#I’ve literally only drawn two things this month

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[shardkn1ght]

HI HI YOUR ART IS GORGEOUS SO PRETTY SO WONDERFUL AND I LOVE LOOKING AT IT

THANK YOU FOR SHARING IT WITH US

T-thank you!

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiya! Do you know any Sterek fics where Derek rejects the mate bond with Stiles and just ignores it all, leading to Stiles feeling the strain or pain of an ignored/incomplete bond? I've read one before where Derek just moved away cuz he didn't think it was a big deal and Stiles really took the brunt of it. But any fics that are similar would be perfect. P.S. Thank you for everything that you do and I hope that you're having a great day!

Oh yes. I love this kind of angst.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,423 I Teen)

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(1/1 I 2,624 I General)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(19/? I 535,709 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

[apollos-boyfriend]

regarding the fandom attempting to push ironmouse into cellbit’s (+ roier’s) kid, a thing i’ve noticed is the infantilizing of ironmouse/her character isn’t just in the insistence of the nuclear family. it’s definitely a part of it, yes, but the part that really just shows how little self-awareness there is to it is how mousey is being portrayed. in 90% of the fanart i’ve seen of her being cellbit’s “kid”, she’s drawn as a child. she is literally being infantilized.

this is bad enough on its own, obviously. worse considering mousey is older than cellbit irl, and her vtuber character (by extension, arguably her qsmp character) is over six thousand years old. what REALLY drives the nail into the coffin, though, is when you compare how people have been portraying her vs how they’ve been portraying roier. roier, who has had other characters canonically adopt his, whose dads also have another child, much like how spiderbit has richarlyson. i have never seen art of roier alongside the fooligetta family where he’s drawn as a child. he’s been adopted for months now, and i have yet to come across it once. does that mean there’s no art of that sort out there? no, of course not. but it’s clearly a more niche idea, not a fandom wide consensus of how their dynamic works and likely more tied to aus than anything else. mousey has been on the server for 3 days. i have not seen a single piece of fanart depicting her and cellbit as a family where she is not drawn as a literal child. and she’s not even canonically his child.

it isn’t a coincidence that, out of two people in nearly-identical scenarios, the woman is the only one being infantilized.

[lustfulslxt]

Only anon bc imma pussy…but like what if matt and them have been friends for a while and she find him like jerking off to pictures and shit. Or like pics that he took of her like bent over while she wasn’t looking🤭

Caught - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : slight masturbation, sex

—

Matt’s POV

It’s currently Friday night and we have the weekend off, so Y/N is spending the night with us. We usually just hang out, eat, play games, watch movies.

Y/N’s been our friend for a good few years, and we’re together a lot. If I’m being honest, she kind of drives me crazy. She’s so perfect and the simplest things she does, quite literally, make me hard.

“Can I pick the movie?” Chris asks, jumping over the couch, landing right next to me.

I shrug, “I don’t really care.”

Nick and Y/N both round the corner, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her. She’s wearing a little baby tee and some booty shorts. It’s not weird for her to be like that, we’ve all been best friends forever now. I’ve just been having new urges for a couple of months.

The two sit on the couch opposite of me and Chris. It’s hard to pull my eyes away from her, but I have to when Chris holds his hand out to me.

“What?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows.

“The remote. Do you not listen?” He retorts.

I only roll my eyes and hand him the remote from beside me. Before my gaze can return to Y/N, I quickly force myself to stare at the blank TV. I don’t know what it is, she’s just got me in some trance lately. Taking a deep breath to push my thoughts away, I roll my neck and shuffle in my seat.

“You good, Matty?” I hear her ask me, causing my head to snap in her direction.

“W-what? Why? I’m fine.” I ramble, before closing my eyes in frustration.

“You seem tense, kid.” Nick calls out.

I just ignore him, a small groan leaving my mouth. Why am I like this? What is this sick shit? I can’t get the thought of bending her over, while she takes all of me, out of my head.

With another heavy breath, I remove my hoodie as I’m beginning to get hot, and place it next to me. I can’t help but adjust myself in my seat again, feeling hot and bothered.

Of course, seeing as I have the worst self control, my eyes slowly trail back over to Y/N. She sat against the arm of the couch, one of her legs perched up, her foot flat with her knee against her chest, her other leg lying beneath that one. The position she’s in shows off her juicy thighs and encircles her core that’s covered by the thin fabric of her shorts. I can feel myself growing harder, wanting nothing more than to drag her back to my room and rail her senseless. Quickly, I grab my hoodie and place it on my lap to cover my now obvious erection.

“Dude!” Chris whisper shouts at me, “What the fuck is going on with you?”

My head shoots over to him in a panic, eyes frantic, wondering if he knows what’s going through my head right now. I can’t even form words, my breath stuck in my throat, so I just shrug and wave him off. My attention is pulled from him when I see Y/N stand up and head into the kitchen. Without thinking at all, I’m on my feet and following her.

When I round the corner, my footsteps come to a halt. There she was, bent over in the fridge. I suck in a breath, gasping at the sight in front of me. Her shorts were riding up her ass, her cheeks being completely visible, her shorts pressed tightly against her pussy. I felt like I wasn’t in control of myself as I pulled my phone out, bringing up my camera and snapping a picture of her. Just as I bring my phone back down, she turns around and locks eyes with me, my face immediately flushing.

“Hey.” She speaks, her voice soft. “Are you okay?”

I nod, gulping, “Can you toss me a water?”

She does so, a smile gracing her face in the process. I give her a small thanks and head back to my room, rather than the living room with the rest of them. I needed space to think without having her consume everything around me.

Once I shut myself in my room, I spread out on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing, completely overwhelmed with my feelings.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been an hour or so since the movie ended, everyone else was in their rooms, presumably going to sleep. I’ve just been scrolling through my phone, not really paying attention to anything on my screen as my mind was occupied elsewhere.

I can’t stop thinking about Matt; he seemed off tonight. I want to make sure he is okay, but so far, he’s only been lying and saying he’s fine. I know him better than that, I know he’s bothered by something, I just don’t know what.

Part of me wants to get up and go to his room, forcing him to talk to me. Another part is telling me to wait until he’s ready. Surely, it’s not too serious. As if the universe is telling me to go to his room, the ‘low battery’ notification pops up on my screen. My charger is in his room.

With a small huff, I remove my blanket from me and stand up from the couch, immediately heading towards his room. I figured he was probably sleeping like Nick and Chris, so I just quietly walk in. However, I couldn’t have been more wrong as he was definitely not sleeping.

His back was turned towards me, but I could see his right arm moving up and down as his head was slightly tilted back. It didn’t take a genius to realize what he was doing, so I just step backwards in an attempt to leave. As I’m about to turn out the door, his bright phone screen catches my eye. You would think he’s watching porn or something, but he’s staring at a picture. More so a picture of me. A picture of me from not even two hours ago.

“Matt!” I whisper shout, bewildered at the fact that he was jerking off to a picture that he sneakily took of me.

He jumps, flinching in embarrassment as he locked his phone and covered himself up. It took him a minute before he finally turned around to come face to face with me, his cheeks bright red.

“What are you doing in here?” He asks, his voice frantic as his eyes dart all around.

“I came to get my charger. What are you doing in here?” I reply, emphasizing my question. When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “I saw you, Matt.”

His mouth begins to open and shut, unsure of what to say. He closes his eyes and inhales, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You took a picture of me.” I state, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious by now.

He nods, licking his lips nervously. I could see that he was anxiously anticipating my reaction, but I didn’t even know what to do. What do you do when you’re turned on by your best friend touching himself to a picture he took of you?

I walk over to the bed and sit next to him, “Is this the first time you’ve done this?”

He avoids eye contact with me and shakes his head from left to right, indicating he’s done it before. He opens his phone up, and immediately scrolls to the next picture and, once again, it’s of me. I was wearing a bralette and a mini skirt that barely covered my ass. One of my legs was perched up on the table as I leaned forward to put on my shoe. My asscheeks were out and you could clearly see my lace underwear beneath the skirt.

“Damn, I look good.” I smirk, pleased with the photo.

“Yeah, you do.” He chuckles, immediately stopping and looking back at my face, trying to read my emotions.

“So, you’re fantasizing about me?” I question.

He bashfully nods, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

He shrugs, “And say what? Hey Y/N, so like, I kind of want to fuck the shit out of you.”

I blush, as if it isn’t obvious by the fact that he was jerking off to me, and mimic his shrug. “What if I wanted you to fuck the shit out of me?”

His eyes widen, thrown back by my statement. After taking a moment to recover, he scoots closer to me and softly grabs my face with one of his hands, bringing me closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, looking into my eyes for confirmation.

Instead of responding with words, I close the gap between us and press my lips onto him. The kiss is short and sweet, more so testing the waters. It only takes a second before we meet again, our lips lapping one another’s perfectly. He placed his free hand on my back, pulling me impossibly closer as my hands make their way to his hair. A soft groan erupts from his throat as I give his hair a nice tug, the sound of his sultry voice going straight to my core.

Gaining a new found confidence, Matt swiftly pulls me onto his lip and shoves his tongue in my mouth. He’s licking and sucking everything, swapping saliva. I can feel his dick bulging between my legs, fully rock hard. His hands meet my hips, grinding me against him, eliciting a moan from my lips.

“I want you so bad.” He groans into my ear as his lips work on my neck.

“Then take me.” I say, allowing him more access with a tilt of my head.

Like a flip switched, Matt quickly removes my shirt, leaving me topless in his lap. He groans at the sight of my bare chest, his hands bringing both of my boobs into his palms, squeezing them tenderly. He pinches both of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, kneading them. Soft whimpers left my lips as he did so, his wet mouth also leaving kisses all over my neck.

My hands grab the hem of his shirt and I pull it over his head, connecting our lips once more after. His arm wraps around my back and he turns, laying me flat on his bed, taking position knelt above me, his mouth never leaving mine. His fingers hook in the waistband of my shorts, lingering as if waiting for approval, so I pull away and give him a nod when we make eye contact.

Within seconds, the rest of my clothes are on the floor and I lay bare in front of him. He’s on his knees, in between my legs, and his eyes are boring into me, his pupils blown out with lust. I can see his dick protruding from his boxers, begging to be released from its restrictions, eager for any kind of stimulation. He swiftly removes the piece of clothing, before laying down right beside me.

He pulls me into him, one of his hands on my face, the other on my bare ass. He slams his lips into mine, his tongue instantly swiping against my bottom lip, asking for entrance, to which I gave him. Our tongues battled for dominance, Matt shoving his in my mouth, exploring as much as he can while our teeth clash together. With every touch, I feel my arousal pooling between my legs, drenching my folds. Matt squeezes my ass, kneading it before his fingers trail closer to my opening. He reaches down to my pussy and swipes his fingers between my folds, emitting a moan from me.

“Mmm. You’re so wet for me.” He groans into my lips.

Without another word, he slides two fingers through my slit, immediately entering my hole. He swallows every moan that comes from my mouth as he kisses me, hard. His fingers continue pumping in and out, getting me ready to take him. My hand envelops his throbbing dick, squeezing as I pumped my hand, causing him to shudder and buck his hips.

“I want to be inside of you.” He groans, still bucking his hips.

“Please. I need you so bad, daddy.” I moan out as his fingers thrust back into me.

He swiftly removes his hand, shoving his fingers in my mouth as he rolls me over so that my back is against his chest. I suck on his fingers, cleansing them of my juices. He takes his hand from my mouth and wraps it around my throat at the same time he sinks himself into me. I can’t help them lewd moans that erupt from me. His hand moves from my throat to my hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling my head back, making me arch my back. His opposite hand grabs my leg and lifts it up to the side, giving himself better access as his thrusts pick up.

“Oh fuck.” I moan, my face scrunching up in pleasure.

He picks up the pace, railing in and out of me. He leans forward, his mouth meeting the side of my neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. I can hear his low moans right in my ear and it was turning me on so much more.

“Shit. Feels s-so good, Matt.” I gasp, reveling in the way he’s making me feel.

His thrusts turn more aggressive, my legs now shaking and my breath catching in my throat. His grip on my hair tightens, pulling my head back even more. His eyes meet mine and he’s got a devilish smirk on his face.

“Nah, baby. What’s my name?”

With the way he’s pounding into me, I can’t even think straight. His hand reaches under my leg, using his forearm to keep it up, his fingers meeting my clit, and rubbing in fast, tight circles.

“What’s my name?” He repeats, his tone more demanding and aggressive.

“Daddy! Fu - fuck, daddy! Nghh.” I whine out, my body convulsing.

“Such a good girl. Cum for daddy, so I can fill you up.” He groans, keeping the exact same rhythm with his hand and hips.

My mind is hazy and I can’t hear anything but the sound of my rapid heartbeat as I let go. I shake and tremble, unable to keep my composure as pornographic moans leave my mouth. A moment later, I feel his hot cum shoot into me, loud moans escaping from him. He continues fucking into me, letting us ride out our highs.

He pulls out and drops my legs, immediately rubbing my hip and thigh, as if sensing the incoming charlie horse. After a minute, he flips me over to face him, staring into my eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just gazing at me, intensely. Suddenly a grin pulls to his lips and they’re meeting mine in a sweet and tender kiss.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” He asks, brushing the sweaty hair out of my face. “Then, maybe spend the night in here with me?”

“Sounds good.” I grin back, pulling him in for another kiss.

—

a/n : mixed feelings ab this, sorry if it’s not what you had in mind! hope you enjoy:) send in reqs 🫶🏼

[wingfril]

Page #1 that I did for @dgm20thproject ! See the zine at that blog. I also got 8 poster card printed with this design and a few posters printed. If anyone in nyc or Chicago want them, let me know! We can meet up when they arrive in two month :)

Oh man this was fun to experiment and draw. I had no idea what I was doing since again, this was the first (serious) thing I’ve drawn in about 4 years. There’s quite a few runner up ideas.

Did anyone notice that the outer ring is literally the piano score (irl) for the 14th song 👀 . I played piano as a kid specifically for college, but that piece was the only piece of music I’ve ever learned on my own accord.

My original page was pretty boring, so I had to come up with some way of spicing it up :)

[padfootagain]

Old Crush

Hello ! Here is a request that was sent my way by an anon : ‘Great! So I had this idea for a Ben imagine... So you were a big fan of Ben since you saw him in the Narnia movies, and you had a crush on him for years. Now, years later you're dating him but you never told him about knowing who he was before meeting him nor about this crush you had on him/his character (does that have sense?😅) And somehow he finds out and he's mad about it because he feels betrayed that you lied and he thinks you are only dating him because of who he is. But a happy ending, please!’

Thank you for sending in a request, anon! I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you!

I hope you all like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: a bit of angst. Hurt/comfort. Fluffy ending. (the ask was perfect to use some interviews about Ordinary Day so… because I don’t know but whenever he speaks about being enough my heart just goes dfiejierjiejri)

Summary: Ben didn’t know that you were a fan of his already before you started dating, and when he finds out, he doesn’t like it at all. All his insecurities are suddenly brought back to life…

Word Count: 3156

Ben's Masterlist - Main Masterlist

It was a beautiful day, odds were in Ben’s favour to spend a lovely afternoon with you.

Lunch in the sun on your balcony, in your shared home, eating a tasty meal and drinking some fine wine. He glimpsed at the shining ring on your finger as the gem caught the sun and glimmered even more than usual, while he listened to you ramble about something exciting that happened at work. And it was perfect.

Perfect. Everything about this moment, about you, about the two of you… was perfect.

He wasn’t claiming that it wasn’t hard sometimes, because it was. You butted heads, you fought from time to time, you got annoyed at him and he got mad at you. He was away often and you weren’t always around. Sometimes, it was rough, but it was worth it. That was what Ben meant when ‘perfect’ popped into his mind to be written on everything around him. No matter what, he was certain you were the one. No matter what, he was certain he would fight for you. The two of you would make it work, no matter what. Because you were everything he wanted, and he was enough for you.

Him. Ben. Not Ben Barnes, not the actor, not the fame, not the money… just… him. Simple Ben who overthought everything, was too cautious sometimes, had only a vague idea of what a meme was, loved goofing around, and made a mediocre chili that he claimed was amazing. You loved him, and he knew it. He knew that if tomorrow he dropped everything and walked out of the glamour and fame you would hold his hand and give him a bright smile and ask ‘okay, where are we going, then?’ And it made it perfect. To be enough made it perfect…

A dreamy smile formed on his lips at the thought that this was going to last forever. You were signing up for a lifetime together. Endless supplies of banter, of conversations that lasted till dawn, of cuddles on the sofa, of kisses in a kitchen bathed with dawn, of hands holding on each other as if they never wanted to let go. Endless supplies of silly fights forgotten on the pillow, of eyes opening to the sight of the other sleeping, of boxes of chocolate brought home every day for a week every month, of flights caught to close the distance, of faces drawn in pixels and voices distorted by phones, of painful goodbyes before climbing in a cab.

All of it, good or bad, was about to last for the rest of your lives, together. A couple of months more to wait until you would both say yes and be each other’s for a lifetime…

Sometimes, he wondered if things would have been different if you had met under different circumstances. Instead of bumping – quite literally – into each other in this supermarket… what if you had met and started dating knowing who he was? Would he have opened up so easily then? Would he have let himself be drawn to you with such a force?

But then again, you didn’t know who he was back then. And he was thankful for it. He hadn’t had to worry about the fame, about you being earnest, about money… none of that mattered, not between the two of you.

He was just Ben with you, and it was enough. And you were just Y/N, and it was enough.

“Are you even listening at this point?”

Ben shook himself out of his dreamy state, looking away from your shimmering ring and up to your eyes again. He wanted to drown in their colour forever…

You were amused more than annoyed, head tilted to the side and a playful smile on your lips.

“You’re talking about Francis breaking the coffee machine. Again,” he answered with a cocky smile. “Of course, I’m listening, love.”

“You seemed to have zoned out for a moment,” you explained before eating the last bite of your dessert.

“Was just… kind of lost in thought, I guess. But I was listening.”

“What were you thinking about? You were smiling, it ought to be nice.”

His smile widened, something mischievous and flirtatious added to the crooked gesture.

“I was thinking about this,” he answered, nodding towards your ring. “And about all the naughty things we’ll do on our honeymoon.”

You laughed, choking on the piece of fruit you were eating. And God, did he adore that sound…

“And… what kind of thoughts these might be? Are you making plans?” you asked back, flirt lowering your voice too, and Ben couldn’t help the way his heart jumped in his chest at the sound.

“I am, actually,” he fought back, leaning a little across the table, a dangerous glint darkening his black eyes. “I have a full list, at this point… of things I’m going to do to you.”

He noticed your sharp intake of breath, and leaned back in his chair, winking at you in a seductive way, making you nervously giggle.

“Can’t wait for that, then… Can I get a preview?”

Ben let out a loud laugh, shaking his head.

“No way, I’m keeping that for later. We should relax this afternoon.”

“Sex is… relaxing…”

“No…” Ben shook his head, amused.

Instead, Ben ended up doing the dishes while you settled on the sofa and looked for something to watch on TV. You went through the channels, until Ben’s face appeared on the screen.

“Oh! Honey! You’re on TV!”

Ben chuckled, putting away the last plate before walking inside the living room to join you. Indeed, his face was on the screen; a shaven, much younger version of himself.

“Oh, it’s Narnia,” he said with a fond smile on his lips as some of his friends appeared on the screen as well.

He sat by your side on the sofa and immediately snuggled against you, rolling his eyes as you whistled when he was on the screen again, playfully catcalling him.

“My… my… look at this handsome guy, right there!” you teased, pinching his side, and Ben couldn’t help but blush.

“Not bad, huh? Is he your type?” he asked, playing along, the red reaching the tip of his ears.

He tried hard to refrain a grin, but he couldn’t.

“Definitely! He looks a little like my fiancé, you see?”

“Oh, I see…”

You both exploded with laughter, unable to keep a straight face for much longer.

“You are definitely my type,” you went on. “God… even then, I had a crush on you!”

Ben frowned, looking at you questioningly.

“What do you mean?”

He squeezed your thigh, the feeling of your body against him reassuring.

“Well… even as Caspian, I had a crush on you.”

“When?”

His frown deepened, and he couldn’t help the way his heart sped up all of a sudden. Because… you couldn’t be meaning that. You didn’t know who he was when you met…

“I mean that when I watched Narnia for the first time, I had a crush on Caspian. So… on you… kind of.”

“But when did you watch it?”

“When it came out! I went to see these movies with some friends at the time.”

You seemed puzzled by his reaction, and perhaps it was normal for you to do so. You frowned, the small crease forming across your brow. And perhaps it was but logical for you to react like that, but Ben didn’t think so. Instead, he merely stared at you, frowning hard, almost glaring, his jaw clenched tight, all of a sudden…

“What?” you asked, even more taken aback as Ben sat up, letting go of you completely.

You knew him before you met. You knew who he was that day, in the supermarket, and during your first date and…

You had a crush on him already? What… if you knew who he was then… had you ever been interested in him back then? That rainy afternoon when you bumped so hard into him in this supermarket he fell over?

He couldn’t control the way his heart was racing, the growing feeling that was crushing his chest more and more. This feeling, so painful, of… betrayal…

“Ben? What’s wrong, honey?”

He got up at the sound of the nickname.

Was it real? From the beginning? And why had you not told him you knew who he was? What was your plan? Were you… were you lying about the two of you?

“You’ve never told me,” he spoke at last, voice low and shaking with an anger he struggled to control.

You shrugged; and Ben hated you for it. Because everything was crumbling around him, his mind was spiralling, and you were… shrugging?

“What about it? I love these movies. Haven’t watched them in ages, though…”

“When we met… when we went on our first date, you never told me you knew who I was.”

You frowned hard, failing to understand why he seemed angry now, why his voice was so low, a rumble of upcoming thunder.

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” you admitted. “Not in the supermarket. Not before you told me your full name, and that you were an actor.”

“That was on our first date! Why didn’t you tell me then?”

But again, you shrugged, at a loss for words. And he could see it in your eyes: that you didn’t understand what was happening, why he was mad, what you had done wrong.

Ben tried to take a few deep breaths, in an attempt to slow down his pounding heart and to clear his head. But it didn’t work well…

“What does it matter, anyway?” you asked, and Ben scoffed in response, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You should have told me…”

“Why? It was ages ago… who cares?”

“I care!” he replied, raising his voice, the announced storm finally reaching the surface, making the air heavy and filled with electricity.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted, keeping your voice low and calm, but it didn’t soothe Ben’s anger.

“I thought… You said you hadn’t watched anything I was in. You lied!”

“I didn’t lie! At the time, you had just finished working on the Punisher, and I hadn’t watched that.”

Four years… that was too long ago, he couldn’t remember the exact words that were spoken. And perhaps you were right. Perhaps you had never claimed to have never watched anything he had been in but were only unaware of the project he was working on at the time. Perhaps he had been the one distorting your words a little. But it didn’t matter. Ben was still angry, even if he might be in the wrong.

Because it meant that… how could he trust you now? How could he know that you were the one? That he he was enough?

“Did you go on a date with me because I’m an actor?”

It was your turn to be hurt, he read it in your eyes.

“What?”

“Did you accept to go on a date with me only because I’m an actor? Just for the clout?”

“How dare you!” you protested, standing up as well, hurt mingling now with anger. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know… I’m not sure to know that anymore…”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you went on a date with me, and then became my girlfriend because you… not because of the fame, or the money or…”

“Of course, I didn’t! What’s next, you’re gonna call me a whore and claim I only slept with you for money? I don’t need your money, and I never have!”

“I didn’t say that…”

“You’d better not! Besides, let’s bring your ego down a notch, because you might be talented, but you’re not a superstar either, Ben.”

“No need to be mean.”

“You’re basically saying I’ve slept with you for money! How is that not insulting?”

But Ben was less and less convincing at hiding his hurt behind his anger. Because there were tears at the corners of his angry gaze, and a shakiness in his voice due to a tightened throat; and if he clenched his jaw and fists now, it was to hide the fear that crept within his heart.

Because if you had fantasized on this person he wasn’t… was it what you saw in him? Was it what you saw at the beginning, at least?

Because he thought that he was enough, but then again… was he? Had you fallen in love with him or with the image of him you already liked?

“What about the fantasy of it then? What about that crush on someone I’m not?” he spat, holding onto the rage to hide the fragility he longed to forget.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Was I a fantasy to you?”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“What do you mean ‘a fantasy’?”

“Well, I don’t know… Apparently you had a crush on me before we even met! Or, to be more precise, you had a crush on someone I am not.”

He expected you to keep your voice high, maybe to raise your voice even more. But you didn’t. Instead, he was taken aback as you visibly relaxed, as your gaze softened, as you heaved a sigh.

“Ben… what’s wrong? For real?”

“I told you what was wrong! You lied, and now… I don’t even know if this is real anymore. Us. Our whole relationship… we were supposed to get married!”

“Were?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

But he regretted these words as soon as they passed his lips. Because despite his stupid doubts, he loved you with all his heart. You were the one, he knew it.

Why was he pushing you away like this, then?

But you didn’t fall for it, didn’t follow him down this path of anger he was opening for you. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, and he was so taken aback that he didn’t protest, nor moved away.

“I love you,” you said, your voice soothing again, warm and reassuring, your natural tone. “I love you more than anything. And this has nothing to do with your job, or with whether or not I liked Caspian years ago. I fell in love with you on our seventh date when you got us lost on our way to the beach because you have no sense of direction whatsoever.”

He rolled his eyes, but you weren’t fooled. You could feel the muscles of his back relaxing under your hands.

“I love you, Ben. You know I do. So… what is this all about?”

He shrugged, looking away so you wouldn’t see that he was holding back tears.

How could he say it? That he was terrified all over again that one day you would change your mind. That one day, you wouldn’t think as him being enough…

Because it happened before, but you didn’t really know that. It happened, over and over again. Because people expected him to be someone else, and they fell for his public image at first, for a fictional character, and then they woke up next to him and they just… disappeared. Because disappointment always drove people away.

But this time around, it was different. You were different. You made him feel so safe, so confident, so loved… if you turned up to dismiss him just like the others, Ben wasn’t certain he would be able to overcome it this time around.

But he couldn’t tell you that.

It was okay, though, he didn’t really have to. You read it in his eyes when you caught his gaze for a second before he could look away once more, you noticed it in his clenched jaw and the slight shaking of his hands, you saw it in the fear that he tried to hide still but was painted in every crinkle of his handsome face.

“There’s no need to push me away,” you spoke in the softest voice, and he felt safe all over again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving. I’m happy with you. And I don’t care about anything but being with you. With the real you. The one waking up way too early on Sundays, and who gets lost everywhere he goes, and always has to make lists for everything, and sings all the time, and cuddles me every morning, and worries about our tickets way too much when we leave for a vacation and… You. Just you. I just want to be with you, Ben. Everything else doesn’t matter. Okay? Do you understand? I don’t need anything more, as long as I can spend my life loving you.”

You could have gone on, but Ben suddenly wrapped his arms around you as well, finally reciprocating your gesture, and he held you tightly, so tightly you could hardly breathe, but you didn’t mind.

You heard him sniffing as he buried his face into your hair, breathed deeply the sweet scent of your shampoo.

He was being ridiculous… this was ridiculous… You were right. You loved him. And he loved you… God, he loved you so damn much, it physically hurt…

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, trying to calm down, anger slowly being replaced by this sense of fragility he was desperate to avoid. “I didn’t… I’m sorry. It was pretty ridiculous, right?”

“It’s okay.”

“I… I guess I had a little… insecurity crisis for a moment.”

“Yeah, I got that. I don’t really understand why though.”

“It’s just… I’m afraid sometimes that people don’t like me as much as they like the idea they have of me. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you nodded, he felt your head moving against his cheek and shoulder.

“I see. But I don’t care about that. I love you for who you are.”

It was his time to nod.

“It’s just… I’m worried sometimes that one day you’ll realize I’m just me, nothing more. And that… I’m not… that I can’t get you more than that. More than me.”

“But you’re everything I need, Ben. You’re enough. You’re so much more than enough, actually.”

Finally, he smiled, grinned even, you felt the gesture against your skin as he pressed his lips to your temple.

“I feel very stupid. I’m sorry,” he apologized in a whisper.

“It’s alright.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not. I think you could have handled that better, but it’s okay. Do you still want to watch a movie with me?”

He chuckled, pulling away just enough to gently hold your face in both his hands, and kiss you for a rather long time. If any trace of anger had remained in your heart, it was fully gone after this loving gesture.

He offered you a grateful smile when you finally opened your eyes again.

“I will always want to watch movies with you, my love. Even when I act like an idiot.”

***************************************

Taglist: @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Chocolate and Pining

Jim Halpert x GN!Reader

PART ONE

[TABLE OF CONTENTS]

Check Table of Contents for entire fic summary and Key!

Summary: The cameras arrive and begin their rotation through the office. What will their shiny lens and intrusive questions uncover?

Warnings: canon-compliant cheating (if you count Pam flirting while engaged)

Author's Note: First post of the new rewrite, and Im kinda glad I only post two chapters of this previously because I went through and changed the entire thing from third person pov to first, to match along with the rest of the xReaders i’ve been writing.

[ ֎” ]

"Alright," You begin, your legs crossed while you tap one hand on your thigh. "What do I even say?" You huff a little laugh, shaking your head. You sat on an uncomfortable grey plastic chair, blinds slightly drawn behind you to block the view of the rest of the office working. You turn around and glance back, looking through the small opening available and noting three different cameras roaming the office and zooming in on people.

"What do we do here?" You repeat the question you're given, turning back toward your own interview camera. "Well, this is Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch. We're a paper-pushing company." You stop for a moment before the producer behind the camera does a sort of wave as if urging you on. "Uh- well, I'm the receptionist here. I took the job almost a year ago. I transfer calls to the department they need to go to, write notes during our meetings- I'm basically Michael's secretary." You awkwardly laugh, glancing at the wall of the conference room shared with Michael's office as if he could hear through it. You wouldn’t doubt it if someone told you he stood there with his ear pressed to the wall.

"What's the most interesting thing about this job?" You furrow your brows in concern, uncrossing your legs and sitting forward. "Look, I don't know what you guys were expecting when you came here with a whole film crew, but we're a paper company. There's literally nothing interesting about working here."

[ ֎” ]

"What's interesting about working here?" Oscar asks, glancing through the blinds before leaning closer to the camera, waving his hand as he speaks quieter, "Now I'm not one to gossip, but the big thing going around is the office romance right now. And I'm not talking about Kelly and Ryan getting back together for the fifth time." He laughs shortly at his own joke before continuing. "See, Pam is engaged to Roy, he works here in the shipping warehouse downstairs. They've been together for years and they finally have a wedding date set for about a month or so from now.

"However, Jim has the biggest crush on her, everyone can tell. Before Y/N got here, Pam was the receptionist and Jim was always jumping up and going over to her to flirt constantly. Now, some believe the flirting is still going on while their desks are right next to each other, but I think it's gotten tamped down a bit since Pam scheduled a date for the wedding.

"And then there's Y/N. They started here when Pam was finally transferred to sales, and the position opened. They actually became quite close to both Pam and Jim pretty quickly, which makes some sense considering Dwight and Michael basically attacked them their first day here." —

[ ֎” ]

"Attacked Y/N? Please," Dwight scoffed, shaking his head, "I was merely preparing the new employee. If you’re not ready for a surprise stab from a ninja on your first day on the job, then I really don’t think you’re ready for work at all.” Dwight huffs out a breath, crossing his arms. “Besides, Jim made me use the dull blade.” He looks away from the camera in a strop, shrugging his shoulders. “If he hadn’t taken my sharp one I wouldn’t have had to pull out the dull one. I had to put extra force behind the attack for it to do anything, so really it’s Jim’s fault for the bruises.

“Michael? He couldn’t hurt a fly.” Dwight scoffs, then scoffs again for emphasis. “The fact that he tripped and fell that day means nothing, he was merely catching himself from falling with the closest available thing to grab. Which happened to be Y/N’s body, which he then happened to pull down with him. An honest mistake, that.”

[ ֎” ]

— "Now," Oscar continued where he left off with a smirk, "You'd think Jim flirting with Pam, and her egging it on while engaged, should be drama enough for you. But, then you have to figure into the equation that Y/N also likes Jim. I have a pretty good view of the receptionist area when Y/N sits in a certain spot, and I can hear whenever they talk to each other... Sometimes.

"Now I don't know if Jim realized he's a little flirty," Oscar wiggles his fingers with this, "But certainly not as much with them as with Pam. But- man, it's almost painful how hopeful Y/N's voice gets when they talk with Jim. Almost, but mostly just entertaining. And of course, none of the three know about this. It's basically the office soap opera at this point, and no one wants to say anything to disrupt the saga."

Oscar leans back, chuckling to himself before glancing at the camera, "Oh, almost everyone. Don't tell Dwight or Michael either, they're sure to give it away." He pats his leg for a second before smirking, "I'm team Pam. Now don’t look at me that way! I would love for Y/N and Jim to get together, but he’s just too obsessed with Pam! And that woman really needs to get herself a new man, that Roy is a real piece. of. work."

[ ֎” ]

"Team Pam or Y/N?" Phyllis asks, her smile soft as she raises a hand to cover a giggle, "Now I don't like drama, but absolutely team Y/N. Pam is engaged, it's inappropriate."

[ ֎” ]

"Team Pam, all the way." Meredith nods, smirking to the camera. "She was here first. Gotta be loyal to the branch."

[ ֎” ]

"Oh! Team Y/N!" Kelly squeals, wiggling her body in excitement.

[ ֎” ]

Jim sits in the seat, smoothing his pant legs down and sighing. "So, uh, what exactly do I say?" He places his chin in his hand, his fingers tapping restlessly against his bottom lip.

"Anything interesting?" Jim repeats, glancing out the window in the general direction of Pam and Y/N before looking back. "I mean, there's nothing really interesting about this job. Toner prices, how much each piece of paper weighs or costs-" Jim sighs, shaking his head and dropping his hand, "Honestly, the only reason I'm still here at this point is probably my friends. Pam, my desk-mate over there, we've been here for a while together. And then there's Y/N, the relatively new hire. Or, are they new?" Jim tilts his head to think about it, squinting his eyes toward the ceiling. "Has it almost been a year already?"

Jim shrugs, smirking before tapping his leg, "Oh, and also pranking Dwight. Gotta make your own fun here."

"What the- Jim!" Dwight suddenly yells, drawing half the office's attention. The other half continued blandly on with their work, used to their antics it would seem. Jim glances wearily over toward Dwight as he lugs something up from his bottom drawer, placing a plate with yellow jello and a stapler floating inside onto his desk. "What did you do?"

Jim struggles to hold back a laugh, his hand curled in front of his face and chin resting on his palm. Instead, he shrugs, leans back and crosses his arms while trying to maintain a poker face. "Nothing, Dwight. By the way, what happened to your stapler there?"

"You should know, you did it!" He sits there for a moment, glaring at Jim before bounding up, running and calling out, "Michael!"

You were half standing behind your reception desk to get a good look, sniggering to yourself about this prank- it was a good one. You look over to Jim and see him give Pam a high-five, mumbling something to each other before Jim looks in your direction and shoots you a full smile instead of the smirk he had been wearing. You smile back, sitting back down in your chair and scooting up closer to your computer.

The camera swings around closer to Jim, listening more in on their conversation. "How did you even do it?" Pam asks and snickers quietly before straightening up suddenly, grabbing her phone to press to her ear in an attempt to look as if she was doing her work as their boss exits his office.

"Let me see, let me see-" Michael finally lays eyes on the prank, laughing loudly. "Wow, just- wow!" He laughs some more, patting Jim on the back. "This is a creative one, good job Jimbo!" Dwight scoffs, moving to be in Michael's line of sight. Michael jumps slightly as if remembering he's the boss before clearing his throat and looking at Jim. "Oh, but don't do it again."

"Do what again?" Jim asks, playing dumb still and raising his eyebrows at Michael. Michael barks a laugh in return and pats his back again before wandering back into his office, mumbling about jello under his breath. Jim turns toward Dwight with a victorious grin while you stand, carrying your lunch box toward the kitchen. You tap Jim's shoulder twice in passing as if to say good job, and Jim barely has enough time to lift a hand to yours as you gently pull away to continue to your destination.

"Get it out," Dwight demands, standing near Jim and glaring at him.

"Get what out?"

"My stapler!"

"Well, it is your stapler, Dwight." Jim turns back toward his computer, chuckling under his breath.

"Oh, and how am I supposed to get it out?"

"I don't know, eat the jello?" Jim suggests, causing Dwight to scoff loudly as he plops in his chair.

"I can't just eat the jello, Jim. I wrote my name in whiteout on the stapler so everyone would know it's mine." Dwight pauses for a moment before narrowing his eyes. "Unless you knew that, and you'd assume I'd eat this. You're trying to poison me!" Jim sighs loudly, widening his eyes toward the camera before shaking his head.

"Ok, and with that, I'm going to take my lunch." He stands, turning to make his way toward the kitchen.

"If you need something to eat, I have a whole plate of jello right here for you Jim!"

Jim enters the kitchen, watching you press a few buttons on the microwave to heat your lunch. He dons a small private smile before sneaking closer behind you, reaching out and grabbing your sides while calling out a quick, "Boo!"

You jump heavily and yelp, turning around quickly with a hand pressed to your chest, panting out your breaths. "Fuckin- Halpert!" You yell out, smacking his arm before slumping against the counter behind you. Taking a few more breaths as Jim bends over laughing, you call out, "Unfair!"

"Oh? Unfair?" Jim replies, grinning toward you, "This is just payback for that email!"

"Hey, I sent that yesterday!"

"And I just opened it today." Jim grinned, not at all sorry, as you remember the jumpscare chain email you had forwarded to him, hoping to see his reaction.

"Well, that's unfortunate. I wanted to see you jump, I must've missed it." You pouted slightly and Jim's face did a small change, becoming softer and crinkling slightly at the eyes. You don’t seem to notice as you turn toward your food once the microwave beeps.

"Yeah, you were being harried by Michael, something about new shoes?" At which you groan loudly, holding up a finger with an eye roll.

"Don't even get me started on that." You thought back to that same morning when Michael came in with muddy shoes, whining about how he had just bought them even though you could’ve sworn you had seen Michael wearing them for the last half a year. How exactly did time pass in Michael's world, you wondered? And how had they gotten muddied? It wasn’t even raining outside!

"If you need to talk about it, I'm here," Jim said, sounding oddly sincere, but then continued quickly, "Although if the opposite is true I'm also very willing to go into detail about the newest book I just finished of my series."

"Oh? You mean your nerdy novels about swords and dragons?" You reply, raising your eyebrows and smirking at Jim as you stirred your lunch. “Aren’t you supposed to be a jock or something?”

"Don't pretend like you don't love the series, you listen to me ramble about it every week," Jim replied, never losing his smile and never looking away from you. His focus felt like fire on you, and there was nothing you could do to put it out. You weren’t even sure you wanted to. “And it is possible for someone to like sports and reading at the same time.”

"Hmm." You hum, pretending to think about it. It really wasn't a hard choice- while the stories sounded interesting enough by themselves, it was Jim telling them to you that made the whole week worth it. Listening to Jim become so passionate about something he found interesting was almost infectious, you practically waited for these days just to gain inspiration for your own writing. And if you happen to write fanfiction about the stories you've never actually read- well, Jim didn't need to know about that. "Alright, fine, if you insist. So what's new with Salamander and Patterson?"

"It's Sally and Parker," Jim began in disbelief, rolling his eyes fondly as you pick up your lunch, the both of you moving to the break room. You had known that, of course, but watching Jim try to explain for the seventh time why Sally is absolutely not a salamander and is, in fact, more like a snake than anything else just brings a smile to your face and a warm feeling to fill your chest.

You sat down at a chair, thankful for the empty break room as Jim wandered over to the vending machines. He put in some money and roughly pushed a few buttons, complaining all the while about his book characters. He ends up chuckling and shaking his head as he states that he needed to 'start from the beginning.'

A packet of double chocolate chip cookies lands in front of you, and you grin brightly while reaching for the gift. "My favourite, how did you know?" You look up to see Jim looking quickly away, not noticing the red starting to stain his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

"You eat it every week," Jim replies quietly as if that explains it, fetching his own lunch. "Anyway so then Parker-"

It was later in the day, and you sat bored at your desk, a word document pulled up on your computer that was half written with a personal story. Though you weren't actively typing it, instead spinning a pen in your hand as you stare in the direction of the sales associates.

"I honestly don't know what I'm looking for here," Jim speaks lowly, chuckling as he held Pam's hand in both of his, her palm facing upward. He looks up into her eyes as she giggles, shaking her head.

"No, look closer, here," Pam takes one of his hands, taking a finger and tracing a line on her palm as if this would help him read it, "This is the life line. Or- wait, maybe it's the heart line?" Pam giggles again, though misses Jim's almost yearning gaze as he holds her hand a little tighter.

"I don't know what either of those mean, Beesly," Jim replied, his voice low, and Pam finally looked up. Their eyes met and you finally had to look away, the pain in your chest becoming almost too much to bear.

And, almost as if on cue, Roy pushes in the door to the office, walking forward with his hand holding a leather jacket over his shoulder. You glance up quickly, about to start your usual introduction before realizing who it is and clearing your throat loudly, throwing a worried glance toward Jim. He glances over in time, thankfully, yanking his hands back as if burned when spotting Roy turning the corner. It seemed as though Roy hadn't noticed, smiling at his fiance as he approached before leaning down and kissing her forehead.

You watched the pained expression cross Jim's face for just a moment before he managed to school his features into a poker face. You felt for him, honestly. You knew how it felt when the person you liked, well, liked someone else. You just wanted him to be happy above all else, and you knew pining after Pam was not it. If only Pam wouldn't egg it on constantly, maybe he'd have a chance to get over her.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me just pack my things and print out one more file, I'll meet you down there," Pam replied to her fiance, smiling blindingly bright at him before they kiss once more. Roy turned around, passing the reception desk before grabbing a few pieces of candy that you kept out on the top of the desk. He popped one in his mouth before choking dramatically, turning around and coughing a few times before looking directly at you.

"M&Ms? Really? I liked it better when it was Skittles."

"I've never put out Skittles, I like chocolate."

"It doesn't matter what you like, it's for the guests, isn't it? Pam used to put out Skittles and no one complained." He tossed the remaining few pieces onto the floor beside him before walking out of the office. Pam ran up quickly, a worried look on her face.

"I'm so sorry, he must've had a bad day-"

"It's fine, Pam, really." You paste on a smile, annoyed not just at Roy but at Pam for earlier. Pam nodded slowly, her smile regretful as if knowing how you felt before turning around and pressing the last few clicks on her computer to shut it down. She gathered her things in silence, sliding her newly printed paper into a file on her desk. Meanwhile, you stared at your computer screen, not really reading what was there.

"Bye Jim. Bye Y/N, see you tomorrow!" Pam called out, and you replied with a little wave before pressing save on your word document, downloading it to your flash drive. The door to the office hadn't even closed before a new presence was at your desk, leaning over to try and spy on their computer. You looked up to see Jim smirking, looking directly into your eyes.

"Did you close that document just 'cause I came over? Hiding something from me, Y/L/N?" His teasing tone had you smiling against your better judgement, leaning back and crossing your arms.

"Well, I wouldn't want you discovering my master plan. It's a secret for a reason, you know." Jim laughed at your joke, leaning back and taking a handful of M&Ms to pop into his mouth. Watching this, you felt their face deflate just slightly before you hear Jim’s whispers.

"You know, I think I prefer the M&Ms over Skittles any day." He winks, then dumps more from his handful into his mouth, walking back to his desk to finish up his day. You once again couldn't help the small smile that adorned your face in response.

[ ֎” ]

"I've always had a thing for chocolate," You said, shrugging, "I'm the one who sits there all day anyway." You bite your lip for a moment, trying to suppress a smile. "Besides, who cares what Roy thinks? Other people in the office like them, that's all that matters."

[ ֎” ]

"What kind of person do I like?" Jim makes a baffled face, blinking a few times before resituating in his seat. "I don't know why that's relevant, but if I had to choose..." He trails off, his eyes taking on a far-off look, "Someone sweet, smart- someone who laughs at my jokes while also making me laugh. Someone who will help me with my pranks and listen to my ramblings." He looks back up to the camera with a small smile, "Someone with a sweet tooth that I could spoil."

"You coming, Y/L/N?" Jim calls out, the office dark. You're the last two in the building now, it seems, and you glance up from your desk where you're standing to smile at him.

"Oh, I just have a few more papers to print, you go on ahead."

"Don't work too hard, Y/L/N. The effort isn't worth it." You laugh in response, waving him off. You both exchange a quiet goodbye before you wander over to the copier, which was printing multiple copies of what looked like Dwight's face on the 'Scranton Strangler' wanted poster. The camera swings between the pages and back to you, where you only shrug and smirk.

"It'll be funny," Is your only excuse as you take the pages and start hanging them on the pillars of the building around the office, sliding an extra copy into Jim's desk as a memento.

[andheresthething]

Crazy For You, Oh Boy

Summary: Nightowl dotes on you when you come to visit.

[Established Relationship] [Long-Distance Relationship] [Domestic Fluff] [Reunions] [Pet Names] [Kissing] [Cuddling & Snuggling] [Literal Sleeping Together] [Sexual Innuendos] [Househusband Energy] [No use of y/n] [Fem Reader]

•·················•·················•

Notes:

This is super rambly and drawn out but it's just loads of Nightowl fluff. Would appreciate feedback as I'd like to keep writing lil fics for my favorite Blooming Panic boy, carpal tunnel allowing.

Also, obligatory character playlist plug because I love it. Title comes from a lyric from a song on there :)

Reposted from AO3

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

You impatiently stared out of the window as the car turned into the parking lot of an apartment complex. As it comes to a halt, you could not have gotten out of it sooner. Grabbing your backpack, you thanked the driver before closing the door. You went around to the back, opened the trunk, and hauled out a duffel bag. As overworked as you were, your wallet be damned if you paid for a checked bag, not that you really needed it anyway. Slamming the trunk closed, the car drove off. With your backpack on and the world's heaviest duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you practically ran towards the entrance of the building.

Once inside, you rocked your feet back and forth as you waited for the elevator to come to the ground floor. While your destination was only one floor away, your cargo would kill you before making it up half a flight of stairs, not to mention how much a long, cramped flight takes out of you. After an agonizing wait, the elevator arrived with a ding. You hopped in and repeatedly pressed the door close button, knowing full well that doing so would not speed up the process at all. Pent-up excitement was being taken out on your phone via death grip as the elevator went up. Another ding allowed your phone to live another day. With an exit now available, your speed walking to your destination rivaled that of senior citizens at the mall at 7 in the morning. Halting yourself in front of the door, you knocked. 

“Hold on!” Nightowl shouted from the other side. Some faint chaos bleed through the door for a moment before the door swung open. You immediately flung yourself onto the person in front of you, enveloping him in a bear hug forceful enough to push him back a step or two. “Woah, hey there, cutie. I missed you so much,” he laughed, reciprocating the hug with the same amount of love.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you more, sweetheart,” you spoke into his neck. The two of you stayed in the hug a moment longer before moving slightly apart, still enough to hold each other. Nightowl leaned down for a kiss, that you happily gave. Though short, both of you had been dying for it. 

“Glad you’re back home, things just feel so off when you’re not here.” 

“I know, just a few more months, and we never have to do this again,” you smiled at him, lifting yourself slightly for another kiss. When you broke apart, a playful pout was on his face.

“Why can't you just stay here now,” he whined, tightening his grip on your waist slightly. Even after finishing his graduate program, he still acted like a little kid at times. You loved his playful demeanor, though.

“Because my sadist job is trying to kill me before I can leave,” you responded, starting to sway the two of you. “At least the new one will be much better.”

“Mmh, can’t wait till then. But, in the meantime, I will be a chivalrous gentleman and take your bags so that you can take a nice, long shower. I’ll order some food after, and we can have a quiet night in.”

“Ah, you’re truly wonderful, darling.”

“Only the best for you, cutie,” he said, giving you a peck on the lips. 

Letting go of each other, you immediately dropped your bags onto the floor and handed Nightowl your phone. While you kicked off your shoes, Nightowl took your bags back to the bedroom. You quickly made your way back to the bathroom. With as often as you visited, it was easier to get a second shower brush and share toiletries than lug your own back and forth. Given that Nightowl wasn’t the 20-in-1 type of guy, you didn’t have to worry about your hair being dry and skin breaking out. 

As you took your long-deserved shower, Nightowl put himself to work unpacking your things. Putting your clothes in his closet, your phone and laptop on his desk and charging them, accessories on his own stands, and whatever else you had brought in their rightful places. While the majority of the time he wouldn’t do these things for himself, for you, he spends a full day getting his place clean up for your arrival. Not to say that he was a slob, but the life of an architect could be very demanding. He sometimes joked with himself that if his carrier fell through he would be the perfect househusband for you.

Eventually, your shower ended and you went across the hall in your towel to get changed. Walking into the bedroom, you’re greeted with Nightowl laying on the bed, scrolling through the several options on DoorDash. He looked up at you and grinned. “You’re looking good, cutie. I unpacked everything for you while you were in there.”

“Absolutely wonderful you are,” you hummed, making your way over to the closet to pick out something to throw on for the night.

“For you, anything,” He stared at you, nothing but adoration filling his eyes as you grabbed your clothes. “Want me to close my eyes?”

“If you don’t mind,” you responded. Although you have seen each other in every state of undress imaginable, he still felt the importance of privacy whenever wanted. You appreciated his care, especially given your history of mediocre relationships with people who couldn’t bother with those sorts of things. When he closed his eyes, you quickly got yourself dressed in a random t-shirt of indeterminate ownership and the sluttiest pair of plaid pajama pants you could find. “You’re good now,” you spoke, starting to dry your hair off with the towel you wore into the room. At your command, Nightowl opened his eyes to look at you once more.

“I think I like this combo better than the towel.”

“I tried with the pants.”

“And you succeeded,” he chuckled. “So, did you think over what you want for dinner?”

“Hmm,” you began as you continued to dry your hair, “You craving anything?”

Nightowl shook his head, “Not really, I’m good with whatever.”

“Then can we get something from that one Chinese place over by that one bookstore?” you asked cheerfully.

“Sure thing, cutie. The usual?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, love!”

Nightowl went back to his phone to place your order while you went back to the bathroom to hang your towel. When you returned, he set his phone down and patted the spot next to him. You lay down next to him, moving closer to lay your head on his chest.

Nightowl wrapped an arm around your waist. “How was your flight?" he asked.

"About as good as it can get with two babies on board."

"Aw man, sorry you got stuck with that.”

"At least your neighbors don't have kids."

"I don't think I could have made it through grad school if they did. I hope the shower relaxed you some though," he said, starting to rub your stomach with his thumb slightly. 

"Not as much as lying here with you right now," you smiled at him.

“Pretty girl on my chest and she’s this sweet? I won at life being able to have you all to myself.” Your face went pink at his words. Although he said things like that all the time, it never failed to make you feel like a dumb teenager when he did. The best you could do was let out a small whine in response. “Aww, and you’re all flustered by that? You’re killing me here, cutie.”

“Oh, shush, it’s just 'cause I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Sure, if you say so,” he hummed.

The two of you continued to talk about random topics as you waited for your dinner. Due to the wonders of technology and neither of you possessing the ability to be okay with not calling every day, there wasn’t anything exactly big to catch up on. A little while longer went by until Nightowl got a notification that the driver was at the building. The two of you got up, he to acquire the food, and you to grab drinks and pick out the entertainment you would be promptly ignoring. After a decent look in the fridge, you grabbed two beverages of choice and plopped yourself onto the couch.

You waited a moment longer before Nightowl came back with the food. He brought the bag to the couch and rummaged through it to hand you your food along with a pair of chopsticks graciously provided by the restaurant. You, starving, started eating before he even got around to opening his food.

“God, I’ve missed this so much,” you started between chews, “Seriously, this place has the best Chinese food I’ve ever had.”

“And here I was thinking you meant eating takeout with me,” he joked.

“I suppose I missed that too, but I don’t know, this lo mein is pretty fucking good,” you shot back. With his free hand, Nightowl placed a hand on his chest and leaned back, closing his eyes.

“Oh, I can’t believe she loves egg noodles more than me!” he remarked. You giggled a bit in response.

“Fine, perhaps I love the current activity more than egg noodles.”

“Just the activity?”

“You’re not gonna make me say this, are you?”

“How else would I know if you don’t say it out loud, to my face?” The little antic of his was one reminiscent of one faithful night in the call channel of the Bloomic server. Over time, you learned that he loved to pull this type of line either to get you flustered over little things or annoy the shit out of you. 

“Fine, I definitely absolutely, love you, Nightowl, more than egg noodles or eating egg noodles in your presence,” you playfully groaned out. 

“You hear that? She loves me more than egg noodles!” he shouted. You smiled at his response. Though a cute moment, it was quickly ended by a banging from the wall in front of you.

“Shut the fuck up in there!” A neighbor shouted through the wall. The two of you stared at each other in surprise before Nightowl yelled a quick apology back.

“That’s the second neighbor you’ve pissed off by boasting about my love for you,” you said after a moment.

“I would happily piss off several more if it means I can brag about you,” he said, going back to finish his food, “Granted, as long as it doesn’t get me evicted.”

You chuckled. “Good call.”

As time went on, you continued mindless banter accompanying the completion of your meals. Even once finished, the two of you sat together and talked for what seemed like forever. You even managed to squeeze out some information, albeit, fairly vague, about the dates he had planned for the two of you during your stay. At some point, all the travel and excitement of the day had gotten the better of you. While you did try to hide it, a yawn gave your state of energy away to Nightowl.

“I saw that, cutie. A queen needs her beauty sleep.”

“Says you.”

“I’ll have you know that I still get my full 8 hours every night,” he asserted.

You chuckled, which turned into another yawn. “Maybe so, but you still live life in another time zone.”

“When you’re here, it gets a bit more normal.”

“Really?” you thought for a moment, “Huh, I guess it does. Wonder why?”

“Maybe it’s cause I worry about your well-being in terms of sleep so much that it rubs off on me,” he pondered.

“If taking care of me gets you to take care of yourself, then I'm all for it,” you smiled at the sweetness of it all. 

Nightowl got up and started collecting the empty containers, “You go on to bed, I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm, you come first, cutie.”

You got up from the couch, “Absolutely the best to me.”

You cupped his face, giving him a peck on the cheek before making your way to bed. Little did you know, but that small act of affection melted Nightowl’s heart. Blushed, he took a moment from cleaning up to compose himself. He didn’t exactly know why he reacted with the fuzzy, teenager-in-love feeling, but he welcomed it nonetheless. He picked up the pace to join you just slightly sooner.

While he was finishing up, you had practically thrown yourself into bed, the exhaustion finally hitting you. You got yourself comfortable and passed the time looking around the room, studying what’s changed since you last visited. Though a tad boring, you didn’t exactly possess the brain power to check your phone and retain anything. 

Eventually, a blonde figure caught the corner of your eye. You turned to face your beloved Nightowl as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He turned off a small desk lamp, allowing the fairy lights over his bed to illuminate the room. You sleepily pat the spot next to you, which he happily filled, snuggling as close to you as he could. The sparking of the lights above the two of you reflected in his brown eyes. Even in your extremely groggy state, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend.

“You ready to sleep?” he mumbled, seeming to try to hide a yawn of his own. 

“Yeah,” your eyes were already fluttering closed. Nightowl brought an arm around you and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “Maybe tomorrow you can be the activity I love.”

“I will most definitely make sure that becomes true,” he smiled, “Goodnight, cutie.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

The warm lights illuminated the two of you drifting off to sleep together for the first time in months. All became still in that apartment, and for a night, all was right in the world. 

[dragonsdendoodles]

Any and all of your ocs

Idk anything about them but they look really cool so I wanna learn about them!!

Speedrunning fun facts about all my main OCs because I’ve got four stories’ worth of them (plus a few others) and that’s a lot to go into actual detailed shit about every single one of them

These might be weird I’m sorry I’m literally writing the first thing that comes to mind and most of them are gonna be stupid

No Stone Unturned

Kylee initially had an emo hairstyle because I couldn’t figure out how to draw curly hair

Andromeda wrote her own magic system and has an IRL notebook dedicated to that magic system

Jay is the only character I have that I have ever drawn in his current state naked and fully uncensored (mostly for projected gender dysphoria reasons)

Lucy was the first character to be added to the initial cast when I decided the earliest draft of NSU needed a rewrite

Winter was involved in Jay’s fun fact but I’m 19 years old and too much of a coward to draw dicks

Kaitlin has half a page of my sketchbook dedicated to my inability to decide on a good hairstyle for her

Carson uses all pronouns and actively makes fun of you if you just default to “he” and nothing else

Mason used to be clinically insane but then I looked at that and said “if I make my main villain the villain because he’s insane that’s probably ableist” and that’s on self-awareness

No Stone Unturned: Fauna’s Epilogue (co-written by my friend Parker)

Fauna is Andromeda’s niece and the daughter of the two oldest human OCs I have. She is the closest any of the original gang will ever come to having children of their own

Neo is probably the only straight man I have ever written

Crystal injects herself with actual adrenaline to learn to control harpy mode. Jay, another harpy, is incredibly fucking pissed at himself for not figuring this out when eventually this works

Maddie is Winter’s niece from his dad’s second family (technically the first but we’re not doing Winter angst right now)

Leah’s a Twitch streamer

Adalaide’s mom has a crush on one of Fauna’s dads and refuses to let this go to the point he got a restraining order

Logan is a catboy. Canonically.

Aster had an on-and-off fling with Neo for a couple years that didn’t go anywhere because Neo doesn’t actually like men

Colton was inspired by JD from Heathers

The Jewels in His Crown

Pallas was not named after the actual Greek character, but after the version of that character in Joan Holub and Suzanne Williams’ The Goddess Girls

Kayda can turn into a big silver dragon. Yes that does mean what you think it means and yes Pallas is into it

Henry did all of the things he does for the story, including being abandoned and betrayed by his twin sister, at the ripe old age of thirteen

Joan was initially based on someone I know in real life who I had a massive falling out with that hadn’t been resolved when I wrote her

Lucimene was named by my boyfriend, whose favorite character in No Stone Unturned is Lucy

Aurora is here because I wanted Lucimene to be a lesbian

James has had multiple names and I still don’t know if I like his current one. Initially it was Patroclus

Muddy was initially an idea for a Dungeons and Dragons character

Luke was named after Luke Skywalker, because he also has a sister

Lorelei was named after my evident misspelling of Lorelai Gilmore from Gilmore Girls

Elementary (co-written by @pollux888)

Vincent figure skates and skateboards

Jackson’s name was initially going to be Apollo

Lily was based on one of my exes who yelled at me for being a trans gay man only to come out as a trans lesbian six months later

Gallace was initially based on Glaceon but currently shares a name with my Gallade in both Pokémon Go and Pokémon Legends Arceus

Alex’s hair as a Mii in Tomodachi Life is neon pink

Leo has a very similar powerset to Leo Valdez but was not named after him if you can believe it

Enoch was named after Enoch O’Connor from Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Michael was named after Michael Mell from Be More Chill

Miscellaneous

Limbo was my first ever fursona

Omega was named by my mother who does not know what a/b/o is (to my knowledge) because “he’s the last velociraptor”

Petal and Omega are were both initially a closed species that I didn’t know was closed and had a mental breakdown learning this fact because when I was thirteen I thought the cops were going to arrest me for copyright infringement

Ocean is a manokit because I wanted them to be a shark but a furry game I cannot for the life of me remember the name of had manokits and I thought they were cooler

Requiem was created when I changed my username to dragonryder21 and decided I probably needed a dragon fursona to go with it

Lux taught my mother what neopronouns were

Currentcall (Warrior Cats) was renamed from Riverpelt/Riverstar to Currentpelt to Currentcall all by fanmade games on Scratch

Sombra (Minecraft) was named after King Sombra from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Greenjay (MPHFPC) doesn’t currently have a first name

My currently nameless MLP sona has always been a pegasus for as long as I can remember. I just like pegasi I guess

[marthawrites]

The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter 4, Moonlight

Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Includes: Tension, some mild angst, hurt, comfort, and fluff. Reader (named Emeline) has body image issues due to a slight deformity.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I hope I haven't lost you on this story ♥ I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting for literal months for this chapter. The beach scene in this chapter has been living in my heart and mind for a solid month or even two! I've been greedy with it, and it's finally time to share it. It's inspired by a cut-scene in a video game and if you get the reference please let me know because I will fall in love! As always, I hope that you enjoy it! I plan on having chapter 5 ready to share much sooner than this one was (3 flippin mo rofl) ♥

Catch up on earlier chapters with the series masterlist

-

"Are you taking Lady Redwyne to the Sept this morning?" Alicent asked her son as he sat across the table from her. On any other occasion the Queen Mother's question could be received as harmless. A simple inquiry. Naught more than curiosity for her soon to be daughter-in-law's goodness. 

Aemond knew his mother better. His fork clinked on the silver plate as he dragged a chunk of sausage through syrup. A childhood favorite. Only his mother would indulge him in such a treat if she meant to soften him up.

Or, perhaps, she merely missed her son. They'd hardly seen each other as of late.

The curtains of her room were drawn open, as were the windows, and summer's morning breeze rolled over King's Landing from the ocean. "Yes, mother, I've already said that," Aemond answered as he ate the bite from his fork. No one else joined them for the day's breaking fast; not even a servant. Fruit, still warm bread, and bacon accompanied the spiced sausage on polished platters. The small table lent them a feeling of intimacy even their seclusion couldn't. "Would you care to join us?"

Alicent too dragged a bite of sausage through syrup; the source of Aemond's guilty pleasure. "Not this time, no," she answered around a mouthful. If she were dining with anyone else she wouldn't respond in such a way, but with her son she paid it no mind.

Aemond hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath and continued eating. Tension slowly knotted between his shoulders at the heavy silence.

"I worry about you and Lady Redwyne, Aemond.” There it was. The reason for their unspecified meeting. The softness of her lovely eyes, so unlike the rare hue of her son’s, betrayed the practiced hardness of her mouth. With a tilt of her head she regarded him a little closer in a way only a mother could. 

Truthfully, the young prince found little pleasure in eating and ate almost solely for the purpose of nourishment. Leave it to his own mother to serve him one of the few things he actually enjoyed only to bring up this topic. Again. “We are to wed in less than a week. What is there to worry about?” He asked, appetite gone.

“You know of what I speak,” she answered curtly, eyes fluttering in such a way Aemond knew she might as well have rolled them. “Now is not the time to fall behind on your duties. You two spend countless hours together. Alone, too, no doubt. On dragon back to who knows where, unchecked around the city, amidst the dragon pit. I’ve said it multiple times: you two are not to be alone together.”

“She is a respite from the daily burden of princeliness and unwavering duties,” he replied, features defensive. Alicent read the subtle shift of his neck and shoulders as if he'd turned the table over in a rush of rage.

“It is unbecoming of you and Lady Redwyne to be practicing what you’re doing. Suspicion of your activities is high. We – I – cannot allow a foreign girl to put you so under her spell that you forget about this war. Depravity doesn’t look good on you. Nor does it serve any sort of purpose.” Heat bloomed across the tops of Alicent’s ears. The grip she had on her silverware made her knuckles turn white. Her jaw jutted authoritatively.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He loved his mother. He respected his mother. The things he wanted to say would poison both of those things. Instead, he glared across at her and a breath chuffed from his nose.

“The Sept will do you both good today. Ser Arryk will accompany you. Stay and pray as long as you and Lady Redwyne both require. I’m sure it is needed more than I know.” Her voice was even again. Stern.

The prince stood, eye never leaving his mother. “It is good to know you pay heed to my daily activities while actively disregarding Aegon’s lechery and debauchery. If the tables were turned, would you still?” In long strides he stepped to the door. Turning his head over his shoulder he saw her attention following him. “Now that I see where your priorities lie this morning–” he paused with a scoff, “–you might be lightened to know Lady Redwyne is much more than her father's fleet to me, now. You needn't worry over it any longer. Aegon will have it.” He exited, closing the door with deliberate finality.

Duty. Love. Aemond Targaryen treaded a fine line.

-

Your personal guardsman, Louis, practically vibrated out of his armor in protest of being denied accompanying you with Aemond to the Sept. Growing up with a strict father garnered you the hard learned skill of little mice feet. Subtly was one of your stronger suits, and even Louis, despite your complete trust in him and his skill as a well-trained guardsman, couldn't keep up with you at all times. And, thus, you and Aemond were able to sneak away unbothered on more than one occasion. 

And today? Well, Louis simply had to listen to your hard, and unwavering, no. Your father could punish you for it later for all you cared. Time with your soon to be husband was worth it.

Excitement rushed up and down your spine as you saw Aemond make his way to you at the agreed location. You bounced on the balls of your feet eagerly. Clasping your House's grape cluster signet at the center of your mantle accented the low neckline of your dress; perhaps the lowest cut you'd worn in the prince's company. It was sleeveless in the fashion of your home too, and the gossamer cloak offered you a shield of modesty. 

You saw a tightening of Aemond's jaw, as well as a stiffness in his back and shoulders, which immediately dampened your excitement. Had you done something wrong? Did he disapprove of your lovely summer gown? Perhaps it was the fashion of your braid – would it offend the other ladies in court with its, potentially, outdated style? Your mouth dried before you even opened it to speak. 

He stood in front of you and offered a formal bow, ending with a chaste kiss to the top of your hand. "Good morning, my Lady Redwyne. I don't believe you've officially met Ser Arryk. As per my mother's request, he will be joining us today in journey to the Sept." He spoke evenly. Practiced and courtly. The darkened pupil at the center of his eye, and the way it lingered on the opened expanse of your chest, however, spoke much more passionately.

Your gaze flickered between both men, Ser Arryk standing a few paces back for privacy, and you tried to control your breath. "He must be quite a warrior to be the one protecting you, my prince," you said smoothly before smiling at the knight. 

He simply nodded and bowed his head in a show of respect.

"Hm," Aemond hummed shortly. He hadn't loosened at all yet, and if anything he looked even more tense. His hand at the small of your back splayed wider than you'd felt it before, and his fingers curling into your waist gripped firmly.

Oh. Was this… jealousy? Something primal in the ancient part of his brain that made him need to show you as his? Most of your time spent together had been alone: now, another layer to the Targaryen prince to witness.

The carriage ride was silent. Aemond's hand, warm and wide and possessive, stayed glued to the top of your thigh the whole way.

It was only at the great doors of the Sept that Ser Arryk finally spoke. "Pray in peace, my prince. I will be standing guard here at the door. If you need me, you know where I'll be," he bowed politely and turned forward once again, eyes keen and observant on the bustle of the square ahead.

While Aemond acknowledged Arryk, he barely gave the other man more than a simple "hmm," in reply. 

"What's the matter, my prince?" Inside, your voice seemed too loud for the incense laden air. There must have been hundreds of candles lit and their smoke made the air heavier than it already was.

Beautiful high windows of stained glass dominated the walls, and geometrical patterns of the overhead framework added to the ornate sanctuary. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when the sky’s fluffy clouds moved away from in front of it, rainbows of light reflected on various swaths of floor, wall, and statue alike. While inspired by religion, you’d never been heavily religious. Here, now, however, you realized why so many people lead a holy life.

Civilians gathered in intimate groups for prayer around the varying altars, and the Sept’s holy brothers and holy sisters wandered throughout the place. One thing you noticed was how many averted their gaze from Aemond. Some even turned on their heel in the opposite direction to, seemingly, avoid getting close to him. Despite his lineage, even the holy brothers and holy sisters regarded him with little formality.

Aemond One-Eye. The cruel prince. Black hearted. Kinslayer. Here, in this holiest of places, there was hardly anything more accursed than a kinslayer. And you, the fair foreign girl from far away in the Reach, his betrothed. The smallfolk knew little of you and likely trusted you less. Being on the arm of the Targaryen Prince brought more side-eyes than respectful greetings. 

Tucked away inside the Red Keep with your wedding plans, lady’s gossip, and noble mingling sometimes made it easy to forget that a war was simmering. 

Aemond’s stiff shoulders and silence had spread to you.

What a strange turn of morning. In all your time spent together it had never been quite like this. Even your first meeting didn’t carry the same tension that hung in the air between you now. Before you knew it, you found yourself fiddling with the silken material of your dress. A nervous habit you had as long as you could remember.

Finally, while standing in front of the Father, Aemond turned to you and said, “normally I come here with mother, Aegon, and Helaena.” A long breath exhaled from his nose as he tipped the flickering flame of a candle to the wick of another, lighting it. “Mother summoned me to join her alone in breaking fast. I thought it kind, at first. Sweet even,” he chuffed, a disapproving tug pulling down one side of his mouth. “You are spoiling me with yours so I forget it’s not freely given. How silly of me.” His single lilac eye rested on your doe-brown gaze, your lovely dark pools looking up at him softly, questioningly. Attentively. 

You extended your hand out to his and held it gently. “Aemond…,” you started, peering up at him with all the gentleness you could muster. “I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to come across the way she did.” You squeezed and stepped closer into him, uncaring of how it might look to any nosey onlookers. In your experience even the most religious folks could be the most nosey. In the high morning light, with rainbows illuminating the cloud of heady smoke, the lines of your bodies meshed into one as you kissed the prince’s cheek. 

A smile graced his features and it was the first you’d seen all day. “Let us pray to the Father. May he judge those who seek him for strength and wisdom. May they be wise enough to see what their judgment clouds.”

Kneeling, then, you finally released his hand and began praying in silence. He knelt beside you, too, and you’d be lying if you said prayer had your full attention. Aemond’s lips moved silently and you wondered what he might be praying – they were so handsome, his lips, and you desperately wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him to blushing pinks right here in the middle of the Sept. Each time you peered across at him beneath the protection of your eyelashes you had to force yourself to close your eyes and focus. With his hands clasped, head bowed, and eye closed, he looked ethereal. He was ethereal. They said Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, and the more time you spent with your betrothed, as well as his siblings, the more you came to realize it. Silvery, and pale, with features not quite like anyone else, they truly were lovely and unique. Perhaps one day Aemond would give you one of your own. A tiny white haired dragon with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. You smiled in mid-prayer and allowed your mind to wander. When it came time to visit the Maiden’s altar, you could ask for her forgiveness in regard to the impure thoughts that ran rampant in your mind. 

After visiting and praying at the altars for the Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger, and after many stolen touches and lingering gazes, you two finally exited the Sept with Arryk close behind. The carriage ride back was lighter than the first. You crossed a leg over the other so it pointed in Aemond’s direction, and behind the little shield of your knee his larger palm rested atop yours.

Upon returning to the Red Keep Aemond was almost immediately swept away by a list of duties and “royal chores” – whatever that meant – that he’d fallen behind on since spending more time with you in the Sept than was expected. You were beginning to read him better and better all the time. While others might not take note of it (sternness and practiced neutrality a theme for the young prince) you saw the bristle of annoyance along his edges as Otto took him away. You barely had time to say goodbye. Walking alongside his grandfather, Aemond turned his head over his shoulder one last time and offered you a small, barely there smile and tilt of his head. Your own lips pressed into a restrained grin as you offered a wave just as small. You hoped he’d at least be able to have dinner with you tonight. Until then, there were many wedding plans and gossip for you to busy yourself with. 

During the evening’s meal you were distracted and hungry. “If you could summon him by staring at the door he’d already be here, my lady,” Jane whispered to you sympathetically. “Let’s try to at least enjoy the wine, yes?" She served herself a plate and helped you with yours. "Ah… it reminds me of back home. We’d be getting ready for the dance of the moonlight jellies! It’s tomorrow night! I hate to miss it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed.” Her expression changed from melancholy, to excitement, to pouting, and you followed right along with her. She tried to soften her pout with a little smile.

“Ah! Gods we would be, huh? Oh, I can’t believe it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed too. Such a pity. It’s always been my favorite event of the summers.” Your gaze went distant for a moment, fingertip gently circling the rim of your goblet. So far there definitely hadn’t been any sign of Aemond. Nor Aegon or Otto for that matter. Alicent and your father were busy chatting away – assumedly about more wedding plans – and Helaena patiently ate and helped feed her children in turn. There were other noble ladies and men around the table as there were most nights. You couldn’t keep up with all the conversation around, and frankly didn’t care to, because you kept watching the main entrance dreamily as if Aemond would stroll through it at any moment. Jane always knew how to pull you out of your little daydreams. “I almost wish you hadn’t reminded me because now I’m sad,” you laughed.

“Not my intention!” She giggled despite the defensiveness of her tone. “I think it’s lovely your wedding will be so close to the dance. Perhaps they’ll allow us a bonfire in celebration too.”

“Perhaps! Though… I do admit… – ” you dropped your voice low and leaned closer to Jane so no one else might hear what you said “ – I don’t know how long after the vows I’ll be able to stay. The bedding ceremony follows soon after, yes?”

Jane squealed. “You unholy woman!”

You two broke off into fits of giggles and entirely unladylike banter. You did your very best to stay hushed, however, not wanting just anyone to hear the things you were saying about your betrothed. In fact, such talk was more suited for bedchambers and private groups – not the middle of dinner. You both got a few side eyes and raised eyebrows. Even your father gave you the look on two separate occasions. Whoops. Maybe the wine was affecting you more than you realized. Finishing the remainder of your food, you stood and walked to give your father’s cheek a goodnight kiss.

“Take some water and drink it before you fall asleep! You little wildling,” he called after you.

There was already a full pitcher of water in your bedchamber, but that didn’t stop Jane from grabbing an extra just in case.

By now you were both learning the halls of the Red Keep. The main hallways, that is. There was much more to the sprawling castle than you knew, and to say it was intimidating and overwhelming was an understatement. Thankfully – by the God's small graces – its main flow was easy enough to learn and navigate.

“When the castle was complete under King Maegor’s rule, he had all the builders executed to ensure only the Targaryen’s knew its hidden passages and secrets,” Aemond had told you during one of your earlier explorations of the castle. You hadn’t a reason to doubt him. But, even if you did, you knew in your bones he spoke the truth.

How different he was than any boy you knew from home. A true Targaryen from the blood of Old Valyria. You, naught but a sweet, delicate grape, held inside the claw of a mighty beast; how easily he could skin you whole. His steady eye observed you, studied you; the tips of his roughened fingers gingerly accepting your more forward affections so those tips might learn the utter softness of your flesh.

Inside your room you readied for sleep. "A bonfire on the beach in honor of the Arbor's celebration being prepared as we speak…," you spoke dreamily, eyes a little distant as you envisioned Aemond experiencing it for the first time.

Jane's delicate fingers loosened your day's braid before brushing any tangles out. "Surely you know the rumors of the prince…," she said, baiting you, arching a brow at you through the mirror.

"There's quite a few. You'll have to be more specific," you replied similarly.

"He doesn't dance! At all. The only dancing he's done is in the sky on his dragon. Or dancing with foes in the training yard and skirmishes." 

You knew of these rumors, of course. "I suppose he'll need some practice before the wedding then, yes?"

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting smirked and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think you'll be the one to teach the tall lanky prince how to dance on a whim?"

"He's not lanky!" 

You both laughed and continued the banter until you were dressed comfortably for bed. She bid you a goodnight and kiss on the forehead before leaving to retire to her own chamber. Sleep came easily that night. Sweet wine coated your palate and you dreamt of embers and jellyfish.

-

The sun barely lightened the sky when you woke. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you stretched with a wide yawn. Excitement pulled at your belly and before you knew it your bare feet padded across the chilly stone floor to your desk. You struck your candle to flame, dipped a quill into its inkpot, and began writing a letter to your soon to be husband. He'd written you many little letters since your arrival, and you'd yet to have one delivered to his room. Before losing inspiration, you wrote,

"My dearest Aemond,

Meet me down at the beach tonight. With it still being high summer the sun doesn't set until late. Please. You won't want to miss this.

Your Lady Redwyne"

Still in your nightgown with only a flimsy robe covering yourself, you cracked the door open and peered outside. Grinning, you hissed a careful whisper, "Louis! Psst, hey Lou!" 

He perked up after the second call of his name. "My Lady? What is it? Is everything okay?" His armor clinked as he strode over to you quickly, kind eyes looking over you for any sign of distress. As soon as he saw your excited glimmer, however, his shoulders softened. "You're perky this morning."

"Take this to Prince Aemond! Please. Before he leaves his chamber for the day. It's important, hurry!" You put the carefully folded letter in his hand and shooed him off. "Thank you," you added before closing and latching the door again, trying to calm the excited wave of butterfly wings in your belly.

Tonight would be magical.

You dressed, braided your hair, donned some of your favorite gold jewelry, and applied perfume to the insides of your wrists, behind each ear, and at the center of your breast. You prayed for the hours to pass quickly as you applied makeup. Accentuating your features always made you feel pretty. There was an art to it too, you realized some years ago, in balancing hues and pigments to your natural skin without looking akin to someone from the theater. Like everything, it took practice. And you were happy with how your skills had grown. With one final tuck of hair here, and twist of hair there, you departed your bedchamber with confidence in your stride.

Breakfast. Going over more wedding plans. Tea and lunch with fellow ladies of the court. A break amidst the gardens. Supper. All without Aemond. The hours flew by and yet the day itself dragged. As soon as you were finished you made a sneaky escape to your horse in the stable. Before your father, or Louis, or even Jane knew what you were up to, you were off. 

Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it, you said like a mantra to yourself in time with your horse’s pace. The mare wasn't easily spooked and quite prone to biting. It took you at least the first three days to gain her trust, and at least another two to make it so you could saddle and ride her without the assistance of a stable boy who’d been around her nearly his whole life. You pulled all the tricks: oats, apples, even carrots. Finally, after many suspicious huffing fits, the mean she-beasty warmed up to you. Now, she greeted you with happy whinnies and curious snufflings – she’d know if you came without a peace treaty and you weren’t about to try your luck with that yet.

The sun was perhaps two hours from setting when you made it down to the beach to begin collecting wood for a fire. The fresh salty air was warm and you were glad to have worn a thin dress with billowing accents. Waves continuously lapped at the shore and before too long you found yourself in a partial trance. Thoughts in your mind slowed and quieted, and for a moment the sand almost looked like the golden sand of which you were born to.

"My Lady Redwyne," Aemond's soft voice called from behind you. At least he had the decency to let his presence be known before merely arriving out of thin air like he usually did with you. He'd ditched his normal tunic and only wore his thin linen undershirt; its laces only partially tied to expose a tantalizing swath of his collar and chest. Leather in the summer heat could be unbearable and you were glad to see him in less clothing -- for wholly innocent and wholly impure reasons alike. "You picked a fine horse for the ride down here. I trust you have your dagger too?" He asked, eyeing you over approvingly and questioningly.

A smile curled up from your mouth and went right to your eyes. How you missed him. With his hair rippling in the wind, and his shirt giving sight to parts of himself that you'd yet to see, and the tiny pucker of his mischievous lips, a pang rang in your heart. How did you go so long without knowing him? Without being his betrothed? "Of course. I've not gone a single place without it since you gifted it to me in your secret place."

The space between you was closed by his long careful strides in the sand, and he wordlessly took the pile of driftwood from your arms. "There's my good girl. Where would you like these?"

Blushing, you pointed to the stack you'd been working on and said, "just there."

"What is it you're so excited to show me?" He asked once you both gently discarded the driftwood into the pile.

You began stacking it neatly, in the way your father taught you, to make a successful fire. "Every year, when the summers extend beyond one year, the Arbor has a celebration known as 'the dance of the moonlight jellies'," you said fondly, looking over to him with distant, happy eyes. "The final preparations would be happening now. It's always been my favorite celebration, and this is the first one I've ever missed."

Aemond listened curiously as he always did whenever you talked about things from home -- whether it be stories and myths, lore, architecture, or anything else. "Tell me about it, my Lady."

A wistful sigh escaped your lungs. "On the western part of the island, out into the Sunset Sea, there is a breed of jellyfish who migrate along our coastline. We build bonfires along the beach and out on the docks as far as we can. These jellies are special because they glow," you smiled, movements continuing on muscle memory as you struck a fire to life. "They make the water look as if a hundred thousand fires were beneath the surface. Everyone from the highest houses down to the most rugged Flowers join together for the night. We sing, and dance, and drink spiced wine." By now your own little fire was coming more and more to life. "All while they slowly drift along with the ocean's current." By the end of the explanation you were sitting and beginning to work your shoes off your feet.

All the while, Aemond listened and imagined such a thing even happening. There was nothing like that around here. He never journeyed far from home for too long either, for his princely and second son's duties kept him tied down to King's Landing -- more specifically, the court of the Red Keep -- with a short leash. The more he learned from you, the more he realized he truly knew nothing of the Arbor. "Everyone? The nobles and the bastards?"

"Yes, my prince. All is cast aside for the night. It is truly that important to the people and tradition."

Golden sun washed over the young prince as he looked out to the ocean. Pensive. A few moments of silence followed as you both quietly observed the continuous lap of waves. When he turned his attention back to you his pupil was so small from the sun that the lilac of his iris was all you could see. "I would fly you there tonight if things were different in our world, now."

Guilt rushed to your throat. "Oh, Aemond, no. That is not what I meant by any of this," you said with meaning as you found yourself straddling over his lap with his lovely sharp face between your hands. "I am sad to miss it, yes, of course. But that is why I'm here now. And that is why I wanted you to join me here and now too, so I could share this special time with you." You gently pressed your forehead to his, the tip of your nose fitting against his bridge. A soft smile pulled on your lips when his mouth brushed yours in a whispering kiss.

Lips led to tongues, and soon to teeth, and Aemond's hands traced along your hips and waist all the while. Goosebumps tickled your skin despite the warmth of the air and fire. The press of his hands, the weight of them, had you panting against his mouth. Leaning back, he grinned slyly. "Let us stop before we cannot." He gave your hip a firm squeeze before slowly, slowly, letting go of you against him.

"I want so badly to be your wife...," you whispered sincerely. "Before, though, there is one more thing I need to share with you." Heat crept into your face, yet this blush had nothing to do with the coil of arousal in your belly and all to do with the humiliation in which you were going to show your soon to be husband.

Confusion and worry instantly shifted his features. "What is it, sweetling?"

Emotion welled in your eyes and it took a great deal of strength to not let tears fall from your clumpy eyelashes. "Promise you won't change your mind about me either?"

He ran a thumb across your freckled cheek. Your sweet doe-brown eyes ripped at his heart. "I promise."

You offered a soft sad smile before carefully moving from atop his lap. Shifting, you instead sat between his legs with your own outstretched before both of you. You pulled your legs up at the knee so your feet were flat and fully exposed for both of your visions. On each foot, the second and third toe were fully fused together, and a small webbing of skin connected the base of all your toes together. Without looking over your shoulder to Aemond, you explained, "it is a bad omen." As if he wasn't connecting the dots you pointed out your deformity. "Akin to your eye it is a cloak of shame for me. In our mythos it is said it only happens to those who had a twin in the womb... but ended up killing the twin. It is said we are cursed, for we are bloodthirsty like sharks. Only the strongest survive. So we are born with these to let everyone know we are capable of kinslaying as only babes."

Aemond pushed his fingers against the side of your jaw so you were forced to look back at him. His face was somehow soft and stern alike. "Then you are my bloodthirsty little babe. Dragons do not share their egg with another dragon. If the mythos is true, then you are the strongest. And it was you who was born for a reason." He kissed you again, fiercer, this time, and the salt of your tears clung to his tongue.

The sun's golden rays disappeared beyond the curve of the ocean and a spill of reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky instead. "Dance with me, Aemond. I don't care if you don't know how to. No one is around to see. It can be another one of our secrets," you forced a tiny laugh through the emotion which swelled your throat. You smiled, genuine, and helped him stand.

There were no drums, nor string instruments, nor anything else but the rolling roars of waves as you and Aemond danced beneath the growing moonlight with only your fire as witness.

-

The following morning you were surprised to see everyone already at the table eating. Aegon, Helaena, their children, Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and your father. Happiness filled in your chest at the idea of sharing a meal with Aemond – he’d been so busy you two hadn’t been afforded the luxury for what seemed days. You and Jane shared a little look as you strolled to the empty seat next to your betrothed. Polite greetings filled the table. It all looked and smelled wonderful. 

“Good morning, my prince. Is there an occasion I’m unaware of?” you asked as you began dishing up. Ever since you could remember you were always most hungry in the mornings.

“Good timing on everyone’s part, I’m assuming.”

Beneath the table, he bumped his leg against yours and gave you a half-sly side glance. Manners were important to him, and sharing a table with so many kin meant his bump, and his face, was likely all the flirting that would happen this morn.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you nor the King. Where you smiled coyly and shared the look with Aemond, Aegon snorted. “I forgot to ask, brother, did you and Lady Redwyne enjoy your little adventure out to your rock? I heard she had sweet little bruises all over her tender flesh that night. I don’t blame you for not wanting to wait. She’s supple as any peach,” he said brazenly, finishing the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. “More,” he said to everyone and no one alike. Holding his goblet out to be refilled, he chuckled and flashed his best smile to you. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them, this wasn’t the first cup of wine he’d had. 

You tensed. Aemond tensed. At your side, and beneath the table too, Jane gripped your hand tightly. Lord Redwyne glared at King Aegon but dared not say anything – at least not yet – in fear of what the drunken King might do.

“Aegon Targaryen!” Alicent hissed to her oldest son, dark eyes blazing. “King or no, that is extremely inappropriate. How dare you speak to your brother and future sister-in-law in such a way in front of everyone!”

“What? I’m only expressing my happiness to my little brother for finally getting it wet. And with a girl so pretty too. Prettier than any whore I’ve seen.”

Jane squeezed your hand hard as Aemond’s and your father’s chair toppled backwards with the ferocity in which they stood.

“Says the man who took me to a brothel when I was only three and ten–”

“King or not I will not sit here and let some boy talk about my daughter in such a manner you insolent–”

Aemond’s voice and Lord Redwyne’s voice boomed into one, their words meshing in a mess of hollars as Alicent joined in the scolding. Polished silver clattered loudly and silently alike onto the stone floor. Who had thrown it?

You were struck dumb. If this is what broke out during an otherwise ordinary meal, what happened behind closed doors? During small council meetings? Stress weighed on the entire kingdom and the family before you bore the bulk of it. Everyone’s nerves hung by a thread: a thread which could be snapped as easily as a dried twig by a stupidly careless remark. Embarrassment burned your face and hot tears threatened to spill from your welling eyes. This was nothing short of a nightmare and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Your ears muffled as if you were under water. You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even Otto stood, his voice adding to the yelling.

“Come, Princess Emeline,” Helaena’s soothing voice whispered delicately against your ear. Her hand, beautifully pale and impossibly soft, grabbed for your own and pulled you from your chair amidst the yelling. She ushered you away. Crimson wine dripped onto the floor from where it was spilled atop the table.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you stammered, frantically swiping tears from your cheeks. 

“I am sorry for the way my husband is acting. If I am to be honest… we received extremely troubling news about Rhaenyra and Daemon this morning. Even if no one will admit it, this war has everyone scared.”

Despite the meaning of her words, she, outwardly, seemed calm.

Not having anything intelligent to say, you squeezed her hand reassuringly. No one followed you ladies out. At a glance, it appeared guards were watching and taking note of your movements through the halls. Helaena turned here, and there, and before you knew it you were standing out by the weirwood. It loomed tall and wide. It cast a shadow of mysticism. Tranquility. For the first time since arriving in the dining hall you breathed a true lungful of air. And then another.

"You are a strong swimmer, and Aemond a strong flier. Both, and more, will be required in the coming time," Helaena spoke dreamily as she led you to an ancient camellia tree. "Two fruits of one, and one of two," she continued to muse aloud. She laid back in the vibrant petals fallen amongst the grass, and you followed along. "Have you ever noticed how red this camellia is? It hardly seems real."

Your vision turned from her to the tree. Leaves of green and flowers of red contrasted starkly against the blue morning sky. A breeze moved through the air and a petal slowly fell to land on the center of your abdomen. "I've never seen one this size before," you said in the serene quietness. Comfort seeped into your bones as you watched fluffy clouds drift across the sky.

A thin long legged spider crawled across Helaena’s outstretched hand. She watched the tiny creature as if it were the most magnificent thing. “You make my brother happy. Thank you for that, princess,” she said, not taking her attention away from the spider. “He bears much and carries more.”

Helaena’s words sent something like love fluttering in your belly as you regarded the gentle far-seeing Queen. Her white hair fanned around her head like a halo on the crimson petals; violet eyes distant and unfocused. “Thank you, Your Grace,” is all you replied, not wanting to break her other-worldly concentration. 

She continued to mutter quiet things about: from two to one, moving shadows, and cracked shells. 

Tranquil minutes passed. You became lost in the garden of your mind.

“My Lady…,” Aemond’s voice broke through your reverie. “I apologize for what happened.” He extended a hand to you, silently offering to help you up from the grass. “Allow me to take you to your chambers?”

You nodded and accepted his hand. “Yes, please,” you said as you stood and brushed any debris or wrinkles from your dress. Emotion swelled up from your diaphragm to the back of your throat and it took a steadying breath, or three, to push it down. Stress and tension simmered inside you and it threatened to boil over.

“Thank you, sweet sister, for getting her away,” Aemond said. Helaena only briefly regarded him and offered a short wave. 

Aemond held you close as you both walked the halls to your bedchamber. Beneath the scents of smoke (which clung so close to him you swore it seeped from his own pores), leather, and bathing oils, he smelled like clean sweat. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything it made you want to bury your face into his neck and not come out for hours. Hurt weighed on your heart. 

You missed home. You missed the sense of normalcy you'd known your whole life. So many things were different here. You clung to Jane when you could, and even grounded yourself to Louis, and of course found comfort in your father. Thank the Seven they were all here. If they weren't, you might very well have turned around in Blackwater Bay as soon as you arrived.

Here, now, you clung to Aemond. Your prince who regarded you with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, so unlike the way you'd seen him interact with anyone else. It only made you want to draw those tender moments out from him more.

"Aegon is vile. And an idiot," he said as soon as your chamber door was securely shut. You stood facing each other in the gentle sunbeams of your quarter; still somewhat bare and lacking your personal touch. "He is drunk but that is no excuse for him to behave in the way he did. Are you alright?" Both his hands cupped your face in reverence, his single eye peering between both of yours as if deciphering your thoughts like scrawled words on parchment.

Hesitation hung in the air before you nodded. "Yes, I'm alright, my pr-, Aemond," you caught his title before it fell from your lips, whispering his name instead.

"Your Aemond. You are correct, princess," he smiled and tipped his head down to meet your lips in a tender kiss. "No harm will come to you whether it be from my kin or enemy alike. Do you understand me? As my betrothed, and even more so once you are my wife." His gaze was only sharp, now, face stern, lacking any of its previous softness.

Searching his features and posture, you, once again, hesitated before asking in a voice that could have been lost in a space any louder than the one you currently shared, "you promise?"

"I promise."

-

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ See you in chapter 5 where there will be wedding bells!

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[soulofapatrick]

Five Times Tommy Tries To Kiss You and the One Time he Does -Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Literally what the title says

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: little angst; dry humping; teasing; partial nudity; fluff

Notes: Hasn’t been proofread yet. I wanted to try this as ive done it fro teen wolf and really enjoyed it - I can do a Joel one too

Y/N’s POV

First Time: 

I know Joel and Tommy are gonna be mad that I snuck out again but Jackson was getting too much. It was too noisy; too many people and the festivities were draining so I had to get out. There’s a small area near the eastern side of town where they’re fixing the walls and I’m able to slip out without being seen or heard which is great. So much easier than having to either climb the wall or slip through the gates unheard. I haven’t been gone long, just needing a few minutes and the snow is blissful. It’s quiet and I can actually hear myself think as I crunch my way up the hill to look down upon the massive power that is Jackson. You can hear the laughter and music from here but it’s muffled by the snow. 

I sigh softly, letting myself fall back into the fluffy white paradise and look up at the sky as snowflakes falls. Snow has always been my favourite type of weather as it’s so peaceful, after the snow falls it’s like the world goes quiet and still for once. The cold against my back grounds me as it tries to seep through my jacket and jeans, grounding me and letting me know I’m alive and breathing. It’s strange how only just a mile away from Jackson I can feel the change, the silence and the loneliness. It’s a quick escape from people who have settled inside the safety of the walls of Jackson and begun a life there. 

There is definitely a life for me in Jackson but it’s not… I’m not ready for it. Having braved the outside world for years on my own after the outbreak happened means people are a difficult adjustment, having to be suddenly expected to rely on others for things like food and clothes and the lack of need for weapons unless you leave the walls of Jackson. Everyone is so open and kind but it was too much so the first month or so I retreated into my house, refusing to come out even when I ran out of food which meant Joel had to come over with  two massive bags of food. He was so stubborn, practically having to force his way inside and I’m glad he did as I’ve found trust and safety with him and Ellie as well as his younger brother - Tommy. Tommy’s always help my attention as he’s gentle and patient with me, not pushing me too far like Joel does sometimes. Joel’s very hands on and pushing when it comes to getting over fears and making me socialise whereas Tommy does it in little bits like inviting me to join him in the Tipsy Bison if he seems me around or letting me join him and whoever he’s partnered with on patrols as he knows I like being out of the walls as well. He’s also always the first person to feel my presence as if we’re drawn towards each other like magnets. 

I should have known he’d notice my absence and know exactly where I went but I didn’t think about it really and now he’s standing over me, hands in his pocket and head tilted as he looks down at me. He looks really fucking good right now, the sun catching his eyes and making them a  warm cognac colour instead of the darker russet they usually are and I can see more freckles than normal. His dark curls are shiny in the light, a few silver strands visible through them, wearing his jeans that fit his figure perfectly and those stupid cowboy boots I tease him about. He’s probably got his usual denim flannel under his fleece jean jacket and I just know it’s way too baggy for his own good, hiding his perfectly muscular figure underneath. The look on his face is warm, the corners of his plump lips curved up underneath his moustache but he doesn’t speak. He watches me for a moment longer before surprising me and laying in the snow next to me, keeping his eyes to the sky like I was but now I can’t help but watch the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows against the icy wetness below us. 

Not really sure what comes over me when I look back up at the sky and put my right hand out between us, his head is moving out the corner of my eyes and my breath hitches when his warm and calloused hand slips into mine. His cognac eyes on my face, studying me, so I speak, “When it snows it gets really quiet because snow actually absorbs sound.” I finally turn my head to meet his gaze, the smile lines visible across his sun kissed skin, “I sometimes wish it would never stop snowing.” 

“You have a beautiful mind.” He squeezes my hand and I can’t look away from where we’re joined and how right and easy it feels. His hand fits inside mine so perfectly and I want to want it but I can’t. Tommy doesn’t deserve someone as wrecked as me when he’s such a kind soul who deserves the whole world. It doesn’t mean I won’t take what he’s offering to me despite it being so selfish. He’s looking at me with admiration and an emotion that shouldn’t be directed at me so I’m looking away, feeling my cheeks flushing redder than ever but the cold masks it and it’s as if Tommy can sense my uncomfortableness as he’s speaking again, “We should probably head back before Maria kills us.” 

He’s climbing to his feet before taking my hands in his and pulling me up in one swift motion, my chest colliding with his and his face is oh so close to mine, his breath fanning across my lips but I can’t have this… he doesn’t want me, I clear my throat, “We should head back.” Stepping back and reluctantly dropping his hands, beginning trudging back to town while Tommy matches my pace with his hands in his pockets and in silence. I’ve hurt him but I don’t know how…

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ 

Second Time: 

The next time I see Tommy is on patrol, we’re partnered together and the uncomfortableness has dissipated and Tommy’s back to cracking shitty jokes. He’s currently telling me about him and Sarah used to gang up on Joel on the rides to school and tell Joel the cringiest jokes and how happy he is that Ellie does it too. It’s made me always look out for any joke books I can find on my patrols as I like hearing him laugh, it’s full and hearty and the way he smiles is to make anyone weak. He was a little bit of a playboy before the outbreak which I can see why, who wouldn’t fall that southern charm that always surrounds him. 

We’re headed towards a small cabin not far outside of Jackson where you can sometimes find people trying to hide from the storms that sweep through here. We’ve picked up a few people who are now living happily in Jackson while others don’t trust enough to stay so they take the shelter over night before continuing on and you also get those who have no good intentions. They find this post apocalyptic world freeing as they can steal, abuse and kill without consequences which makes them even more dangerous but I’ve come across my fair share of them and am still here so I’m always willing to take my chances. 

Tommy’s ahead of me, chattering happily about something or other as we coax our horses through the freezing weather. His curls are all I can focus on as he moves his head with his words, drawing a blush from me whenever he glances back with that stupidly bright and cheeky smile. I’d be ending the conversation and turning and walking home if we were in Jackson, too embarrassed about the way my heart ached for him but I can’t exactly do that so I just scan the surroundings for anything. Something is making me feel uneasy, the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as we slow the horses to a stop not the far from the cabin just in case someone is in there. Don’t want them to steal the horses and escape before we can help them or for them to leave us stranded with no way back. 

I glance at the taller man when we jump down, he feels the uneasiness too from the way he grabs his rifle from off Cash’s saddle. I do the same, grabbing mine from where it’s sat on Indiana’s saddle, soothing my trusty stallion by petting his mane and cooing softly until he stops pacing and stamping leaving us in silence. Tommy’s got a small smile on his face when I turn back to him which I ignore, heading towards the cabin. We crest the hill for the cabin to come into view, my eyes scanning everywhere as it’s a very open area. The cabin is at the bottom of a few mountains and hills meaning it’s an easy place to trap people, hence why Maria sends patrols to check it out, Today is no different, it’s eerily quiet, the door being open, not by much but it’s open and there’s something very wrong. Tommy’s striding down the hill, eyes intently on the cabin door while I scan the surrounding again and when taking a hesitant step forwards I see it. There’s a glint of metal reflecting the sun and it’s aimed right at us and I’m acting on years of survival instinct. 

“Look out!” I snap at Tommy, racing forwards to protect him as a bullet whistles past my shoulder and embeds itself into the snow. I collide almost painfully with Tommy’s firm body, both of us tumbling the rest of the way down as the bullets keep flying as we come to a stop with me on top of Tommy. I push myself up onto my knees, finding the sniper and aiming my own rifle at him, taking a deep and steadying breath before firing. The gun flies, metal glinting as it disappears into the snow and I can hear the foot steps approaching from the right. Tommy’s opening his mouth to speak from below me but I slam a hand to his mouth, letting my rifle drop beside him to pull out my pistol instead as it’s much better for close range fights. He’s tilting his head, trying to listen but hearing nothing which I suddenly don’t either. It’s gone quiet, too quiet and I can hear Tommy’s harsh breaths below my hand, feel his whole body thrumming of energy from where I’m straddling his waist and something poking against my ass. Oh my fucking god, he’s -

A glimmer of movement from the corner of my eye erasing every impure thought of Tommy as as I turn my upper body and shoot the hunter with two very well aimed bullets landing and sinking through his chest. He stumbles back before collapsing into the snow, staining the usually pretty colour an ugly red. 

It falls silent and all I can focus on is the way Tommy’s large hands are gripping my thighs, cognac eyes a dark russet colour now and I’m removing my hand from his mouth so I slip my pistol back into its holster on my upper thigh. He’s sitting up, our chests pressing together and I can’t help but watch as his tongue darts out to wet his pretty plump lips before his eyes fall to mine. I want to stay here and kiss him senseless but we still have to check out the cabin for anyone and get back on time so Joel doesn’t worry and send out a search party for us so I’m dislodging his hands from my hips and climbing to my feet, an ache growing in my chest with every step away from Tommy. 

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ 

Third Time:

Every Wednesday is family meal day according to Ellie so that’s where I finally catch sight of Tommy again. I’ve been avoiding him ever since the incident while on patrol. I don’t want him to get hooked on me or anything as I’m not good for someone as free spirited as Tommy. He deserves someone like Maria as they’re perfect for each other. Maria balancing out Tommy’s energetic-ness and wild thoughts with logic and calmness. They’re like ying and yang and it made me want to hate Maria for having caught such a beautiful person. Then I found out Maria did not indeed have anything going on with Tommy when I found her with another man. He’s a sweet guy, a little hopeless and no where near ready to be introduced to our family meals yet. 

Joel and I are usually the ones to cook for this but today Ellie and Dina wanted a go at it. Ellie cannot cook for the life of her, burning everything so we were reluctant but when Ellie told us Dina would be helping we agreed with the condition we can go and check on them every so often. We’re not the hovering type but I don’t think Maria would be very happy if she were to lose a house to a fire and have to rehouse us. So there’s where I currently am, sitting on the counter while Ellie and Dina move about the kitchen in their own rhythm. They’re perfect for each other and I’m happy for Ellie finding her person after everything we’ve gone through the last four years. 

“Tommy’s been eyeing you up since he arrived.” Dina suddenly states, the girls glancing at each other with knowing looks when I choke on my drink, “And that means you think the same.” 

“Why don’t you tell him you feel the same?” Ellie asks, clover eyes bright and head tilted slightly as she waits for a response. 

“Look at me, I am not the type of person he needs.” I’m admitting, shaking my head and downing the rest of the whiskey in my glass. It burns on the way down, trying to choke me but it settles in my bones all warm and loose. I’m jumping down from the counter, wanting to get away from their prying eyes and mutter out a quiet “Tommy doesn’t need me, he needs someone like Maria.” Before leaving the room, not waiting for them to respond. 

The Miller brothers are sat discussing something with bright and happy voices as I enter the room, both beaming at me. I make a beeline for Joel, leaning into his side when he wraps his arm around my waist, needing the normalcy so I don’t go into a full panic attack about Tommy and Dina’s comment. Joel’s my safe place, having been with him since the Boston QZ where him and Tess took me under their wings so when I’m feeling like I’m slipping I cling to Joel. The way he squeezes my waist reassuringly lets me know he understands, he know I’m feeling a little overwhelmed and he doesn’t end the conversation with Tommy. The younger Miller’s eyes glued to that spot where Joel’s thumb has slipped under my shirt and is rubbing soothingly against my skin. It has me flushing and Joel’s honey eyes fill with recognition, forcing me into his chair and mumbling something about helping the girls. 

Joel’s disappeared to the kitchen to make sure Ellie and Dina aren’t going to burn the house down as they’ve promised to cook dinner for us. Maria and Jesse will be joining us when they get back from their patrols so it’s just me and Tommy sat in the small dining room. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey, swirling it around the glass with a small smile on his lips. He’s stuck deep in his thoughts giving me time to admire just how fucking good he looks right now. His raven hair in soft brushed back curls with a few escaping and falling across his forehead and his sun kissed glows in the January sun streaming through the windows. He’s in a white polo, his usual fleece jean jacket hung up by the door, leaving his arms exposed and I can’t look away from the freckles adoring the bare skin and the small silvered scars catching in the light. He’s broad build, not as broad as Joel, and muscular with well defined abs that have featured in my less than innocent thoughts. 

Suddenly, he’s moving and it’s jolting me from my thoughts realising I was staring. The intoxicating mix of vanilla, burnt coffee and sandalwood invades my senses as he settles next to me, knee brushing mine and finger hooking under my chin to make me look at him. I take in the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows and noticing the lack of freckles around his neck. The small goatee and moustache framing his shiny lips perfectly. They’re curving up, smile lines appearing and I can see more of the freckles that are sprinkled across those delicate cheeks, a small crease between his eyebrows and those eyes a warm mixture of cognac and russet. He’s so close, pulling my face forwards and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. 

Every fibre in my being is telling me to get up and run away, to stop Tommy before he gets into too much but the clearing of someones throat saves me. I’m jumping up, away from Tommy, seeing Joel in the doorway and blurting out a quick, “I should help the girls.” Before scurrying off without waiting for a reply. 

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ 

Fourth Time:

I like spending my time with the horses as they’re predictable animals, meaning I don’t have to keep my guards up. If I’m not with Joel or any of the others I’m found in the stables, taking care of these beautiful creatures. The smell of hay so sweet in air as they snicker and stamp with nothing to do but watch the world go by around them. I even helped Charlotte - the stable manager - birth one of the prettiest foals and it was breathtaking. The fact that I brought life into this world left me with a warm feeling in my chest the rest of the day and nothing could break my joy. 

Today is no different. I’ve been with Charlotte all morning in the stables, grooming the horses, helping tack them up for patrols and just passing the time with them. The foal has grown in the last week or so and is as cheeky as ever, jumping around and annoying her mother so. I’ve been left in charge to raise her and I could not be happier, especially when I get to take her and her mother out into the exercise field, sitting on the gates and just watching them prance around. Thinking of a name is difficult as the only good name I’ve come up with is Indiana which is my own dapple grey Irish Hunter who is currently throwing a tantrum in his stable as I haven’t been giving him half the attention I’m giving the foal. He’s a needy thing but I wouldn’t change him for the world, even when he’s being a spoiled brat. 

‘What to name you sweet thing,” I rub the foals nose softly as she nuzzles at me, baby teeth nipping at my trousers where I have a few sugar cubes hidden, “You got a smart nose on you.” 

“How about sugar?” That southern drawl appears to my right as I feed her a sugar cube and I’m snorting before turning my head to the side. Tommy’s grinning when I give him a look that says ‘are you serious?’, “How about Bella? Or Bailey? Or Spirit?”  I smack his arm lightly at the way he says spirit sarcastically, listing all of the most cliche names around. That knowing smirk never once leaving his lips that I find myself staring at, especially when he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip leaving it plump and shiny in the evening light. I have to grip the railings tightly to stop myself doing anything either of us might regret later, not wanting to lose the friendship I have with Tommy. He’s quickly come to mean a fucking lot to me, even after I promised myself to not trust anyone like that but he does something to me unexplainable and just from one look I’m like putty in his hands. 

I have to swallow, hard, to keep my voice even, tearing my eyes from his smirking lips, “I’m thinking more along the lines of Whiskey or maybe Cricket.” The second one sticks more when the way the foal jumps and stumbles, currently bothering her mother who is just trying to graze in peace. 

“I like Cricket.” Tommy speaks, fingers brushing over my hand, making me jump. His body practically thrums with electricity and want and I would like to give into it but I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance that I instinctively jump down, putting physical space between us. Before I can move away even more his hand darting out, gripping my chin and drawing me closer, breath mingling as he murmurs, “I know you feel it too baby girl. I’ll wait as long as I have to but I want you back.” 

With that he’s gone, the ghost of his hand on my jaw seared into my skin, leaving me alone in the field and chest heaving with nothing but longing aching through me. Fuck, he makes it hard for me to stay away.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ 

Fifth Time:

Ellie’s dragging me inside the barn, the music almost deafening and the bustling of people makes me want to turn and run away. I’m going to stay for a little while to keep the eighteen year old happy as I’d feel like a terrible person if I were to be the one to wipe that smile off her face, her nose scrunching up as she laughs at something she hears in passing. 

Maria’s organised another party night so people of Jackson can have a day off from their work and let loose. I’ve been spending most of my time in my house, taking my name off patrols for the last week and Ellie’s had enough of it as she was partnered with a slime ball of a guy for her patrol on Friday instead of me. This was her compromise to forgive me as well as I couldn’t say no to those puppy dog eyes. So here I am, moving awkwardly on the dance floor with her, Dina and Jesse. 

They’re giggling and Jesse sweeps me into his arms, trying to get me to loosen up and it works because soon enough I’m laughing and swaying my hips in time with the music. Never did I think I’d be in a club of any sort again after the outbreak but here I am on a hot and sweaty dance floor, moving in time with the music and letting loose. Maria had to have a word with me a few weeks ago about needing to socialise with others and become more of an integrated part of society so when Ellie came pounding at my door earlier it was a good enough excuse. 

It seems like everyone in Jackson is here, the dance floor unable to be seen as it's practically wall to wall people dancing except for the booths around the edges of the room and the stage. The music is all nineteen nineties but Jesse and I are dancing, twisting, turning, holding hands as we change sides. We're all grins,  probably looking like idiots and for once I don't care. Inside we're just happy, happy and more alive than we can ever be in this post apocalyptic world. However, some subconscious part of me feels so guilty and I’m scanning the room for a set of familiarly broad shoulders or dark curls but can’t see them and the ache in my chest returns. All that joy and happiness slowly seeming from me and I’m starting to feel like every arm or body that bumps into me is searing hot and it’s too stuffy in here with too many people. 

“I-I’m sorry Jesse… I gotta-“ I don’t finish my panicked sentence, turning and trying to push my way through the masses of hot and sweaty bodies and hands grabbing and grasping. I’m itching to grab something to defend myself, body stuck between fight and flight when familiar hands settle on my waist. They draw me backwards, pressing their chest to my back and the smell of sandalwood and whiskey had me settling back against them as the fear seems to seep from me. I don’t know how Tommy does it but I don’t know why I was even panicked in the first place when he whispers in my ear, voice low and husky, “I’v got you baby girl, you’re safe with me.” 

My head falls back against his shoulder, forehead pressed to Tommy’s neck as his hands wriggle their way under my shirt to find bare skin as he saw how much it calmed me down when Joel did it at the dinner. It works because soon enough my eyes are slipping shut, only able to focus on everything Tommy as he gently sways us in time with the music. My hips press back against his, drawing a sharp sound from his lips which are suddenly latching onto the exposed skin of my neck as we grind to the music. Every instinct is yelling at me to end this before it goes anywhere but the way his tongue laps over my jugular has me weak at the knees and keening for more. I’m tilting my head further to the side to give him more access, feeling the skin blooming and bruising beneath his lips and the way his hips are pressing against mine is harsher and faster. 

I shouldn’t be doing this but the way his hands are tightening on my hips and the way he’s groaning in my ear has me staying where I am, the music drowning out any sounds, barely letting me hear his soft whimper of, “Don’t stop.” Before he his rut into my backside, stuttering and messy and he’s close, I can feel it in the way he clings to me. I shouldn’t let this happen, I shouldn’t be letting him use my body to get off , I shouldn’t be letting the obviously reciprocated feelings he has for me progress this far. Then he’s biting hard at my collarbone, a guttural sound leaving his throat as his hips jerk one last time before we’re stilling. His heads raising, eyes so dark they’re almost black but filled with want and something else that scares me, especially when his face dips closer to mine. I’m yanking myself out of his grip and running out but not before sending him a panicked, “I’m sorry.” 

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ 

The One Time He Did

My front door flies open, stealing a yelp from me as I spin around where I’m making coffee at the counter to see Tommy. He’s in jeans and a shirt but his shirt is loose and done up haphazardly as if in a rush to get dressed. It’s very un-Tommy like but by the way he’s stalking towards me he had something else in mind, he’s caging me against the counter with his face extremely close to mine as he growls out, “You have been nothing but a tease baby girl,” His lips pressing to that soft spot just under my jaw before he continues, “Everyone has told me how much you like me yet when I try and give you an opening you run away.” 

“Y-you don’t want to be with someone like me Tommy.” I’m pushing him a step backwards, putting space between us, “I’m awkward around people, I’m a hermit and a loner with no many in the town-“ 

“Y/N!” He’s snapping, eyes hard as he holds my face in hands and makes me look at him, “I love all of you. I love that you’d rather spend your time curled up with a book. I love that you are always finding sneaky ways out of Jackson to help us cover our bases. I love how gentle you are with the horses and how much you let yourself care. I love-“

“Kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He closes the distance, one of his hands moving to my hair and pulling my head back into the kiss, swallowing the sound it draws from me. His lips are just as plump and pillowy as I imagined, the kiss soft and open as he caresses my cheekbone and his tongue licks inside my mouth. It’s better than I could have imagined, the mixture of last nights whisky and this morning’s coffee on his lips an intoxicating mix and I never want to stop kissing him. Foreheads resting together when we have to pull away for oxygen and everything seems to slot into place. It is okay to want something as you never know if it’s within reach if you don’t try and well… Tommy is willingly moving with me when I slam my lips back to his and walk him backwards to the sofa. 

A gasp falls from those pretty lips when he falls back onto the couch, a smirk appearing as he reaches forwards and grips me by my thighs, yanking me onto his lap and sliding his hand back into my hair to draw me into a hot and dirty kiss that sends sparks of electricity through my spine to my aching core. His other hand is on my ass, rolling my hips over his to create a delicious friction that has me mewling into his mouth. He’s nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it before trailing his lips down my neck and over last the hickeys he left on my skin last night. My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he creates more dark marks, a rumble in his chest when I lightly drag my nails down his abs, trying to memories every dip and scar just in case Tommy changes his mind. 

I can feel the pressure building in my core every time he guides my hips forwards, the outline of his thick length being felt through both layers of jeans. My nails rake through the visible curls of his happy trial, moving to his jeans so I pop the button while his hands are tugging at my shirt until I get the hint, lifting my arms for him to throw it across the room. His breath hitches when he realises I went braless, not seeing any need for it if I was gonna spend the day in the safety of my own home, fingers ghosting up my stomach and dark eyes flicking up to mine in silent question. 

“Ever the gentleman,” I’m practically moaning when he immediately tweaks a nipple between the rough pads of his fingers when I guide his hands up to touch. His lips close around the other, tongue swirling and my back arching into the pleasure, not having been with anyone in years. Fuck this man is talented and he knows it from the way he’s smirking up at me, eyes never leaving my face as his mouth and fingers swap, his other hand pressing my hips down even harder and drawing a low moan from me as the coil in my stomach tightens even more. 

“Y/N YOU’RE NEEDED AS COVER ON PATROL! OH MY FUCKING GOD AHHH!” Ellie comes flying into my house, freezing and quickly slapping her hands over her eyes, as Tommy presses my chest against his while his arms wrap around me to cover my modesty, “THANK FUCK THERE WILL BE NO MORE SEXUAL TENSION BUT AHHH YOU HAVE LOCKS FOR A FUCKING REASON!” Before she spins around and blindly stumbles for the door, slamming into the side of the frame and calling out an “I”M OKAY!” Then she’s gone, leaving me and Tommy alone, staring at each other until a laughter bubbles up in my chest. 

“Fucking cockblock.” I grumble, sliding off his lap to find my bra that I know I threw somewhere down here when I got home last night. It’s on the back of the arm chair and Tommy’s nimble fingers help me do it up at the back before he’s slipping his flannel on my shoulders and spinning me to face him so he can also button it up for me, a content look on his face. 

“I will be right here when you get back baby girl,” He draws me into a gentle kiss, chuckling out a quiet, “Well, I might be waiting in your bed for you actually.” 

“I like the sound of that.” I can’t stop the smile as he kisses me again, drawing me closer to him like I’ll disappear. 

“HURRY THE FUCKING FUCK UP Y/N! STOP TRYING TO EAT TOMMY’S FACE!” 

“I’m coming!” I call back, breaking away from Tommy and slipping my shoes on and grabbing my jacket. He’s standing in my living room, shirtless and jeans unbuttoned with red nail marks bright against his sun kissed skin and the tip of his dick peeking through the small gap where his zipper has slipped down, making my mouth water and that ache between my legs worse. 

Ellie of course ruins the moment by getting a firm grip on my arm and yanking me out the door, shaking her head as if disappointed which I know she isn’t and letting out a yelp when I smack her lightly after she mutters under a breath.“Bet you fucking wish you were.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up.” 

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

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[livewithyura]

Account update ! ( Ranting about Fortnight mv and kazujun / Tiktok acc for tekken edits? )

- Account update

I receive a lot of mailbox after I logged out! Sorry I’ve been invisible for a month , I have a lot of things to do irl so please forgive me . ( I will start working on all of your request , Thank you for requesting! aaa I love u guys so much! ) .

Also I just made a tiktok account for tekken edits / @Yurasbeentekken . you can follow me , but i will not update frequently because I more drawn to writing . Bhahahaha .

Fortnight Mv and Kazujun ( Fanfic Wip ) .

Warning : I don’t follow the plot in the MV , I just used a few reference .

Note : Anyone can use this as inspiration , It’s fine . We all can expand our headcanon . Do tag me , I would love to read about it ( or praising yall arts )

Starring Kazuya as Taylor swift . ( Yes role-reversal ) The setting took place on G-Corp lab where kazuya’s being experimented . Agree to become a lab rats for them for the sake of power . ( He’s literally a slave for power ) . I believe that he’s depressed at some point and he’s struggling with himself .

I imagined Kazuya wearing a mourning dress/suit in metaphorically way after he found out about Jun’s death and Jin’s existence . He’s empty and confused knowing the fact that he just lost the love of his life .

“I touched you , for only a fortnight”

Fortnight , a period of two weeks . Yes , their relationship is short but it gives impactful slap on Kazuya’s soul . Once in his lifetime , he can be vulnerable and safe .

“I love you , It’s ruining my life”

Hear me out , I believe that Jun ruined his reputation as a ‘Evil-Ceo’ . She stepped on his throne and tear his career as a evil man and this is the starting point of his failure . This is the first time where he’s in position where he need to choose either his devil gene or Normal life . ( Yes . maybe angel ) . In this process , He’s struggling . It weakened him until he lost in his father’s hand ( Twice or million time if you want to count his childhood lmfao ) .

But he DID loved her . He never felt like this , He found himself/He heal his inner-child/He’s in comfort .

I imagined he throw all of the lab reports and being absolutely insane after knowing that the love of his life just leave him alone in this world ( also the fact that he have a son too ) . He also scream ferociously , hurting the professor/doctor . asking the doctor to free himself so he can save her , even is too late .

Then , I want to put a scene where Kazuya remember all of the short moment with Jun . Dun Dun Dun , Flashback moment .

Also a flashback moment . Jun tried to help him . in other words….. FIX him . She’s this close 🤏🏻 to change his mind , but she failed because heihachi knocking on their ‘sweet home’ , Kazuya changed his mind and struggling again . Agree to fight Heihachi and leave Jun behind . Their relationship is not working out due to a weird circumstances .

“Thought of calling ya , but you won’t pick up”

Jun tried to search for Kazuya’s remains body but she don’t trace any clue . So she’s just let it be and raised jin all by herself . In metaphorically way , Jun called for him 1000 times using the public phone but he will never pick that call . Forever .

— So that’s all , for today . I have a lot of kazujun dump after ttpd released . Might update , frequently and share my thoughts! See you again .

[charmtion]

can you rec us some of your favorite romance in books? It doesn't need to be a romance book but like a book where the romance literally imprinted on your brain by how good it was

recently—& I wouldn’t really call it romance, more toxic codependent vibes, but the relationship between lia & matthew in maps of our spectacular bodies found a pronged instrument with which to prick my brain. deep. I think maybe the unravelling non-linear juxtaposition between the “pure” love she later enjoys with her husband harry & the dark tangled thing she inhabits in the past with matthew just made it so delicious in a really barbed, ugly, hateful, sexy kind of way. I found myself thinking of them, their time in Italy, their lives getting threaded together in two quaint villagey settings; lia wearing her father’s too-big sweater & matthew fucking her in a field whilst she’s wearing it etc. just—it was a lot, & their connection was spelled out in so few words, so sparingly & deftly in a way that I’ve kept thinking about a good few months after finishing it.

overwhelmingly tho the kind of romance that stands out to me in the predominantly non-romance-centred books I read is the quiet background kind. the humdrum everyday. the wordless comforting kind of bond you sense between characters that builds so much into the rest of the narrative. kent haruf’s couples are always key examples of this, & even cormac mccarthy in no country for old men: ed thom & loretta, there’s this weathered worn easy old sense of history & deep deep love there drawn out in a no-nonsense typa way. most strikingly probably thomas cromwell & elizabeth in the wolf hall trilogy. I mean, elizabeth is only alive for barely half of the first book, & yet she haunts the narrative. it’s a strategic marriage made in middle age, but the fondness there is undeniable, the quiet familial need, & the best quote that sort of defines and outdefines every grandiose declaration of romance I’ve ever read—Liz, he thinks, didn’t you fight? If I had seen your death coming, I would have taken him and beaten in his death’s head; I would have crucified him against the wall.—I mean can you get more romantic than that? cromwell for sure is not traditionally a romantic figure, or one lusted after or anything lol, but those words mantel paints into his mouth; they're fucking hot, chemistry-altering, high romance, at least in my old brain. 🫀 x

[anaquariusfox]

No shade towards this user! But I would actually love to address this statement or thought process.

(And its actually £37 for you!)

But nonetheless, there are many things to consider when you’re criticizing an artist for the price of their works and here are a few!

How much time goes into the process of a piece(s)!

For example, I made not only one zine, but two in the span of 7 months. While working a 40+ hour a week active job. So all my free time was consumed with this zine. You may think $43 is a lot for a zine, but I am just one person make a whole NSFW zine. I wasn’t one of 20+ artists and fic writers putting one piece into a whole zine. And I won’t undervalue myself and my time! Also, most of my commissions, for one custom piece, cost more than not only my nsfw zine, but both my zines combined.

How much time goes into the technically side of the piece(s) (I.e. creating the actual zine with printing companies and sizing and resizing, and shipping and handling artists usually handle themselves)

For myself, it was hours and hours of file converting and resizing and in the end it still didn’t look good in zine previews, that’s why I decided to go digital.

The exclusivity of the artwork(s)

You’ll find a lot of things of this nature are either limited time products or exclusive to the product itself! For example, all my pieces in my NSFW zine, are for the zine supporters only, as well as my SFW being half favorite pieces and half new, zine exclusive pieces!

The content of said artwork(s)

My zine for example, is a “taboo” type of artwork, it’s basically a book full of porn. Not a lot of artist draw porn and even less nsfw artist, share it on social media! But here I am, sharing a whole exclusive zine of porn for two lovable characters! Oh, and as trans characters haha. They’re t4t in my zine because I draw the representation I want through my favorite characters!

* And in the end really! *

You’ve got to understand, as artists, we are putting out so much free content on social media. Whether it’s every day, every other day, once a week or once a month. You, as a consumer of our work, get free content (both old and new), all for free! Is that not wild?! For example, people pay $10 a month to see all the porn I’ve ever drawn on Patreon on then get to see the latest porn and sfw stuff I post! Ive been told by so many friends that I should charge more even! But that’s not the point of this post.

Artists could never share again, or put their craft and skills behind a massive paywall, but we love sharing and putting art into the world, cause fuck, a world without art would kill me. I literally love scrolling through my social media and seeing all my mutuals and artists I follow share their work and interests through art. I love seeing their minds work and what they felt so proud of to share it with the world.

And on top of that, if you think something is a bit too high in price, just remember all the free content the artist puts out, remember what art piece you love the most from them and why you followed them in the first place maybe! And by purchasing an item(s) from them, is a way of showing them support for all the joy their art has brought you 🫶😊 and just supporting artists in general vs large corporations who usually underpay their artists or just straight up steal art.

**In the end, I won’t undervalue my time and skill for a quick sale cause I’ve had people happily support me at the prices they are and I’m so grateful te for them.**

*** No artist should undervalue their work! We have a skill and took time to create this skill and study our skill to become better and better 🫶***

I do hope that anyone with the same mind set as this user, might have a new POV on the artists side/ BTS side of an artist and content creator when judging their prices.