#THE SHADING THE LIGHTNING IT LOOKS SO SOFT SO BRIGHT SO PRETTY

[milfism-blog]

“Sarò La Tua Bambina Di San Valentino”

“I will be your Valentine baby girl”

Summary: While on vacation in Sicily, you ran into a hot readhead. What might happen when a bolt of electricity will go through both of you? Will this relationship only last at the resort? Is it just Melissa's first sexual experiment or the unexpected beginning of a blissful relationship? You should probably find out…

Warning: Comphet, Melissa being confused over her sexuality, mention of Gerry, a little bit of angst, fluff, smutty, explicit content. Read at your own risk!

Word Count: 5,3k

Author's note: It is my first smutty fic! Feedback is always appreciated! Have fun reading!

02.01.2023. Sicily, Palermo

You went on your first trip to Italy, Palermo specifically. You heard a lot about the beautiful city and of course the food. So in one click you booked tickets and of course a luxurious hotel. In addition, you lately noticed you have a type for confident Italian women so you planned to go all crazy for the trip. It was your vacation after all. No one knows who you are there and you can do anything without worrying about your work colleagues making videos and making fun of you later. You were already embarrassed at the working New years party with your co-workers. You are like a big family of best friends and of course, you all were drunk and made a lot of stupid decisions. Explicitly flirting with an older Italian woman you met in a club that night. Even though it was one  month ago. Your friends are still making fun of you. 

Actually screaming: “Beware milfhunter might steal one of yours moms!”

And if god heard your thoughts about hot Italian women. You saw one in the lobby of a hotel. Bright red hair caught your attention immediately. Dark squared glasses were keeping her hair from covering her beautiful face. Her massive golden earrings were reflecting the warm sun. It took some time for you to take in all her gorgeous curves. She was in a jumpsuit with a deep V neck which caught your attention. You were shamelessly staring at her gorgeous breasts without a bra. Your fantasy was running wild. You would not be surprised if your mouth was open. Without exaggeration, she looked like a goddess with olive skin you wanted to desperately touch and find out how soft it would feel. Is it as soft as it looks? Oh god this is going to be a ride.

You probably were staring for a good amount of time since she noticed and now she was looking straight into your eyes. They were a deep shade of green. You felt like a bolt of electricity went right through both of you. As if she was sending lightning bolts through her gorgeous eyes. And gosh her glare sent chills on your skin. 

The next day you went for breakfast and again you saw her there. She looked even more magnificent than yesterday. The morning sun was giving her olive skin a natural glow. Her deep green eyes were shining a light shade of olive. She had minimum makeup on. Just mascara to highlight her eyes and clear lip gloss. Her lips looked so full, so juicy as the most desired fruit. You wanted to taste them so bad.

When you left your table you went straight to your hotel suite. Unknowingly for you, she has followed you down the staircase. She was quietly observing you. You felt a strong gaze on your backless dress. The chills were back again. When you were about to open the door she pinned you down that hardwood door. You were shocked, to say the least. When you looked at the stronger woman. Her pupils were delayed. Not a single hint of green, only black. You were just staring at her eyes. Your heart was beating so fast as if it was going to jump from your rib cage. You missed the satisfied smirk on the redhead's lips. She was enjoying the power she was having over you. You looked like a lost mouse caught by a cat. So lost,so innocent, so deliciously accessible for her to use you. You tried to move but she pinned you harder. 

“You are not going to escape me, little mouse, now are you? Pretty innocent girl is scared now? Where did all the courage go?” She asked in a mocking tone.

Her voice sent you into a starstruck phase. So raspy, deeply rich voice. Fitted her personality so well. Dominant Italian woman pinning you against your room door, what can be better? 

Your eyes traveled from her beautiful eyes to her deliciously juicy lips. You gave in to the urge to passionately kiss her. And you went for it. Since she pinned your arms you tilt your head and went hard for the kiss. Your lips were desperate to get a taste of her. Her lips were as soft as silk. You couldn't hold the desperate whimper. She tasted like sweet Italian wine. Her delicate lips sent you into a euphoric state. When you took a needy breath closer to a moan. You smelled her sweet yet mucus sent. That you're gonna remember for sure. When you went again so desperately neddy for the taste to bite down her lip. So she would remember the next day who she kissed. And with that, she stopped you.

“No, no little mouse, that's not how deals are made. You are gonna listen to me and do everything I am telling you to do. Understood?” She rasped out.

Your knees buckled at her voice and demanding tone. You were not sure if you could even speak. You just nodded in surender. 

“No, sweet girl, I need to hear your voice.”

“Yes ma`am" You said with a trembling voice. 

“Good girl. Now open the door for me” She said in her deep voice. With a smirk on her face. She knew the effect her voice, her hands were having on you. 

With weak, trembling legs you opened the door. Almost instantly you felt strong arms on your waist. She suggestively walked you down to your bedroom and pushed you on bed. You started to take your clothes down but she stopped your actions. 

“No, bambina, let mommy take down all the clothes. You need to listen closely, baby. I have some rules for you. No touching mommy without asking, you're gonna listen to my instructions and behave.”

Oh if she knew the fire you were feeling all over your sensitive skin. Her delicate yet strong hands were tearing your clothes apart. The warmth from her palms was burning your skin. You already were at the edge since her first glance. You were so eager to please a marvelous stranger. The only thing you wanted her to do is use you so the only thing you will remember will be her title, her taste, her scent, her, only her.

“Come here bambina, let mommy ride your face”

You could not believe your luck, a stunning woman asking you to please her. How can you decline this delightful offer? It felt like a fever dream. She was teasingly slow taking down her clothes. She was purposely swaying her hips as if she was a predator and you were her prey. Her mouse.

She gave your neck a few bites here and there, not even bothering to smooth them. when she glanced at your face. You were totally blissed out. Completely at her mercy. 

She took down her ruined panties and took a seat on your face. Your senses were filled with her significant scent. The first lick was experimental to taste her. Her taste was a little mix of salt and sweetness. It was like blessed nectar. Your warm tongue licked her delicate labia. Her hips rolled at the action. You tried to steady her with your hands, but she slept them away.

“Remember the rules little mouse” she said, sternly.

You liked her again this time with more force. You made it your goal to memorize every curve, moan, whimper, curse. You wanted to drink her nectar, you're gonna take anything she is gonna give you. Her mind blowing taste was addictive, you wanted to eat her all. To give her the best orgasm in her life. You were softly nibbling at her sensitive skin. Swirling your tongue on a fragile rose. You gently pecked her clit. She groaned. You suck on it licked it and kiss it. She was slowly losing control. She was whimpering over you. 

“ahh, yes, like this, good girl!” She cried out.

Your tongue went diaper into her core, you were restless. Setting the faster rhythm. To send her over the age sooner. Since the goddess above you forbid you to use your fingers. You decided to challenge her with your skilled tongue. Switching between the suction of her bundle of nerves and going in teasing techniques of her core. Your face was covered in her sweet arousal. You were practically drowning in her scent. juices and moans. 

“Don't tease miele, mommy is going to reward you, ahh like this!”

You find her spongy spot deep in her core. You gave it a few light licks. With these actions, her hips were bucking back. Her moans became louder. She was playing with her full breasts to add more pleasure to her body. Your hands were scratching the olive skin of her thighs. Leaving red marks behind on a warm flesh. Giving more sensations and stimulation. Your tongue was skillfully going up and down her core. Small kisses here and there on her overstimulated clit. With each passing second her hips were swinging, she was trying to escape your experienced tongue. Your hands were clutching her thighs diligently. Every lick, suck, nibble was bringing her faster to the edge. Her breasts were bouncing. Her nipples were screaming for attention, she tried to pinch them in hopes it would make the ache to go away. She tugged on your hair. This action made you groan at the sensation. Long lasting vibrating suck of her clit sent her over the edge. She was desperately moaning. 

“You are such a good girl, little mouse” She praised you in pure bliss.

She fell on your torso. You gently kissed her. Letting her taste her pleasure. She moaned at her taste. You kissed her cheek and went straight down to clean her up with your delicate tongue. You cannot waste the sweet nectar. She whined at the overstimulation. You tenderly lapped the remains of her juices. Firstly on creamy thighs occasionally sucking on the skin. Finishing with a tender kiss right on her clit.

“That was the best orgasm in my life. You did pretty well for a little submissive mouse.” She said truthfully

“Now it is your turn bambina, mommy keeps her promises.” 

With these words she crawled over you. Her usual demeanor is back. She is ready to make you squirm and cry. 

What was supposed to be just a one night stand for both of you became something more, such as regular meetings, mind blowing sex, breakfast together, drinking wine together, deep talks. Simply just enjoying the company of each other. Just two of you against the world. Hell, you even moved in together, if you can call it like that. She was staying in the president lux. Big rooms, personal pool, jacuzzi, amazing balcony where you had the best talks. Her green eyes will haunt you forever. You already were feeling like you were falling in love. But you had to remind yourself, “It is just resort romance, nothing more, at least for her.”

Here comes your last day together on the 14th of February, day of love. But you could not escape the emptiness in your heart. Last day until she will disappear forever…

To your surprise, she ordered fruits and candles to set a romantic atmosphere. When you walked into the room soft jazz music was playing. Melissa walked to you with the bouquet of flowers in hand. You almost cried at the site. This is so sensual, beautiful. No one has ever done this for you. But she did. Maybe she was the one?

This gonna be one of your core memories. She already stole your heart. The goodbyes are going to be really painful. 

“Are you okay? Hon?” She repeated nervously, trying to figure out what was wrong. You were just staring at her beautiful green orbs. 

“If it is too much I'm so sorry I should not have to make it!” She sounded nervous, almost panicking. 

You whispered, resting the warmth of your hands on her shoulders.  

“I adore this so much! I've never had somebody do this for me. I really appreciate it.” You gave her assurance. caressing her and kissing her on the lips.

That final day gave you the impression of being a married couple right out of the honeymoon stage. She was carrying and completely open with you. You were both extremely delighted and nauseous from it. Tomorrow you will be flying to your home and family in a few hours. But somehow, without her, none of that made sense. Melissa was a tough woman. You figured that out while technically living together. But that specific night she let her guard down for you. And you could see the sadness in her eyes. Especially in the intimate moments when she was feeding you with a strawberry, kissing became more slow and desperate. That night was no power dynamic, just pure love and sensual kisses.

“I'm going to miss you little mouse” She spoke with obvious anguish in her voice as she conveyed her thoughts.  

With these words, you shared a last kiss. You felt like part of you died with you that day…

3 months later 

When you came back home you were in absolute despair. You were missing her so much it was physically hurting you. Everything, absolutely everything was reminding you of her. You were checking your phone every day in hopes of seeing a message or even a call from the redhead. Even your friends were worried for you. You spent the last three months by yourself mostly doing all your job responsibilities from home. You were looking through her pictures you took when she was unaware. Completely without makeup, happy. She was a big softie with you. One time you heard her perfume on the street. You looked like an absolutely lost dog looking for its owner. She was the only owner of your heart. 

Melissa was going through one of the most challenging crises in her life. Her vocation in Palermo completely changed her as a woman and as a person. When she booked the tickets to Italy she hoped she would find a hot young guy to hook up with. That fresh blood and dick will make her forget asshole Gary. That random stranger will make her feel loved and finally, she will cum. Because apparently Gary did not know anything about a woman`s body. He was a clueless idiot and she was simulating her pleasure, he did not notice the change at all. The idiot proposed to her even though they talked a lot about the subject. He just could not or did not want to hear what his woman wanted.  She was so tired of being lonely and sad all the time. Her love life was a wreck. But then you came into her life. Shamelessly staring at her but strangely she liked it. You were different, not like all the men she had been with. All her life she blocked the part of her that was thinking about experimenting with girls. Just the one thought of experimenting with a person of her gender was sending her into a panic. 

But. You.

She was not ready to share with you that you were her first woman she slept with. To be completely honest she thought she was just gonna use you as fulfillment of her needs and that would be it. But the way you were looking at her, so pure, so innocent, so happy. It broke her heart to think that she was just gonna use you so she just gave it a go. “No one is going to find out” she was saying to herself every day. Of course, all her thoughts and behavior were just echoes of the stigma. Liking women at her time was counting as something she should be ashamed of and better work this problem out by marrying a man. So he can cure her.

She managed to hide that “dirty” part of herself.

But then you appeared and showed that being loved by another woman is rather a blessing than a curse. The love was so gentle, understanding, and calming. And after all, nothing bad happened, she did not die on the spot as she was told. None of the bad things she heard were true. And then she saw all the great things about you such as you understood her by just looking right into her eyes, you were gentle and honest with her no one has done this for her. The guys just did not care about her pleasure and her as a person in general. Oh and your soft gentle lips, kind eyes, humor, everything about you…

While she was lost in her thoughts, realization struck her like a frigid wave. She fell in love... Just in two weeks with a mischievous stranger. Firstly she blamed herself for letting her guard down she let herself be emotional, feel emotions, experience emotions. That's what she mastered during her life. Put the guard up, be emotionless and life will be easy. Her exes used to tell her “Why are you acting like a bratty girl, stop being so emotional, jeezz are you on your period again?” So she stopped being emotional at all. But now her well-being was dependent on her happiness, on you. So she decided to break this circle of negative emotions and call you and tell you how she feels about you, and maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. To become hers.

 02.14.2024.

 United States of America, South Philadelphia 

It was Valentine's Day again. You felt a sense of dejavu reliving all the memories from the past. It took long enough for The Melissa Ann Kathrine Schemmenti to finally ask you out and ask you officially to be her girlfriend. But you didn't mind. You would wait for her as long as needed. She was like your special delicate, sensitive flower, you were a caretaker, you were patient and loving to see her blossom for you. When she did you were stunned by her true colors and personality. There were no masks, facade for both of you. Just pure love. You wanted to make her feel extra special on this day, which was also your anniversary (almost, but nonetheless). And it is going to be your first Valentine's as a couple. So exciting! 

But since you want to make this day special that does not mean you will not tease her. You like to push her buttons and see her reaction. And today was even more thrilling. You bought special lingerie for the occasion. Of course, you like to spoil your girl by buying new lingerie and see her reaction. You created a plan, you went to buy a new undergarments set. To your luck on Valentine's, there are a lot to choose from. One looked specifically spicier than the others, that's what you need! It had heart-shaped cutting on the nipples, with a light pink lace. It gave your breasts amazingly good lift even though this piece did have a push-up effect. To finish the lustful garment there is a cherry red thong with a small heart with a text that says “Eat me”. You put that on, you looked absolutely amazing. Reds and pinks colors were bringing accent to your skin tone, the thong was giving your ass more roundness. Mel would definitely like it. You also found light pink stockings, oh you knew how this look would make Melissa go absolutely crazy over you.

Your mind visited a naughty thought. You took your phone it lit up with the photo of you and your girlfriend laughing in Palermo. Your heart swelled with love. You opened the camera app and began to pose. The first one was you touching your unique bra, using your other hand to cover your nipples a little bit. The other one was you bending down and putting your ass up purposely to give it more roundness. Maybe it was not smart to take these photos and send them to your beloved Melissa during work but just thought about seeing her flustered and a little nervous. The thought of you turning her on was seducing you too much. And of course, you wanted to have fun tonight. In no time you got a response.

La mia dea italiana (my Italian goddess)

“Oh bambina, don't start something you can't finish, but the set look exquisite on you or I rather should say you look exquisite my darling.”

But you know her tough response is a facade. In reality, she is sitting in her classroom in her free period trying to play it cool because right now her mind is getting crazy by just one look at the amazing bra or the thong. You literally set fuel to the fire. But again, you are gonna worry later, or you might enjoy restless Melissa Schemmenti…

The sound of soft Italian jazz music welcomed you when you arrived home. The memories of your last night with the fiery redhead in Italy came flooding back, but now you realize you have plenty of time to spend together. You smiled at the realization that she is yours and you are hers. Hearts tied together. While taking off your boots, you noticed the path made of red petals heading towards your bedroom. And it clicked, Mel was recreating your last night in Italy. The roses, the music. You decided not to waste more time, excited to see what your beautiful girlfriend prepared for you. When you went upstairs there was an envelope with text on it “Open Me”. You eagerly opened it, it had instructions for you. “Hello again my sweet mouse, read closely, take off your clothes, stay only in your new lingerie set, and head upstairs!” 

You rushed out of your clothes, even the nickname “mouse” She definitely was recreating your night. You assumed she wanted to make things right this time? No more sadness, just pure bliss.

You opened the door to your bedroom and your mouth fell open at the view. The gorgeous redhead had a proud smirk on her lips. Evidently pleased with the reaction she got from you. You were too stunned to speak. The smoking hot Melissa Schemmenti had nothing but a pair of dark red lace thong without any bra just her exquisite breasts. Soft creamy skin was calling for you to kiss, caress, lick, touch it. When you looked more closely you noticed that her rosey nipples were covered with chocolate. On the bedside table were strawberries waiting for you to use them, fresh melted chocolate in a bowl was ready for use. You walked down to her as you were enchanted by her breasts. 

“Come here little mouse, I might need your help.” she fake paunted. Her eyes were telling you the other story. They were glistering with lust.

While you were occupied by shamelessly staring at her breasts, she was taking in your form with the new lingerie that you bought for her. She was practically eating you up with her eyes as if you were her prey.

“I figured you might like this il mio dolce tesoro, do not contain your stares. I absolutely love when you look at or touch my amazing tits. I know you love them. It is still vivid in my memory how you were eyeing my girls in that hotel lobby. Absolutely shamelessly, you are such a naughty girl. But I love you for it. My naughty mouse”

You could not believe your luck. Mel prepared all this sweet yet spicy, to be honest overly spicy, and all of this just for you, just for your eyes to see, your tongue to taste, to devour. 

“But we have some rules here, like last time. Rules for my favorite little mouse. First, you are going to address me only as ma`am, mistress, and mommy. Second, you are not allowed to take off my thong, this night is only about my tits and my titis only. Since you were brave enough to tease me during my work hours. You get a challenge if you can make me cum by just using your skilled tongue and hands on my breasts. Today you're gonna make me finish by just eating and admiring my breasts.” 

She announced the rules. Her beautiful green olives are gone in a lustful gaze. You can see how her breathing is erratic. Her eyes are focused on you. Almost silently asking you to start. 

“Yes, mistress” you breathed out. Your thighs are pressing together in need of any sort of friction.  

You sat on her lap. Melissa could feel your ruined underwear on her thighs. While she was streaked with the new sensation of your clothed pussy on her warm inviting thigh. Oh, how you wanted to take a ride... But just one stern look from your beloved Italiano made you behave. You wanted to be her good girl. Melissa, unlike you, could not take the tension any longer she yanked a fistful of your hair. Passionately inviting you for a bruising kiss. You whimpered at the sensation. She was restless. Biting hard on your lip just to slide her dominant tongue into your warm mouth. This action made you unconsciously desperately grind onto her soft creamy thigh.

“Ah, ah little mouse is breaking the rules again” She stated with a sly smirk playing on her puffy lips. 

Still having her hand in your hair she pulled you straight into her tits. You moaned at the action right between delicate skin. Melissa was completely drowning you in her exquisite breasts. You were totally blissed out, your face pressed between her tits. Giving up any sort of control, you give in to the desire to bite down soft flesh. Smoothing down with your warm gentle tongue. Melissa responded with a groan. Her olive skin was covered in shivers. Just from one action. It was no secret for both of you that her breasts were subject of admiration. She also loved them, loved the attention she got from you. Now it was a research question to see how sensitive her breasts are and how many minutes, or hours would it take for you to make her cum?

“Tesoro, do this again!” she groaned out.

You bit her again. Taking the heated bowl with the meted warm chocolate you covered your tits in the steaming liquid. You shivered at the warm tingly sensation. Making your rosey buds harden almost instantly. Mel licked her lips before launching her tender lips and sucking on your right nipple. You let out a cry at the delicious feeling. Of her lips on your nipple softly nibbling on the pointy flesh. Her other hand palmed your left tit. Using her nails to tease the nipple. The sensations were sending you into bliss. Her scent, her warm inviting skin, warmth radiating from her big breasts. You closed your eyes to focus more on the pleasure she was giving you. 

“Agh, mommy, please, bite me again agh, rougher plaeaase” You screamed from the sensations. The pool in your underwear was no help. You became more needy with every passing second.

You practically glazed more chocolate on her inviting breasts. Slowly licking the tender olive skin. You started with the top, kitten licking right breast, gently sucking on the skin around her areola. You were teasing, changing speed between agonizingly slow to faster with your tongue drawing different patterns. One of them was the word “mine”. Caressing the other breast with your nails. Giving a firm quiz here and there. Melissa was getting overwhelmed with feelings. She was so sensitive, everywhere. Firstly her breasts were on fire, pleasantly carried away with your skillful tongue, you sweet words you were drawing with your tongue on her breasts. The warm hand that was palming her left breast was sending light pulsations straight to her pussy. She became so putty in your hands. 

“Like that, good girl, you are doing so great, just suck nipples, they are aching for your experienced tongue” She cried out. Pressing your lips closer to her overstimulated nipples. 

Her praise was making your pussy clench around nothing. You were so happy to please your mistress. So eager to make her cum. Like no other men on this planet will. The sweetness of chocolate was mixing up with the significant taste of your gorgeous girlfriend. Making you want to devour her without mercy. Her fragrance was interacting with a sweet scent of chocolate. Revealing new muscusy notes in the air. Her strawberry lip gloss was like a cherry on top of the sweetness. All your senses were blessed with her gorgeous presence.

Your velvety lips were gently sucking on her exuberant nipples. Redhead responded with a breathy moan. She harshly pressed you into her exquisite breast. Too lost in the moment to care. You started to bite down slowly on the puffy bud. Changing the frequency of suction and biting. Gazing your teeth over a chocolaty-covered nipple adds more dopamine to your system. The taste of skin with sweetness was an amazing combination for your taste buds. Switching to another nipple you bit harder, smoothing harsh sensation with a lapping of your tongue. Taking a break from her nipples made her a whining mess.

“Amore…” Melissa whined out, while squirming her hips.

“Please, do-dont stop” She complained.

You took more strawberries and chocolate. You covered her reddened buds with chocolate and squirted strawberries over her breasts. Not caring where it will lend. As if there is no tomorrow you began to follow down the drops of juice. Making patterns, softly nibbling, and harshly biting down the pinkish flash.

“Tesoro please, I am so, so closeeeee” she was a crying mass. The overstimulation made her brain get foggy. She became more whinny. Desperately trying to get her release. 

You were practically sucking out her buds, areolas, using your tongue to tease, smooth, irritate, and get a reaction from a hot beast. Your delicate hands were palming her puffy tits. Your nails were gazing over and over over sensitive pointed rosy skin. One last suck of your tongue, one lust swirl of your hand on her nipple sends her over to the sweetest release she got from this type of stimulation. Her eyes got lost in the back of her head. Her hips are uncontrollably bucking against nothing. Her hands firmly tugging on your hair, pressing hard into her tits. Her thighs are moving intensively which makes your hips join her rhythm to saddle over her thigh. You were following her movements to make you reach your desired release together. You collapsed in bed. Heavy gasping for air. 

“ Well, well you did pretty good for a little muse, il mio amore” 

With these words, you shared a passionate, loving kiss. And that night you had the best sleep in each other's arms. Melissa finally felt content and loved. She did not regret her decision to start a resort romance. Now she has her girl. Sleeping right beside.

What a Valentines…

[ghoulphile]

I am RATTLING THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE WITH EXCITEMENT!!!! do you have an idea of when the chapter will be up???

this is me rn:

and.... bc i love you, here's a treat ❤️~

Then broad palms slide beneath the rucked up hem.

The calloused fingers of one hand chart a path up the line of your stocking, Cooper’s blunt nails skipping across nylon until sheer fabric blends into a delicate dusting of lace covered elastic. The other cups your thigh, his thumb tucking under the garter strap to caress an angry indent.

You tremble.

“Soft and pretty; how the hell’d an old fella like me get so goddamn lucky?”

At the drag of roughened skin, your clit twitches. Meanwhile, goosebumps prickle down your bare arms, baby hairs standing on end as axons fizz and pop. You sigh. “Cooper — oh, I need you — please.”

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Keep talking to me, sugar.”

The unexpected drag of a forefinger over the front of your panties catches you off guard, sends you reeling as a bitten off mewl tears itself from your throat. Your hands shake as you struggle to restrain yourself, hyperaware of the tranquil silence of the apartment interrupted only by an occasional murmur of the TV from down the hall.

“Don’t! I - I can’t--”

Even though the fabric keeps Cooper from touching bare skin, the grind of his knuckles along your pussy feels like a punch to the gut. Your toes curl and your hands yank at the roots of his hair. “Hhn!”

“Thought you said you could keep quiet. Did you lie to me, sweetheart?”

“No, I promise I can. Just not when you d-do things like that…”

His brow quirks. “Why don’t we put that to the test then?”

“Cooper, what’re you — hng! S-Shit, I--!”

He circles the swollen nub of your clit with his thumb, humming in approval when it twitches against the pad of his finger before inching down to the damp seat of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked. I can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this.”

As he plays with the sticky evidence of your arousal, tracing your folds and teasing at your entrance, shame burns quick and bright. Coils behind your navel, a viper in the shade, as little sparks of black thread through blooming passion.

Bastard.

You sniffle, glaring at him through teary eyes. “You said you wouldn’t tease.”

Tiny aftershocks rock through your frame as your legs clamp around his flexing wrist; nerve endings raw and exposed. The languid strokes of his fingers are tantamount to torture.

You’re going to burn up, supernova bright, if he doesn’t stop.

Who knew being silent was so hard?

You’d never struggled before (then again, maybe that says something about the sex you’ve been having) but Janey’s a room away. There’s no other choice, and you’ve wanted this for too long to stop now.

“Well, now, I don’t recall making any promises.”

Cooper smiles, pulling back the hood of your clit through the thin layer of ruined fabric with startling accuracy. His palms stop the squirm of your hips as you try to arch away, electric shocks lancing through you at the rough friction against exposed nerves.

“Guess I can’t seem to help myself. It’s your fault for looking so pretty.”

He’s the furthest from apologetic.

In fact, his voice is low and whiskey rough — full of grit and gravel.

It scrapes down your spine, sinks into your bones. Makes your eyes squeeze shut as you chew on the fat of your lip. A fever creeps up the sides of your neck, settles into the apples of your cheeks; the skin swollen and tight like a sunburn.

A shaky noise of disbelief tumbles from your mouth.

“Don’t lie,” you mumble, your hands flying up to cover your face. His chest vibrates with a snicker and your shoulders tuck towards your ears, elbows drawn into your ribs. “I know you’re loving this, Mr. Howard.”

Cooper groans.

When you peek through splayed fingers, your breath catches.

White lightning. Silken heat.

His dark gaze rests past your chin, caressing the compressed swell of your breasts with avarice. Your arms pushed them up past the neckline of your sundress, the dainty trim of lace mere inches away from exposing your nipples.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’m not the only one, sweetheart.”

A hand extricates itself from the skirt, snaking up your torso to palm over a curve of exposed skin, fingertips testing the plush weight of your chest with a gentle squeeze. “How long were you planning on this happening, huh?”

“I--”

“Ah,” Cooper tsks, dragging his thumb over where your nipple is, “None of that now. An honest question deserves a proper answer, don’t you think?”

Your hands press on the back of his to strengthen his touch. White static dances along your nerve endings, your nipple pulling into a tight peak as a fluttery sensation roosts in the valley between your hips.

“Since,” your lips tremble on an exhale, and when you swallow, it feels like shards of glass, “since the beginning… Was waiting for the day you’d look at me — see me. Nothing worked, and I almost gave up. But then I caught you staring, and I — Coop, please.”

[tarta-de-limon]

Hiii!! Could you show us how you paint skin? I'm really struggling and you paint it so pretty!

(Obvi if it's no problem for you, you can totally ignore my question!)

Of course I can! Honestly, I'm not very good at explaining things, but I'll try my best💪 This is long. Really, really long. So...get ready, I guess.

One of the artist that REALLY helped me with painting and just everything in general is this one:

I think you should really look at her content! She posts, well, posted lots of SpeedPaints that are really useful, at least they were for me, seeing her process really helped me a lot!

So, before I used to add a base color, shadow with a multiply layer and...that was it! I would shadow under the nose, in the eyelids, and under the lips, I would blend the lines and add some lights in the point of the nose, under the eyes and...yeah, that was it.

Now... Well, I color in grayscale, and I really try to have this in mind;

Well, it's really hard to explain. Just—

Idk, light reflects so you can actually use that to give the skin more colors? I don't really play with it a lot but, I think it's something useful to know. Also, try to use saturated colors between...the shadows? I am so sorry I suck at explaining

Try not to use black, it's not forbidden, of course! I heard people saying you should NEVER shade with black, but, well, sometimes you just have to??? In any case, I always try to use a really dark blue. Sometimes I don't even care and use a bright blue. Most of the times, I just add blue in the neck because...it kinda looks pretty?

Actually that should be the bounce light, and it should be yellow(in this case, since the light is reflecting in a yellow surface???(literally don't know how to explain it))... But I like how it looks when it's bright blue so... Yeah.

Just do what you like.

I now paint using grayscale, which really helps if you have troubles with the shadows and lights. I'm gonna put this SpeedPaint here, just in case you wanna see the process??? It's a little long, and well, there's a LOT of close ups. Believe me when I tell you that this is the SpeedPaint with less close ups. All of my other SpeedPaints are literally: ↙️↘️↙️↘️⚡⚡⚡⚡⏭️⏫⏬⏩

I'm gonna try to explain my process here! After I finished the drawing in grayscale I add a soft light layer, where I add the base colors and the blush.

It should look depressing like this! But that's okay, cuz you can always add another layer of Soft Lightning!

See? And now he doesn't look like a vampire! And honestly, that's it! After that, you add more soft lightning layers with different colors. I don't know how to explain this process, I just...add colors? Always bright blue and pink, sometimes purple, but that's a personal choice, you can add all type of colors!

I can't add more pictures lmao. But, well, since you already did the shadows and lightning when it was in Grayscale, all you have to do is change the color. Don't be afraid to try the different types of Layers and effects.

I'm really sorry if the it's hard to understand my horrible English. I'm traducing from Spanish to English quite literally so...have mercy on me.

Lastly, well, Idk if I can reblog this and add more images, if I can, I'll add my brushes so you can use them! I don't think the brushes do the artist...but they do help a lot lmao.

I hope my horrible rambling helped you somehow, I'm really sorry if it's poorly explained, but I hope it helps 😭🙏

My advice is you do you, lmao. I literally imitate whatever I like, like, the blue in the neck? I copied it from the artist I just recommended! So, lesson of the day... Copy everything! 🤓/Joke, but at the same time, not a joke

Hope this helped 😭😭😭😭

I'm sorry if it didn't 😭😭😭😭

SORRY IT'S SO LONG 😭😭😭

[scarlet-traveler]

Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 31: Quirk Accident! This is 6.6k so if you'd rather read on AO3 check it out here, otherwise carry on!

~

The first thing he noted as he slowly regained consciousness was his splitting headache. He wasn’t sure where it was originating, his head was just pounding, throbbing with each beat of his heart, and a soft moan escaped his lips from the pain. He would’ve gone back to sleep to escape it if his second realization hadn’t slammed into his mind, overshadowing the ache surrounding it.

He couldn’t remember his name.

That was something he should’ve known, right? He fished through his fuzzy brain to try and find it, but he came up empty-handed. As a matter of fact, he didn’t find anything. No name, no basic interests, no memory of how he’d wound up here.

What was going on?

“Can you hear me, Young Kirishima?”

Kirishima? Was that his name?

“Yes, that’s your name.”

Oh. He didn’t think he’d said that out loud.

“Do you think you could open your eyes for me, sonny?”

He’d rather not, the headache still pounding away in his skull, but he complied anyway, his eyes cracking open, adjusting to the light and the brief increase in pain it brought before opening them wider.

He was laying down on his back, staring up at ceiling tiles, the lights in the room fortunately dimmed so his headache didn’t get much worse. As he was starting to wake up more he could pick up the plush surface of a bed beneath him, the scent of disinfectant stinging his nose, and the chill of the room as it caused goosebumps to form on his exposed arms.

There were shuffling noises nearby, and then the face of an older woman who looked like a nurse popped into view. She studied him critically through her goggle-like glasses before she smiled warmly down at him. “How are you feeling, Young Kirishima?” she asked, careful to keep her voice down, which he was grateful for.

“Got a headache,” he mumbled, not daring to speak louder himself in case it got worse.

The nurse nodded, as if expecting as much. “I’ve got something that can help with that. I need to sit you up first to make sure you don’t have any other problems. Young Bakugou, do you mind giving me a hand?”

“Sure,” another voice said from somewhere outside of Kirishima’s field of view. Heavy footsteps approached his bed, and as another head popped into view, Kirishima’s headache and all other thoughts disappeared from his head as his eyes went wide and his face immediately warmed.

The boy standing next to his bed was gorgeous. Spiky ash blond hair glowed in the dimmed fluorescent lights overhead, and his face, completely free of any imperfections, was screwed in concentration as he listened to whatever instructions the nurse was giving him. Kirishima definitely wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, his eyes locked on the flex of muscles under short sleeves as the blond helped him up into a sitting position and stuffed pillows behind his back.

Kirishima’s gaze went back to the blond’s—Bakugou’s?—face as he pulled back, and he was met with fiery red eyes looking back at him, making him sharply inhale as his cheeks darkened. Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion and concern. “You feeling okay?” This close, his deep voice rumbled in Kirishima’s chest. He wanted to listen to it forever.

He managed a nod, never once looking away from those pretty red eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed before he could stop himself.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his face quickly turning a lovely shade of pink. At the same time, snickers could be heard coming from the corner of the room, and Kirishima finally turned away from Bakugou to look over. Oh. There were more people here. A boy with bright yellow hair and a black lightning bolt on the side, a girl with horns who was completely pink, a dark-haired boy with large elbows, and a purple-haired girl with strange-looking earlobes. None of their names were registering in Kirishima’s head.

His attention was pulled back to Bakugou as he stepped back and dropped into a chair nearby. He had a hand cupped over his face in an attempt to hide the blush still high on his cheeks; Kirishima’s fingers itched to reach over and pull it away. “Idiot, you can’t just say shit like that, the fuck,” Bakugou chastised, his voice slightly muffled behind his hand.

Kirishima pouted. “But it’s true,” he whined. That earned more laughter from the others in the corner, as well as a deepening blush on Bakugou’s face as he sank deeper in the chair. His free hand started crackling, sparks of flame jumping across his palm, and Kirishima stared in interest. Were those explosions? They really suited Bakugou; they were pretty too.

“Alright, that’s enough teasing for now,” the nurse said as she rolled closer to Kirishima’s bed on her chair.

“Aw, Recovery Girl, it was getting good!” the yellow-haired boy said between giggles, but he was quickly shut up by a stern look from the older woman.

“Unless you’d like to help clean up the remains of the gurneys after Young Bakugou blows them up out of embarrassment, I’d advise against more teasing.” Recovery Girl then turned back to Kirishima, her friendly demeanor back in place. “Now, let’s get you checked out so you can get back to the dorms, hm?”

She checked all of his vitals, eventually deeming Kirishima physically fine besides the headache, which she gave him some painkillers and a paper cup of water for. She also gave him a small packet of pills for later. “If your headache comes back, just take two more of these. With some cases like yours they tend to resurface, but you might be fine with the one dose.”

Kirishima nodded slowly, and he dutifully took the medicine, but he still looked at Recovery Girl with confusion. “What exactly is my case? Did I get sick or something?”

She shook her head, flipping through the pages of the clipboard in her hand. “Not quite. From what I’ve been told, it seems you’ve been hit with a case of memory loss.”

Kirishima nearly choked on his next sip of water. “W-What?!” That would explain how he hadn’t known his own name when he’d woken up, but he didn’t think he’d forgotten everything. Was there anybody looking for him right now? Was there somewhere else he should’ve been instead of wherever he was now?

He hoped the answer to that last question was ‘no’. He didn’t really want to leave Bakugou yet, not when he didn’t know a thing about him.

“The memory loss is only temporary, don’t worry,” Recovery Girl continued, putting a stop to his mounting panic. “You should regain your memories in full within the next 48 hours.”

Oh. Only two days? That wasn’t too long, but it also felt like forever.

“You’re currently at UA High School. After being hit by the villain’s quirk during your work study you fell unconscious, and you were brought back here. You’re free to go back to your dorm building, but I recommend staying on campus until your memories return in order to avoid any potential stressors, and also so that your teacher and classmates can keep an eye on you in case the quirk causes any other ill effects. I don’t think it will, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

A few more precautionary measures were passed on to him and Recovery Girl was sending them on their way, with Bakugou and the others—Kaminari, Mina, Sero, and Jirou, all his friends as they’d explained—escorting him back to their dorm building on campus. Kaminari and Mina were chattering away about different things that he’d forgotten as they walked, with Sero and Jirou occasionally chiming in with their own details. It was honestly too much to keep up with, but he’d managed to file away the major ones:

1. His full name, Kirishima Eijirou.

2. The fact that UA was a school for heroes, and they were all training to be one, Kirishima included.

3. His quirk (hardening—he may have stared at his hardened hand in amazement for a couple minutes) along with all of theirs (the sparks that had come off of Bakugou’s hands were his own quirk, and they had popped off his palms again when Kirishima finally told him how pretty they were; the blond’s face had turned bright red as well, and it caused their friends to break into laughter again).

They told him their side of what had happened when Kirishima had been hit by the memory loss quirk, how Fatgum, his mentor, had called UA about the incident and Kirishima had been brought back to campus soon after; how not much later Bakugou had found out and tracked down the rest of them to drag them to the infirmary, where they sat until Kirishima woke up, and he knew the rest.

Throughout it all, Bakugou hadn’t spoken much beyond fending off the teasing from their friends. He’d just stayed silent, walking close to Kirishima, not that the redhead was complaining. He’d do anything to keep Bakugou by his side.

He didn’t speak up until they arrived at the dorms, as he shooed off their friends while nudging Kirishima in the direction of the elevators. “Alright, fuck off, morons. Ei- Kirishima had a long day and he needs rest.”

“Dude, the sun is still up,” Kaminari protested. “And he was just out for two hours, he can stay up a little longer!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “He was out because he got knocked out by a goddamn villain, that doesn’t fuckin’ count as rest. C’mon, Kiri.” He grabbed Kirishima’s wrist then, tugging him along and ignoring the protests of their friends; Kirishima didn’t really fight him, easily following along with nothing more than a smile and wave back to the others.

As Bakugou jabbed the button for the fourth floor and the elevator doors slid shut, leaving the two alone for the first time that day, it was then that Kirishima realized that even though Bakugou insisted on Kirishima getting sleep, he was going up with him. Were they going to spend the night together? His stomach squirmed, but he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or excitement.

He snuck a peek at Bakugou, but he seemed completely relaxed where he was leaning against the back wall as he scrolled on his phone.

Soon the elevator dinged as it got to their floor, and Kirishima followed Bakugou out and to one of the doors in the hallway. He watched the blond punch in the code for the lock and push the door open, but he didn’t go inside. “Alright, here’s your room. Code’s 0420 in case you lock yourself out. If you need anything just knock on the wall by your bed, I’ll be next door and I’ll hear.”

“Next door?” Kirishima asked dumbly.

“Yeah. We’re neighbors.” Bakugou jabbed a thumb at the closed door a few feet behind him.

“You’re not staying?” Kirishima was blurting before he could stop himself, and his face immediately flamed. Why would he even ask, of course they weren’t going to spend the night together! They were just friends!

To Kirishima’s surprise though, Bakugou paused, as if considering, and Kirishima dared to hope, just a bit. But they were dashed as Bakugou shook his head. “Nah. S’better if you sleep on your own.”

The disappointment must have been clear on Kirishima’s face, because Bakugou snorted. “Don’t look so down, Red. Those beds are fucking tiny, you wouldn’t wanna share.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you yet,” Kirishima pouted. He didn’t feel as sad as he would’ve been though, his heart fluttering from the nickname, simple as it was.

Bakugou just rolled his eyes—and Kirishima may have seen it wrong, but it almost looked fond?—before nudging him across the threshold. “Idiot, it’s just for the night. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah? Get some rest.”

“Alright…night, man,” he said, and the last thing he saw from Bakugou was a wave over his shoulder before he disappeared into his room.

Kirishima finally surveyed his own; he didn’t have a single recollection of putting up any of the decorations, hanging the worn-looking punching bag, or leaving his bed unmade, but in his core they felt like something he would do. He found comfy clothes to change into in the dresser, his teeth were brushed in the en suite, and soon he was shutting off the lights and curling up under the covers. As he drifted off to sleep though, he felt in his heart that something was missing, more than his memories.

~

Bakugou hadn’t been kidding about Kirishima needing rest. By the time he’d woken up the next day, late morning sunlight was streaming through the open balcony curtains, and the muscle clock on his wall (which was so manly, Kirishima had good taste apparently) showed that it was getting close to noon. He rolled over to knock on the wall, but he was met with silence on the other side. Kirishima frowned. Maybe Bakugou had stepped out for a moment.

Half an hour and a shower later, Kirishima was stepping out of his room in lounge clothes and his hair, still slightly damp, pulled back in a ponytail, and he didn’t hear a peep of noise out in the hallway. There was no way everybody else was sleeping in this late too. Had they all left?

He was met with the same silence when he arrived down in the common room, not a single person in sight. However, there were noises coming from the kitchen, as well as the scent of food that made Kirishima’s stomach grumble. Following it, he paused at the kitchen doorway, smiling when he saw familiar puffy blond hair, his back turned to him as he worked at the stove. Kirishima let himself drink in the sight of muscles exposed from Bakugou wearing a tank top for a moment before he fully entered the kitchen. “It smells good in here, man.”

At his voice, Bakugou startled, and he whipped around, eyes wide and the wooden spoon in his hand raised to throw at Kirishima, making him freeze in his tracks. The blond quickly composed himself when he realized it was just him, and he lowered his arm, huffing out a breath. “Fuck, Kiri, make some noise next time you come in, shit.”

Kirishima smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” The tips of his ears were pink—from embarrassment maybe?—as he turned back to the stove. “About time you woke up. Was wondering if you were gonna sleep the whole day away.”

“Guess you were right about me being tired.” Kirishima sidled up to Bakugou’s side, peeking over his shoulder. He was stirring a mix of meat and vegetables in a skillet, and this close it smelled heavenly. “Stir fry?”

Bakugou nodded, cutting his eyes over to Kirishima for a split second before looking back at his work. “Your favorite. I make it for you sometimes. You’d eat it every day if you could.”

There went the fluttering of Kirishima’s heart again. “You make me my favorite food? We must be pretty good friends, huh?”

Bakugou’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “Something like that.” He was flicking off the stove before Kirishima could ask what he meant by that, moving the skillet off to a mitt on the counter. “Grab some plates, will ya? They’re in that second cabinet.”

“On it!” Kirishima did as he was told, bringing the plates back to Bakugou so he could serve up their lunch. “By the way, where’s everyone else? It was pretty quiet when I got up.”

“Class. You got excused since your memories are still gone—they are still gone, right?”

Kirishima nodded, even as he frowned. “Shouldn’t you be in class too?”

Bakugou shook his head as he finished plating the stir fry, leaving the empty pan on the counter as he carried their plates to the island nearby. “We always have to be excused from class if we’re hit by a quirk, but depending on the quirk another student can stay behind to keep an eye on them during the day. In your case, that’s me.”

“You’re missing class to watch over me?” Despite being happy to have Bakugou all to himself for several hours, he couldn’t help the guilt that twisted at his gut. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of me…”

“I volunteered to do this, dipshit,” Bakugou said, shooting him a glare. “Anybody in the class would’ve volunteered, none of us mind. I just happened to call dibs first.” He moved to grabbed sets of chopsticks from a drawer near the stove. “And don’t worry about me falling behind. The rest of the class are fucking idiots, I’ll be able to catch up to them in no time.”

Bakugou finished setting the table, none the wiser to the shock on Kirishima’s face that shifted to a wobbly grin, tears welling up in his eyes. Bakugou really did care about him, huh?

The blond let out a shout of surprise, gripping the edge of the island to keep his balance as Kirishima tackled him from behind, his arms wrapping tightly around his lean body in a hug, his face buried in Bakugou’s shoulder. “Kiri, what the-”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Kirishima cut in, voice muffled where he was pressed against warm skin, shaky from holding back his smile.

He felt Bakugou tense some in his grip, and he was silent for a long moment. “How do you know? You barely remember me,” he finally said, voice strangely small.

“I can tell.” He lifted his head to prop his chin on Bakugou’s shoulder; he was already looking back as Kirishima looked up, and he couldn’t fight his grin anymore at the sight of the blush on those perfectly clear cheeks. “Thanks for looking out for me today.”

Bakugou’s blush deepened, and his hands crackled for a second against the marble counter before he was looking away. “Whatever. We gonna eat or what?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Kirishima pulled away to sit on one of the island’s stools, and Bakugou pushed a plate and a set of chopsticks toward him. He immediately dug in, nearly melting from the first bite; no wonder this was his favorite meal, this was amazing! “So goo’, Bak’gou, thanks!” he gushed, uncaring of the food still in his mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bakugou immediately chided. Kirishima could see the pride in this smile tugging at his lips though.

They ate the rest of the meal in a comfortable silence, with Kirishima scarfing down his food in a matter of minutes while Bakugou ate his at a much more reasonable pace, and once they were both done Bakugou took both of their plates to the sink to wash. “What do you wanna do for the rest of the day?”

“What do we usually do when we don’t have class?” Kirishima asked back.

“Spar.” Bakugou grimaced down at the soapy plates. “I don’t know if you remember your training, and I don’t want you risking your ass just to get blown up, so that’s out of the question…wanna watch a movie?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at him.

“Yeah, sure!”

They relocated to Bakugou’s dorm once the dishes were cleaned and put away. It was way neater than Kirishima’s, but there were still signs of the life Bakugou lived in it. Band posters tacked to the walls, manga volumes lined up neatly on the bookshelf. A neatly-made bed, and what looked like homework left abandoned on the desk next to a laptop. And the color black standing out on most surfaces, the predominant shade in the room. “Somebody’s going through an emo phase,” Kirishima teased as he shut the door behind him.

Bakugou snorted as he moved to shut the curtains over the balcony door, blocking out the afternoon sun. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you remembered the emo phase you had in middle school.”

“No way, really?” Kirishima laughed disbelievingly.

“Yup,” Bakugou responded, popping the ‘p’. He swiped up the laptop from the desk and turned to Kirishima with a sharp smirk that was both infuriatingly teasing and absolutely charming. Kirishima can feel his face growing red at the sight of it. “Pinky texted me the pics a while back, and you begged me to delete them for days.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Even before Bakugou spoke, the answer was clear enough in the broadening of his grin. “Nope.”

“So mean.” He plopped on the edge of the bed with a pout, but he knew he wasn’t really mad at Bakugou. He couldn’t be mad at him.

Bakugou was strangely quiet though. Looking over, he saw him looking off to the side, his face screwed up in a grimace, the laptop clutched tightly in his hands. “Hey, you okay, bro?”

Bakugou jerked, his head snapping up to look at Kirishima, and his face immediately cleared to something neutral. “I’m fine.” He joined Kirishima on the bed, scooting back so he was leaning against the wall as he opened the laptop. Kirishima copied him, and he watched Bakugou pull up a movie with what looked like a hero on the title page. “Crimson Riot?”

“Yeah. He’s retired now, but he’s your favorite hero. Your hero name is based offa his and everything,” Bakugou explained. “They made a shitton of movies about him, and this is one of the better ones.”

“He definitely looks cool…” Kirishima settled in as Bakugou set the laptop on the bed in front of them and hit play, and from the first line his eyes were glued to the screen. Crimson Riot was cool. He didn’t seem super flashy in his fights, but he made up for it with the raw passion that he had in his will to win. It was all so manly, and he got lost in the movie, drinking it all in.

Towards the end though, in a slow moment before the climax, Kirishima’s attention started to waver, and he found his gaze drifting over to Bakugou.

His friend was still watching the movie, a fist smushed into his cheek where his head was being propped up by his arm. The flickering lights of the screen and the soft light of his bedside lamp nearby highlighted the curves of the relaxed expression on his face and the strands of hair hanging over his forehead, and they reflected off the red of his eyes, making them glow in the otherwise dark room. Kirishima was mesmerized, the boy before him a work of art, and he was unable to look away as he did his best to take in every miniscule detail. He might not remember much of his life, but he was sure he had never seen a more beautiful person.

Bakugou’s face then twitched, and his gaze flicked over, meeting Kirishima’s, and he cocked an eyebrow. “You’re staring again, Red.”

The use of the nickname again didn’t help the dopey smile that was most likely on his lips at that moment. “I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty.”

The light of the laptop further accentuated the blush that grew on Bakugou’s cheeks, and he quickly looked away, his hand shifting to cover the lower half of his face. “Fucker, why do you keep just saying that shit?”

“I may not know much about myself, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a liar.”

He could see the blush deepen between Bakugou’s fingers. “Little shit.”

Kirishima snorted, scooting closer to Bakugou, and he gave into the urge to gently pry his hand away from his face. “C’mon, don’t hide.” He didn’t let go of his hand, instead lacing their fingers together and gently squeezing in a moment of bravery.

Bakugou stared down at their joined hands, confusion written across his face. “...why do you keep doing all of this?”

Kirishima titled his head. “All of what?”

“This.” Bakugou weakly lifted their linked hands before letting them fall back between them. “All the touching and flirting and compliments and shit. As far as you know you’ve only known me for a day.”

Kirishima shrugged, nodding in acquiescence. “You’re not wrong, but I already feel like I like you a lot.”

“Wha-” A flurry of emotions flitted across Bakugou’s face as he stared at him, changing too fast for Kirishima to process a single one, before it finally settled on an even deeper confusion and bafflement than before. “The fuck?”

In an instant, any confidence he had carried evaporated, anxiety quickly making a home in the pit of his stomach. He ripped his hand away from Bakugou’s, putting some distance between them. “I-I’m sorry! Did you not want me to do any of that? You never told me not to and you weren’t complaining so I thought it was fine, I probably took it too far though, oh crap-” A sudden thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened. “Oh god, I’ve been flirting with you this entire time and I don’t even know if you’re dating anybody right now! Do you even like guys??? I’m so sorry Bakugou, I-”

“I am.”

Kirishima stopped, looking back at Bakugou who was looking anywhere but him. He vaguely noted the sounds of the final fight playing from the laptop speakers, but all of his attention was on the boy next to him. “You are…?”

“Dating somebody.”

Oh. The words, so simple and succinct, stabbed right through Kirishima’s heart, filling him with embarrassment and disappointment, and he looked away, pursing his lips as his eyes stung. Had he kind of hoped that he might have a chance with Bakugou once his memories returned? Yeah. Clearly that had been wishful thinking. He should leave, try to save face, preserve the friendship they still had and hope he forgot today when he remembered everything else-

“It’s you.”

What?

“What?” Kirishima’s head whipped back around to see if his friend was joking, but Bakugou’s face was completely serious, stoic, no teasing smirk in sight. The cheers from the movie matched the joy that swiftly swept away the disappointment that had been making a home in Kirishima’s chest, but he didn’t let it overtake him, not yet.

Not when Bakugou looked like that was the worst thing in the world.

“Do…do you not want it to be me?”

“Of course I want it to be you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t get why you want it to be me.”

Kirishima’s frown deepened. “You’re losing me, man. What do you mean?”

The stoicness of Bakugou’s expression started to crack, slivers of anger peeking through as he glared at Kirishima. “I mean, why the fuck would someone like you want me?”

“Someone like me?”

“Yes!” He threw his arms out, gesturing emphatically at Kirishima. “You’re fucking- Eijirou! A goddamn ray of fucking sunshine that’s too pure for this fucked up world! You’re always smiling and going out of your way to help people with their problems and shit and yet you choose to stick around me!”

The silence between them after Bakugou’s outburst was deafening, the movie over and laptop screen dark. He was panting, a swirl of rage and confusion painted across his face, and Kirishima just caught sight of wetness along his lower lashes before he was turning his glare to the opposite wall with a scoff. “You were scared of me, when we first met,” he continued, his voice quieter, more subdued, tinged in a sadness that may have been there for longer than these last few minutes. “Fucking terrified like the rest of the damn class when I let that blast off at Deku on the second day of school. And yet you still reached out to me. You kept reaching out, over and over, never putting up with my bullshit like every other extra had. When I pushed, you fucking pushed back and stuck, wanting to stay around me despite the fact that I’m an asshole. And it never made any fucking sense, why you wanted to be my friend and then my boyfriend.” He glanced over at Kirishima, his glare dimmed some, and he just looked tired. “It makes even less sense that you would want me now, especially when you don’t remember a goddamn thing about me.”

Kirishima smiled a bit. “Well, you’re really cute, so there’s that.”

Bakugou’s blush came back in full force, and he went back to glaring at the wall. “You flirt too damn much,” he grumbled.

Kirishima just laughed. He closed the distance between them again, turning Bakugou enough so he could pull him into a hug, his arms secure around him and chin hooked over his shoulder. “Did you always get this flustered when you were complimented?”

“Fuck off, asshole.” Hesitant arms still snaked around Kirishima’s waist, as if scared to hold him back.

Kirishima tightened his own grip in return, humming contentedly. “Good to know I’m the asshole now.”

“Hey, no, I’m still the asshole here, fucker-”

“And I’m saying you’re not, because if you were, you wouldn’t have been doting on me for every minute since I woke up yesterday.”

That got Bakugou to shut up. Kirishima grinned triumphantly. “You’re really not an asshole, Bakugou. I may only remember you from the last day or so, but I can tell. You’ve gone out of your way to look out for me today, and you even stayed by my side before I even woke up yesterday. Sure, you’re a little rough around the edges, and you swear a lot-” He got a pinch in the side in retaliation, but Kirishima just snorted and plowed on. “-but you’re one of the sweetest guys I know, Katsuki. You care too much to be an asshole. I bet you care about our friends, too.”

“Fuckin’ hate those morons,” he mumbled, said with nowhere near the amount of heat that would be in his voice if he meant it. Kirishima let him have that one.

Bakugou hugged him fully then, burying his face in his shoulder. Silence fell over them, and Kirishima closed his eyes as he basked in it, basked in the presence and warmth of the boy who, in a forgotten life, he could call his.

“When Recovery Girl told us you lost your memories, I thought you would’ve come to your senses and forgotten me for good.”

Spoken so quietly, muffled as it was in Kirishima’s shoulder, but Bakugou may as well have shouted it from how much it was a shock to Kirishima’s systems, and his eyes snapped open as he sharply inhaled. His grip around Bakugou tightened even further. “Katsuki, I could never forget about you.”

“You already did,” he said with a tinge of amusement.

“Shut up, I’m serious.” He pulled Bakugou away from his shoulder so he could look him in the eye. Tears still clung to blond lashes, and he cupped his cheeks, swiping his thumb across them to wipe the moisture away. Bakugou’s eyes widened at the action, but he fortunately didn’t pull away. “I don’t care how many times I’m hit with a memory wipe quirk. I could forget everything about myself a hundred times over and everything else about the world, but I would always find a way to remember you.” He grinned, moving to hold his hands. “It’s like you said: you’re stuck with me, man, for as long as you want me and even after you don’t. You won’t be able to shake me that easily. And even if I don’t have my memories back yet, I bet that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me too.”

Bakugou was silent for a long moment as he continued to stare at Kirishima with wide eyes, before he dropped his gaze, huffing. “You’re still a goddamn sap.”

Kirishima smiled wider, and in a burst of bravery, he leaned in and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Your goddamn sap.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou looked up again, meeting Kirishima’s gaze. A genuine smile, not the smirk, or the tiny hidden one, adorned his lips, and it was a sight to behold that Kirishima couldn’t look away from. He vaguely registered Bakugou lacing their fingers together in between them and squeezing. “My goddamn sap.”

The rest of the day went smoothly after that. They went back and finished the Crimson Riot movie, and then a couple more films, including an All Might one that Bakugou said was his favorite. Kirishima thought it was pretty good, every second of it exciting, but he had been more interested in watching Bakugou and his impassioned cheers throughout the film from his spot cuddled up to the blond’s side.

By the time they headed downstairs for dinner, their classmates had returned to the dorms for the day, the now-lively common room a huge contrast to the quiet from earlier that afternoon. It was especially overwhelming when as soon as they stepped foot into the room, and unknown voice had shouted, “Kirishima!” and he was immediately surrounded by a swarm of faces he didn’t recognize, all with varying levels of concern as they bombarded him with questions of ‘are you okay?’ and ‘do you remember us yet?’ and more that got lost in the sea of noise.

Kirishima didn’t even get a chance to attempt to answer any of them before Bakugou was stepping between him and the rest of the class, his free hand sparking dangerously while the one holding Kirishima’s squeezed comfortingly. “Oi, at least give him a chance to fucking breathe! Eijirou’ll answer your questions if he wants, you don’t have to crowd him!”

That got the class to back off with apologetic looks and muttered ‘sorry’s, and Kirishima let out a silent breath of relief.

“Bakugou is right!” a taller squarish-looking guy near the back of the crowd spoke up with an exaggerated hand chop. “We are sorry for invading in your personal space, we were simply concerned for your well-being!”

“Yeah, we’re sorry, Kirishima,” a brown-haired girl with rosy cheeks near his side said as she fisted the hem of her shirt. “We just wanted to know if you had your memories back yet.”

Much of the class nodded in agreement, and warmth flooded Kirishima’s body from all the concern. “Ah, sorry, not yet. Recovery Girl said they should be back within 48 hours though, so they should be back soon!”

A green-haired boy stepped forward, looking confused. “But…if you don’t remember everything, then why are you holding Kacchan’s hand?” He pointed at his and Bakugou’s joined hands, and Kirishima grinned broadly, pride filling his chest.

“He’s my boyfriend!”

“Hang on, you remember that, but you don’t remember any of us???” Kaminari asked, bafflement apparent on his face.

“Oh, I didn’t remember that either.” He looked over at Bakugou, his smile going softer. “But who wouldn’t wanna date him?”

At the same time mock gags came from who Kirishima would guess were their friends, Bakugou’s face flared bright red before he looked away with a muttered, “Fuckin’ sap.” He then tugged on Kirishima’s hand, forcing his way through the crowd as he dragged him toward the kitchen. “Alright, show’s over. If you need Eijirou for anything else, fuck off.”

Kirishima snickered once they were alone, leaning against the island and watching Bakugou stomp around the kitchen to gather ingredients for dinner, the blush still high on his cheeks. “My knight in a tank top saved me~”

Bakugou shot him a glare, the effect dimmed by the red staining his face. “You’re lucky you’re a damn rock and I can’t explode your ass.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him with a knowing smile. “Even if you could, you wouldn’t.”

Bakugou’s glare deepened, but his lack of response was answer enough. And even with the curses he muttered under his breath as he cooked, he still shoved a heaping bowl of food at Kirishima once he was done.

They headed back up to the quiet of the fourth floor once they were done eating, and as they approached their rooms Kirishima tugged Bakugou toward his. “Stay the night?”

“The beds are tiny as fuck,” he warned again, even as he easily followed along.

“I’m sure we can manage.”

The beds really were small, especially for two muscular and still-growing heroes-in-training. But Kirishima wasn’t going to complain, not when Bakugou was draped across his chest, his head tucked under his chin and his leg thrown over his hips, pressing as close as he could to him. Kirishima had intended to talk to him, make conversation or something while there were still a few rays of sunlight visible in the sky, but the boy on top of him was like the world’s coziest weighted blanket, a warm pressure that pulled Kirishima right into sleep as he hugged him close.

~

The first thing Eijirou noted as he regained consciousness was the splitting headache. It pounded throughout his skull, throbbing with each beat of his heart, and he would’ve gone back to sleep to fend it off if the second thing he noted hadn’t been everything.

All of his memories. The last sixteen years of his life, the villain at his work study, waking up to nothing.

The boy still laying on top of him, his weight pressing him into the mattress.

Eijirou’s eyes opened to warm morning sunlight highlighting ash blond strands, turning them to gold. Katsuki was still fast asleep, his head cushioned on his chest and a hand lightly fisting the front of his shirt.

So peaceful. A contrast to the previous afternoon. He hated that one little accident caused so much turmoil, but he was glad that he hadn’t lost the person he cared about the most.

He carefully shifted so he was level with Katsuki’s face, and he started peppering kisses everywhere he could reach. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, jaw, and neck. Eijirou planted one on Katsuki’s nose and it wrinkled cutely as his breathing shifted, and soon sleepy red eyes were squinting at him. “Ei…?”

Eijirou grinned, sure his heart was about to burst out of his ribs from the sheer amount of joy he felt. “I’m back, Kats,” he breathed, before capturing his lips with his own.

Katsuki grunted in surprise, but he still eagerly kissed him back, his hands sliding up into loose red strands. The kiss was honestly terrible; their lips moved sluggishly against each other as sleep still clung to their minds, and the morning breath was pretty gross. As Eijirou hugged him even closer though, hoping to never let him go ever again, he was sure it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

Katsuki soon pulled back, panting as his hands moved to cup Eijirou’s face. “You’re back? Really back?” he asked, now-alert eyes darting across his face as if he’d be able to see the potentially missing memories.

“Yeah, yeah, really back. It’s all back.” He laughed, partially in disbelief but mostly because what the hell else was he supposed to do when the happiness inside of him was bubbling up his throat, threatening to choke him out? He leaned in, knocking their foreheads together, and he stared into those fiery red eyes full of concern but so much love. “I’m glad it’s you,” he whispered.

Katsuki’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion, but then his eyes were widening, the fiery red becoming glassy before they were shutting and he huffed, pressing closer and smiling so, so wide. “Me too.”

[gaygoetia]

Magical Shorthand in the Legend of Vox Machina

So I've been drafting a lot of posts about the just-announced Mighty Nein animated series (thoughts, hopes, predictions etc), one of which is about magic and how it will be represented. This led me into a tangent about TLOVM that's long enough that I think it works better as it's own post so here it is!

What magic looks like in TLOVM

One of the things I LOVE about the spellcasting in TLOVM is how each character's spells are visually distinct, usually through colour coding.

In addition to looking great, this visual shorthand makes it easy to identify who's casting what in magic-heavy fight scenes, with the added bonus of representing something of that character's personality.

Scanlan

Scanlan is the most obvious example because it's the most visually distinctive and cohesive.

The visual manifestation of Scanlan's magic is ALWAYS purple - a specific pinkish shade of it.

It's always shiny or sparkly and usually takes the form of a giant semi-translucent body part (usually a hand)

When it manifests in a different form (i.e not a distinct shape) it's usually lightning shaped ribbons or sparks but sometimes an intense purple glow or sparkly purple cloud.

Like Scanlan himself, his magic is colourful, flashy and dramatic and he uses it in creative and unusual ways.

Pike

Pike's magic manifests in a few different ways but it always appears as yellow, and ranges from a soft glow to a bright light.

One of her most commonly used abilities is to create a magical shield which glows softly and sparks upon impact. It's semi-translucent like Scanlan's hand but doesn't move or change shape (though it can change size!)

Certain abilities cause her eyes or hands to glow yellow and of course her astral self glows yellow all over.

Her magic is pretty straightforward. If the spell affects or relates to another object it causes it to glow and offensive spells resemble targeted beams of light that shoot out directly from her hands.

Keyleth

Keyleth's magic is by far the most diverse in the series and her magic reflects that.

Her signature spells/abilities are wildshape and whatever she uses to create and control vines. In both cases, these abilities happen without any kind of magical glow around them and therefore aren't colour-coded in the same way as other spells.

Spells that do involve light and colour usually reflect the element or school of magic associated with them and I think it was the right choice because it makes it easier to identify what she's doing. If the spell daylight, for example, was any other colour it wouldn't be so obvious what it's doing.

All that said, a handful of Keyleth's spells ARE colour-coded, meaning that her hands, eyes, staff or a combination of the three glow green when they're cast. Her hands always glow green when she uses touch-based spells but it also happens at other random points with no particular pattern I can identify (for example her hands sometimes glow when she controls vines but at other times they don't)

And of course it's not just the main characters! Delilah's magic resembles jagged black shapes with an eerie purple outline. Zahra's magic is red and ripples outwards.

So what could magic look like in the Mighty Nein animated series?

Well, given her canonically pink spiritual weapon and spiritual guardians, I think it's safe to say Jester's magic will have a pink theme - though probably a warmer hot pink than Scanlan's pink-purple.

The one exception to this I think would be her cold-themed version of hellish rebuke which will likely be in white or blue to represent the element it's associated with.

Caduceus is also somewhat pink-themed but I imagine his magic might have a turquoise-green colour theme to match his armour.

Molly/Lucien's magic will be red themed for sure in classic blood-magic form.

I'm really not sure about Fjord but his spells might potentially have a blue theme given his affinity to the sea. They might also be a generic white or vary depending on the spell.

For Caleb I definitely think they'll take the same approach as Keyleth wherein his spells appearances are more determined by what they do than who's casting them. However I think if his magic is colour-coded (maybe just for touch-spells like Keyleth) it will be an amber colour somewhere between yellow and orange.

Dunamancy is usually depicted as black and purple so I'm curious to see how they'll distinguish it from Delilah's necromantic magic. I can imagine them maybe doing something black with lots of tiny stars, like a glimpse into space, which would look very cool and also feel appropriate.

What do y'all think?

I would truly love to hear other people's thoughts on this!!

[someonestolemygrilledcheese]

Warriors: Call of the spirits

I’m pretty sure the only people reading this are bots so🦅

Chapter four

Pebble woke up to a cooling droplet of water splitting down the two sides of his muzzle, him looking up to the grey sky, the dark clouds fighting to keep hold onto the rain water with its moist grasp.

He shook out his sodden fur from the dampened moss and stood up. His pure white and light grey fur greyed by soot. He turned to the still sleeping pile of black, grey and white pile of fur.

He trotted over to his brother, prodding a paw into his matted flank.

He grumbled, curling his tail over his flank with annoyance.

Pebble continued to prod, Gravel opening his eye, half-listening. “Gravel, we’re not in the den anymore! Wake up you lazy pebble-brain!” He hissed.

“Fine..”Gravel sighed tiredly, slowly blinking as he stood up, yawning and licking his chest tuft. Pebble eyed Gravel’s paw as they walked, he still limped on it, and you could tell it was starting to swell. Light only grew more pale as they were shaded by the oak trees, soon turning to large pines , their dark green crowns thrashing violently in the wind. As lightning broke the horizon, thunder cracked in the distance, signaling for the rain to follow after it, starting to pound down on the piney undergrowth. The steady beating of rain on the lush leaves easing the two brothers as thunder continued to crack and twirl in the sky.

As they steered deeper into the forest, the scent of the strange cats tinted the forest floor, giving it the camouflaging arid smell of soot, squirrel, and the sweet scent of tree sap. The small streams and puddles carrying its sweet scent back towards the river.

The mud began to squelch and rise up through the breakage in the dark ginger pine leaves, Pebble’s paws becoming matted as the mud dried into his fur.

As they trailed back to the old cabin, Pebble started to realize the oaks were now completely overgrown by pines, the dark clouds and bright cracks of thunder the only light reaching beyond its protective layer of stick like leaves.

The strange cat scent was also overgrown, the smell of rain and piney soot clogging Pebble’s nose. The starving mud escaped from the undergrowth, almost entrapping Pebble’s paws.

He twitched his ear in annoyance, looking around for a solution, he glanced to his right, seeing Gravel had tripped on a stray branch and landed in the mud, his underbelly darkened by the unforgiving mud, it spiking and dragging above the ground, his claws unsheathing into the non solid earth.

Beyond him, the pines covering the ground were dense and sturdy, it would be wise to follow that path.

“ the mud is less dense over here, follow me.” Pebble mewled to his brother, trying to keep his steps light as he skimmed over the mud.

Gravel followed closely behind, scowling to himself at his ruined fur. The sturdy growth under paw kept the mud from rising too high, making it easier for them to move through the forest. Pebble couldn’t smell anything but wet pine leaves, ears flattening in irritation. Rain droplets landed on his long fur, running down his downed ears, regaining itself at the ends of his ears and tips of his fur before landing silently onto the crisp pines below. Winds curling around the two from the clouds, twisting through every patch of fur and seeping into his skin, chilling him to the bone.

He began to shiver, the cool air and refreshing rain going through his fur like stones being thrown into a lake.

He couldn’t wait be back home in his den, sleeping in a soft nest of feathers and moss with his brother.

They hadn’t eaten in forever, his old memories of the past awaking his belly, growling like a starving wolf to a plump rabbit.

He sighed, just wanting to collapse and go back to sleep.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Gravel worried, attempting to groom his underbelly before jerking away from the earthy, oily taste, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Pebble blinked up at the lightless sky thoughtfully before replying, “Maybe we should stop until the storm passes, I can’t scent anything in this weather.”

Gravel nodded hesitantly, still pouting about his ruined pelt.

Pebble redirected his gaze to the gutting roots of an old pine, just enough space to fit under it for two small cats.

Pebble inspected it, his eyes disappointed when he found the small dip flooded with muddy water. “Lets keep going, there’s bound to be something.”

As they walked, another close strike of lightning echoed through the air like a warning , making Pebble’s fur rise on his back.

He soon spotted a large bush in the bracken with a reasonable space beneath its dense branches of leaves, with a swish of his tail, he beckoned his brother into it. Gravel trotted into it, the two brothers catching their breath inside.

The rain only grew more intense, pattering down furiously as it echoed through the forest. Pebble sighed in relief, licking his soaked fur and resisting the earthy tang of mud as it slowly left his fur, leaving only a dull brownish stain onto his fur. It’ll take many suns to return it to his former snowy color.

Behind the bush was a soaked earthy clearing, Pebble crouched to the earth as he glanced at a grazing doe, peacefully eating, even through the relentless pounding of rain.

Pebble admired the freedom of the deer, the gentleness of its pricking from the grass reminding him of how his mother groomed him when he played too rough with his brother and got his pelt dusty. Remembering her words,

“Your pelts too long to play rough with your brother; your pelt mingles with the dust and it takes forever to take it out!” She exclaimed, frustrated but her voice containing a hidden tone of affection for her smaller son.

He snapped back to reality when a crack of thunder flashed, yowling as if it was a yowling cat, The doe twitching it’s ear and looking up at the sky, wind rippling her fur onto her back. She took a step back, her smooth black eyes carrying an expression of fear.

Pebble flattened his ears in horror as a wolves grey and cream fur erupted from the other side of the clearing, skidding on the muddy ground to the left of the doe, it bellowing and kicking its front legs in the air before attempting to canter away. The large wolf effortlessly pushed its legs after the doe, leaping its front paws onto the lower back of the deer, it bellowing in pain before the wolf bit into its spine, making it hard for the deer to stand as the wolf slowly dragged it to the ground, taking it by the neck and dispatching it in front of the bush where the brothers hid.

Pebble flinched as its amber gaze landing on him with a growl, revealing its blood stained fangs.

“What is it now?” Gravel said, turning as Pebble took a step back into him.

Gravel looked up, eyes widening as he looked up at the furious wolf in front of them, eyes narrowed with blood lust.

“Run.” Pebble whispered to Gravel, voice filled with fear.

//Longest chapter I’ve made and my phones about to die

[immagrosscandy]

OH MY GOD

Happy Birthday to Paula 🎉

@immagrosscandy sorry i was that dumb anon asking Paula's birthday _(°:з」∠)_ i dunno why i noted the wrong date on my calendar (• ▽ •;)

[madame-fear]

AH IDK IF IM TOO LATE FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS REQUESTS BUT: “you have no idea how pretty your eyes are” with reader saying it to DK! Jonathan (ONLY IF YOURE TAKING REQUESTS!!! sorry if i’m too late😅💜)

— shades of blue

a/n : YES BABY OFC, YOUR REQUESTS ARE AMAZING 😭💕 sorry if this is short !! due to it's length it seems more like an imagine than a one-shot... but hope you enjoy your reading anyways !! ♡

summary : while going through an intense thunderstorm, you certainly find yourself fixed in your beloved Crane's eyes. pairing: dk! jonathan crane x fem! reader

word count : 533 genre : fluff

Droplets of rain hit the transparent, gothic-styled window. Outside, thunders could be heard striking against the grass ground; shaking everything surrounding it with a loud roar, and lightning the grey clouded sky briefly.

Your eyes lifted their gaze from the book that sat on your lap as you rested on the large couch. Your (e/c) eyes were now fixed on Jonathan, who sat crossed-leg on his crimson velvet reading chair right beside the large window, the occasional lightning from the thunders lit up slightly his face. He seemed to be immersed in another world, as his own eyes were intensely focused on the book he held on his hands; “The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, by Carl Jung” it read on the cover of the book. Jonathan was notoriously a cultured man who enjoyed reading a wide variety of books, and you couldn't be anymore satisfied with his presence.

The thin glasses he wore slightly slid down his nose, and as another thunder shook your surroundings, the way it lightened Jonathan's face highlighted his lustrous, cool glaciar blue eyes. His eyes contained a wide variety of shades of blue, and you never realised how bright and stunning they actually were. A deep, peaceful sigh escaped your own lips, as you were immersed in the sight of your special one looking so... graceful.

“You have no idea how pretty your eyes are.” you mumbled, almost mindless, in a nearly whispering tone. His focus was disturbed by your soft voice, his piercing glaciar eyes were raised to look into yours with a genuine loving smile – a small, amused chuckle escaped his lips. It was notorious that before you, he wasn't often used to that type of admiration coming from someone; and he enjoyed receiving it, though he wasn't expressive regarding it. Pulling the book aside on the small table in front of him, Jonathan slowly lifted himself from the reading chair he previously sat on, and made his way towards you, as you still sat on the couch, watching him get near you.

With a broad, purely genuine grin curved on his rosy lips, his body leaned closer to yours; his lips were placed on your forehead, as one of his hands held your delicate cheek tenderly, and the other one was placed on your arm – his thumb lovingly rubbing it. You felt a wave of shiver run across your body, his affection was soft and delicate. Slowly pulling apart from kissing your forehead, with his eyes – which were a pool of shades of blue – he intensely stared down into yours, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. Though he was utterly amused with the way you so freely expressed your delightful-to-hear thoughts about him, he preferred to keep those greatly joyful emotions to himself.

“And you have no idea how pretty your entire self is, my love. How come I am with someone as perfect as you are?” he softly retorted.

Dr Jonathan Crane wasn't a man of many words, and much less, and expressive one. But he definitely greatly appreciated your love, and he had his own little ways of showing his deep, and genuine affection for you.

♡ taglist : ♡

@nighthawkling @anemicroyalcore @imagine--if @scarecrow-jon-babe @corruqti0n @captainsophiestark

[yellow-berrys]

heart needs a beat | sirius black x reader

summary: you visit the potter household during the summer. sirius knows his heart needs a beat when he sees you.

warnings: mentions of an abusive household

navigation | masterlist

part: one | two | three

the summer is bright but i could swear you are brighter

and the flowers are pretty but you are beautiful

something tells me you’re the person to take my breath away

taglist: @tinylittlebuggies, @navs-bhat​, @jamespotterswhcre​,  @wonszigrzybek

“my son looks at you in a different way than he looks at any other person,” euphemia suggestively offered.

you shook your head, smiling at her sheer obliviousness.

someone like you couldn’t possibly be the subject of romantic interest from someone like sirius. you could have fun with him, but he wouldn’t be interested in you romantically. you were confident in yourself and your abilities, but sirius liking you was just far-fetched.

“i’m sure i look at you through a different lens than if i were to look at remus, for example. we all have opinions on what types of people we enjoy.”

“don’t you understand?” euphemia asked exasperatedly.

you simply smiled, “i get what you’re saying, effie, but sirius can do better.”

euphemia looked positively distraught. if it isn’t the nerve of this pretty young lady! to suggest that i do not know my son as well as he knows himself! 

she took a sip of tea loudly, elegant slurping stopped at the sound of a soft voice calling, murmuring. 

“y/n,” sirius stood on the stairs, half asleep, just making out the shape of you, “what’re you doing down here?” 

now, euphemia peered over to you with interest. you turned the lightest shade of pink, trying to hide your fondness for the boy. 

she smirked at you.  

“he’s tired, effie.”

“night, y/n,” euphemia mocked, smiling knowingly. giggling, you washed the cup you had been holding and placed it on the drying rack. you climbed the stairs to where sirius was standing. 

rain started to fall against the walls of the house, and tense flashes of the thunder god’s lightning grins played fetch with the rumbles of his thunder roars. they couldn’t reach you as you dove into the sheets, sirius piling on top of you. he fell asleep again. 

but you heard him muttering, face in distress as his handsome features were pulled into an agonising expression. “please,” he begged, “don’t hurt me! no-no. reggie-”

you immediately shook him awake, “sirius! sirius! sirius! wake up!”

he opened his eyes, delicate marble patterns of salt on his cheeks. 

“don’t hurt me-”

“hey, hey, it’s okay. i’m y/n, y/n l/n, i’m not going to do anything to you.”

in his broken state, he clung onto you. after a few moments, his breathing had settled. 

“i’m sorry.”

“sirius, it’s okay.”

sirius replied with nothing, just clutching you tightly.

“it’s okay,” you reassured him, “you’re fine.” 

you reached for the hairbrush on the bedside table and gently ran it through his matted locks, setting it back down and disappearing into the bathroom, both to collect a new washcloth and to give him some space. 

you wet the washcloth, and climbed ever so quietly back into the bed, brushing away the tear stains on his cheeks before laying it on his forehead, and shifting a little away from him. he needed some time to himself. feeling like he was about to break; “i always find letting it all out helps quite a bit,” you murmured, “you can talk to me, okay? i won’t say anything.”

sobs punctuated the air, as sirius gave a long ramble, choking, about his family and walburga. you listened and when he had stopped, he looked at you. 

you dug around in your suitcase pockets, frowning in concentration as you tried to retrieve something. he felt himself smiling despite having just poured out his whole life story to you a few moments ago. 

“aha! i always keep these for lily and rem when they’re on their times of the month,” you softly brought out a perfect bar of chocolate, and handed it to him, “thanks for being vulnerable.”

he laughed a tiny bit. 

“thanks.”

the look you gave him said you’re welcome. 

“hey y/n?”

“yes, sirius?”

“were you joking when you said that boys don’t take an interest in you?” he narrowed his eyes in curiosity as you looked taken aback. 

“i wasn’t joking?” you asked, narrowing your own eyes in scepticism. 

“well what about charles leproudel?”

“he wasn’t into women, sirius,” you guffawed, “he came out ages ago, stupid.”

the daftness of this guy. 

“gregor?”

“gregor who? the gryffindor in our year, you mean, the guy who plays quidditch?”

“yep?”

“he likes *bleep*.”

“no, he liked *bleep* ages ago. he likes you, he told remus.”

“trust me, he still likes *bleep*.”

“no way. he literally was telling me about how mean *bleep* was to animals.” 

you shook your head, “well he has nothing to do with me.”

“decimus flannel?”

your nose scrunched up, waves of disgust travelling through your body. 

“his personality is garbage. he only goes for the girls that never get any attention so they might feel special to boast about it to his friends. it never works, we’re not dumb.”

“charlise?”

“what?!!! last time i checked, she said she was a girl, sirius.”

“well i dunno, but she’s into you.”

your eyes widened. “no? bro that makes me feel so much better about myself though. charlise is gorgeous. but that’s enough about me, sirius, what about you?”

“same old, same old.” 

and just as he said that, a pink owl flattened against the stained glass window, sun rising behind it to signify a new day. unpertubed, it shook itself and tried again. 

sirius went pinker than the owl’s feathers. “this is so embarrassing.”

he stood up, and opened the window with a regretful sigh. you watched, eyes sparkling with poorly hidden amusement. 

the owl dropped a letter the loveliest shade of pink. “that’s a nice colour,” you smiled, “who sent you it?”

he groaned, nudging the letter open, where a delicate voice started talking and wafts of expensive strawberry perfume accompanying it. you recognised the voice with a reminiscent upturning of your lips. 

“is that *bleep no.2*?”

he nodded, one hand on the ear closest to the letter, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“can i see?”

“you can keep it,” he affirmed. 

your finger skimmed the page gently, and you grinned at the sound of *bleep no.2*’s lovely lilting articulation. 

“she’s great.”

sirius shook his head, “she’s great, but i can’t find the heart in me to reject her.”

“you’re not leading her on, right?” you loved *bleep no.2*, and there was no way you would let her feelings get hurt. 

solemn, he placed a hand over his heart. “i would never. i have...known...my fair share of girls, but i’ve always treated them the best that i could.”

and you agreed to that. never once did you see a girl crying because sirius broke their heart, they had only looked disappointed but cheerful nonetheless as they left his dorm, cleaned, taken care of. 

“well if she is making you uncomfortable, you should tell her to stop, okay?”

“are you worried about me, y/n l/n?” he teased. in secret he was very glad that you were worrying about him. 

“only a little,” you muttered, before you heard the ringtone of a little device you and lily communicated on. you pulled it out fast, giggling to yourself as you saw her message. 

( meet me in 5 @ james’ room )

( i have news! )

{ OK }

you hurried off the bed, giggling as you met lily. sandalwood, pine and lemon met your nose mixed with roses and something a little sultry. it smelt like james and lily, and lily and james and james and lily, but you thought sirius’ room smelt a lot better. 

“lils!!!!!!”

“y/nnnnn!!! you won’t believe it!”

“what?!!”

“sirius likes you!!!”

“oh my goodness i thought you were gonna tell me that james kissed you. in that case, goodbye.”

you ran giggling back into sirius’ room. he was nowhere to be found, but you heard the running of the shower faucet. the pink envelope was crackling in the fire, and the air didn’t smell like *bleep no.2*’s perfume anymore. you washed your face in the lavish kitchenette, brushing your teeth as you felt buzzes go off on the tiny device. 

( srsly, he does )

{ no, stoopid, he duznt } 

( you text like a 9 year old )

{ ur boyfrend is 9 yrs old }

( attachment: 1 video )

you clicked it, and james was grinning at something. “where’s the mamera?”

“you mean the camera, babe? right there.”

you made a disgusted noise. 

“yeah, same thing. hi, it’s james potter here, and lily said-”

“james!”

“right, lily didn’t actually say this, but like, can you get your act together and-”

the video cut off. you began laughing, sending a video back. 

“where’s the mamera? hm? i’m james potter and i’m a little doozy.”

( sht up - jp )

--

sirius had cleaned everything in his room, wiping down every surface, and made the bed before stepping into the shower, it seemed. but it was no use, because piles of letters were strewn all over the room, owls long gone back home. 

they were lovely colours, shades of green, pink, blue, yellow, orange. and you, with an artist’s mind, climbed to the top of his four poster bed and dangled yourself onto the posts, with camera in hand. you snapped a few photos, from every angle, humming in approval as you enjoyed the light colours against the dark wood of the floor. 

you didn’t hear the door creak open, sirius watching you as you smiled to yourself. the type of smile reserved for no one but yourself. 

“the chiaroscuro is immaculate, isn’t it?” 

you screamed, falling onto the bed, “sirius!”

“that’s my name.”

“that wasn’t nice. i could have died.” 

you looked at him, disgruntled, a little startled. he was not wearing a shirt. you covered your eyes. 

in a meek brevity; “sorry.” 

he laughed, the delicate sound bringing heat to the tips of your ears. hopefully he hadn’t noticed. 

sirius ran a hand through his hair. “you’re fine. you can look, i don’t mind.”

“will not.”

“and why not? am i that...attractive?” he struck a pose- meant to be silly but in reality model-like. 

you jokingly scowled at him, “you’re showing off now. put a shirt on, you’ll catch cold. i’m out.”

you sauntered gracefully into the kitchen. 

“mornin’ effie!”

“are you a morning person, y/n?” she grumpily handed you a cup of coffee, which you set down. 

you giggled, “have you been ‘suading lily evans?”

she grinned, “no?”

“effie, i know you’re worried about sirius and him ever getting married and stuff. i promise sirius has lots of girls swooning, okay?”

“has sirius got you swooning?” euphemia probed. 

you tilted your head, “you know what?”

euphemia’s eyes twinkled. 

“maybe, maybe not. and even if he had me swooning, i know i’m not the prettiest, most charming girl he has ever seen. effie, i’m not entirely delusional.”

“you are a little bit, darling,” she smiled, “now did sirius sleep very well?”

you shook your head, and a concerned look washed over euphemia. 

“no?” she asked, “how come?”

“he had a nightmare,” you said quietly, “he’s fine now, but you should ask him about what happened.”

“ask who?” sirius grinned as he sent you a wink. 

you left with a gracious little smile. 

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[comicaurora]

Hi Red, you mentioned a few days ago that you’ve honed your style to your own liking so I was wondering how you think your style has changed over time?

Re reading the comic the only thing I can concretely nail down as different from the very start with my limited knowledge of art is the lines seem a lot thinner in the early pages?

So anyway I thought I’d just ask you yourself how your art is different, did you change it consciously or did it just evolve as you got your eye in or something? Why did you change if it was deliberate etc

Thanks!

As a side note btw holy crap the newest pages are beautiful, it’s just struck me again how amazing every single one seems to be with magical effects and backgrounds and the rain over everything dude they’re so good

Good question! Tbh it's a good sign if the change isn't horrendously visible to anyone but me.

The lines are definitely thinner early on, and that's both a stylistic change and a result of the fact that I was less confident. Drawing several hundred pages will really get the muscle memory going, so now I'm less hesitant about the lineart stage, but early on I was thinking a lot harder about relatively simple parts of the visuals. Foreground poses, hair, fabric. It took me a lot more thought to get those looking good. The lines are thinner, less confident and a little more sketchy.

Could've easily thrown some building silhouettes in the background, drawn actual figures instead of the black mass of vaguely head-shaped things, etc - but nope. I was too busy figuring out how to make Vash's hair look. The backgrounds were pretty darn unpolished. They do their job, but at the time I wasn't really sure how to shade natural environments in ways that implied texturing. Even the way I was shading the foreground figures was pretty basic and unpolished, and I occasionally screwed it up - I hadn't quite refined my order of operations, so sometimes I'd miss regions with the paint bucket and just. not notice because of all the everything else I was focusing on.

Relatively simple visual concepts were taking me a lot longer because I hadn't yet worked out how to do them, so I had to figure them out on the fly. Erin's lightning bubble took a whole workday just trying to figure out how to strike the right glow balance that communicated "dome shield" without fully obscuring him behind the light. It's always a lot harder to draw something for the first time, and this comic has so much stuff in it that I was dealing with a lot of firsts in those first few chapters.

That also meant I had less time or focus to spend on cleanup, so sometimes shading would be a bit intermittent - like the barrel in this shot that hurts my soul.

I did figure out some foliage-shading shortcuts during the sentinel fight - layering rough-edged cel-shading produced the illusion of sunlight on leaves without having to hand-draw the darn things - but the science of making forest backgrounds look like Not Ass was still difficult for me. I really didn't like hand-drawing fully-lined trees for the background of shots, but I wasn't yet sure what the alternatives were.

When I did Falst's intro arc, however, I had a ton of forested backgrounds, and that gave me a lot of practice very fast at refining the forest background stuff and experimenting with the use of filtered sunlight and particle effects, and I finally found a shortcut I liked for drawing tree trunks.

By this chapter I was starting to feel good about how it looked. The colors balanced better, light and shadow felt integrated into the scene, I was getting a feel for the use of soft-edged glow and particle effects, and I wasn't struggling to make the shots feel coherent. Even the sentinel fight, which I'm overall surprisingly happy with, feels a little overly bright to me in hindsight - I would've shaded under the trees a little more aggressively if I were coloring it now.

When we hit Zuurith I had to start drawing very complex urban environments, but I used some of the tricks I'd learned for drawing forests to make things easier - simple color-block silhouettes for background shapes coupled with more detailed foreground elements for things I couldn't justify making featureless color blobs. If they were in the same plane as the detailed foreground characters, they had to be just as detailed. It was a pain in the butt, but the rest of my style had gotten intuitive enough for me that I could afford to spend more time playing with that. If I were still struggling to draw every foreground character pose, I wouldn't have had the brain bandwidth to get creative with the backgrounds.

It wasn't really an intentional thing. I started the comic doing as good a job as I could, because I really wanted this to work. I was familiar with the medium of digital illustration, I'd been doing large numbers of chibi illustrations for the channel for years, and I had some of the process down to a science. But parts of it were new and unfamiliar, and that meant I needed practice and a chance to refine what I was doing into a more efficient form. In the process, things got smoother and looked more consistent, because I was developing techniques to do certain effects that I could then rely on going forward.

When I had to draw the Paladin Archive as a background, I used a mix of techniques I'd had a chance to test and refine on previous pages. The glowing dust mote and sunbeam effects from Gleicann's forest made the archive feel dusty and helped add depth. The occasional painstakingly hand-drawn background shelf was an acceptable price to pay, because for most of the bookshelves I'd figured out a pretty quick and efficient brush trick to draw a large row of color-scattered rectangles, skew them, duplicate and blur them sideways, and use that to create a serviceable illusion of three-dimensional rows of books of various sizes.

Anyway, yeah. If the change isn't super jarring that's good news for me, because the process of improving my style has been complicated but very rewarding, and my only frustration with the process has been retroactively seeing everything I'd be able to do better now.

[mbluee]

Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021​

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

[taetaespeaches]

“Quick question… what are you doing in the closet?”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hi lovelies!! This fic takes place pretty early on in Yoongi and Kid/reader’s relationship. They’re very much together but Kid has yet to spend much time with Min Holly (at least alone). And basically, that’s what this fic is- Yoongi leaves Min Holly with Kid for the night and when a storm hits, Yoongi comes back to the apartment to find Kid and Min Holly being very cute. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

“Are you sure you’re good?” Your boyfriend asked you for the third time in a matter of minutes, his eyes traveling to the small dog exploring your apartment.

Widening your eyes at him, you cocked your head. “Why are you so worried, do you really not trust me with him?”

Sighing, the man held back the grin threatening to form on his lips.

“Don’t laugh right now,” you pointed warningly at him, your empty threat causing him to break, the gummy smile appearing in front of your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whined, dragging his name out as you lightly smacked his chest.

“Of course I trust you,” he chuckled, stepping forward once so he could wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you to him. Pouting at him, accompanied by a glare, Yoongi giggled. “I was just teasing you, Kid,” he admitted, pushing his lips to yours gently, you stubbornly not responding. “Min Holly is in the best hands with you.”

“Damn straight he is,” you bragged, Yoongi scoffing as he planted a kiss to your cheek.

Yoongi’s brother was on vacation, leaving Min Holly purely in Yoongi’s custody for the next week. However, the first day of his brother’s vacation just happened to be on the day of a BTS video shoot that would keep Yoongi busy well into the night. That’s where you came in; dog sitter of the year.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You asked, Yoongi humming in thought.

“Probably early morning. Two or three a.m., maybe later,” he told you, you gasping in mostly feigned surprise. Your relationship with the man was still rather new, but you did understand his work caused him to have some pretty late, sleepless nights.  

“That’s so late, you’ll be so sleepy,” you cooed through a pout.

“I’ll be ok,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment as you leaned into his touch. “Thank you for helping me out,” he whispered against your brow, his breath fanning across the top of your face. “I just feel bad leaving him alone overnight,” he smiled, your lips following suit in response to the adorable admission.

“It’s no problem, of course I’m happy to watch him,” you assured Yoongi, tilting your head back to look up at him. “You honey boy,” you teased, Yoongi letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I gotta get going, I’ll text you updates,” he assured you as he took a step back, scanning the apartment’s living room in search of the dog. “Where-” he began to ask where the dog went when Holly popped his head up from the sofa, catching both of yours and Yoongi’s gazes. “Oh sure, make yourself right at home,” he chuckled at the dog.

“He’s so cute, I’m gonna love this,” you told Yoongi, looking at him with bright eyes. “Good luck at your shoot, Min,” you began shooing him out of the apartment, Yoongi backing up as you gently shoved against his frame.

“Are you kicking me out?” He teased, his eyes wide, his face full of pretend offense.

“I have plans,” you directed a head nod toward the dog.

Chuckling in amusement at you, his shoulders shaking slightly, Yoongi turned toward the door and began walking across the room, you following just behind him. When he reached the exit, he quickly turned around, his hands finding your face instantly as he pulled your lips to his greedily. Your hands grasped at his forearms as you kissed him back with just as much fervor, humming contently into the meeting.

Pulling his face from yours, you slowly opened your eyes, watching as Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open shortly after. “Don’t miss me too much,” you teased the man playfully, that adorable gummy grin overtaking his features, his cheeks soft and kissable. Had you more time with him, you would have kissed them repeatedly until he whined for you to stop as the fluffy cheeks warmed in a pink shade. But that would have to wait for his return, as he was nearly running late.

“Bye Kid,” he said simply, you smiling as he turned to leave.

“Go be hot on camera,” you shouted out after him, a scoff meeting your ears, though those shoulders shook adorably as the door shut behind him.

Smiling at the front door, you sighed in content. Turning to face the dog who was staring at you intently, you shrugged. “I think we’re alone now,” you sing-songed to the dog, making him cock his head at you. As you made your way back across the room to the dog, excitement in your steps, you beamed at Min Holly. “Are you ready for our slumber party?” You cooed, scratching his little face as soon as you reached him. “Slumber party time?” You continued talking to the dog as he licked your nose affectionately.

You never were one to check the forecast often, so when the loud crash of thunder sounded outside, waking you from your sleep, you were as shocked as the poor little dog curled up against your side.

Lethargic, your eyes and voice still full of slumber, you reached for the dog and tugged him even closer. “Oh, Holly,” you pouted, looking outside your window to see rain streaking across it as it beat down against the pavement below. “That’s not going to be good for filming,” you mumbled aloud, thinking of your boyfriend and his fellow members.

With another loud rumble outside, the dog whimpered, scurrying off the bed in search of a place of solace. “Aw bubs,” you frowned, sitting up and crawling off the bed to collect him. However, as you approached the dog, he scampered off across the room, heading straight through the open closet door. “Do you want to hide in there?” You asked him, cocking your head at him as Holly stared at you from inside the closet. “Do you feel safe in there?” You asked him, watching as the dog slowly lowered into a laying position.

Spotting one of Yoongi’s hoodies hanging on the hook on the back of the closet door, you quickly made your way across the room and grabbed it, crouching down to situate the clothing around the small dog. “There, that should make you feel safer too,” you pouted, petting the top of Holly’s head gently. Moving your hand to scratch under his chin, however, he put the weight of his head in your palm, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Are you going to let me go back to the bed?” You asked in amusement. “Or am I going to have to join you in here?” You wondered, the dog staring at you with the most adorable sad eyes you’d ever seen. Sighing, you scooped him up in your arms before crawling on your knees to sit inside the closet. Planting yourself on your butt and leaning back against the wall, you crossed your legs before placing the hoodie over your lap, then setting Holly down atop it.

It didn’t take long for the dog to get comfortable, his head squished against your hip as he was lured back to sleep by the sound of the rain outside the apartment. And well, you must have followed him into slumber shortly after, because the next thing you knew, you were being awoken by a gentle sensation against the side of your face and a hushed whisper near your ear.

“Kid,” you heard the voice call out to you softly. Peeling your eyes open reluctantly, you squinted at the man kneeling beside you, his gummy grin being the first sight that entered your awakened consciousness.

“Honey boy,” you yawned, Yoongi chuckling softly at you. Reaching out to him, you brushed his hair off his forehead only to find that the strands were cold and wet. “Your hair is soaked,” you noted, Yoongi nodding as he smiled.

“It’s raining,” he pointed out, you frowning at him.

“That’s right,” you remembered, looking down at the dog in your lap who was awake, but unmoving as he refused to lose his comfort, and probably still too scared to leave the confines of the closet. “You need to change your clothes,” you told Yoongi. “But you can’t have your hoodie because Holly’s using it,” you pointed out, Yoongi scoffing in amusement at you.

“Well good thing your clothes are conveniently located right here,” he nodded to the clothing hanging, simultaneously shooting you an incredulous expression as he drew attention to the fact that he came to your apartment to find you sleeping in his closet, propped up against the wall.

“What’s with the face?” You asked him in response to his expression, playing with him, turning it into a game.

“What the hell are-”

“How was the shoot?” You interrupted, though nonchalantly, purposely not addressing the elephant in the room- or more like the human in the closet.

“It was good,” he nodded a few times, “you know, until the rain hit.”

Sucking air between your teeth, you frowned. “Did it ruin everything?”

“No, luckily we wrapped the outdoor scenes just as it started storming.”

“Oh that’s great, I’m glad it worked out ok,” you grinned.

“Mhmm,” he hummed with a small nod. “I’m stealing a sweatshirt,” he informed you, you instantly humming in thought.

“I’ll allow it.”

“How very generous of you,” he responded playfully, holding back a budding smile. “Hey uh, quick question.”

“What’s that?”

The man shrugged at you, a smile curving on his lips. “What are you doing in the closet?”

“Oh right,” you slowly nodded, the man chuckling at you. “You see, your dog is a bit of a wuss, but he’s cute so it’s ok,” you told him as looked down to the dog who was refusing to lift his head to face the storm.

“Were you scared of the lightning Holly?” Yoongi asked the dog as he pet the sweet frightened pup, a soft grin on his lips that made your own mouth curve into a smile.

“Yeah, he abandoned me on the bed and came in here and I was just going to give him your hoodie to lay with but then he gave me those eyes,” you pouted as Yoongi watched you relay the story in utter fondness for you. “He was torn because he wanted to be with me but also, you know, the storm,” you emphasized, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking in laughter. “So I decided, well, I’ll just sit with him for a bit.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know, I fell asleep,” you giggled, a snort leaving the man as he shook his head at you, though adoringly.

“So you really insisted on being the cutest human alive tonight, huh?” He asked you just before directing his gaze to the dog. “Holly, what’s up bud, don’t you think you’re milking this a bit?”

With both of you looking down at the pup, you watched as Yoongi gently scratched Holly’s head. “He’s just too cute, I didn’t have the heart to leave him in here alone,” you pouted, glancing up to find your boyfriend’s gaze already directed to you.

Yoongi didn’t speak, rather, his orbs simply scanned your features, appreciating the sight. He slowly leaned toward you, his lips easily finding yours, meeting you in a sweet kiss. The meeting didn’t last long, but it was soft and felt like home.

“You’re a sweetheart, Kid,” he complimented as he separated from you, just before he stood. Suddenly the man stripped himself of his slightly wet top before turning his attention to your clothing.

Staring up at him, appreciating his bare upper body, you watched as his hands grabbed an oversized lavender-colored sweatshirt. Pulling it off the hanger quickly, he had it situated over his body within seconds. Looking down at you, he met your gaze, smirking at your engrossed expression.

“You’re pretty in lavender,” you whispered to him, a bashful grin overtaking his face.

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering once again. “Alright little guy,” he suddenly addressed Holly as he pulled away from you. “You gotta let my girlfriend out of the closet,” he told the dog, patting his thighs to try to coax his dog to him, only for the dog to spite him by not even flinching toward his owner.

“Honey boy, he’s still scared,” you pouted, Yoongi’s eyes shifting from Holly to you. Thinking for a moment, he sighed, turning his back on you and heading toward the bed. You watched him carefully, following his every move as he pulled the comforter off the mattress and grabbed two pillows.

The man avoided your eye contact as he waddled back to the closet, a frown etched in his features though you knew he wasn’t actually upset by anything. It was obvious he found this whole situation quite adorable.

Appearing in front of you, he stepped over your body, as well as Min Holly, and dropped the blanket and pillows onto the floor with a thud. Next, he was pulling his jeans off his frame, tossing them onto the bedroom floor outside the closet, his eyes following them as they descended to the floor, your eyes glued to his now bare limbs. You actually couldn’t see the upper majority of his legs due to the oversized material of the sweatshirt, which made him look rather cute.

“You’re very hot,” you complimented with a smirk, the man scoffing as he picked up the comforter before nodding to the dog that was looking up at him curiously.

“Lift him so I can cover you with this,” he told you, you smirking as you pulled Holly from your lap to your chest, allowing Yoongi to tuck you in.

“You’re being really cute,” you smiled, Yoongi holding back a grin of his own as he simply hummed. “These are honey boy antics, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’m soft for you and my dog, so what,” he dismissed nonchalantly, all while your smile grew larger, your heart racing with affection for the man. When Yoongi lowered himself to take the spot next to you, he lifted a pillow, silently staring at you as he waited for you to sit up so he could put the pillow underneath your head. Fluffing it slightly, he nodded once with a small close-mouthed smile before grabbing his own pillow and doing the same thing again.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you told him sincerely as you rested back against the pillow, the cushion feeling nice and relieving on your slightly strained neck. Turns out closets aren’t really the most comfortable sleeping space.

“Thanks for taking care of my dog,” he replied with that same adorable grin, which accentuated the plushness of his cheeks. As Holly moved to lay between the both of you, you leaned toward your boyfriend, holding his face in place so you could press a series of smooches to his plush cheek. Finally.

Whining slightly at your incessant affection, Yoongi squirmed away from you, only to turn and face you and press his lips to yours in a messy and playful meeting. Laughing into the kiss, Yoongi couldn’t help but smile as well, a light chuckle leaving those pretty lips as he pulled away from you.

“Go back to sleep,” he told you, his face full of fond adoration as he settled into his spot, pulling the comforter up as his hand found the dog. Yoongi pet Holly’s face as the dog leaned into the touch. “You too,” he directed to the dog in a playful demand. “I don’t know what your end game is here, bud. Are you trying to steal my girl?” he questioned the furry pal, you giggling at you nuzzled your face against the pillow, reaching out to drape your arm overtop Yoongi’s body. “You can’t have her,” Yoongi whispered, a smile stretching across your face. “I won’t let you.”

“He’s a charmer,” you mumbled through a yawn, your sleepiness hitting you suddenly.

“So am I,” Yoongi countered, rolling onto his side so he faced you. As your eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking you quickly, the man watched you lovingly. “I’m hot, remember.”

“That’s true,” you agreed sleepily. “The hottest.”

Yoongi continued to watch as your body became more relaxed underneath the warmth of the comforter; the warmth of having Yoongi next to you, and of course, Min Holly. Though his own eyes were becoming heavy, he kept them open to appreciate the way your face relaxed, your lips becoming pouted as your exhales slipped between them in slowed breaths.

“Tell me one thing,” you suddenly spoke up, your voice surprising Yoongi out of his trance.

“Hm,” he hummed for you to continue, a soft smile planted on his mouth.

“Were you hot on camera?” You asked him, referring to his video shoot.

A silent chuckle left the man, his hand leaving Min Holly, and finding your own hand that rested between your bodies. Wrapping his fingers around your own, he stared at your hands connected; your skin was warm against his, Yoongi sighing contently.

“I was hot on camera,” he confirmed, a smile just barely tugging on your lips that made him chuckle lightly in response.

“That’s my honey boy,” you whispered, burying yourself further into the pillow.” There was a pause, and Yoongi was about to shut his own eyes and allow himself to be dragged into dreamland. However, you spoke once again, the man sighing as he prepared to tell you to go to sleep, but your words kept him quiet; surprise and excitement coursing through his every limb as soon as the words met his ears. “I’m falling for you,” you admitted in your nearly unconscious state.  

“Falling for me?” He questioned, his voice barely audible as a bashful smile curved on his lips, those kissable cheeks tinting pink. You would have cooed at the sight had your eyes been open.

He knew you were unaware of your confession, but he hoped it was as genuine as he believed it to be. Yoongi wouldn’t bring up the confession; no teasing the next day; no pressure for elaboration at a later date. But with the warmth that filled his frame as he watched you breathe deeply, finally having given in to your tiredness, he was certain that he felt the same way.

You were falling for him. And he had already fallen in love with you.

Yoongi’s eyes slowly left your face, traveling down to find the dog staring up at him.

“Hear that?” He whispered to his dog, a gummy smile planted on his face as his eyes shined with the brightness of new love. “She’s falling for me.”

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Wildly Beating Hearts

Filled out another prompt for a writing exercise and I love how it turned out. The prompt was "grabbing their hand to pull them back from something" from this prompt list. I did Cassandra and Erica from my little mermaid retelling in FSF for this one. And surprisingly it's not soul crushing angst for once, just fluff here.

Wordcount: 754

Summary: Our pirates land on a dangerous island and hike through the deadly jungle, while Cass and Erica are trying wrestling with their crushes on each other.

Warnings: maybe the dangerous animal, but that's really it

Fractured Stars Falling Taglist: @rose-bookblood  @chalcid  @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art @thatprolificauthor

General Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @/thatprolificauthor

~~~

It was late afternoon when the ship pulled into the bay. The rowboats were dropped, and the whole crew went to scavenge for food and supplies. The island was beautiful, with a lush jungle and a beach of soft sand. But Cassandra knew how deceiving this island’s looks were- dangerous animals lurked in the jungle, and it was easy to get lost deep in the trees where one would then starve or boil in the sun to death.

She pulled out her book, filled with notes and maps of all the islands, and refreshed her and the crew’s memory of the details- the exact dangers, safe zones and dangerous zones, plants that were safe to eat, and the best course of action should someone get lost or hurt.

She would’ve liked to find a harbor or port to stay for the night in, or even let the boat drift during the night. But with Gar Face lurking around, waiting for a chance to catch her and her crew of guard, it was safer to hide the ship for the night. Hopefully the danger of this island would keep Gar Face from getting anywhere near them.

The crew split up into smaller groups, easier to travel with but big enough to keep everyone safe. Cassandra, her grandfather, and Erica in one group; Felicity, Angry Alice, and Eye-Spy Sally in the second; and Big Becky, Quick Queenie, and Canonngirl Katie.

Each group went in a different direction, and they all agreed to meet back at the beach before sundown with whatever they could scavenge.

Cassandra was at the front, hacking away at plants blocking their path. She panted as sweat trickled down her face, and she wiped it away. She thought about taking off her coat and hat, but those were protecting her skin from getting burned in the bright. Cass decided to keep them on and drink a lot of water as soon as possible.

Luckily, they found a spring, and after checking that it was safe, the three of them stopped for a rest and a drink. The spring water was clear and ice cold, which tasted wonderful after the sun had been beating down on them for the last hour.

Billy Badbreath was keeping watch as the girls relaxed in the shade for a minute. He slowly turned every once in a while, his six mechanical legs creaking and sometimes stalling from all the rust. He stood a few feet away, looking in the direction of the beach with his back to Erica and Cass.

The girls looked over the map again, comparing it with Cassandra’s book of all the islands. Cassandra was flipping through her book, trying to find the one that matched the island on Erica’s map. She was looking closely at one of the islands that looked similar when someone tapped her shoulder.

Cass looked up, and Erica was smiling as she pointed to a flower several feet away. It was a pretty pink one with large soft petals and a bright yellow center, vibrant green stem and leaves supporting it so the flower stood tall and pretty.

With a small smile back, Cassandra told Erica, “Beautiful.”

Erica got up and went over to the flower. Cass dropped the book and quickly followed her. The flower was beautiful yes, but on an island like this that meant danger was also near.

Erica reached out to pick the flower.

Cass saw the snake before she did, it’s huge fangs bared, dripping with venom.

Her hand shot out, grabbing Erica’s and yanking her back as the snake lunged out for Erica’s exposed arm. Cass's sword was already flying, and cut the snake’s head off before it reached them as she pulled Erica behind her upon pure instinct.

Erica whipped out her knife, and they both looked around as Billy Badbreath darted over to check on them. Once it was clear they were safe again, both girls looked down, saw that they were still holding hands with an iron grip. They quickly dropped their hands to their sides and backed away as their faces went red.

Pointing to the map as she tried to hide her face, Erica quickly made her escape to the book and her map. Cass brushed herself off and forced herself not to explode from the whole range of beautiful emotions she felt from just touching Erica.

Her grandfather looked at Cass, looking her over for injuries. Cass waved him off, quickly telling him she was fine. Tucking her sword in her belt, Cass desperately tried to get herself and her wildly beating heart back under control before going back over to Erica.

[milf-harrington]

exploring a different way of writing <3

i saw a prompt somewhere once about a narrator coming in late and not knowing anything about the story and i guess this is just my take on that? i thought it'd be a fun writing exercise (:

-

Right off the bat, I've got no idea what's going on or where we are, but at least you and i are in this together. Same boat and all that.

Okay so: we have a classic coffee shop setting, nice. There's enough empty tables that it's probably early morning- never mind it's late evening, actually, possibly an hour or so away from closing time.

The night is mild, though the moon and any stars are hidden beneath a thick covering of clouds. Leaves skitter across the road in bursts of sounds like the scrabbling claws of rats, their dance lost to the shadows of the gutter. Spooky.

The coffee shop itself is quiet and still, even with the baristas moving about behind the wooden counter and someone's work playlist drifting through the speakers in lazy whispers. A girl with delightfully crooked teeth and a scowl has her bright green hair twisted up on top of her head with a pen, tendrils escaping and curling down past her neck or tucked behind her ear along with a second pen.

She looks up at the empty doorway, sees nothing but her own murky reflection in the dark glass, and her scowl deepens, something like nerves seeping through in the way she reorganises the table numbers from odds to evens and glances around at the customers.

She appears to be waiting for something, possibly someone. She doesn't seem all that confident about the impending rendezvous.

I'm getting the feeling that possibly you and I have stepped into a horror story.

Leaving the coffee shop, we head a few streets over to another young-ish woman in frightfully bright pink flare pants and a black turtleneck. She's marching down the road, muttering all sorts of unpleasant things under her breath about someone named Nicole and something about spiked drinks.

That doesn't sound hopeful, but our mystery girl seems more focused on her swirling rage than any potential danger so maybe she wasn't the one with the spiked drink.

Ahead of her, just two more crossings away, the coffee shop glows like a beacon and some of the irritation seems to leak out of her. Hope, at last.

The girl speeds up a little, the bag she had slung over her shoulder bouncing against the backs of her thighs. In the light of a street lamp she's quite pretty, of the average variety. It's hard to tell the actual colour of her skin with the aggressive whiteness of the streetlight and the way it glows across her body but it looks like some sort of brown, possibly fairly light like she doesn't get a lot of sun. Maybe she does. Maybe she's just pale.

Her hair is long and wavy and falls over her shoulders and past her face in droopy vines, like molasses. It looks very soft actually, and turns a hundred shades of brown in the bright light before fading fast back to something close to black in the shadows.

When she finally reaches the coffee shop, she barely glances up before shoving her way inside, still looking thunderous and slightly homicidal as another warm breeze blows her hair around her face.

A well timed lightning strike and accompanying crack of thunder would go so well with that entrance but alas, all that happens is our green-haired barista looks up, startled but ultimately disappointed.

Not the barista's secret meet-er-upper, then. That's a word, probably.

Mysterious girl in the bright pink, is now clearly Polynesian in the bright and friendly coffee shop lights. Attempting to guess the specifics would likely be awfully insulting so we'll stay away from that and instead go back to how she's now marching towards the counter, a woman on a mission.

It's not until she's close enough for the thin chain around her neck to glint prettily that the green-haired baristas expression drops into one of surprise before she promptly... bursts into laughter?

Mysterious girl only curls her lips in an honestly terrifying scowl, eyes wide and brows scrunched together in outrage. Her bag slides down her shoulder and clatters against the counter when she slams her hands down onto it.

"Fix it."

Oooh okay maybe mystery girl was the one with the spiked drink. And also apparently who the green-haired barista might have been waiting for.

The same barista who is now folded in half and wheezing, attracting the attention of whatever poor sleep-deprived souls were sheltering within the shop.

Mystery girl only scowls harder, very reminiscent of the barista earlier, and blows out an explosive sigh with enough force that a few stray hairs fly into the air like the limped wrist of a drag queen mid-performance.

"I'm serious, use your stupid magic and fix what Leslie's done to me."

Oh, shit, okay who the fuck is Leslie- a Nicole was mentioned earlier but not a Leslie.

The green-haired barista has straightened up and is now dabbing under her eyes with a wobbly smile, like she's still one well-timed pun away from losing it all over again.

Maybe the barista is Nicole.

"I'm serious Eden-" that's a no then "-I refuse to live like this." With movements sharpened by her apparent loss of temper, mystery girl gestures to all of her.

Hm. I mean.. it doesn't seem like anythings wrong but I mean, I have missed one or two or seven plot points.

"Oh, Lamb..." Eden takes a deep breath, struggling to bite back her smile as she looks her friend(?) up and down. "If it's any consolation you make a very pretty woman."

Oh.

[lady-o-ren]

The Dig 

Part Two (Because I was bullied into this . . .)

//Which can be read (HERE) for easier reading// And Part One (HERE)

In a little rented room above auld Geordie’s pub, Claire Beauchamp stood in nothing but her silk undergarments as she flipped open her weathered suitcase (once belonging to her dear uncle Lamb) she had heaved atop her bed. She rummaged through the contents, blowing at her curls clouding around her face, before pulling out a single dress of pale blue.

It wasn't something she usually packed whenever she went off on a dig but the dress had caught her eye in a department store window in London just before coming to Suffolk. She reasoned one never knew when the occasion might call for her to dress in something other than dirt stained trousers.

And never had she been more relieved by an impulse buy.

Or thankful for a rainy day that halted her excavation.

It was a chance to be with the Scot who thought her more precious than the iron rivets they discovered a few days ago, proof that the burial site they were knee deep in was a ship to honor a fallen king. She would've kissed him on the spot if it weren't for Foster and Pound.

The kiss however did come later.

After her and the lads celebrated with too many pints, she and Fraser went back to Sutton Hoo, slightly swaying with every step beneath the twilight, until their arms found their way around one another. Soon they were laying side by side in the grass and dirt, the air cool on their whiskey flushed cheeks, and she wrapped in his coat. Big and warm and enveloping like himself.

"We may very well be unearthing a legend here ," said Beauchamp, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed facing the moon.

Fraser grinned.

" Beowulf ?"

She laughed and turned her gaze to him. "Arthur, King of the Britons !"

He laughed along with her, a deep and hearty sound, then joking all aside said  -

"Anglo Saxon, ye think?"

She nodded and rolled to her side, nearly pressing herself against Fraser's chest, heaving from a sharp intake of breath.

"I told you before that something grand and marvelous was buried here . . ."

"Ye did."

Then shyly Fraser said -

"Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . . Remember that bit from my notebook?"

Her eyes softened and her features took on a pretty shade of pink remembering a great deal more of what that book contained.

How each page held a piece of his heart.

And laid a hand over his chest, against that fervent beat.

"Of course I do," she answered back, but frowned a little when Fraser bashfully kept his gaze to the small gap between them where a dandelion bloomed.

"Weel, I wrote it that night after we first met, from a dream I had. Sounds a great deal better in the gaelic though. . ."

Beauchamp raised her hand to cup his cheek, thumbing the fine cut bones beneath his skin, before pressing her soft warm mouth against his lips.

"Tell me," she insisted, when they managed to part and nudged her nose against his.

And so he did, voice low and more than a little breathless.

I dreamt about the mourning.

The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us.

They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave.

But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

He shrugged sheepishly then.

Just before she kissed him again. Knowing she'd never want anyone more than she did right then and there amongst the swaying trees and spirits of auld.

This man whose soul spoke to her own.

Too bad a crack of lightning had to ruin the night.

But at least the rain blessed them with a day to themselves in apology.

Taking one last glance in the vanity mirror (that was about as big as her compact) and another quick check that her nails were clean of dirt, Beauchamp left her room and walked down the hallway to Fraser's, knocking softly against his door. When no one answered she pressed her ear curiously to the door hearing voices and knocked again, just a bit more louder, tapping the toe of her slingback  heels against the beaten wooden floor. With still no response (and patience never being a virtue she ever possessed) she flat out turned the knob finding it unlocked.

She poked her head in and found a room even smaller than her own and the source of the voices coming from a small red radio playing an adaption of a film from the windowsill.

- I might have known you were here. I had a feeling just as I hit the floor.

- That was your hat.

- Oh, Susan! Just look at it! Look!

Fraser himself was fast asleep and spread out atop the bed sheets dressed for a date to the cinema with his long arms crossed above his head and his big feet dangling off the edge of his too small bed.

Beauchamp stood watching him for a moment, filled with a sudden tenderness at his sleeping innocence . . . and a bone deep wickedness that gave her an idea. She closed the door quietly behind herself and flipped the lock, grinning as she did so. She then slipped out of her slingback heels and crossed the room in two short strides (the floorboards creaking with the pitch of a mouse beneath her), to carefully lay down beside him.

Fraser turned to her in sleep, a throaty murmur on his lips, and laid a heavy arm around her slim waist, gathering her heart to heart. She sighed happily and reached to caress a curl hanging low at his brow, admiring the color that reminded her of the scorching sunsets in Giza she basked in with her uncle so many years ago. Her fingers then threaded through his thick mane down to where they began to curl at his neck and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. Pure and sweet.

"You're too perfect for words, lad," she whispered against his wide mouth, but before she could seal their lips together his long blonde lashes fluttered open.

Fraser gazed at her sleepily, his smile only growing wider as the word Sorcha was adoringly breathed against her cheeks.

She wanted to ask him what that one meant. It might be her favorite bit of gaelic so far.

But then . . .

"Claire!" Fraser exclaimed, and nearly toppled them both out of the bed if not for Beauchamp clinging to his shoulders, steadying him above her.

"How di' ye - Why are ye -"

Beauchamp giggled loudly at his befuddled face and at his hair sticking up in all directions like a sunflower crown. She coasted her hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders to cup both his scarlet cheeks.

"You're door was unlocked, and you know how cold I easily get . . ." she playfully pouted, and tugged his face closer, enjoying how his skin felt like a glowing hot coal between her hands.

But Fraser pulled away.

"Claire. . ."

She sighed yet kept her amused grin.

"You're not a lad of sixteen, you know. You can have a girl in your room."

"I ken that," he answered back, with a defensive spike in his voice.

Beauchamp ignored his tone letting her hands wander to his chest, the muscles taut beneath his crisp white shirt straining to contain his racing heartbeat.

"We even spent a night under the stars together."

"That was altogether different."

Her eyes flashed with mischief as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "How so?"

"For one," Fraser breathed hoarsely, placing a hand over hers lest she get too carried away. "It wasn't all night, the thunder made sure of that, and we mostly were talking anyway."

"Mostly?"

"And two," he said firmly, ears pink. "There wasn't a bed either of us could fall out of."

"No, there wasn't," she agreed, deciding he'd had enough of her teasing (and only because she had never taken anyone seriously enough to go slow). "But you can still keep me warm, Fraser. Virtue intact. I promise."

He arched a ruddy brow, doubtful of the lass with cheeky hands and a red cheshire grin that could lure a man to break every sin. Yet he eased himself beside her anyway and in the only way that worked.

With their legs twined together, nearly flushed against one another.

And his big hand braced along her back, the fabric soft against his callused palm as he smoothed it up and down, feeling the gentle rise of her ribs as she breathed in absolute contentment.

“Better than sitting in the cinema don't you think?” said Beauchamp, as she nuzzled her face to the crook of his neck, warmed by his skin that smelled freshly clean. Yet she found herself missing the scent of a hard day's labor on him.

“Aye, much - wait!” Fraser shifted to his elbow. “We missed the film didn't we?"

Beauchamp, a little annoyed at being jostled, shook her head and tugged at his collar to settle her lad back down.

"No, there's still some time left. Cary Grant just lost his intercostal clavicle bone to a dog named George. . . Or was it a leopard named Baby?"

Fraser stared at her like she'd gone completely daft until he noticed the radio playing in the background and heard the inimitable voices of Grant alongside Katherine Hepburn.

- Now it isn't that I don't like you, Susan, because, after all, in moments of quiet, I'm strangely drawn toward you, but - well, there haven't been any quiet moments.

"Oh,” he chuckled lightly, dropping his head to the side. “I must've fallen asleep listening to Lux Theatre . What I meant was the actual cinema though.”

“I think Judy Garland is merrily singing down that yellow brick road as we speak. But don't be sorry," she said, with a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before the words could fall from his mouth. "It would've been far too crowded anyway."

“But you got yourself all dressed up," he protested, as his eyes traveled down to where her dress had been rucked up tight over her breasts and waist (and where his hand involuntarily flexed over the winged flare of her hip) before hastily clearing his throat.

"Ye look lovely by the way, mo chridhe. More than lovely actually. . ."

That shy and tender smile of his was her undoing and made her feel light-headed and reckless.

"Either that clever mouth of yours keeps on with the compliments, Fraser, or . . ."

Her voice carried off as her knee glided up between his thighs and her arms clasped around his shoulders so that any thoughts Fraser had of being a gentleman were forgotten in a wanton blaze of heat.

Some time later, with Fraser's cheek pillowed against her breasts, breath hot and seeping through the thin blue fabric thoroughly wrinkled now, he groaned.

"I wish we weren't in a room above a pub that reeks of cigarettes and wee."

She hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the back of his head, twirling around his curls. Admiring their beauty.

"Where should we be then?"

Fraser lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes glimmering with that undeniable emotion that should've scared her yet it only made her want to claim him forever.

"A woman like you. . ." He smiled. " In a tent somewhere outside the ruins of a temple or in a cave in the Himalayas."

Her chest bounced with sparkling laughter.

"How about when this is all over and our names are the talk of the town, you take me anywhere you please. Preferably with a bed we can both fit in."

It was a tantalizing thought yet Fraser couldn't help but think of Scotland. Of his home Lallybroch. With her hand in his passing through the centuries old stone archway as his lady of Broch Turach.

Someday, maybe. God willing.

"I can think of a place," he murmured, and tightened his hold around her lush frame and pressed a daring kiss of hope above her heart. Felt her shiver beneath his mouth.

- I've just discovered that was the best day I've ever had in my whole life!

- But I was there!

- That's what made it so good!

And together they drifted off listening to the rain and the silly, sappy music.

I can't give you anything but love, baby.

That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.

Dream awhile, scheme awhile

We're sure to find happiness . . .

//

A/N: There’s a lot of notes so I’ll keep them to ao3. And there’s probably mistakes galore but I needed to post this before cringe settled in and I deleted it, Thank you for reading!