, followed by a couple creamers, “So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked Nancy for her number.”

“Viktor, don’t fuck with me,” You deadpanned, frowning at him.

He laughed, sliding your made up coffee to you. Before his hand retreated, he grabbed you gently by the wrist. He held your hand in his, lifting it off the table and examining your palm, “Jealousy does look good on you, but you should know by now,” He flipped your hand over and leaned closer, “It is wholly unnecessary, milá.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, lingering for a moment as he watched you through his lashes. 

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning as he pulled back from your hand. He held your hand for a moment longer before letting you retreat. You picked up the coffee he made up for you, taking a sip. It was sweet, sweeter than you’d normally make it. You liked it. You fought off the idea of tasting the same coffee on his lips. 

“You like?” He asked, siping his own drink.

“Yeah, it’s good,” You nodded, taking another sip before setting it down, “Thank you.”

“Hey, tell me more about these theories of yours,” He said, setting down his mug.

“Theories?” You tilted your head.

“The moon landing happened, but the footage is fake,” He laughed, “You said this earlier, I’m interested in what other baseless theories you have?”

You barked a laugh, “Okay, sure. My other space theory is that I do believe aliens exist. Like, the universe is theoretically infinite, right? It’s crazy to think that we are the only planet with living things on them, advanced or not. That being said! I do not believe aliens have ever been anywhere close to Earth.”

“Oh, really?” He mused, thinking about it, “Why?”

“Because, what the fuck do aliens want with us?” You shrugged, “Plus, if they’re gonna go through all that trouble to make ships or do whatever it would take to get from there to here for whatever reason, you really think they’d let themselves get caught by the American government? No way.”

“You’ve really thought about this, haven't you? ” Viktor laughed.

“Yeah, well my mom was obsessed with that ‘Ancient Aliens’ show when I was a kid and even at, like, nine years old I knew it was bullshit. Okay, Pretty Boy, your turn. What are your conspiracy theories?”

Viktor hummed, thinking to himself for a moment before speaking, “You know those people who say the Earth is flat?”

“Viktor, no,” You gaped, “There is no way you believe that.”

“No, hush, let me explain,” He laughed, waving you off, “I think people who say they think the Earth is flat are completely lying.”

“What?”

“I mean, I think they know that it is completely untrue,” He explained, hands gesturing in front of him, “but they like the attention they get from saying they believe the Earth is flat.”

You laughed, “Oh my god, like toddlers. Negative attention is better than no attention.”

“Exactly!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at you, “That’s exactly it.”

You covered your mouth, lowering your head and laughing into your palm to stifle the sound. Well aware of the looks thrown your way by the regular inhabitants of the diner. As your giggles died out, Nancy returned with your plates. 

“Here we are, two Florentine benedicts,” She set the food down on the table, “Plates are a lil’ warm, be careful.”

“Thank you,” You said, settling down, Viktor repeating the words as he slid a roll of utensils towards you.

“Of course, is there anything else I can get for you?” She asked, hands on her hips as she oversaw the table.

“I think we are okay,” Viktor told her, looking over to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” You agreed, “Thank you.”

“Perfect, if you need anything, just let me know,” She told you before heading away from the table. 

Viktor held his fork out to you, “Cheers, darling, to baseless theories.”

You laughed, and clinked the tines of your fork against his, “To baseless theories.”

-----

When Nancy brought the check, she brought two. Setting the little slips of paper down in front of each of you before picking up your empty plates.

“I assumed separate checks were fine,” She said, glancing down at you briefly before sliding her gaze to Viktor, “And, I’m sorry, I just have to ask! Where is your accent from?”

“New Mexico,” Viktor said flatly, a tight smile on his lips, “And the checks will be together, actually.”

He reached over and grabbed yours from in front of you, folding them together and handing them back to her.

“Oh, uh okay,” She nodded, taking the checks back from him, trying and failing to hide her look of disappointment. You rolled your eyes as she walked away.

“I will admit,” Viktor said, “Normally I believe people read too much into others intentions.”

“Of course you do,” You scoffed at him.

“But, I do believe that that girl was being quite forward, no?” Viktor glanced over to where the waitress was making up a new receipt behind the counter.

“Oh, you think?” You laughed sarcastically at him, “Viktor, that girl wanted you so bad, she would have let you fuck her on this table if you wanted to.” 

“Always so graphic,” He grimaced, ���Does it bother you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say it if it did,” You snorted a laugh.

“No, not that,” He waved you off, “That she wants me. Does somebody else being interested in me bother you?”

You thought for a moment, about whether this was something you could convincingly about. Decided it wasn’t, you told him, “Yes, I hate it.”

“Why?” He tilted his head, waiting for another honest answer.

“Because, I… you’re very want-able,” You stumbled over your words, letting an awkward laugh slip out, “You could be with whoever you want in a second. The fact that you have so many options just kinda…makes me nervous.”

Before he could respond Nancy swooped by the table, dropping off the combined check and muttering a quick, “Sorry about the confusion.”

You reached for the check and Viktor scoffed, snatching it up before you could. 

“Absolutely not,” He said, keeping the check away from you as he pulled out his wallet.

“Vik, you drove, let me get it,” You told him, trying to pull out your own card.

“No way,” He shook his head, pulling cash out, “I just insisted that we were together, I’m not letting you pay.”

“That’s misogyny,” You pouted.

“Brand me a misogynist then. You aren’t paying.” He laughed, leaving the cash on the table as he slid out of the booth, steadying himself on his cane with one hand and extending the other out to you, “Maybe I’ll let you get it next time…maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, but took his hand as you slid out of the booth anyways. You let him lead you through the diner. You let him hold the door open for you. You even let him open the car door and shut it behind you when you got in. Not because you needed or really wanted him to do these things, but because you could tell he enjoyed it. It was sweet.

“You’re wrong, you know?” He told you as the car hummed to life.

“No, I’m never wrong,” You shook your head, “What am I wrong about?”

“You say I can have whoever I want,” He repeated your statement from earlier, turning in his seat to look at you, “But that’s clearly not true.”

“Hmph, and why do you say that?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Because, the only person that I want is you. And clearly I can’t seem to get you, so…” He shrugged, the slightest pout on his lips.

Like usual, he managed to floor you with his words. Stopping all coherent thoughts in your head as he looked at you with those perfect amber eyes. You let out a shaky breath, reaching up to touch his face. He leaned into your hand, rubbing his cheek against your palm and letting his eyes fall shut for a moment.

“Viktor…” You breathed, thumb brushing across the pout on his lips.

He said your name softly, opening his eyes and holding your gaze, “Please let me have you. You're always just out of reach. Please, I just want you.”

“Vik...,” You muttered, running your hand over the side of his head, fingers combing through his soft hair, “Listen, I just… I can’t yet.”

You could have cried at the look he gave you. A harsh line formed between his eyebrows as they pulled together. His eyes were soft, half closed with blown pupils as he leaned into your touch.

“Today’s the 11th?” You asked, hand on the back of his neck, tugging gently at the short strands there, “and our last class is on December 15th, yeah?”

He nodded as you thought about the numbers.

“That’s 65 days.” You told him, squeezing the back of his neck, “In 65 days, if you still want me, I’m yours.”

“65 days…” He repeated, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead against yours, “65 days and you're mine.”

-----

It wasn’t terribly late when you made it back to town, but the winter sun had long set. Viktor insisted on holding your hand for as long as he could, only giving up the contact when switching gears became more frequent. The animal part of your brain found the way he drove incredibly attractive. He was relaxed and confident, never panicked as he checked his mirrors and smoothly switched lanes. You resisted the urge to reach out to him at stoplights. The red glow sinking into the lines and curves of his face, lighting the front of his hair. You stared shamelessly, memorizing the way he looked, and he pretended not to notice.

“You can totally tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to answer this,” You said as he slowed to a stop at one of these lights, “But why do you drive a manual? Isn’t it difficult with your leg?”

“It’s not easy, but it’s how I learned to drive,” He glanced over at you, and shrugged, “I either had to learn to drive a manual or not at all.”

“Hm, that’s fair,” You nodded, it made sense to have to learn to drive in what was available, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s incredibly hot that you drive a manual, but did you not consider getting an automatic when you moved here?”

He rolled his eyes at the compliment, a tilted smile on his lips, “No. It’s probably childish, but I drive this way out of spite. I’m used to the way it feels, and I just have to be okay with the fact that on bad days I’m not able to drive.”

“You’ve never struck me as someone resistant to accommodations,” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not,” He shook his head, “Only for this, I guess. I understand that I have limitations, but I…I don’t know. I want to drive this way, so I do. It’s as simple as that.”

You hummed and nodded, pulling your knee up to your chest and resting your cheek on it, “I get that, like not personally, but I understand your stubbornness.” You laughed softly.

“I’m glad you do, because most people don’t,” He scoffed, “Jayce practically begged me to get a different car. I had to explain to him that not only am I very capable of driving this way,” He gave you a sideways glance, “But women tend to find it sexy.”

“Ah, so you do know you’re hot,” You teased back, grinning against your knee.

“I think you give me more credit than is due in that department,” He scoffed, “But when you’re staring at me all the time, it tends to go to a man's head.”

“It’s not all the time,” You defended weakly, chewing on your lip. 

“Uh-huh,” He hummed, smirking over at you as the light turned green, “Sure.” 

You swatted at his leg gently. He caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and holding the back of your hand to his chest. You could feel his pulse on either side of your hand, steady and just a little fast.

“Do you want to take your truck home tonight?” He asked, squeezing your hand before releasing you, “Or I can bring you back to campus and I can pick you up tomorrow to get it?”

You thought for a moment. If you went to his house to get your truck right now, he’d ask if you’d like to come in and say hello to Rio. You’d say yes. You’d sit in his bed. You’d let him put his head in your lap. You’d talk to him for hours. You’d have to force yourself to leave at some early hour of the morning. You’d drive home with an ache in your chest. 

“I can get my truck tomorrow,” You offered, thinking quickly of a way to see him soon without destroying yourself, “If you wanna drive it over we can finish up the lab notes for Monday? If you feel like it.”

“That works,” He nodded, beginning to take turns towards campus, “Should we tell Ekko and Jinx?”

“I think they have plans tomorrow,” You told him a half-lie, they had plans tomorrow night, but you’d really rather work on the notes with just Viktor, “But we can handle it, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” He agreed, then laughed, “We’ll make them do it next weekend.”

“I like the way you think,” You snorted, sitting up in your seat as he pulled into the parking lot of the dorm, “Come over at eleven?”

“Sure,” He nodded, putting the car into park at the curb, “If you end up wanting to get your truck tonight, just let me know, it’s not that late.”

“Thanks.” You opened the door, hesitating and turning towards him, “I’m glad we went out today, it was…nice.”

“Me too,” He gave a soft smile.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned into him and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hopped out of his car, leaving behind his coat and darting away before you could register his reaction. He didn’t pull away from the curb until you were fully inside the building and waving a goodbye through the glass wall.

You let the warmth of the gesture fill you as you climbed the stairs to your dorm. The promise of 65 days you had given him resonated in your ears. Maybe it was too lofty of a promise. Maybe it was one that would never come to fruition. Maybe whatever you felt for each other would fizzle out and die before that last day of class. You weren't sure what would be a harder end to this.

You were wrapped up in idle thoughts of him, you didn’t take notice of the soft giggles coming from inside the room, or the fact that the little sign on your door had been flipped to ‘do not disturb’. It wasn’t until you pushed the door open that you did finally notice what was happening. A few facts hit you at once. Lest was back. Lest was topless. Lest was straddling someone. Lest was straddling a girl. The girl Lest was straddling was Sky Young.

“Oh fuck,” You yelped, stumbling backwards out of the room and slamming the door closed, “I’m sorry!”

You could hear Lest curse on the other side of the door and the sound of them shuffling around as they pulled clothes back on. Lest is straight. Lest was straight. Sky you had never been sure of, but yesterday she had very much been into Viktor. As you stared in shock at your overly decorated door, puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

They had been spending a lot of time together, you had figured it was because of their shared class. Apparently that wasn’t the only reason. Lest’s anger at you over hurting Sky’s feelings made more sense now. So did Sky’s easily offered forgiveness this morning…after Lest had spent the night with her. 

You began to realize how little attention you had paid to any of your friends this semester. You were paying so much attention to a man that you didn’t even notice your best friend was switching sexualities. You wondered what else you had been missing. Were Mel and Jayce married? Did Jinx finally adopt Isha? Did Vi kill Maddie? As your thoughts began to spiral, the door in front of you was yanked open. Lest, now fully clothed, grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into the room.

“Sit.” She told you, nudging you towards your desk chair. 

You did as she asked, the fact that the only light in the room was a single desk lamp made you feel like you were being interrogated. Sky, also dressed, was sitting on the edge of Lest’s bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest and cheeks redder than you had ever seen.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything, really,” You said to Sky, hoping to ease whatever embarrassment she was holding

“What happened to knocking?” Lest asked, pulling your attention to her, hands on her hips. You tried not to stare at the mouth shaped bruises on her neck.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention,” You stumbled over your words, “I didn’t think- I’m sorry.”

Lest sighed, rubbing out a line between her eyebrows, “It’s fine. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

You scoffed a laugh, “Who am I gonna tell? You two?”

“And Mel.” She pointed out, “Who would tell Jayce, who would tell Cait, who would tell Vi, who would-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” You held your hands up in defense, “I’m not gonna tell anyone, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, you’ve been a dick lately, so…” Lest shrugged, and then relaxed when you flinched, “I’m sorry. I just.. We’re not ready to share this yet.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” You assured her, “Not gonna say anything, I promise.”

“I’m gonna head out,” Sky said, standing up awkwardly and pulling her bag onto her shoulder, she hesitated between the door and Lest.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lest offered, reaching for her own coat.

“No, it’s fine,” Sky insisted, “I’m supposed to meet Stebb at the library in a bit anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Lest nodded, squeezing Sky’s hand before she left. When the door shut behind her, Lest collapsed onto her bed with a groan.

“Is this why you were so angry at me last night?” You asked, not moving from your chair.

“No…kinda?” Lest tugged at the ends of her hair, “I don’t know, man, this is new… like new new.”

“Like, last night new?” You wanted to know everything, but you weren't sure how much she was willing to give you right now.

“More like an hour ago,” Lest scoffed, shaking her head as she stared up at the ceiling, “Honestly, I think I’ve liked her for a while now, I just didn’t fully get it. Then last night, I…you made her cry, dude. I love you so much, but I could have killed you last night.”

“I know, I’m sorry…I agree, I’ve been a dick,” You chewed on your cheek, then laughed awkwardly, “I talked to her this morning, it makes sense why she was so forgiving.”

“You’re lucky she is,” Lest told you, finally looking over, “I stayed with her last night, that’s when it clicked. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but she was drunk and sad. I left before she woke up. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t remember it.”

“But she did?” You concluded.

“Yep, every sappy fucking word.” She rolled over, groaning into her bed, “It was so embarrassing.”

“Why?” You laughed softly, nervously testing the waters, “I mean, clearly she likes you, too.”

“Yeah, but when I told her she had just been crying over a guy,” Lest said, voice half muffled, “I should have waited until she wasn’t so upset, that would have been the polite thing to do.”

“Things happen,” You offered, “Trust me, I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” Lest said, on the verge of being choked up, “All I wanted to do was talk to you, but I was supposed to be mad at you…”

“Are you still mad at me?” You asked, eyeing her carefully.

“No, I’m never mad at you, not really,” She sighed, rolling back over and pouting at you, “Even when I should be.”

“Good, I’m glad,” You nodded, standing up and edging towards her bed, “I’m sorry I made you want to be mad at me.”

She held her hand out in the offer you had been waiting for. You crossed the last of the space between you and crawled into her bed. She wiggled into your arms, resting her head on your shoulder and holding onto you. She smelled like Sky’s perfume.

She said your name softly, “I’m scared.”

“Why?” You smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Because I don’t know how to do this,” She told you, toying with the hem of your sleeve, “I’ve always been the girlfriend, I don’t know how to be in a relationship with another girl.”

“My love, you’d still be a girlfriend,” You laughed softly, “You don’t need to act any different because you’re with a girl instead.”

“I guess…I just don’t know how to do this.” She pressed her face into your shirt, “My parents are going to have something to say. Everyone is going to have something to say.”

“I’m saying this out of love, but your parents were like 75% fine with you transitioning,” You teased gently, tugging at a strand of her hair, “Shouldn’t you liking girls be alot easier for them to grasp?”

She scoffed, “You’d think.” 

“Well, luckily, your parents are incredibly far away,” You assured her, “You don’t need to call them up right this minute and come out to them. You have all the time in the world, Lest. You don’t have to tell anybody until you’re ready. Other than me, obviously, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to tell you anyway,” Lest craned her neck to look up at you, “The only other gay girls I’m close with are Cait and Vi and they’re obnoxious.”

You laughed, swatting on on the shoulder, “Don’t be mean.”

“I love them, but it’s true,” She insisted with wide eyes.

“I know, I know,” You sighed thinking about Dysfunctional Lesbian 1 and 2.

Lest gasped, stilling in your arms, “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow at her, tilting your chin to look at her face.

“Our friend group is very close to being made up entirely of couples,” She gaped at you, mock horror in her eyes.

“Oh god, you’re right.” You cringed, “We’re really the worst, aren’t we.”

“Entirely insufferable,” She agreed seriously before the both of you dissolved into giggles, closer to each other than you had been in months.

[ebodebo]

i have a benedict bridgerton idea for you queenie! okay so reader works for the bridgerton family and she and has a huge huge huge crush on benedict. so one night she goes to his room (for whatever reason you pick) and she hears him jerking off and she's like !!! and then he moans her name and she's even more like !!!

you can fill in the rest wink wink

Illicit Affairs

NSFW CONTENT

—benedict bridgerton x reader

—2.2k+

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Graphite pencils, quill pens, and an inkwell lay spread across the mahogany wooden table in the corner of the drawing-room, close to the bay window that overlooked the gardens. 

Several pieces of rag paper were spread across the table, and some even crumbled onto the floor, tainted by lead and ink. Judging from the messy lilacs and composition of a forest on the papers, you guessed Benedict had tried his hand at scenery drawings. 

The head maid had asked you to clean up his things, and you were, but surely there was no shame in seeing what kept the man occupied seemingly all day and all night.

You brushed your hand over the sketches, taking note of each delicately drawn petal and leaf, up to the bark on trees that looked so existent you swore you could feel the harshness of the wood along your fingertips.

As you scanned the sketches, gently picking them up, your eyes dilated as you noted a familiar face before you. Surely, it couldn't be, but it was hard to succumb to that idea when it was the same face you stared at in the mirror every day, your own.

He had drawn your eyes, lips, jaw, and even minor details, which you didn't even know anyone noticed, in his precious ink. You grasped the paper by the corner, holding it in eye view, unable to comprehend what you were seeing.

"Have you yet finished, my dear?" Your mother's voice echoed off the walls as she entered the room. You jumped back slightly at her voice, turning quickly to face her, clenching the paper behind your back.

"I…um…have to deliver a particular…thing to Mr. Bridgerton," you gab as you attempt to move past her, tucking the drawing into your apron pocket, though she's quick to grab your arm.

"Dearest, tis' late. It would be best if you did not wake him," she furrows her brows before glancing at the mess still scattered on the table and giving you a disapproving look. "You have not yet done cleaning, I see."

"I must make haste, mama. I do not wish to keep him waiting any further," you urge, putting your hand over hers to pull it off. She gives you another disapproving glance. You sigh, becoming slightly orated by her disagreeable state.

"Do you really wish for me to keep a Bridgerton waiting, mama," you raise a brow, a knowing look plastered on your face.

"I suppose—" She begins before you kiss her cheek and exit the room, heading towards the grand staircase to ascend the stairs, feeling the paper burn a hole through the cloth of your apron.

Your heart pounded as you reached the end of the stairs, clammy hand slipping off the end of the railing to rest against your side. You took deliberately slow steps down the corridor, slowly inching towards Benedict's room.

You stand in front of his door, deciding to simply slip the sketch under his door so as not to wake him. As you bend down to your knees, head close to the door, you hear something curious.

Ragged breaths slip through the crack under the door and hit your ears. You lean closer so you can hear the noises more clearly. He's muttering curses and spewing prayer after prayer—a soft 'shlick,' 'shlick,' 'shlick' repeated in a synchronized pattern. 

You had not a single clue what he was doing. Perhaps he needed assistance?

"Mr. Bridgerton," you tentatively question, though you receive no answer. The sounds in the room halt. You lean even closer.

"Mr. Bridgerton, are you in need of assistance?" You repeat a little more persistently. Again, no answer. Your hand moves to grip the door handle.

You tell yourself that if he fails to answer once more, you will go in to ensure he is alright.

"Are you quite well, sir?" You ask. Once again, there was no answer. You turn the knob quickly, pushing the door open to see him. Your eyes take in the view. Benedict was unclothed from his waist down, with a sketch in his hand. A sketch that looked eerily similar to you. His cock rests in his hand, his face gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration that made the front pieces of his hair stick to his skin.

Your eyes widen as you stumble back.

"Mr. Bridgerton, I—I am quite sorry. You seem quite…occupied," you avert your eyes awkwardly away from him. "Pardon my intrusion," your voice is unstable from embarrassment, and you feel your face heat as you turn on your heels towards the door. He quickly outstretches his hand to grasp at your own.

Your breath feels like it has been sucked from your diaphragm as you feel his skin on yours. You flick your eyes to him in an instant. His pupils are dilated. "You have not a thing to apologize for," he finally speaks, his voice steady. It was odd, considering you had just walked in on him pleasuring himself, and his cock was still out.

You pay no heed to the words coming from him as your eyes drift from his eyes to his hand on yours to his erect cock mere inches away from you. Your lips part slightly as you exhale a small sigh at the sight of such an intimate part of him that you should not be seeing, now or ever. Though, you couldn't help the knot that formed in your lower stomach at the view.

"Are you curious?" He asks, though his voice is low and rough this time around. You flick your widened eyes to him, mouth agape at his insinuation.

"Pardon me, Mr. Bridgerton, but you are truly mad," you laugh out, pulling your hand away from his and turning away from him.

"Am I?" He smoothly questions. You swivel your head towards him, letting out a huff.

"You are, sir," you confirm, your voice containing humor.

"No need for the formalities," he quips, the corners of his lips quirking at your perplexity. "Call me Benedict, I insist."

"I cannot," you shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest.

"Tell me," he inches closer to you, making sure to take in your body language. He raises his hand to reach for yours, pulling it from its place tucked under your forearm. "Is this formal?"

"Well, I—I suppose it is not," you stutter as he brings your hand to rest against his cheek, allowing you to feel his freshly shaven skin. His eyes are light, you notice. Lighter than you initially thought. 

"Then, there is no need for the formalities," he shrugs casually.

This was preposterous. You are a mere housemaid with blasphemous conceptions about someone you work for. It was unprecedented and unacceptable. Your only job was to aid the Bridgertons when they needed help, not fantasize about one of them in a compromising position.

"I am only to help you when you need assistance," you piously say, dropping your hand from his face, though he can read through you. You considered his offer; your eyes and clammy hands said it all.

"In truth, I need your assistance greatly," he tuts.

"Oh," you raise a brow, as the corner of your lip lifts to form a soft smirk. 

"You see, I am in a great deal of pain," his voice was sardonic. "Could you find it in your heart to aid in taking the ache away?"

"Pain, you say?" You bring your finger and press it on your chin, plastering a thoughtful expression. "That might constitute for my help, I suppose," you begin. "I am here to aid you in all your endeavors. Am I not?" You smile smugly, watching his eyes drift to your plush lips. 

You don't know why, but the way his eyes gloss over, taking in a feature so simple makes you feel a sense of confidence. You gently raise your hand to tilt his chin slightly, making his eyes lock with yours.

"Am I not?" You repeat, slightly more assured. His eyelids lazily close over only half of his eye as his mouth opens slightly.

"You are," he murmurs out. A self-satisfied smile spreads across your face at his compliance. You find yourself placing the palms of your hands on his chest, gently nudging him to a nearby wooden chair to sit. He leans his head back to rest his neck on the back of the chair, breathing labored at your touch.

As you move to sink to your knees between his spreading legs, out of the corner of your eye, you see another loose paper lying just next to you on the floor. You turn fully to look at it, grasping the corner of it with your hand to examine it.

It was similar to the sketch of yourself you found in the drawing room. Though, this sketch's ink seemed much more messy and tainted.

"Poor man," you flip the sketch to show him, a phony frown on your face. "You were using just this?" His eyes lazily dragged over the sketch in your hands to your face right next to it.

"I am afraid so," he tuts. You push the simple sketch into his hands before you bring your hands to his soft linen shirt, slowly slipping it off until it falls somewhere off to the side—his eyes on you the entire time.

"Do you wish to look at your sketch of me or the real me?" You ask, placing your hands on either of his thighs as you see his eyes bounce from you to the sketch and back to you.

His lip quirks as he crumbles up the sketch, tossing it to his side. You let out a light chuckle, bringing your face closer to where he aches. Your lips nearly grazed his erect cock.

"Whatever will you use now?" You breathe out, hyper-aware of his cock so close to you.

"I will find you," he breathes out, bringing his hand to grip your plump cheek. You smile before sticking your tongue out to swirl around the head softly. He hisses at the contact, moving his hand to rest in your hair.

"Dear God," he groans out as you sink him further into your mouth, flattening your tongue and tilting your head back slightly so the head slides across the roof of your mouth and skims against your teeth. His hand in your hair tightens as you suck gently as he slides in and out of your mouth.

You suck for only a short minute before you pull your mouth off, replacing it with your hand carefully and slowly pumping up and down the length of his cock.

"Is this not just satirical?" You question, paying close attention to his eyes, nearly rolling to the back of his head.

"How do you deduce?" He groans, pushing his head back further and his body up more so his cock moves more in your hand.

"In normal circumstances, I am at the mercy of your family, including you," you say, licking the seam of the lips. You continue your movements, though now they are antagonizing and slow-paced. His eyes shoot back to yours as his mouth widens, releasing ragged breaths and throaty moans.

"Though," you begin, tugging him a little bit harder as he throws his head back against the chair, "in here," his eyes peer into yours, "I am singularly and wholly in control. I have you at my mercy." 

"I quite like being at your mercy," he immediately says. You stroke him a little faster, satisfied with his response.

"Is that so, Benedict?" You inquire as he begins pushing himself into your hand faster, desperate for even more of your touch. 

Your movements continue until his body is convulsing and his mouth hangs open, moaning as he comes all over his thighs and your hand. His head hangs low as his heart palliates and his chest heaves.

You even find your own chest heaving alongside his. He picks his head up slightly to make eye contact with you, bringing his hand to brush against your bottom lip, which unbeknownst to you, was covered in blood from sinking your teeth too deep.

"Are you alright?" He questions, taking in your perplexed look. He hopes you didn't have regrets of what had just occurred since it was taboo in nature.

"I am. Are you?" You regurgitate his question, and he nods, a small smile pulling on his lips. He reaches to the table next to him to grab tissues to clean you and himself up.

Once he wipes you clean of any remnants of himself, he instructs you to make your way back before anyone notices, but not before pressing a light kiss to your temple.

You stand and turn towards the door, reaching out to grab the door handle, but before turning it, you turn your head to face his.

"Glad I could be of assistance," you murmur, not awaiting a response before you fully turn the knob and step out the door.

It may have been unbecoming. Perhaps, unlawful and unconstitutional. And substandard in every sense.

The immorality of the situation does nothing to stop you from slipping your fingers underneath your nightgown that night in your room all by your lonesome, reminiscing of the image and sound of Benedict being subdued by you, a mere housemaid. What a glorious night, indeed.

a/n: benedict is such a bottom idc also regency dirty talk is so hilarious

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[rosehipsister]

(low voice) secret samol....

decided to go for a little found materials thing with my sangfielle prompts this year, so it's barely readable haha actual transcripts under the cut because that's a lot to put into alt text

For @aphrddt hope you enjoy it! Thank you @secret-samol

Page 1, marked "5.2" and "Jna -> RvneP -> Ctbk -> Prse" 5:30 train to Perseverance

Mighty excited and grateful (blessing sign) to make my third observation so soon sense the year began. Here's to a great journey and if those gods (blessing sign) willing a striking UMR (Unschola Monthly Review) entry!

(under a sketch of the train emblem) not half bad!! can clean it up back at Mona's

5:29 Left Jahna with a minute to spare. Tough to take the mood in so early, wonder if the Tern has the flighty nature its name suggests. Promised travel time declared 21 hours only, which puts me in Perseverance by nightfall.

Page 2 (next to a scheme of a train car) "Bright Tern Postal, coach car 3" a1, a2 - doors b - windows c - luggage racks Full cherry wood interior with simple glass inlays, light and airy. Four seats per isle, hard seating with roll-up Bright Tern livery cushions affixed every bench.

No sign of a dining car - justified by our size and destination, but still a shame. Yet man can't be picky (blessing sign)

Card included: Train sighting log Day seen: 5th of 2nd month 8xx Place seen: departing from Jahna, Fifth Canton Mandate, Sangfielle Name: Bright Tern Postal Livery: faded cobalt and white Number of carriages: 6 (six) total, with 4 passenger and 2 mail and baggage Boarded: y/n Ticket number if applicable: C3/I2/S3

Page 3 5:55 - drafting for now? After filling out my observation card and taking in the detail, i took a window seat in isle 2 to absorb both the gorgeous scenery of Ojan plains and the bright c (crossed out) airy confines (?) of my train. Bright Tern pamphlet, kindly provided to me at the station, tells the traveler that their person shall be delivered swiftly and safely to Unschola held inns by nightfall. Seasoned ferroequinology fan such as myself in turn knows this ain't always true and schedules are more suggestions than rule.

6:50 Fell asleep promptly despite excitement. Car filled with low relaxed conversation and i can only hope i wasn't snoring like a complete fool.

(next to a sketch of a tea glass holder) akin to burl wood? lightweight and porous to touch

Page 4 Interior unchanged save for three glass holders, such as added to every isle table. I truly am in luck (blessing sign) since I've never seen these in situ before! Why three? Would i have neighbors? Reread my early notes - in need of editing, desperately. SHAPES ON THE TRAIN! 1 masked 1 avian (with arrow pointing from 7:04 timestamp)

7:20, i gather since i had a moment of awe and frankly dared not bring attention to myself at the moment. Yet clearly they do not mind me.

Page 5 Immediately past 7 car visited by a slight ojant. woman of quiet but nasty demeanor wearing Tern colors, heavy tea cart in front, steaming. Was tempted to strike a conversation, but reconsidered. Neither of the Shapes said a word yet. They don't touch the tea either, which is plain silly to me - never have i heard about train foods being nefarious to one's person.

(underlined) No snacks offered yet!

8:40 Insufferable people. Still silent, not even (page break)

Page 6 (page break) a glance in the window. Spent all my patience on detailing one sketch. M. seems to be asleep or sitting terrifyingly still.

8:43 IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE! Wish they let me be. A. caught me sketching and very rudely grabbed my book. Nearly made me tear a page. If every Shape starts attacking inno- (crossed out) Both are still silent. A. ignored and possibly disrespected my Society badge. Book returned to me moderately crumpled. 9:17 Tern entered a tunnel as we were coming up to the mountain foothills. Terribly intrigued but can't see the devil's arse in there. A. got tired of harassing me and is now fast asleep. M. in turn finally aware of life.

(with arrow pointing at the tea maid sketch) back to our car. for what, just to glower at the shapes?

Page 7 9:20 - still in the dark All curtains rolled down as one! How i wish i knew the mechanism behind this. This further startled an impressionable young man in isle 5, and i admit i was secretly taken with the feeling too, but all were reassured by a returning passenger.

Managed to strike a conversation! Emidio seemed happy to discuss the Tern with me, and i've put a great amount of his observation down in shorthand. Told we're due to arrive at Ravine just some 10 minutes after leaving the tunnel, yet when - varies greatly. Despite being as persistent as i dared, didn't get too much about the dark route we're taking. Hiw can it be that we spend a different time under the peaks QAD and yet make stops with enviable punctuality? My greatest desire is to find any personnel besides the gloomy tea woman, yet not so likely with the Shapes around.

If i am to trust Emidio's words, some of the paper trash rolling under the seats he swears is a rudimentary emdemic life form akin to rootless plants of the west. Still unsure if that's a joke of his.

Page 8 (next to the sketch of a scene) Ravine-Postal 9:50 10:10 Finally back to open sky. Shapes out for a smoke and look almost careless. Sent a postcard back to Society in Jahna. Bought steamed buns of decent taste. Really need to find Emidio and get a good expo for Ravine, but he's nowhere to be found. Way too many insects ouside.

Page 9 10:40 - RvneP -> Cantbank Well, they do talk! Shapes have congratulated me on being through "the worst of it", whatever they meant. Both of them are now quite loud and inconsiderate. A. only laughed when i mentioned his rudeness. I miss the morning quiet.

11:00 Passed a mountain lake which amused us all greatly. At first i thought we're being blinded by the suns, yet the bright shimmer came from dozens of fish, moving through with their sides to the light. A. is particularly taken with the picture.

(next to the sketch) Emidio and the tea maid

Page 10 Spotted Emidio who i started to worry about, since none has seen him since our stop in Ravine. Almost glad to see the tea maid and her cart back in time for the afternoon round.

11:10 - switching tracks? Apparently taking a detour, which everyone is understandable annoyed about. Can't hear even half of the announcement over Shapes as usual. How can M. make so much noise by just walking! Curtains closed back again, so gather i should also walk over and finally as- (text interrupted)

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 2. The Botanist

Summary: Why must everything be consequential when the little joys in life are more satisfying? Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,546 Listen to: feelslikeimfallinginlove -by Coldplay A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback, please! -Danny

Dear Diary,

I knew of the existence of gossip columns before coming here, but my mother thinks they're cruel, so we don't read them. Here, however, the Queen is an avid reader of Lady Whistledown's weekly paper, and I must confess I'm thrilled with its contents, although she's keen to see me and my siblings at the ball, to brutally humble us one way or another.

My anonymity gets taken from me this Friday, but I plan to get a taste of real, unadulterated freedom today.

Wish me luck.

Benedict and Colin have been forced to take Francesca and Eloise for a promenade now that Anthony is too busy being Kate's husband to tend to his unmarried sisters, and Colin is, for some reason, happy with the arrangement.

They encounter Penelope Featherington, initiating a conversation Colin is more than keen to join. Benedict tries to, but soon enough he loses interest, much like with everything else in his life, and he decides to walk the nearby areas while he waits. 

He's nursing a headache, unable to sleep away yet another intoxicated night. Everything is too loud and bright, and he wishes to crawl back to his studio and sketch the day away, forgetting all about the wasted hours. 

Dull, yet ridiculously absurd, that's how everything feels for him. The ton lacks change, modernity, and most of all, appeal for men such as himself. Is it too much to ask, having at least one interaction per season that doesn't make him want to fake his own death? 

Why must everything be consequential when the little joys in life are more satisfying? A homemade pastry, Francesca playing the piano to perfection, the warmth of another body pressing against his, the shivers and sounds of his lovers when he touches them exactly how they like it...

Ruffling leaves interrupt his delightful thoughts. Benedict spots a person behind the bushes and grins, walking up to them. He tilts his chin and squints to try and make sense of the scene before him. A boy with the largest hat he's ever seen cuts fistful after fistful of weeds and flowers, thrusting them into his satchel and making noises of delight when spotting a new one.

"Stop this instant, young man!" He says in the voice he uses to mock Anthony's scoldings.

A high-pitched yelp comes out of the boy as he stumbles and lands on his butt, the movement makes his hat fly out of his head and reveal a lengthy, soft-looking cascade of hair. Benedict's eyes widen when a rather feminine face is revealed. 

"Good lord," he stammers, rushing to aid the stranger. "You're—"

The girl covers his mouth quickly, scowling as if he were the one misbehaving. Benedict almost believes it, with how she hurries to her feet, making him feel guilty for intruding in her moment of private joy. She picks up her hat and pushes her hair under it as she speaks.

"That wasn't funny! Why would you scare a stranger like that, have you no manners?"

"Have I no manners?" He gapes, standing up and backtracking to the path clumsily. "I'm not the one cross-dressing in broad daylight!"

"Lord forbid a woman has hobbies!" The lady squeezes the gardening scissors she's holding while gesturing. Benedict notices she's not wearing gloves, but her hands look soft and cared for. "Do you consider a dress a comfortable thing to wear while gardening?"

"Why are you gardening at Hyde Park?" He questions, torn between mirth and bafflement.

"I'm a botanist." The girl climbs over the bush and joins him on the path. 

Benedict eyes her with interest, she's much too young to be unattended like this. Maybe she's a maid enjoying her day off. "Really? Who do you work for?"

"None of your business, is it?" She says, cleaning the dirt on her hands using her trousers. She mutters something in what seems to be Italian before looking back at him. "I'm just picking flowers. To press."

"Those are weeds."

"Well, they're pretty weeds and the are no rules against cutting them, are there?" The stranger pulls the hat lower, almost as if trying to conceal her face.

"I wouldn't know," Benedict stares at her, fascinated. "You have an interesting accent, never heard it before." The girl is suddenly quiet. Benedict takes a step closer. "What's your name?"

"That's also none of your business."

He smiles crookedly. "That's not very kind."

The girl slips her scissors into her satchel and smiles tensely. "My apologies, good sir, what I meant to say is: You hold no right to obtain the knowledge."

Benedict laughs. "You're incredibly funny."

Her smile softens, adorning the lady's face in a way that makes his chest flutter. "What's your name, sir?"

"I'm afraid you lost the privilege to learn it after your bold display of ill-breeding," he says in a tone that is much too pleased.

"Fair enough," she concedes, a playful spark in her eyes. "You think me a critter, then?"

"Quite," he responds bemusedly. "You live in bushes."

"Then you better leave my home before I bite you," she replies.

"I will," Benedict has never seen this girl at balls, and her trousers are the right size for her, so she's not from the ton. Therefore, she must be his next conquest. "But I'd like to see you again."

The girl snorts loudly. "You might." She turns and leaves him there. 

Benedict stands in quiet contemplation as his headache slowly comes back, wondering if he just hallucinated the whole exchange.

You fan your face aggressively while waiting alongside your sister for your brothers. Your parents are with Queen Charlotte, they are to enter the ball before you, and then you and Marie will be escorted by two of the Queen's sons.

You don't like entering places last. It has nothing to do with ego and everything to do with your clumsiness, all those eyes on you are the quickest way to ensure public embarrassment. Marie squeezes your bicep and smiles. "It'll be alright, Y/N. Just... picture them all naked, like Mom says!"

You wrinkle your nose. "What if I spot someone handsome and I picture them naked? No, that would quicken the process of humiliation..."

"You're bringing it upon yourself with those thoughts," your sister chastises. 

The twin brothers walk into the room looking almost yellow in the candlelight, and you can tell immediately why they took so long. "Dear heavens, did you have to go drinking the night before this wretched ball?" You approach Rowan and fix his lapels.

"The Princes wanted to show us the city," Richard says with a silly grin.

"Showing you the city brothels, more like," you say disapprovingly. "Not that I have anything against those girls, but you don't know what kind of care is given to them here, at least in Genovia we have protection rubbers. Did they provide you with those?"

Richard makes a face. "I'm not sharing the details of my intimate life with my older sister!"

"That's a no, then," you roll your eyes. "Idiots. Our parents taught us better than that."

"We drank the wine and you took the flush of it," Rowan teases you. "Fanning your face does nothing if you don't relax, you know?"

Before you can continue bickering, the doors open signaling it's time to make your entrance. The youngest Princes come to you and your sister and offer their arms, gracefully guiding you into the space.

The ballroom is lavishly decorated to appeal mainly to you and your family. The servants have pear flowers adorning the pockets of their jackets, and the colours of your flag are carefully utilised in bouquets, carpets, and silk arrangements all over the room to pay homage to your culture. 

"This lot may be a bit prickly but they certainly have an eye for decore," you mutter to your companion forgetting it's not your sister and receive an awkward, discontented chuckle at your thoughtless comment.

You blush even more and do your best to keep a calm attitude and avoid the faces in the crowd, for the first minute you stand at the top of the stairs, embarrassed but contained, you wait until your sister and brothers are standing beside you, and then, having no option but to acknowledge your hosts, you look at the crowd beneath you. 

In the first five seconds, you do well enough, which is already a victory for you, but then your eyes spot a tall man looking at you with horror and you recognize him from your walk in the park. The squeak that leaves your lips is so loud and guttural that there is no way to hide it in a cough or a sneeze, not that doing any would help you recover your poise.

Your brain, faced with a fly or fight situation, decides to fight in a way that has never done before. You speak to the crowd. "Eek—! I-Incredible crowd of beautiful people!" You say to all the staring faces. "Thank you for welcoming us into your lovely country!"

You kick your sister's foot urging her to either talk or move, and since she's too shocked to speak, she turns towards the steps and takes Richard's arm to join the crowd, glancing at you over her shoulder with concern. 

Rowan steps in and offers his arm to you, smiling but just as dumbfounded as your sister. "What was that?"

"Do me a favour," you whisper in mortification. "If you see my hand empty, place a drink in it."

Next Chapter –>

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