#a painting made up of only strokes of conflicting colors

[vacantgodling]

accepting that i’m more complicated and that i can’t be labeled simplistically has been good for me in many ways actually

[corruptedcaps]

The Descent

"Maybe if I put on her magic ponytail, I can find out where she hid our project," Matilda said, an almost entranced glint in her eyes as she played with the stolen strand of hair. The once long and flowing ponytail now lay coiled on her palm, its aura of power palpable even to the touch.

The hair had came from Vicky, their long time tormentor. She had been taunting them about how she had stolen their science project and was going to use it for herself. So engrossed in her taunting that she failed to see the stairs she tripped down. Matilda and Sarah were the only ones around and rushed to help her.

However as she they got to the bottom of the stairs they were both shocked to see a very different Vicky laying unconscious there. She was chubbier, blotchier and in different clothes but it was definitely still her. Weirder still was her long blonde ponytail was laying beside her perfectly detached.

As the ambulance arrived, Matilda quickly pocketed the ponytail into her bag, knowing something was special about it. Now after hours of discussion she was convinced it held some sort of magic properties.

Sarah shot her a skeptical look, her eyebrows knitting together. "Are you sure about this, Matilda? What if it changes you too?"

Matilda's determination shone through her apprehension. "We've suffered enough, Sarah. Vicky has tormented us for far too long. This ponytail might be the key to ending her reign of terror and retrieving our science project."

With a deep breath, Matilda gingerly placed the ponytail atop her head. She was about to try and find away to attach it in place when suddenly she felt it wrap around her own hair. An electrifying surge coursed through her, making her feel both exhilarated and oddly connected to something beyond herself.

However, looking in the mirror she found herself slightly saddened not to see her appearance differ at all. If anything the long blond ponytail looked kind of dumb coming out of her brown shoulder length hair.

“Well? Anything?” Sarah asked.

“No? But maybe I just need to concentrate.” Matilda said as she closed her eyes. She focused on Vicky mind becoming a canvas on which snippets of Vicky's past painted themselves in vivid colors.

Images flashed before Matilda's eyes: Vicky's sinister grins, her malicious delight in causing pain, and the twisted pleasure she took in their suffering. Matilda saw the stolen science project, hidden away in a place she recognized, the school’s supply closet in the basement. When the torrent of memories subsided, Matilda blinked, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within her.

Opening her eyes, Matilda faced Sarah with newfound resolve. "I know where it is."

As they made their way towards the closet at the other end of school, a strange voice began to creep into Matilda's head. It was a voice dripping with praise, like honeyed words that tickled her thoughts. "Matilda," it whispered, "you've freed me from Vicky's grasp. I'm glad to be with you now, my new host."

Matilda's steps faltered as a conflicted expression played across her face, unnoticed by Sarah. The voice seemed to resonate within her, an eerie echo that sent a shiver down her spine. Yet, there was an odd allure to it, like a promise of power and recognition she had never known before.

"I've watched you suffer at Vicky's hands, and now that you hold my essence, you're destined for greatness," the voice continued, its tones beguiling. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Matilda's lips as she soaked in the praise. Her nails seemed to subtly lengthen and shine with a newfound luster. "Together, we shall ascend to new heights, and you will become the new queen here."

A mixture of fascination and dread welled up inside Matilda. The voice's seductive promise of power was tempting, and a part of her reveled in the attention it bestowed upon her. She found herself absentmindedly stroking the ponytail lovingly, her fingers entwining with its strands, as she considered the dark promise it held.

As they continued on their descent to the basement, Matilda didn’t notice the subtle changes in her appearance. Her lips seemed plumper, her breasts a touch fuller, radiating an alluring charm she hadn't possessed before. It was as if the essence of the ponytail was altering her, physically and mentally.

As they finally reached the closet, Matilda found herself distracted by images and memories the hair was showing her. Vicky hadn’t been the only host to the hair and Matilda was captivated by the wicked images she was seeing. So much so that it took her a second to realize that Sarah was asking her a question through her haze. "So where in this mess is our project? Matilda? Matilda, are you alright?"

Matilda's eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto Sarah's worried expression. Irritation surged within her, the grip of the voice's influence making her responses sharper than she intended. "I'm fine, Sarah. Just give me some space and go look for the project," she said in an unexpectedly bossy tone, "I'll stay here and delve further into the memories of the ponytail. Maybe there's something we missed."

While Sarah walked off slightly worried about her friend, Matilda closed her eyes, focusing on the ponytail's essence. In reality she knew exactly where the project was in the room but she wanted to to experience more of the ponytail’s memories. They were intoxicating. Each one showcasing Vicky's malevolent actions. To her surprise, Matilda found herself immersed in the scenes, a strange sense of delight bubbling up within her as she witnessed Vicky's cruelty.

Then, something shifted. Matilda saw herself in Vicky's place, commanding a group of loyal girls who followed her every command. They tormented others with glee, reveling in their power over those weaker than them. Matilda experienced the rush of control, the thrill of manipulation, and a dark satisfaction as her victims trembled before her.

“This could be you…. Popular. Beautiful. Powerful.” The ponytail hissed in her mind.

With each memory, Matilda's posture subtly changed, her shoulders straightening with a newfound confidence. Her once fair complexion took on a warm, tanned glow, and her makeup seemed to apply itself perfectly, accentuating her features in ways she had never managed before. As she absorbed the memories and physical changes, Matilda continued to stroke the ponytail, feeling an intimate connection to its power and allure.

The voice's promise of becoming the new queen of mean resonated more deeply now, as the lines between Matilda and the malevolent force blurred further. The temptation of power, beauty, and control tugged at her very being, threatening to consume her completely.

But something was stopping her from truly giving in. A lone face of worry appeared in her mind’s eye. Sarah. What would Sarah think of her if she went down this path? Sarah had been her only friend through their hard years of high school. They would graduate soon and they were going to be roommates at college. She couldn’t throw that all away. Could she?

"Sarah doesn't really care about you. She's always held you back, made you weak," the voice whispered seductively. Matilda found herself nodding in hesitant agreement. "With my power, you will rise above her, she will be nothing more than an ant to you."

As the voice's words wormed their way into her thoughts, a subtle grin betrayed the internal struggle. Sarah's presence, once comforting, now seemed like an obstacle. The voice's seductive promises fueled a growing resentment towards her friend, amplifying the allure of power and the desire for domination.

As Matilda continued to stroke the ponytail, her body underwent more extreme changes. Her tits swelled, straining against her clothing, which suddenly shifted to become short and revealing. Her long brown boring hair had been absorbed into the ponytail, causing it to grow long and blonde. Her lips plumped even further, and a sultry aura seemed to emanate from her very being, transforming her appearance into one of undeniable sexiness.

In the midst of Matilda's changes, Sarah's diligent search bore fruit. She let out a triumphant exclamation. But Matilda's attention was elsewhere as Sarah’s squeal caused her to open her eyes. A nearby mirror caught her attention, and she saw for the first time the changes the ponytail had bestowed upon her. She gazed in wonder at her altered appearance – her posture, her tanned complexion, her enhanced beauty. A wicked smile crept across her lips as she admired her reflection, her newfound look intoxicating.

"Matilda, look I found it! Oh my god, what happened to you?" Sarah's initially excited but then worrisome voice broke through, as she approached Matilda with the project in hand.

Without a second thought, Matilda's gaze snapped from her reflection to Sarah's outstretched hands holding the project. A cruel laugh bubbled up from within her, the voice's influence fueling her darker impulses. With a swift and deliberate motion, Matilda knocked the project out of Sarah's hands, the beakers and carefully constructed model shattering on the ground.

Sarah looked at Matilda in shock, her eyes wide and hurt. "Matilda, what... why?"

Matilda's lips curled into a cold smirk, her gaze unwavering. "Why should I care about some stupid science project, Sarah? It's time for you to realize my new station.”

The words, dripping with malice, hung heavy in the air. Matilda reveled in the twisted satisfaction of asserting dominance, fueled by the voice's encouragement and the newfound beauty that seemed to amplify her confidence. As Sarah stood there, stunned and betrayed, Matilda's descent into the depths of darkness seemed almost complete.

Sarah's shock quickly transformed into desperation. "Matilda, it's the ponytail, you have to take it off! It's turning you evil!"

Matilda's laughter echoed through the tense air, chilling in its newfound cruelty. "Oh, Sarah, I thought you were the smart one of us two. I know exactly what it's doing to me, and I love it."

Sarah's eyes brimmed with tears as she pleaded, "Please, Matilda, you're not yourself. You're letting it control you."

Matilda's smirk deepened, and her voice took on an eerie, almost mocking tone. "Matilda is dead, loser and I’m in control. You're looking at the new queen of the school now – Mercedes."

The transformation in Matilda was complete. Her once gentle nature had been consumed by the dark temptations of the ponytail's power. Her eyes gleamed with a sinister glint, her beauty now a reflection of the malevolent force that had taken hold. The voice's influence had reshaped her into something unrecognizable, a twisted echo of the girl who had once been bullied. Now she held all the cards.

A WEEK LATER

A week had passed since the transformation, and the school seemed like a different place. Mercedes had swiftly filled the void left by Vicky's absence. She radiated a commanding presence, her newfound beauty and malevolence drawing in Vicky’s old clique. Cruelty had become her currency, popularity her domain.

Sarah watched from the sidelines, heart heavy with a mix of sadness and shock. Mercedes was unrecognizable, her every move calculated to assert dominance. The voice's influence had turned her into a ruthless queen, and Sarah was now just another pawn in her game.

To Mercedes, Sarah meant nothing more than a tool to be used. She forced Sarah to do her homework, create a new science project, and cater to her whims. The once unbreakable bond between friends had been severed, replaced by Mercedes' insatiable thirst for control.

“Hurry up nerd, I don’t have all day to wait for you to finish this dumb project. My hawt boyfriend Chad is waiting and I don’t like to keep my man waiting.” She said with a cruel smirk as Sarah worked tirelessly, her heart aching for the loss of her friend and the darkness that now ruled her. The school had a new ruler, and Sarah was left to navigate the cruel reality of the queen of mean who had once been Matilda.

[lvoryingrid]

Healing Flames Chapter 3

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: (Y/n) faces internal conflict, especially as she shields her best friend Fuyumi from the truth. As Dabi awakens, their interactions reflect a delicate dance of defiance and vulnerability. The story reaches a pivotal moment when (Y/n) confronts Dabi about the risks involved, leading to a reluctant agreement to cooperate.

The first light of dawn filtered through the clinic's windows, casting gentle hues of pink and lavender on the room. The snow began to fall, creating a tranquil blanket that covered the familiar landscape. As (Y/n) stirred from her makeshift seat, the fatigue of a sleepless night evident in the lines on her face, she cast a weary glance at the mesmerizing snowy scenery outside. The falling snow outside painted a picturesque scene, transforming the ordinary into something magical. As (Y/n) glanced out of the window, she pondered the choices she would have to make in the daylight. The heroes and the outside world were yet to discover the presence of the villain seeking refuge in her clinic.

Her (e/c) eyes shifted to the dark haired man, still unconscious but showing signs of improved color and vitality. The decision to offer him sanctuary had woven an unexpected thread into the fabric of her routine. His presence in her clinic still weighed heavily on (Y/n)'s mind. Recognizing the need to maintain order in the midst of chaos, (Y/n) set out to fix her schedule. With a notepad in hand, she meticulously planned the day, allocating specific times for her to go and check-up up on him. But before she opens the clinic she notices, the drops of blood that had stained the floor during the night. With a heavy heart, she retrieved a mop and cleaning supplies.

(Y/n) paused in her movements, the familiar chime of her phone cutting through the quiet ambiance. Retrieving it from her pocket, she found a message from Fuyumi. The text, a warm and simple "Good morning, how are you?" it painted a brief moment of normalcy in contrast to the unconventional circumstances she found herself in. The weight of last night's events lingered in the back of her mind, and (Y/n) hesitated, contemplating whether to respond truthfully or shield Fuyumi from the complexities of her current situation. A conflicted expression crossed her face as she considered the potential repercussions of bringing Dabi's presence to light and she shakes her head no. Fuyumi was a beacon of support and friendship to her, yet revealing the truth could endanger, not only her but (Y/n) herself. "Good morning! I’m good. Hope you have a wonderful day." she typed a quick reply with a pang of guilt in her chest, she felt bad for not entrusting her best friend.

Her morning unfolded with a semblance of normalcy as (Y/n) attended to her scheduled appointments, her mind traveling between the routine of her work and the lingering complexities of the previous night. As pet owners came and went, their concerns centered around the well-being of their animal companions, oblivious to the unconventional patient that lay in the back room. With each appointment, (Y/n) couldn't shake the weight of the decision awaiting her. The clock's ticking became a persistent reminder, urging her to address the unresolved matters with Dabi. The dichotomy of her responsibilities as a healer and the potential dangers Dabi posed loomed over her like a shadow. After the last appointment concluded, (Y/n) discreetly made her way to the back room where she had treated him.

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes swept over the room, taking in the remnants of the night's endeavors. The drops of blood, now a distant memory under her diligent mop strokes. Approaching Dabi, she observed his features. His eyes, sharp and piercing when he barged in, now bore the tranquility of unconsciousness, as her eyes traveled down his body, the scars and burns that adorned his skin became more apparent. As (Y/n) observed the burns that adorned Dabi's face, a mixture of empathy and curiosity welled within her, heavy sigh escaped her lips as she considered the complexities of his situation.

Suddenly, a sharp turquoise gaze meets her (e/c) eyes, as they widen in surprise. The weight of his stare met with (Y/n)'s, creates a charged atmosphere in the quiet room. His stare is intense making her feel frozen in place, as she prepares herself for the worst. For a moment, the room held its breath. (Y/n) found herself caught in the intensity of his gaze. Dabi's voice, hoarse from the night's events, cut through the quiet. "Where am I?" His eyes, sharp and searching, met (Y/n)'s as he slowly took in his surroundings, memories of last night coming back to him. Trying to regain her confidence, she hesitated for a moment, her (e/c) eyes locked with his. Finally, she spoke, her voice calm yet laced with concern. "How are you feeling?" (Y/n)'s question hung in the air, his gaze held a mixture of exhaustion and guarded vulnerability as he considered her question. His throat felt dry as he responded in a hoarse whisper, “Been better.” As he attempted to rise from the examination table, with a grunt, (Y/n) swiftly moved closer, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and insistence. "Don't," she urged, her voice gentle yet firm. "You need to stay still; your body hasn't fully recovered. Getting up could reopen the wound." Dabi's eyes. His eyes shifted down to the freshly stitched wound on his abdomen. A soft snort escaped him, a self-deprecating sound that acknowledged the irony of his own predicament. His expression shifted from momentary amusement to irritation, the edges of his characteristic scowl deepening. "Fine. Fine," he grumbled with a tone that carried a hint of frustration. "I'll stay on this damned bed." (Y/n), standing nearby, sensed the internal struggle within Dabi. The clash between his pride and the undeniable reality of his physical condition played out in the furrowed lines on his forehead. She offered a small, understanding nod, recognizing the discomfort that came with relinquishing control.

With a gentle clearing of her throat, (Y/n) broke the silence. "So... what's your name?" The question, though simple, held layers of significance in the context of his identity. Her (e/c) eyes met his, a subtle curiosity reflecting in her gaze. Dabi's response carried a tinge of guarded reluctance. "Call me Dabi," he replied, his voice holding a gruff edge that matched his outward demeanor. The alias hung in the air, a moniker that held both notoriety and mystery, concealing the complexities that lay beneath the surface. (Y/n) nodded, acknowledging the offered name. As Dabi settled back against the examination table, (Y/n) contemplated the enigma before her. "I'm (Y/n)," she said with a warm yet measured smile, her (e/c) eyes holding a mix of professionalism and genuine curiosity. His eyes widen for a second at the mention of the name, but quickly gestures with a nod.

"I think we need to talk about this situation," (Y/n) spoke, her tone a careful balance of compassion and directness. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, met hers. The acknowledgment of the necessity for a conversation lingered in the air. "You need to stay here for a few days until that wound heals properly. But," she added, her gaze steady, "you have to cooperate, I know who you are and if you don’t I wont hesitate to inform the heroes." Her (e/c) eyes held a mix of fear and resolve, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "I want to help you, but you need to understand the risk I'm taking by keeping you here. If the heroes find out, you and I both could be in trouble." Dabi's sharp turquoise eyes met hers, a flicker of defiance crossing his features. "You think threatening me is going to make me play nice, sweetheart?" he retorted, his tone laced with skepticism. "It's not about threats. I want to help you” (Y/n) sighed, her expression softening. Dabi's jaw clenched, a momentary silence hanging in the air. "And why would you help me? What's in it for you?" he questioned, his gaze probing for the motivations behind her unexpected act of compassion. "There’s nothing in it for me," (Y/n) replied with a sincerity that cut through the tension. "But I couldn’t let you bleed to death, so hurry up and get better so you can be on your way." Her words lingered in the air and finally, with a reluctant nod, Dabi acquiesced laying back on the makeshift bed, "Alright, let's play it your way. But don't think this changes anything."

Masterlist

[mellowwhumps]

off-white; sunlight

OCs: Ida, Yuuto (by @qiuthewhumps / @lemlem21) — blogger x art dealer AU

no i did not say i was going to post this a week ago. this isn’t whump, by the way! just an idato au that kinda spiralled into this oneshot!! i liked it so i’ve decided to post it here ^^ happy reading the first and only 2k+ words i will reach

———☆———

He is a storyteller. 

And maybe he isn’t, just there to spread opinions on some dumb blog he made a few years ago, the moment he left all those cram schools and graduated. He comes up with a plot, something to honor or critique as wanted. It’s a simple thing, really, one he does as a hobby. The few people he was followed by were dedicated to his cause, giving their own take after his. It was fine.

The nearest museum to his rented room advertises a new exhibit, people flocking by the masses to the location, merely a small ways away from the nearest train station. It’s free. He laughs, because nothing can be free and good at the same time. 

He’s not wrong. All the exhibits are what he calls nothing but a mess of color. There is no story to be told in lines or blocks or dots, in his opinion, but his fans were likely waiting for his input. What was he to say? Search up the artist and it’s just some rich guy probably wanting to make a dime off others like them. 

He scoffs. Beside him, a lone person makes a small noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. He doesn’t recall the man approaching at all; silently, he curses his half-functional hearing.

To him, humans are just as fascinating as art. Some amalgamation of all the things they’ve been through, each small thing shaping them into who they are now. The person beside him doesn’t scream of money or formality, yet sophisticated enough to look on without seeming too judgemental. Now, this he finds more interesting than the painting in front of him.

“Don’t get it either, do you?” The man smiles, a small quirk of his mouth.

“It’s a blue square. There’s nothing but a blue square and some errant strokes. I don’t see how this would interest anyone.”

“Hm. Well, maybe look at it this way…” The man holds his arms in front of him, then makes a tilting motion. “A courtyard, you see? Perhaps the three lines behind represent a house.”

He tilts his head to the side, angling it ever so slightly. When the man states it like that, it’s hard not to imagine the scene. The blue, vibrant sky, idyllic, a home on top of a hill. It’s not forced. He can truly see it.

“There, you see? Hasty smears by the corner. The flick of an artist’s hand. People, I think, are rushing around. Playing.” He hesitates, studying the image for another while before continuing. “A third character by the corner. Just beside the house.”

“An interesting interpretation.”

“I pride myself on that, thank you.”

Nobody else comes close to the exhibit, taking one quick glance and moving away. They, on the other hand, talk for a long, long time. Then another, then another. 

It’s quite a large exhibition. Once, he would have walked away without any conclusion. Now, his mind weaves tales of tragedy, trials and emotion, together with this stranger that no longer was. Sometimes, they disagree, some petty conflict ending in laughter and smiles. Sometimes he can do nothing but nod his head in silence.

They grab a small drink from the local cafe he frequents as some horrible replacement for lunch before immediately returning, flitting from artwork to artwork. 

Dawn turns to dusk. He turns for a moment to glance at the painting they met in front of, and when he looks back, the presence by his side is gone.

In all that enjoyment, he hadn’t even thought of asking for a name.

——————

His recent posts gain traction. He appears on some small local news site for his skillfully interpretative works on the new exhibition, and has to send a message to tell them not to give him sole credit. To whom else, they ask, and he hesitates before saying that he doesn’t know. 

There is a story behind every person, pieces of a puzzle to be fitted together in an imperfect image. He wants to figure it out. He wants to know who to give credit to.

The man, he learns, is Yuuto Kikuchi. 

There are no records of his past to be found online, merely some odd, fragmented website that details him as an art dealer’s assistant. Too many missing details. Well, he was never someone to source his details secondhand.

Tomorrow, he arrives at the museum, some odd feeling compelling his legs to move. He spots a certain man lurking alone by a painting, lost in thought, and promptly realises all too drastically that he had looked forward to another meeting. 

Just like yesterday, he positions himself by the man’s side. He knows he is seen, from the way the other shifts a little to the right to make space for him. The man called Yuuto asks, “What do you think?”

For once, he knows what to say. It’s like water, the way his words flow, smooth as the blue of that unremarkably memorable square. Yuuto stands in silence, but when he finally turns away from the painting to check on him, there’s a glint in his eyes that Ida doesn’t ever recall seeing yesterday. 

Yuuto speaks, replying, repeat. They throw words back and forth, and regardless of that silence he recognizes that he must have passed some sort of test. It’s a quaint feeling, a strange sort of adrenaline.

They head to the same cafe after. He encourages the other to at least get something filling, and in return gets his entire bill paid for after a full meal of sandwiches, enough for the both of them.

The trip back, he gathers the courage to ask about his job. Yuuto replies, “You know, don’t you?” 

The man smiles. 

He wants to say anything at all. There’s more. There’s always more.

“What’s your name?” Yuuto asks. He hesitates, because he knows Yuuto has the answers too. Yet so it is, and so it is.

“Ida. Seong Ida, but skip the surname.”

The man smiles. He knows he’s caught, even if he doesn’t know how. Still, Yuuto says, “Nice to meet you, Ida,” and the conversation ends at that. In technicality, he still shouldn’t have the other’s name.

Dawn turns to dusk. They talk for the whole day. The evening crowd, now off work, floods into the museum. When he pushes forward and breaks through the masses, Yuuto is gone.

——————

The amount of followers Ida has is officially more than a thousand, comments flooding in like yesterday’s rush hour. He can’t head to the museum today, because like any other non-filthy-rich person trying to survive in this economy, he has to work sometimes.

Ida spends his lunch break scouring the web for more articles. Another name drop.

Mrs. Salomea Nowak. Foreigner. Widowed. Supposedly living alone, though he knows where to check for the lie to break through.

Dawn, dusk, dawn. He doesn’t sleep very well.

——————

“You haven’t slept well,” Yuuto says. Ida does not respond, yawning and attempting to blink away sleep.

“Mmm.”

“Me too.”

The both of them are less tense than usual today, he notes. The atmosphere is significantly lighter. More noticeably, Yuuto doesn’t speak in questions. It makes all the difference. He doesn’t want to break that fragile peace, so he turns to the painting and makes some offhanded, haughty remark, inspired by one stray opinion on his posts. 

He isn’t expecting Yuuto to laugh. 

It starts small. A small bubble of noise escapes his lips, then it escalates, until at last he’s wheezing and gasping for air, eyes crinkled in such a genuine way Ida thinks only Yuuto could pull it off. He finds himself laughing, too. 

The joke wasn’t even that funny.

There’s a weird turning in his chest, a sharp pang of…something. What exactly, he can’t quite figure.

Dawn. They walk around the museum. They’re not even half done with what this exhibition has to offer, lurking around the same general area. He never gets tired of it, and if Yuuto does, he doesn’t notice. Neither of them mind.

Afternoon. Cafe. The barista has memorized their orders, apologising for a certain mix-up on their first arrival here. Yuuto tips them in return. He attempts to do the same, only to find the money in his pocket when they leave. They chat all the way back. 

Ida notices the way their footsteps sync, the same leg first. Yuuto’s looking somewhere else. If he catches the quickening of their pace, he doesn’t point it out.

Dusk.

“Where do you always go?” Ida asks, much too calm to mind his words. The apprehensive atmosphere returns, covering them like a thick blanket.

Cautiously. “Home.”

Curiously. “Where?”

”You wouldn’t know.” 

The conversation ends there. At least, it’s meant to. He messes it up, no doubt.

“Salomea, right? Your mother. Foster.”

Silence.

“Yes. But you never wanted to ask me that, did you?” Questions, albeit as neutral as usual. Not angry, not disappointed, nothing. 

Again. They’re all the way back at the beginning. The man’s expression is unreadable. The museum isn’t quiet, but in their little bubble, it was always the two of them. It was always the two of them. Wasn’t it?

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll be leaving.” He smiles. It’s genuine. Ida sees the glint of his eyes.

He’s unsure, now.

Nothing interrupts them. Not a crowd, or some circumstance, or a turn of the head. Instead, Ida watches him get further and further away until he’s gone, disappearing somewhere he wouldn’t know.

——————

“Do you think it ended happily?” They’re back at the painting of that blue square. Back to normal. Ida no longer needs to tilt his head to see the image.

“What makes you say that?” The man called Yuuto asks.

“I don’t think the brushstrokes are rushed because they’re happy. I think something happened. A hint of a different hue there, see? A small splatter, not very notable in such a large piece, but they’re present.”

“Huh. I never noticed that.” There’s an odd tone in his voice. “But aren’t those people at the bottom of the hill still having fun? The extra color doesn’t overwhelm anything. The majority of it is still blue.”

“Smudged. The paint is smudged. Judging by this artist, I don’t think it’s unintentional.” There’s something wrong with this painting, looking at it for the umpteenth time. At first glance, unremarkable. On inspection, a story.

Ida is a storyteller. What happens when the story isn’t his to tell? The man called Yuuto is staring at her, words on his lips, unsaid. 

He doesn’t want to argue. Not about this image. Not when they already agreed that it was a happy little image, and that was that. The strange feeling strikes him again, choking and saccharine sweet. It’s wrong. There’s something more, a lost piece of the puzzle.

They move on, anyway.

In the cafe, the coffee tastes more bitter than usual. They chat all the way back, talking about not-quite everything under the sun. Halfway back, a bout of heavy rain begins and they run to the nearest shelter, otherwise known as a museum.

Dusk comes. It’s fine, because the entire thing is a cycle and he could go at it forever, this back and forth of lighthearted banter and chit-chat. When the stranger leaves, it’s normal, because there was never anything wrong about that.

——————

He walks past the cafe on his way home. The silhouettes of yesterdays echo in the closed shop like a painting in motion, unreachable, unreachable.

A poster is plastered on the nearby lamppost, the exact direction he remembers the man looking at. It’s an advertisement for the new exhibit. Tomorrow was the last day, ending off with an auction. An auction of everything that was his world for the past five days, everything under the sun. How did time pass so quickly? Leaps and bursts, perhaps, but fast nonetheless.

He doesn’t sleep. Dawn arrives. He grabs a small wad of cash and runs to the museum, praying it’s enough.

——————

It isn’t enough, of course. Ida takes the first bid to just slightly more than a thousand; it ends in the millions. Nobody cared about it before. Nobody cared about that blue square and some errant strokes, and still it goes to the man with the most money. If the price of art was decided by cash, why make art at all? 

His blog followers would agree. Yuuto might agree. He wouldn’t know.

He stays for a particularly desperate man who does end up getting the final bid on another work, not particularly high but instead just the bare minimum to deter others. He admires the passion, perhaps, or simply the ability to try harder. 

He should have tried harder.

Anything after that doesn’t interest him. He leaves.

——————

There’s nothing in the museum.

Which is an exaggeration, of course. There are still paintings. There are still people. But where the exhibit was, there remains pristine white walls. Too perfect.

He wanders aimlessly. Navigates the rope barriers, first floor, second floor, last floor. No sign of the man he’d spent so much time with, gone like the paintings.

Walking turns into a brisk walk, then to a full-on dash. Out of the museum, into the cafe, barely registering the bell chiming to signal his arrival. Their usual table is filled by someone else. He takes a seat and waits.

The barista asks where his friend is and whether they should prepare the usual order. Inexplicably, he says yes. 

That’s when Ida shatters.

The paintings he likes don’t disappear. Brushstrokes don’t just run away, forever stationary. That’s why he likes them, precisely because they are still images. Paintings don’t change, merely interpretations.

But he did, didn’t he? He’s not the shell of yesteryear, staring at paintings just to judge them objectively.

He knows what that feeling is now. Longing. There is no finality in all this, no entry for him to write about. He doesn’t even know the other’s contact.

It was always going to end. No matter how he looks at it, they are two strangers, stragglers of a world unwelcome.

——————

His boss asks why he skipped work. Not-Ida ceases waiting around and tries to go back to his usual life, away from the nearly five thousand milestone of followers. What use is it without credit?

——————

There is a package by his doorstep and he nearly trips over it on his way in, barely paying attention to the floor. Long, thin. When he unwraps it, it’s a roll of blue.

The painting is a miniature version, small enough to fit on the walls of his room, an accurate replica, albeit with duller colors. 

He hesitates. There’s something wrong with that statement.

It’s not a false painting, he abruptly concludes. The fading seems so natural it can’t possibly be anything but the real thing. He turns it over, and just as expected, there’s a signature.

S. Nowak. 

Seong Ida is not a storyteller. He is a blogger, an art connoisseur, a wanderer, a caged bird. Most importantly, he is a person who won’t stand for an incomplete tale. They will meet again, he swears. There will be no more rhetorical questions, no more formality, nothing less of the truth.

——————

small analysis

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제1장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, @hwalysm, pinterest

wc ≈1.2k. unedited. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san and artstudent!wooyoung). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - just seonghwa buying paint, san making him an offer to collaborate and wooyoung acting dramatic over frozen yogurt. if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy free. wooyoung drops the f bomb once.

seonghwa stood before the mesmerizing array of paints, his eyes carefully scanning the vibrant colors and various sizes. each stroke of his brush held the essence of the mystery person he had long sought after - thus he longed for the perfect shades to bring them to as much life as he could possibly muster.

with contemplation evident on his brow furrowed face, he delicately picked up each tube, bottle and bucket, studying their hues as if they held the key to unlocking his artistic visions, before placing them back down and subsequently moving on to the next.

this mysterious figure demanded nothing less than the highest standard, the most absolute perfection. it wasn’t merely just a matter of finding the “right pigments”; it was about capturing the intricate emotions, fine distinctions and the very soul that resided within him.

as seonghwa continued his search, his fingers grazed the plastic of a particularly alluring bottle of midnight blue. his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the potential within its depths.

could this be the very bottle that will perfectly encapsulate the melancholic gaze, the subtle yet screamingly obvious elegance his muse carried?

or perhaps the soft, beautiful lilac, like the delicate blush of morning's first light, that could capture the whimsical grace and vulnerability he oh so desperately wanted to capture on his canvases?

or maybe even—

“oh, seonghwa. i thought i’d find you here.”

seonghwa turned his head at the sound of his best friend’s voice, his fingers still hovering over the bottle of midnight blue. he offered the younger a small smile, the conflict of choice still evident in his eyes.

“san? what are you doing here?”

“well..” san responded, curiously eyeing the deep hue seonghwa now held in his hands. “process of elimination. you weren’t in your art studio, and you didn’t answer your door - so i knew there was only one other place you could be at.”

seonghwa chuckled.

“clever. how can i help you, san?”

“well,” san began, his eyes shining with anticipation. “i have an idea.”

seonghwa raised an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly suspicious by his friend's enthusiasm. knowing his best friend, his ideas could either be incredibly amazing or incredibly stupid.

“what kind of idea?"

san’s mischievous grin widened as he continued to speak.

“i know you've been longing to bring this person to life, right? well, what if we combine our talents? i want you to help me with the cover art for my upcoming album."

seonghwa’s eyes lit up at the proposition. music and art, two creative realms of two passionate souls merging together - at the very least, it was an exciting and intriguing prospect to him.

“really? you want me to create the cover art for your album?"

san nodded, his eyes somehow sparkling even more. seonghwa couldn’t help but smile at the sight. music made san happy. the recording studio to san was like the art studio to seonghwa - a place of nothing but raw emotion and self expression.

“yeah, of course!” san exclaimed. “who else? you’re my best mate, you’re super talented, and i think it would be a great way to start bringing a voice and some sound to the person you keep painting. they obviously mean a lot to you. so what do you say, park seonghwa?”

seonghwa’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and excitement at san’s idea. not only was it a chance for him to collaborate creatively with the only person that ever believed in him - but it also provided him with an opportunity to not only see, but to finally hear even just a little bit of his muse. it was a chance to bring them to life, even if it was through a different medium. and even though it would mean he would have to show his muse to the world, maybe it could bring them back to him somehow. he set the bottle of midnight blue back on the shelf, its potential momentarily forgotten, as he turned to face san with his full attention.

"i would be honored, choi san.”

~

you watched as wooyoung stood before the mesmerizing array of film cameras, his eyes carefully scanning the various brands and sizes. each press of a button immobilized his precious memories and provided him with physical evidence he could carry to the future - thus he longed for the perfect camera capable of capturing such pieces of time.

with contemplation evident on his brow furrowed face, he delicately picked up each little machine, studying their lenses and functions as if they held the key to unlocking his artistic visions, before placing them back down and subsequently moving on to the next.

with a click of the tongue, you grabbed his arm, causing him to jump and glare at you.

“jesus christ, y/n. i almost dropped the fucking camera.”

“sorry, wooyoung. i’m just bored.”

“then why did you come along?”

you sighed, fighting back the urge to facepalm at his question.

“because you made me, woo. you begged and begged, and promised me frozen yogurt.”

you blankly stared at the purple haired man clutch his chest and sink to his knees, feigning betrayal.

“is that really how much you value our friendship, y/n? where the promise of some sweet, chilled cultures dictates whether or not you accompany me, your best friend and greatest person in the whole world, to a store that enables the upkeep of passion?”

“yep.”

wooyoung’s melodramatic reaction left you stifling a laugh but you quickly composed yourself - not wanting to draw any further attention to yourself.

"look, i really do value our friendship, woo," you reassured him, a mischievous glint in your eyes and a smirk creeping onto your face. "but i mean, come on. a little frozen yo-yo never has never hurt anybody as an added incentive, don’t you think?"

“ah, y/n, you wound me with your words. here i am, pouring my heart out into finding the perfect camera to capture the very essence of life and its beauty, and you reduce it to mere frozen treats.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics, quickly stopping and clearing your throat once you noticed the other customers starting to stare.

wooyoung, who was still on his knees, followed your gaze before looking up at you with an exaggerated pout and playful eyes. he extended his hand towards you, his voice dripping with faux sorrow and defeat.

"okay, fine. if frozen yogurt is all it takes to have you stick around and bask in my wonderful, unforgettable presence, then i graciously accept your terms.”

reigning victorious, you took your best friend’s hand and helped him to his feet, giving his cheek a playful squeeze as he brushed nonexistent dust off his clothes, signalling the end of his act.

as you stood side by side, eyes still twinkling at each other with shared mischief, you couldn't help but feel grateful for your friendship and the lighthearted moments you shared.

shooting you a warm smile, wooyoung tilted his head towards the cameras.

“well then. shall we?”

“well then. we shall.”

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading

[mmkin]

The Conqueror, ch 8 (Tatanga x Daisy)

The new chapter of the Conqueror is now up. Link to AO3 here, ot if you prefer, it's under the cut here. Enjoy! :)

VIII

o0o

Daisy stirred awake in the bed she shared with Tatanga, surprised to find his side of the bed empty. After waiting a few minutes, she lifted her head, wondering if he was all right. To her relief, she found him standing at the window, staring outside at the landscaping.

All traces of her father was gone from the master bedroom the former king once occupied. This made spending the nights a lot easier. Absent was the warm cream and gold wallpaper, and the paintings of flowers and pastoral landscapes and of distant ancestors seated within gold frames. Somber colors interspersed with red or purple had replaced these warm hues, and though Tatanga had the paintings moved to a different room so she could continue to enjoy them, he had not put new ones on his walls, choosing to leave them bare.

It was like entering a different world, almost, and with that in mind, it made it easier to forget that this room had once belonged to her parents.

“Is something the matter?” she called out sweetly. It’d been months since Kankuto was annexed into Tatanga’s holdings, and there had been no major conflicts as of late.

He turned to her, clad in a dark robe and matching pajama bottoms. “Would you come stand with me?” he asked. She climbed out of bed, pulling on her robe before joining him at the window. The view from this room was one of the best, for this room had been designed as a sanctuary for former Sarasaland monarchs.

“You know I come from a dying – if not already dead – world, and why I initially chose your country,” he said as he touched her chin with his finger, guiding her to look at him. “I did not count on falling in love with the ruler of that country. Or being driven out by a plumber,” he said dryly. “But I have come quite a way, haven’t I?”

“No one can argue that,” she agreed.

“And I would say that you and I have come a long way as well, hmm?” His hand slid to cup her jaw as he looked at her. “In the beginning, your cooperation was simply an effort to manipulate me.”

Her eyes widened, and he ran his thumb along her cheek. “I was trying to keep my people safe.”

“That, too. But you let me in with the intention of finding some way to kick me out eventually. You only let me in because you had to, which I can understand, but you hoped to be able to expel me at some point. Using the strength your people gained from me.”

She let out a quiet sigh, offering no denial. He continued, running his thumb across her lips.

“I never stopped caring for you, my princess. And I keep hoping that one day, you might feel the same about me. But I am not going to deceive myself. You have many fine qualities I can enjoy nonetheless. And you have been a pleasing partner.”

“Do you believe that I don’t care for you?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

“I don’t doubt that you… hold some respect and affection for me. I know you have seen the good I can do for your country so you found it easier to tolerate me-”

“Tatanga! There was a time when I had to tolerate you, yes. You had just invaded Sarasaland, for goodness’ sake! But it’s been a long time now. Our growing close has been genuine.” She touched his hand as she looked at him pleadingly. “I dismissed Luigi, didn’t I? And when you take other lands, I don’t complain. If I were truly planning to expel you, do you think I would…” She gestured to his bed, which was a rumpled mess from their earlier lovemaking.

“You wish to… continue being my partner? Truly?”

“I’m being sincere when I say at this point, I do want to be with you. I almost can’t believe I’m saying this, but I would actually miss you if you disappeared. It’s hard to imagine life without you now.”

“So… you are mine? Truly mine?” His thumb stroked her chin.

“Yes. But… only for as long as I am your partner.” She’d gained enough wisdom to know to not simply promise away everything. People change – looking at herself provided ample evidence for that. Tatanga might change in the future, though she hoped he didn’t. She liked the way he was now, quite honestly. He’d changed enough for the better already, she mused.

“I only want to give you the world. I promised you that, the first time.”

“I never asked for it, or wanted it,” she replied evenly. He bowed his head in acknowledgment, not saying anything for several moments.

“Then be assured, what you want is already yours. Have I not shown that since that night?” he asked. “You asked me to treat you like a partner, whatever role you deemed fit to play for the public. And I let you do just that. Your people prosper for it… and so do you.”

She smiled at that. “Our prosperity is shared. Your conquests… much as I was loath to admit it, benefits us, as well. And if some of my people choose to join your forces…” She shrugged. She could not expect every one of her citizens to settle into a pastoral lifestyle especially after Tatanga’s invasion and then aggression from neighboring countries. “And I can not lie, I enjoy the feeling of strength and security.”

She reached out to grab the collar of his robe, pulling him close. Her hand slid to his shoulder, and he grinned at her.

“Strength and security? Is that all?” he teased.

“How about the thrill of conquest, then?” she replied as her other arm wrapped around his middle.

“Conquest, hmm? Am I rubbing off on you, my dear?”

“No, you find other things to rub against me plenty often,” she shot back before he laughed at that.

“I enjoy your sweetness, my love. But I like that there’s also a dash of spice.” His hands slid along her sides and back, enveloping her in his strong embrace. “I truly do love you, Daisy.”

She looked up at him. She knew she had feelings for him. And the were quite strong. But then, he’d had almost two years to grow on her. She’d come to see not only a conqueror but a man who wanted to be loved. Not only that, but he wanted to love her.

She didn’t doubt that out of the two of them, he was the one with more passion. And she was content with that. That didn’t mean she didn’t care for him.

“I love you too,” she assured him. “If you had any lingering doubts or concerns…” She placed a firm kiss on his cheek. “then you can let go of them. You are my partner and I want you to stay with me. I don’t ask for the world, I want you.”

A happy hum met her ears as his embrace tightened.

“That said, I don’t mind the lands you added to this kingdom,” she added lightly. A deep chuckle met her ears before he pulled back so he could look at her.

“It is nice to be appreciated.” He ran his finger along her cheek.

[notchesandbullets]

The Princess and Her Dragons

Chapter 14: Hot and Jealous Shin-ah

Pairing: Shin-ah x Reader

Warnings: explicit smut, jealous sex, exhibitionism (slight), fingering, biting, size kink, cursing.

*requested by anon*

As Shin-ah gets more acquainted in the palace, his new home, he adjusts to almost everything except how you get called away on every occasion that your father needs you to take care of guests. But when someone had the audacity to lay a hand on you, all he sees is red. 

Words: 2.7k

Storming off into the luscious gardens, you barely even noticed the relaxing breeze that normally set you at ease, too caught up in your own frustration to notice the vibrant colors of the flowers and the soft blades of grass underneath your feet.

Groaning loudly in exasperation, you rounded a corner to the pagoda, throwing your hands up and screaming in the empty grounds as the yell ricocheted off of the stone walls of Hiryuu Castle.

You were so done with men.

At least, the ones who weren’t yours.

Huffing, you pouted to yourself and plopped down on the bench, needing to cool off before you went back.

These airhead nobles hadn’t stopped talking to you, preventing you from going back to your room and you were rapidly growing sick of playing nice. Why did your father insist on you entertaining them?

A clatter followed by a crash caught all of your attention and your head snapped up to see none other than the blue dragon.

“Shin-ah?” You called out curiously, a hint of relief painting your tone as you brushed off your skirts and stood up bashfully. “I was just—”

Your voice caught in your throat as he closed the distance between you two in five quick strides, his hand automatically cradling your face.

“Are you… okay?” He asked quietly, worry seeping in his tone as his eyes flitted over you and you blushed.

It had happened twenty minutes ago.

He had been on his way back from the library, wanting to show her the new book he found when Kija introduced him to something called ‘reading’. He found it fascinating but he was struggling with the long and complicated words and hoped that you had some time to read to him.

At least, that’s what he was hoping when he found you but the sight that greeted him was an unwelcome one to him and it made his blood boil.

You were with other men, in your fanciest dress with your hair done up all nice so much so that he would’ve been distracted by your beautiful shoulders and luscious curves of your body if it had not been for those people touching you.

Shin-ah gawked at you from where one of them had their hands on your waist at his audacity. While he knew that none of his dragon brothers or Hak were allowed to brazenly tell off the suitors in public, as instructed by the king, he didn’t know what to do with these conflicted feelings.

And while he knew that the gesture was mostly innocent, just meant to steer you in a direction that was less crowded, it lingered on your lower back for a beat longer than was considered appropriate.

He was willing to let it go until the guy grew braver and whispered something in your ear, making his hands clench at his sides as he held himself back from storming over there and disrupting the tranquil afternoon atmosphere.

On one hand, he knew that you could handle yourself. Seriously, he had seen you flip one guy over your shoulder when he got too handsy, even though you were in your nicest gown with heavy skirts.

Hak snorted so loud when he saw you toss that man twice your size onto the floor like it was nothing.

But although Shin-ah cracked a smile as Jae-ha chuckled off to the side, seeing you handle yourself at the party was one thing; but seeing you here with no protection other than a few guards, he didn’t know how to feel or if he was allowed to go over there and remove their hands from you.

Before he could decide what to do, you deliberately shoved them off yourself, yelling at them to tell them off and then you sprinted away, leaving the guests you were supposed to entertain in the dust.

Shin-ah had quickly alerted the guards of the situation, in as least amount of words as possible since he really didn’t want to talk to them, before he followed you.

At first, he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone or not.

But he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Shuffling his feet, Shin-ah hid in the shadows of the castle, just in case you didn’t want company. But his eyes went wide from behind his mask when you shouted in frustration and at that point, the dragon bond told him of your distress.

And now that he knew, he could feel that you needed him, he didn’t hesitate to take you into his arms.

You sighed blissfully, as his arms wrapped around you and snuggling into his chest, you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t worry, Shin-ah, I’m okay.” You reassured softly, nuzzling into him further when you heard how hard his heart was beating.

He hugged you tighter, his exhales making your hair stir with every relieved breath and you squeaked in surprise when he pulled you down into his lap as he abruptly sat down on the stone bench.

Your arms looped around his neck for balance and you yelped when he stuck his face close to yours.

“Y/N…” Shin-ah breathed shakily, resting his forehead against yours.

You smiled softly. “... ‘m okay.”

Now straddling his lap, you laughed slightly when he softly kissed your cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as you held him close and he was unsure at this point whether he was comforting you or you were comforting him.

Carding your fingers through his hair, you slowly displaced his mask when he didn’t make any move to push you away.

Beautiful golden eyes stared back at you with the deepest level of love and your heart instantly softened. A rosy blush was painted on his cheeks, the red marks on his cheeks nearly blending in with the shade of his flush and you giggled as you poked it.

The first time he had shown you his eyes, you had been overwhelmed by the sheer vulnerability shining in them and you had taken his cheeks, smushed them together and declared that no matter what, you would always be there beside him.

Shin-ah had sniffled, nodded and cried when you took him into your embrace and your heart shook at how much he had been through.

Which is why you were currently shocked that he was rumpling your dress in an effort to get your skirts up.

“Shin-ah!!” You chastised, torn between mortification and arousal as he pawed feebly at your hips. “What are you—”

“... Need you, please.” He begged quietly, his mouth working over the expanse of exposed skin as he slipped off the top of your dress. “Please.”

Fire burned in his loins and he needed you. Bad.

Your mouth dried at the sight of the normally so reserved blue dragon pleading for you to take care of him. His hands roamed all over your body, caressing anywhere he could reach but there was a fervor behind it that was unknown to you.

“Yeah?” You coaxed breathlessly, urging him to undress as he bunched your long skirts around your hip, lifting them up to peek at your panties underneath.

Shin-ah’s jaw went slack as he caught a glimpse of the light blue satin with a pretty lace design in front. That tent in his pants grew uncomfortably tight as his cock swelled and licking his lips, he slowly slid them to the side to expose your dripping core to his hungry eyes.

“Shin-ah!!” You exclaimed in shock but threw your head back and he sank two fingers in your weeping pussy to prep you.

Strands of hair from your fancy updo were coming undone as he continued to stroke your velvety walls, peppering butterfly kisses over your collar bone.

You mewled, arching your back into his chest, head falling down onto his shoulder as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. Breathing heavily, you tried to form words to let him know it was okay for him to go faster but you couldn’t muster it and your mouth fell open when he brushed against that spot inside you.

A shrill shriek was barely muffled in time when you clapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the onslaught of immense pleasure.

The bond that you shared with them only served to increase it, much to your desire and dismay.

From here, you knew no one would see you, as these gardens were hardly strolled by anyone else other than you; but that didn’t stop from the blood in your veins from throbbing as you realized the danger of a guard walking by to check in on you, only to see you getting fingered by the shy blue dragon.

He wasn’t so shy right now. He was downright jealous.

All his feelings from earlier made his vision blur and clouded his rationality. All he could think about was how they had no right to lay a single finger on you and he was gone. His mouth pulled back in a snarl as he fumbled to undo his robe.

He was unable to feel or hear anything else other than the blood pumping through his ears and the heavy length in his hand as he pulled it out.

Once his cock was out of his confines, your eyes widened at the sight of it resting in between your bodies and your mouth watered.

Look, you knew he wasn’t small by any means, he had put it in you before; but for some reason, it looked bigger than last time.

“S-Shin-ah?!” You squeaked, intimidated by the raw mass of it.

Your head tilted back and you moaned as he rubbed the girth over your puffy outer lips, coating it in your essence to make it easier for you to take.

No matter how many times you guys did this, he always took care of you. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do.

Shin-ah groaned your name softly in your ear as he hiked up your legs higher around his waist to give him better access and he shivered as your entrance made contact with his cock.

“Please.” He pleaded quietly, his voice trembling as he kept rutting against your bare pussy without inserting his shaft. “I need you.”

You whimpered, clinging to his neck and nodded desperately against his shoulder, giving your clear consent. “Yes, fuck, holy shit— please!!”

Given the go-ahead, Shin-ah fought to keep a lid on his restraint as he sank you down on his length, jerking as your hot walls gripped around him tightly.

“Ah, ngh, ah!!” Shin-ah huffed into your shoulder, fighting to hold himself back as he sank you all the way down, biting hard on your clavicle as he buried himself into you. “Mmph, Y-Y/N… ah!!”

The unexpected teeth that latched onto the curve of your neck had you pushing your chest into his as he guided you down his thick cock.

Arousal continued to trickle out of you as you heard the usually shy baby be so vocal until he was all the way inside of you and you whined, writhing against him in an effort to entice him to fuck you properly as you started to bounce up and down.

“Shi… Shin-ah,” You moaned, gyrating your hips, encouraged when a particularly loud moan ripped from his throat. “I’m ready, p-please, oh fuck, do something!!”

His cock swelled inside of you and you swore that he was going to burst before you even started.

To your surprise, he kept a firm hold on the back of your thighs and your jaw dropped as he fucked up into you.

You barely cried out before his hand slapped over your mouth, his thrusts growing sloppier as he lost his momentum and rutted into you with reckless abandonment, jostling you in his lap under the force.

Your skirts covered the activities you guys were doing but if anyone were to walk in, they’d know immediately by the suspicious movements as you bounced in his lap.

But he wasn’t going to stop.

Fueled by the white-hot jealousy that spiked through his veins the instant he saw those men put their filthy hands on you, Shin-ah snarled, fucking you harder.

You were his.

His to love. His to cherish. His to touch like this.

Hands roaming over your body under your clothes that you wore especially for this day, Shin-ah couldn’t get but get a sweet satisfaction out of seeing you writhing on top of him like this when you were supposed to be taking care of the palace guests and entertaining them like the good girl you were.

“Hnghh, Y/N,” He gasped out when you clamped down on him. “I’m close.”

You damn near screamed as he thrusted up into you with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible at this angle and you would’ve fallen off if it wasn’t for his strong arm winding around your waist in order to pin you to his body.

“Y/N,” Shin-ah panted, voice hot and heavy in your ear and your thighs trembled. “You’re mine, right? You belong to us.”

Mewling, you nodded, eyes slipping shut as he pounded up into you with such vigor that he nearly unseated you several times in the process. His hips snapped into your ass, each slap barely audible under the heavy skirts and you had a fleeting thought of how it was even possible for him to fuck you like you weighed nothing but the euphoria that coursed through your veins overpowered all comprehensive thoughts, turning them into mush.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You mewled, half-conscious at the speed his girth was stretching you out. You felt so full, completely stuffed with his cock. “... ‘m all yours.”

His breathing grew ragged and his thrusts became sloppier, pumping you on his length once, twice more before he was struggling to hold it back until he felt you were about to cum.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Shin-ah—”

His golden eyes were nearly black, filled with pure desire for you and you whined, raking your nails across his back as he rocked you mercilessly back and forth on his cock. Locking your lips together, he moaned when your tongue slipped into his cavern.

Overwhelmed by how hard he kissed you and how hot he was pulsating inside of your channel, you panted against his mouth when he broke the kiss. “I-I love you so much, fuck—”

Shin-ah’s eyes screwed shut at those words and burying himself deep inside of you, he came hard. His release triggered yours and you bit down on his shoulder to stifle the scream that tore from your lungs.

You trembled uncontrollably on top of him, thighs squeezing his hips as the high crashed over you.

Shin-ah whimpered as your hot walls convulsed around him, milking rope after thick rope of cum from his cock, shooting it deep inside of you. His fingers dug into your hips and he kissed you sloppily, disoriented from how sensitive he was balls-deep inside of you.

He didn’t pull out of you right away, opting to stay buried in your sweet cunt until your skin grew clammy and the sweat dried on your face.

“Shin-ah,” You whined childishly as you came back down from the spontaneous orgasm he had just given you in your favorite garden. “Wha… What was that about?”

Winding his arms around you, he nuzzled into your chest, suddenly feeling shy.

“What?” You giggled as he mumbled something from between your breasts, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him. “You wanna repeat that for me?”

Heat crept up his neck but he blinked up at you owlishly, love reflected in the depths of his eyes that had returned back to their beautiful and striking golden color.

“I love you, too.” Shin-ah echoed softly.

A wide smile broke out on your face and you bit your lip.

“Yeah?” You laughed as he carefully rearranged your dress back over your shoulders and draped the skirts over your legs.

Your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, curling in a smirk against the soft cartilage cheekily.

“It’s a good thing I’m all yours then.”

[ebirdwatching]

an overview of the strange journey fan project in progress

hi! recently i promised i’d make a post about my fan project because i usually only post concepts and design work for it out of context, so i’m going to explain the project a little bit. i’ve included some old (but previously unposted!) concept sketches and paintings in this post so there’s something to look at too.

my fan project, in brief, is a comic based on the video game shin megami tensei: strange journey. it incorporates some elements from the remake game, strange journey redux, and the manga. the story of this comic, which i started writing in 2017, shares plot beats, visuals, and concepts with the game, but it’s also very different. in the past i described the fan comic as a kind of retelling of the game, but that’s not quite right... it’s more of a loose interpretation based on my own thematic/narrative/visual interests. i was really interested in strange journey’s melding of hard sci-fi and mythology as both aesthetics and schools of thought, and i ended up writing a story directed by my personal fascination with these things. it’s not necessarily made for fans of the game or anyone in particular really. it’s something i’m making to explore the things i like and my thoughts on reality, responsibility, and how we approach what we don’t understand.

so this fan comic is strange journey-inspired, in a way. it uses the characters and general ideas in ways that both match and diverge from the game -- the game is kind of the core basis of the story. to try to reskin the fan project as a fully original story would lose a lot of what’s special about it imo.

even if you aren’t familiar with strange journey, you should still be able to understand the fan project’s story; if you are familiar with the game, the points of convergence and divergence between my story and the game’s may be interesting. the comic starts similarly to the game: it introduces the cast in antarctica, where they are en route to the “schwarzwelt” -- the anomaly that grants access to a world where demons, angels, etc. manifest physically. here are the broad strokes of the fan project’s story: -late in the 21st century, a hole in spacetime appears in antarctica. it connects the earth to another world called the schwarzwelt. a flood of exotic matter from the schwarzwelt is spilling into antarctica and spreading, threatening life on earth -an international team is assembled to travel to the schwarzwelt to research it and search for a solution to the flood. upon arriving, they discover the schwarzwelt is populated by beings whose existence is dubious on earth: angels, demons, deities, creatures of myth, and so on. -through collaboration and conflict with the schwarzwelt’s inhabitants, the team from earth searches for answers about the connection between the two worlds in hopes of stopping the flood before earth’s time runs out.

that’s the gist.

artistically, the project will focus a lot on environments and atmosphere. that’s why it will be in color. coloring is actually the easiest part of my process, so it’ll be rewarding to get through the lines to get to that point lol. the choice will add to production time, but the atmosphere provided by color is very important to portraying the world the characters are exploring.

the first part of the comic, the beginning of the story, is 50+ pages long. if possible, i’d like to finish and share it by the summer of 2022. it’s coming along now: i’m working on page layouts, sketches, and lines as of this writing.

although it’s not visible on my social media accounts, i’m working on this project actively. i’ve mentioned elsewhere that progress has been slow for a variety of reasons (school, health, and my limited experience with comics being the main ones) but whenever i can, i’m working on the comic. i’m looking forward to sharing it! believe me when i say i’d love to get it out sooner rather than later, but quality and the execution of my vision are important, so i will work at the pace that’s best for me and the project.

one more thing i want to note: shin megami tensei as a series involves interactions between mankind and beings who are sacred and otherwise important to cultures outside my personal experience. part of the work i do on the fan project is research to avoid overstepping boundaries, i.e., trying to tell stories about things i have no authority in. specifically, i want to avoid making a spectacle out of that which is unfamiliar to me, especially on the basis of its unfamiliarity. the inclusion of beings and concepts from religion, myth, and so on will be researched to the best of my ability -- to the point of exclusion, if it comes to that.

that said, their inclusion, where appropriate, is relevant to the themes of the story; though they populate an unfamiliar world, these beings are innately connected to humans and reflect this in familiar ways. i am and will be open to advice or criticism on this part of the project (and others, tbh)!

i’ll post further updates on the project as i’m able. as i’ve said, i’m very grateful for the interest (and patience) people have shown for the project! i hope it will be fun, interesting, or just visually compelling to whoever’s interested in reading it. thank you as always for your support!!

[maxwell-grant]

Brazilian character review: Jose Carioca

I can't say I have too many strong feelings on Zé Carioca as a character, but in retrospective, I think the existence of Zé Carioca is very emblematic of the way Brazil is viewed overseas, and the contrast between this sort of idyllic postcard fantasyland version of Brazil that gringos see, and the reality.

The first thing that comes to mind when I look at Zé Carioca, other than he's a popular Disney mascot, is that contrast. He's intended to look like a carefree young carioca (a term we use for people that come from Rio), but he's perpetually dressed like a 1920s caricature, the kind you only really find in pictures of your grandpa, and attempts to modernize his look have robbed him of his charm. His name is "José", which is a common Portuguese name usually abreviated to "Zé", but in pretty much every media he shows up in, they always say his name the Spanish way, instead of the Portuguese way.

The Zé Carioca that people outside of Brazil know is a character that only exists in the context of an ensemble with Donald and Panchito, mostly defined as a suave, romantic party goer, the phlegmatic opposite to the choleric Donald and the sanguine Panchito (I haven't checked out the new Caballeros cartoon, although I intend to). The Zé Carioca that Brazilians know is largely defined as a charismatic scammer who keeps going to great lengths to avoid work, the joke being that usually he goes through a lot more work to do so than he would have otherwise.

It's based a lot on the stereotype of cariocas as lazy beach-dwellers who look down on honest work to instead cheat and take shortcuts. Every region of Brazil has it's own stereotypes, in fact, Zé Carioca in Brasil has a lot of relatives to embody those, but gringos treat Brazil like Rio is the only city in it, which is why this stereotype gets applied to Brazilians in general, and, well, it is a stereotype to begin with. It's a change that allows him to work as a solo protagonist, but it also leads to a disconnect where fans of Zé Carioca don't quite see eye-to-eye with most depictions of the character not made locally, because it's not really the same character.

I gotta stress that I don't dislike Zé Carioca, not at all, I do think the idea behind his creation was a good one. I can't think of any Brazilian character, either created here or just coming from Brazil, who was a popular name overseas during this time period (could be wrong though, but nothing comes to mind). He gets credit for that, if nothing else. He's a fairly cute character and I do like seeing him when he does show up. But Zé Carioca seems like one of those characters who is popular as a mascot, but not so much as a character.

I think the best way I can explain this disconnect between what Zé Carioca is by sharing this text I found, written by Gabriel Bayarri here, that I translated and post below. I think this kinda gets to the heart of how I feel about Zé Carioca, which is not a dislike, just a disconnect.

Brazil was the land of Zé Carioca, he who had shown the world in 1942, during WW2, a Brazil that seemed cordial and happy, a Brazil that valued it's mixed heritage as a symbol of national culture. The parrot presented to Donald Duck a city proud of itself, joyfully beautiful, where samba, cachaca, parties and romantic rascals all mixed together.

Now, he's watched, terrified, as his wonderful city embraced armed heroes, and took flight perplexed, trying to understand what had changed in a city he recalled painted in watercolor strokes. Zé Carioca flew to the heart of the tropical city, where spaces of resistance stood symbolized, straggling remnants of a democracy that he used to think was harmonious and shielded against the monsters that ruled it.

The parrot fluttered its wings between the hills, and rested its feathers in its beloved square in Cinelândia, and breathed its history, of which he only recognized the harmonious part: the square had become a central place for beginnings of the 20th century, representing the Belle Époque of Rio de Janeiro. Cinelândia acquired French features, so desired by the recent Brazilian Republic, and it tried to become a Tropical Paris. At it's center, slaves recently freed from plantations arrived, while the square acquired a cosmopolitan personality. This was all familiar to the parrot, who found in history a joyful account.

From abroad, the narrative of a happy and harmonious Rio de Janeiro recovered the idea of a cordial Brazil, without racism and without violence, promoted by Zé Carioca. In addition, this imagery of the city was promoted to foreigners as the period of a “Golden Brazil”: the drop in poverty rates, the increase in investments and the enormous influence in the Latin American and global context.

The bird breathed the chronicles of literary bohemians who populated the surroundings, and who built in their writings the characters who walked the square, its muses, its rogues, its carnival heroes or its capoeiristas. Authors built at that time a model of the “carioca people” that the parrot Zé Carioca repeated and synthesized in his image: a kind, cordial and warm character who crossed borders, transmitting to the world a image of Brazil harmonized and absent from conflicts and violence. It was that conception that, in Brazil, everything would tend to soften and adapt.

Cinelândia had begun to fill with cinemas, rooms of spectacle. Hotels, restaurants, night bars. The arrival of hotdogs at the Square was a revolutionary bridge, from North-American influences to the carioca lifestyle.

The parrot was proud of his city, until a woman approached him: “Our hot dog is carioca to the core”, explained the street vendor who was carrying a T-shirt with the face of Marielle Franco. Who was this woman who wanted to explain to him what was like to be brazilian: Who was this woman on her shirt? Where was Carmen Miranda, with the fruits on her head?

Then, the parrot listened in the square to the story of the murder of the councilwoman Marielle and her driver, and the new reports of violence on “carioca nights”, and its police conflicts against immigrants.

But Zé Carioca did not believe that his beautiful city was affected by these issues.

The parrot was aware that Cinelândia represented an image of the essence of what it was to be Brazilian, the construction of its own unique soul in a public space, the creativity and trickery and joy.

But he was surprised to hear that his happy and dancing people were also active warriors, who had used this square over the decades as a historical space for building demands, from The March of 100.000 against the military dictatorship, and the recent manifestations against the new president.

In one of its streets, the square bore the name of Marielle herself, the murdered councilwoman whose plaque had been broken publicly by the current governor of Rio, and whose death had become a symbol.

The parrot had Disneysified the image of his city, in a portrait of heroes, castles and tropical princesses, which made it difficult to understand now the political victory of monsters.

It seemed as if the history of Brazil was rebuilding itself before his eyes, and its people were now made up of activists, women warriors, LGTB+ collectives and anti-racism movements that defended civil rights and identity demands, of a Brazil that could not be pigeonholed, because it wasn't made for beginners.

What had happened to his colorful Brazil? – he asked himself nervously, replacing his straw hat and plucking his feathers.

Something transformed in the parrot's gaze, and after a brief disturbance, he decided to regain his composure. The bird spread its wings and took flight to Copacabana Palace, the place where it had been born from the hand of Walt Disney 77 years ago. He needed to reflect, think of the the gray tones of truth that splashed in his colorful costume, and seek new spaces to resist the monsters.

Perhaps the world had believed Zé Carioca's colorful report, in the palette of illusions that an emerging Brazil offered, and they had forgotten that, like every grown child, Brazil had nightmares. Kicking up at night over its racism, structural militarism, murderous violence, patriarchal inequalities.

Perhaps Zé Carioca had fallen in love with the exuberance of a land of fruit, sailors and smiles, and the world had listened to his account, a lovable sales pitch to tourists and sporting mega-events, and they had forgotten the voices of their people who watched helplessly the approach of a military parade from congress.

Zé Carioca's flight transformed the parrot, and in his old age, he went through a rite of passage to adulthood. After years of blindness to the violence of a post-colonial society and it's extended torture under jackboots, Zé Carioca opened his eyes, and faced the hidden part of a wounded Brazil.

A Brazil that had been dressed up in tropical colors and that now had to be sincere, with the world and with itself, in order to overcome the times of monsters.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥The Secret Compartment🔥

~~~

“Oh come on, Erwin! I know you’re just as curious as I am!” Hanji whined, leaning with her palms flat against the Commander’s desk, her eyes shining behind her glasses.

“Hanji, it would be wrong,” Erwin said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Who cares about moral principles? Levi is out for a few hours, this would be the perfect time to do it! You know there won’t be another chance like this again soon, we need to take advantage of it and see exactly what he is hiding from us!”

Erwin met Hanji’s excited gaze, knowing she would not drop this until she got what she wanted. He sighed again, trying to fight off the headache that was forming against his skull. About a month ago, both Erwin and Hanji had noticed a locked drawer attached to Levi’s desk. The pair always knew that their friend was a private person, but it was the only drawer that had a lock on it. There was even one time when Hanji had burst into his office without knocking, only to see him quickly and violently slam the drawer shut with a glare in her direction. They had questioned him on it, only to be met with annoyed scowls and complaints about everyone sticking their noses into his business. 

Erwin would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, but his anxiety over what would happen if they were caught overwhelmed his desire to see the contents of that drawer. Hanji, on the other hand, had been tailing Levi like a dog with a bone, nearly foaming at the mouth as she continuously attempted to get a sneak peek.

“Come on, Erwin. I can almost guarantee you that it’ll be worth it. Levi could be hiding anything in that drawer. It could be embarrassing things he did as a child, or a secret about his life, or a guilty pleasure he’s hiding. There might even be a diary or journal of some sort in there!” Hanji said.

“I don’t know if I even really want to read Levi’s diary, Hanji. That thing could have anything written inside,” Erwin said.

Hanji threw him a look and Erwin crossed his arms with a frown. Damn, this woman was persistent. 

“We might even be able to use whatever is inside as blackmail if he ever tries to threaten us again. Like when he threatened to tell everyone about the time you got drunk and started going on about creating a new order stating all of the women in the Corps have to sleep with you,” Hanji said, a wide grin spreading across her face at the sight of Erwin’s paled features.

“Fine,”  Erwin said. “But if we get caught, I’ll feed you to your titans. After Levi is done breaking off both of his feet in our asses.”

Hanji squealed in excitement and grabbed the Commander’s hand, dragging him with her to Levi’s office. Erwin fought against the nervousness that was clawing in his stomach as he pulled out the ring of keys he had for every office in the Corps, found the one meant for Levi’s door, and put it in the lock. Hanji pushed past him and into Levi’s office as soon as the door was unlocked, looking around with even more excitement than when she was working on her experiments.

Wasting no time, Hanji moved over to Levi’s desk and bent down, pulling a hairpin from her done up bun. The crazy scientist picked at the lock, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on moving the pin within the gears until a loud click sounded throughout the room. Erwin shuffled from foot to foot at the sound, the Commander glancing at the door from where he stood awkwardly in the center of the immaculate office.

“You better make sure that everything is put back exactly where you found it or he’ll know,” Erwin said with another glance at the door. He knew Levi was in town for the afternoon but he was still expecting the short raven-haired man to pop up out of nowhere, as if he knew his private belongings were being messed with.

“Erwin…”

The sound of Hanji’s voice, filled with awe and surprise, made Erwin turn to look at her. She was holding what looked like a large, leatherbound notebook, her mouth agape and her eyes wide and sparkling. Despite the anxiety that was still gnawing at his gut, Erwin’s curiosity won and the Commander slowly moved around the desk to crouch beside Hanji.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” Hanji said with a smirk as she tilted the notebook for Erwin to see. Erwin felt his jaw drop. It was a sketchbook, a beautiful sketchbook that nearly gleamed from the tender care Levi had obviously subjected it to. The leather was smooth and cool against Erwin’s calloused hands and the pages were soft to the touch.

“I didn’t even know Levi liked art, let alone that he could draw, especially like this,” Hanji said, her eyes shining as she looked down at the sketches on each page. Some of the pages just had small little doodles while others had full scale scenes and portraits, all of which were immaculately detailed. One page held drawings of kittens playing around, while another was a giant drawing of all of the superior officers standing at attention in a large field.

Neither of them could believe it. All of the drawings were stunning, each mark carefully constructed and purposeful. They probably wouldn’t have believed they were Levi’s drawings if it weren’t for his signature at the bottom of each page.

“Holy shit,” Erwin breathed when he came across an image of Levi’s black stallion, Azriel, the sketch so realistic that he could almost feel the animal’s fur through the page.

“Yeah,” Hanji murmured in response as she continued to flip through the book. Erwin tore his eyes from the drawings for a moment to peer into the unlocked drawer, reaching in to study the wide variety of pencils, paints, charcoals, and colored pencils that lay neatly at the bottom.

He had only been looking at the art supplies for a moment, when Hanji’s breath caught. The Commander automatically looked up at the door, fear lurching in his gut at the thought that Levi had come back, only to find that the door was still shut firmly. Looking down at Hanji, he saw she was grinning like a cat, her gaze flashing with mischievous intent as she looked at one of the pages. Erwin refocused his attention on the sketchbook and grunted in surprise when he saw the drawing in Hanji’s hand.

It was a drawing of (Y/N) (L/N), one of their fellow superior officers. (Y/N) was a Captain in her own right, leading her own squad of efficient warriors that rivalled even the famed Levi Squad. She was a well loved soldier, her compassionate personality combined with her ability to make almost anyone laugh making her a very popular member of the scouts. Despite her vibrant personality, she was also known to be a very talented soldier with a cool headed approach to conflict and a strength that often surprised most people who met her. She refused to take bullshit from anyone, and wasn’t afraid to release the filter on her barbed tongue when necessary, easily putting people in their place.

The drawing was downright gorgeous, by far the most beautiful out of all of the drawings in the book. He had used color when drawing her, one of the very few sketches in which he did, the image coming to life with the splashes of color and detailed features. The image looked as if she could turn her head and wave at them right then, the drawing so realistic it was breathtaking. In the drawing, (Y/N) was laughing, her eyes closed and her head tilted back slightly, her (h/c) hair cascading behind her. Her lips were parted in a wide grin as she laughed, one of her hands just barely touching her chin, as if she had been trying to cover her mouth only to give up when the giggles became too intense.

Hanji and Erwin looked at each other, their eyes wide with shock. Levi had done many portraits throughout the entire sketchbook, even having drawn some of Erwin and Hanji, but this sketch of (Y/N) was by far the most detailed, the most realistic. It was clear that Levi had spent hours upon hours drawing her, each stroke of his pencil done with immense love and care.

The two officers were quiet as Hanji flipped the page, their shock mounting somehow higher as they found more drawings of (Y/N). Hanji ran her finger through the pages once, flipping through the rest of the used pages to find that all of them were of (Y/N). Going back to the page they were on, Erwin and Hanji admired each illustration. Some of the drawings had color just like the first one they found of (Y/N), while others were just black and white, albeit no less detailed.

There were sketches of (Y/N) standing in a sparring stance, riding her horse, shouting down a noble, wielding a sword, reading a book. All of the drawings in the rest of the sketchbook were of her doing different things, each drawing lovingly crafted to make them look as realistic as possible.

Erwin’s eyebrows shot up into his hair and Hanji let out a surprised squawk of laughter when they flipped to one drawing of (Y/N) in a very suggestive position, her (e/c) eyes half lidded and filled with lust, the love in her gaze shining at them even through the page. She was laying down, her hair splayed out on top of the pillow, with her arms crossed over her exposed breasts. A sheet was covering her lower half, but it was hanging tantalizingly low on her form.

Hanji cackled as Erwin covered his eyes and quickly ripped the book from her hands, tearing to the next page, his ears turning pink at the sight of such a provocative image of one of his Captains. Hanji laughed even harder when the next page contained a similar image, this time with (Y/N) leaning back in obvious pleasure, her eyes closed tightly and her mouth open, her palms splayed flat on the ground behind her, her lower half disappearing off the edge of the page. 

Erwin dropped the book as if burned and turned away, his face flushed. Hanji snickered at his embarrassment and grabbed the book again, looking at the few pages of (Y/N) in different arousing positions. Despite the inappropriate theme of the sketches, Levi seemed to keep it relatively modest, never drawing anything that exposed the most private places of her body, merely hinting at it rather than drawing it in detail.

Hanji motioned Erwin back over when she finally got through Levi’s “personal” sketches, finally reaching the last drawing in the sketchbook. The final sketch was a beautiful illustration of the pretty Squad Leader staring out the window, her chin resting on her palm as she watched rain slide down the glass pane. There was a single candle on the table with her, the darkness of the night held back by the small circle of flame, her face accented by the light of the candle, her skin colored with a honeyed glow.

“Wow, Levi sure has been busy,” Hanji said softly as they admired the picture.

“I’ve been busy doing what?” A gruff voice suddenly said, causing both officers to freeze, their eyes wide with terror as an icy feeling of dread shot through their veins.

The pair looked up to see Levi leaning against the door frame, not yet aware of what they were doing due to his desk obscuring his view.

“What the hell are you doing on the floor? And why are you with Shitty Glasses, Erwin? I thought you were busy filling out all of those proposals, which was why you couldn’t come with me into town.”

When neither of them answered, Levi pushed off of the wall and strode towards his desk, a scowl of annoyance on his face.

“Oi, did you two hit your heads or something? What are you doing in-”

Levi stopped dead, his face draining of color when he rounded the desk to find Hanji holding his sketchbook open in her lap, both of them pouring over the pictures inside. He glanced at the drawer and saw the hairpin still sticking out of the lock, the metal bent to jack open the gears.

His eyes flew over the drawing they were looking at, his most recent one of (Y/N) looking out at the rain. Embarrassment washed over him then and he closed his eyes as he realized they had looked through the entire sketchbook. He felt a dark rage bubble up in his chest, boosted by his embarrassment. When he opened his eyes again, they were hard and filled with fire.

Erwin and Hanji both flinched at that look, shame flooding over them as they both glanced down at the book in Hanji’s hands. They knew they shouldn’t have done this. Hanji didn’t regret opening his locked drawer but once they figured out what he was hiding they should’ve put it back. Obviously he had hidden it in that drawer because it was his private book, something he wanted nobody else to see, and for good reason.

“Levi I-” Hanji started only for his nearly feral growl to cut her off.

Levi leaned down and snatched the book out of her grasp and hoisted it under his arm, throwing a deadly glare in their direction. He turned to move the sketchbook somewhere else but paused when he realized there was no other place he could put it without other people noticing it. His locked drawer had been the one safe place for it, the one place where nobody was supposed to be able to reach it.

Levi ended up pacing in frustration as he frantically searched for a place to put it, to no avail. The raven-haired man eventually collapsed onto the couch in the center of the room, sliding the sketchbook onto the coffee table in front of him and putting his head in his hands. He had no idea what to do. He didn’t even want to look at the two people he thought were his friends, not just because he was furious with them but also because of the shame that was hammering against his heart. They had to have seen all of the drawings of (Y/N). There was no way they didn’t if they had reached the end of his filled pages. Which meant they had seen everything.

He had never meant to draw her like that. He honestly hadn’t meant to draw her at all, afraid that if he did, it would be admitting to himself the feelings he had for her. But even though he fought it hard, he eventually succumbed to the urge to draw her when he saw her laughing at a joke he had told her, the moment so perfect he just had to put it on paper before it faded from his mind. He guessed that must have been the moment of his downfall, because after he had drawn one picture, he felt compelled to do more until his sketchbook was filled almost completely with drawings of her.

The more he drew her, the more time he spent around her, his mind subconsciously watching for more perfect moments to paint onto a page, his feelings for her growing until he was completely in love with her. The drawings had gotten more suggestive, his hand moving as if it had a mind of its own as his hunger for her grew. He had never crossed the line of drawing her completely exposed, not wanting to shame her like that, not when they weren’t even in a relationship, but he had gotten pretty close when his hormones started controlling his hand rather than his brain.

Even though he had never been vulgar with his illustrations, he knew what Erwin and Hanji must have thought when they saw it. Knew how disgusted they must be with him after seeing such things in his sketchbook. He feared they might even tell (Y/N), warn her against him so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Levi clenched his fists. He knew Erwin and Hanji had never done anything like that before, they were his friends and had always supported him, even when he pretended to hate it. But that was before they saw everything.

“Levi?”

Levi ignored the sound of Erwin calling his name, keeping his hands cupped over his face in mortification. Levi tensed a little when he felt Erwin and Hanji sit down on either side of him, but still refused to look at them, afraid to see the condemnation in their eyes.

“Levi, look up please. We are genuinely sorry about looking through your sketchbook,” Erwin said softly.

Levi looked up to throw him a filthy glare before he leaned back into the couch cushions with a sad sigh, his eyes closing as he fought the shame that reared up in his chest. He felt like throwing up. Or beating Hanji and Erwin to a pulp. Or both.

“They’re, um, really beautiful, Levi. I didn’t know you could draw like that,” Hanji offered.

Levi scoffed.

“They are! Seriously, they look like you could walk right into them. I didn’t even know you liked drawing but here you are with a book full of masterpieces,” Hanji said incredulously in response to his obvious doubt.

“Oh come on, Hanji,” Levi said, piercing her with his stare. “I know you saw them, don’t play dumb. You saw them and now I feel like a perverted bastard.”

“There’s nothing wrong with drawing (Y/N), Levi. You did a wonderful job, really made her look beautiful,” Erwin said, resting a hand on Levi’s shoulder.

“Sure, there is nothing wrong with drawing her, but there is something wrong with drawing her, like that,” Levi snapped wholly embarrassed.

“Levi, relax! You did it because you love her and it is your personal sketchbook, not meant for any eyes but your own. We know you struggle with expression, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. This was just your way of expressing those feelings, an outlet. We were never meant to see it, I’m sorry that we ever did,” Hanji said, her eyes full of sympathy for her mortified friend.

Levi looked at her, doubt still swimming in his eyes.

“It’s true, Levi. Not only that, but you have real talent. I never would’ve thought of you as an artist but you know what you’re doing. Why did you hide this from us? I think it’s really cool that you know how to draw so well,” Erwin said.

“Because it is a useless passion to have,” Levi said. “I am Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, fighting to save the human race in a world filled with man-eating monsters from hell. Being able to draw pretty pictures is pointless; I can’t exactly kill titans with a pencil. The only reason I ever let myself do it in the first place is because I need to distract myself with something mindless sometimes.”

“What are you talking about!?” Hanji squawked. “This is the coolest thing ever! Can you draw another picture of me? I think I need to have more of an obvious presence in that sketchbook.”

Levi scowled at her but sighed softly at the relief that washed over him as the bespeckled woman lightened the mood.

“No, I am never drawing you ever again, Shitty Glasses. I only did that once because I was feeling sick and wanted something to help me throw up.”

Hanji pretended to act offended, gasping dramatically and placing her hand against her chest.

Erwin chuckled at the pair and patted Levi’s shoulder comfortingly. Levi sent a weak glare in his direction but the Commander knew he was grateful.

“Hey, speaking of an obvious presence…,” Hanji said, a borderline evil grin creeping onto her face. “You have the hots for (Y/N).”

Levi growled something Hanji chose not to hear and smiled even wider.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You know she is one of my best friends, I could’ve set you guys up!” Hanji said.

“That is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Levi said. “I don’t trust you to not do something embarrassing on my behalf.”

Hanji scoffed at him and sent him a playful glare, one that he returned followed by a choice hand gesture.

“Well, now that we know, why don’t you confess to her? From the dates written on all of your drawings, you’ve been dealing with this for a while.”

Levi coughed awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “I don’t know how,��� he mumbled.

“What are you talking about, Levi? You have it easy. Most people would have to buy flowers, or food, or do something else to get the source of their affections to notice them, but you won’t have to do that. You have everything right in front of you. Just give her one of your drawings, and she will surely get the message,” Erwin said with a knowing smirk.

“That’s a great idea! I’m sure she’ll absolutely love one!” Hanji squealed, clapping her hands together like an energetic toddler.

Levi thought for a minute, leaning back against the couch cushions. It could work. He had never purposely shown his drawings to anyone, but maybe trying something like this would be enough to win her heart. Nervousness wormed its way into his gut as he thought about it. What if she hated it? What if she didn’t care, turned him away without a second glance? What if she thought it was creepy or flat out didn’t like the drawing? Levi swallowed.

“Do you really think that would work?” Levi mumbled. “I do not want to fuck this up. Even if we can’t be together, she is one of the few people I call my friend, and I do not want to ruin the relationship I currently have with her because I’m inept at flirting.”

Hanji nodded enthusiastically, her glasses sliding down her nose at the movement. “Oh definitely. She’s going to think they are stunning! And we can be here to help you, if you want us to. Which one do you think you would give her?”

Levi looked at both Erwin and Hanji in turn, rolling his eyes at their identical cheshire grins. He figured he must be crazy, absolutely fucking insane, but he really could use their help, as much as he refused to admit it out loud.

Regardless of his attempts to hide his desperation, Erwin and Hanji saw right through him, their grins spreading wider as Levi scowled at them.

“Alright…,” Levi sighed, getting up from the couch and making his way back to the open drawer, making Erwin and Hanji arch their eyebrows in confusion when he passed by the sketchbook still resting on the coffee table. 

“I’ve had this saved for a while. I didn’t want to put it with the others, it’s my favorite one.”

Erwin and Hanji looked up to see Levi pull out the bottom of the drawer to reveal a hidden compartment. The pair watched curiously as their friend pulled out a piece of paper that was significantly larger than the rest and turned it around for them to see.

“Well? What do you think?” Levi demanded.

____________________________

(Y/N) was walking back from the Mess Hall with her friends when a young scout came running up to her, claiming Captain Levi needed to see her in his office as soon as possible. She smiled brightly at the cadet and thanked him, before turning to her friends and waving goodbye, changing her course to head for Levi’s quarters.

(Y/N)’s stomach fluttered with butterflies as she got closer to his door but she quickly shoved them down and shook her head. She needed to focus. He was probably wanting to talk to her about the upcoming mission and what her plan was for her squad since she had missed the last meeting with the other superiors thanks to an injury she received when she saved a rookie cadet during ODM training, resulting in her crashing into a tree. 

She chuckled to herself at the memory of Levi furiously chewing out the cadet afterwards. She had felt so bad for the poor kid, it had been an accident, but Levi had been no less upset by the fact that she got hurt. The thought sent more tingles up her spine and she growled in frustration, forcing herself to push her feelings to the back of her mind.

Her head finally cleared when she reached his door and knocked, smiling to herself when she heard his deep voice grant her entrance to his office. When she opened the door she found Levi facing away from her, watching something outside his window, Commander Erwin and Squad Leader Hanji standing along the far wall of the room. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows at the sight of them but saluted without hesitation, smiling when Erwin waved her off with a chuckle.

“I’m assuming because the two of you are here that this is about the details of the last meeting I missed?” (Y/N) asked, closing Levi’s door behind her with her foot.

Hanji smiled so wide her cheeks hurt as she shook her head. “Actually, no. Levi wanted to talk to you about something. Erwin and I were just leaving.”

Erwin nodded in agreement and pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against, his own lips twitching as he fought the grin that tried to run across his face.

(Y/N) watched them in confusion as the pair walked around her and left the room, Hanji’s barely concealed giggle echoing in her ear when they passed. Arching an eyebrow at her two fellow senior officers, (Y/N) eventually dropped it and turned back to Levi who so far, had not said a word.

“What’s up with them?” (Y/N) asked, trying to ease some of the awkward tension that had filled the room.

“They’re just idiots,” Levi said, but something about the way he said it seemed off. Maybe it was the lack of conviction. Or maybe it was the quiet, almost hushed way he said it, as if he wasn’t thinking about the odd behavior of their two friends at all, too lost in his own world to pay attention. (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in concern. This was not like the Levi she knew, something was wrong.

“Hey, Levi, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

Levi tensed. Damn her for being so observant. He should’ve known she would automatically pick up on his off behavior. She had always been able to read him like a book, it was part of the reason why they were so close, why their friendship worked so well. (Y/N) had always been able to figure out exactly how he was feeling or what he needed at any given moment, why would this be any different?

“(Y/N),” Levi started, taking a deep, shaky breath as he tried to ignore her intense gaze on him. He knew she was worried, but her eyes on him were making him feel nervous. He almost wanted to bail, to claim it was just to help her recap on the meeting she had missed. He even had half a mind to bury his sketchbook, never to be seen again. It would hurt him, to lose that book, and despite what he said, he did love to draw, and having that taken away would be difficult, but at least he wouldn’t have to go through all of this anxiety.

But then he thought about (Y/N). She was standing right there, waiting for him. She had always been by his side, always caring for him, even when he felt he did not deserve it. She made him feel so loved, so strong, so hopeful. He knew that if he didn’t tell her how he felt now, it would drive him to insanity. He had to do this. Clearing his throat, he started again.

“(Y/N), I called you in here because I have to give you something,” Levi said.

“Really?” (Y/N) asked. Now she was really confused.

“Yes.”

“Okay, thank you Levi. What would you like me to do?” (Y/N) asked, keeping her voice soft and steady. It was obvious he was struggling a bit and she wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Levi directed.

(Y/N) followed his orders and closed her eyes with her hands held out. She was worried about him, and even a little bit frightened for herself, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that was gnawing at her gut. What could her fellow Captain have to give her other than reports to finish, or a sword to fight with, or a cup of tea?

She was surprised when she felt something very light and thin land on her opened palms. Her brows furrowed in confusion but she kept her eyes closed, waiting for him. Levi paused once he had rested the picture in her arms. He knew she was waiting for him before she opened her eyes but he couldn’t help but hesitate for a minute. This was it. The moment of truth. Either she was going to love it and his dreams might finally come true, or she was going to hate it and he was going to lose the best thing to come into his life. Taking a deep breath, Levi leaned against the wall as he told her to open her eyes.

(Y/N) gasped loudly when she opened her eyes. In her hands was the most beautiful drawing she had ever seen. It was a picture of her, so realistic she felt as if she were looking in a mirror. In the image, she was sitting bareback on her dapple grey mare, Danika. Danika had her head up and her ears forward, looking off to the side of the page while (Y/N) leaned against her neck, her chest touching her horse’s withers and her arms on either side of the mare’s neck. In the sketch, (Y/N) had the biggest smile on her face, her eyes shining with a brilliant (e/c). Her (h/c) hair looked as if you could reach out and feel it through the page, the strands blowing in the wind.

Levi didn’t say anything as he watched her take it in, crossing his arms and subconsciously biting his lip as he waited for her response. He had drawn this image of her ages ago. It was one of the first few he had drawn of her and it was by far his favorite. He had known that day, when he was striding across the courtyard headed for the training ground, and he turned to see (Y/N) riding Danika, smiling as if she were the embodiment of happiness, that he was head over heels in love with her. 

He had even abandoned his idea of training to rush back to his office, eager to put the picture of her in his head onto paper. It was his favorite one because it captured the exact moment he truly came to accept his feelings for her. It was the one he had always saved for when he was having a bad day, keeping it separated from the others so he could find it easily whenever he needed it, just the sight of her making him feel better.

Suddenly, tears formed in her eyes and Levi felt his panic rise. Oh gods, she hated it. He never meant to make her cry! He had thought it might bring her the same level of joy he got from seeing it, but instead he had just made her sad, or disgusted, or angry. He honestly couldn’t tell which one it was, not that it mattered, it was obvious she was offended by it regardless of the specific emotion it invoked. Maybe she didn’t like the way he had drawn her. He thought she looked absolutely stunning, but maybe he had accidentally accented certain features she was self conscious about? Maybe she hated her smile? Maybe she just didn’t like having her fellow Captain drawing her like a creep when they weren’t even in a relationship?

Levi quickly moved to take it from her, apologies spilling from his mouth like a river. He didn’t even know what he was saying, he was sure he was just blabbering about nonsense at this point, but he didn’t really have the mind to care as he grabbed the drawing from her and moved to put it away. He was even planning on throwing it out after she left. He absolutely adored this drawing but if she hated it, he would not make her more uncomfortable by stashing it for his own desire.

“I’m s-so sorry, (Y/N), I’ll just get rid of it,” Levi said, cursing himself for stuttering. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just thought-”

“NO!” (Y/N) shouted, making him look at her in shock.

(Y/N)’s eyes were wide as she looked at the drawing in his hand. She had honestly been rendered speechless when she first saw it, overwhelmed with the tsunami of emotions that had crashed over her. She knew he struggled with expression, so the fact that he had gone out of his way to draw her as a form of confession had brought tears to her eyes, her heart throbbing with her love for this man.

(Y/N) had loved Levi ever since they had become good friends, laughing at his surprisingly funny dry humor, ranting to him when her squad was annoying her, holding him when he had no one else to go to and life just got too hard. But she would’ve never guessed in a million years that he returned her feelings. She had just assumed her feelings would forever be unrequited and forced herself to enjoy what they had, loving him in secret. But here he was, holding his heart out to her, offering her his love and affection in exchange for hers. She almost panicked when he snatched the drawing away, thinking he had offended her with it.

“No…?” Levi asked hopefully, uncertainty sparkling in his breathtaking silver gaze.

“No, don’t you dare throw that masterpiece away,” (Y/N) said firmly, brushing the tears from her eyes.

“So you…, like it?” Levi asked.

(Y/N) finally managed to pull herself together, clearing away the love induced haze that had clouded her brain and striding up to him confidently. When she reached him, she gently took hold of the hand not holding the drawing with both of hers, her eyes meeting his gaze. She blushed at how close she was to him, and had the urge to look away when his intense hues settled on her, but she held firm. She knew he was uncertain, she had to show him exactly how she felt without hesitation, otherwise he would think she was pitying him.

“I love it, Levi. It is one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. I can tell it took you hours with all of the detail and color and expression. It looks so real, like looking in the mirror. It is the greatest gift I have ever gotten, from anyone. Thank you.”

Levi sucked in a breath at her words, his eyes wide. She really thought all of that? He had hoped she would like it but he did not expect this reaction at all. In the back of his mind, Levi made a mental note to thank Hanji and Erwin after this was over.

“You really think so?” Levi asked.

“I know so.”

Levi swallowed thickly. “Does that mean…, you accept my confession?”

More tears pricked (Y/N)’s eyes but she nodded enthusiastically, calming his fears and making him release a breath of knee-wobbling relief. He barely had a moment before she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him. Levi was a little stunned at first, but eventually slid the drawing onto his desk before wrapping his arms around her tentatively, still getting used to the contact.

“Yes, yes I accept your confession, Levi. I have loved you for a long time, I couldn’t be happier knowing that my feelings aren’t one sided.”

Levi’s heart jolted at her confession. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

___________________________

(Y/N) hummed happily as she skipped around Levi’s office, cleaning around the room while she waited for her boyfriend to get back from his one on one meeting with Erwin. Her heart fluttered as she thought about the surprisingly sweet, socially awkward man she was so damn lucky to call her own, smiling widely while she cleaned.

Their relationship was definitely still new and  they were both slowly figuring each other out but (Y/N) had to admit, these past few weeks had been the best of her life. She had been surprised when Levi had confessed to her, but had been even more shocked to discover how long the man had harbored feelings for her, his actions around her telling her exactly how he felt about finally being able to call her his.

(Y/N)’s smile got bigger the more she thought about him and the slightly flustered yet determined way in which he doted on her in an utterly Levi fashion, using his blunt manner and dry sarcasm to fly through his inexperience. (Y/N) moved over to his desk and began to meticulously clean the already polished wood surface as her mind wandered, not really paying much attention to the items on his desk except to gently shift them to give her more space to clean. When she was finally done, she was about to move to another spot when she caught sight of Levi’s third drawer opened just slightly.

With further inspection, it looked as if the drawer had been slammed shut quickly, the rough movement causing the door to bounce back open a little in the process. Under normal circumstances, (Y/N) would’ve just closed the drawer and kept cleaning, but the sight of a leatherbound book caught her attention, her curiosity peaking. Glancing around her to make sure nobody was around, (Y/N) quietly shimmied the drawer open more and grabbed ahold of the book, opening it to lay flat on her lap.

The more she looked through it, the more her face changed from shock, to awe, to wonder as her eyes drank in each stunning drawing in his sketchbook. (Y/N) bit her lip when she reached the middle of the book, her system flashing with heat and surprise at what she saw. Carefully closing the book, (Y/N) slipped it back into the drawer and pushed it closed before standing and making her way to the door like nothing had happened, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she left his office.

_______________________________

Levi looked up when the door to his office opened later that night, a small smile flashing across his face at the sight of his gorgeous lover standing in the doorway. She smiled back at him and sauntered over, her eyes bright as she took in his casual appearance. In (Y/N)’s opinion, Levi looked amazing in everything, but seeing him in a pair of black comfy pants and a loose sleep shirt was hard to beat.

“Are you almost done?” (Y/N) asked once she had made it to him, leaning her hip against his desk.

“Yeah, just finishing up with these last few reports and then we can go to bed. Feel free to head in there whenever you’d like to though,” Levi said.

“Oh, I’ll wait,” (Y/N) said with a coy smile that made Levi pause in his writings. He had never seen that look on (Y/N)’s face before, at least, not in real life. His mind flashed him an image of one of his more provocative drawings of her before he quickly shoved those thoughts to the side, shaking his head a little to clear his mind.

“Do what you want,” Levi said, forcing himself to turn back to his reports.

(Y/N) settled herself on his couch and turned around to face him while he worked, admiring him from over the armrest. Her smile only got wider as she allowed herself to really look at him, his beautiful features making him seem almost painfully attractive.

Levi tried to keep focused on his work, wanting nothing more than to finish up quickly so he could cuddle with his amazing girlfriend, but he kept getting distracted. He could feel (Y/N) staring at him, her eyes on him making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his nerves tingling. Levi grit his teeth as he attempted once again to read the same sentence he had read twelve times already to no avail, her intense gaze setting him on fire.

‘Focus, idiot! Fucking focus!’ Levi chastised himself despite the hot coil of want that was swirling in his gut. He was trying to be considerate of her and the speed she had set in terms of the physical side of their relationship, but he was finding it harder and harder to appear unfazed when she wouldn’t stop watching him with that expression on her face.

Finally, Levi slammed down his pen and looked up, his scowl deepening when he saw (Y/N) smile innocently at him and his frustration. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and steady his heartbeat, Levi glared half-heartedly at his lover.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me like that, brat?” Levi asked.

(Y/N) smiled even wider and stood from the couch, her hips swaying enticingly as she made her way over to him. Levi could do nothing but freeze in his chair, his breath caught in his throat when she slithered over his thighs, making herself comfortable on his lap. His heart rate skyrocketed when (Y/N) leaned forward, her lips lightly grazing the shell of his ear, her warm breath on his skin making him shiver.

“I saw something, maybe I shouldn’t have…,” (Y/N) said coyly.

Levi froze at her words, panic flooding his system as he thought about his sketchbook. He had no idea how she could’ve found it, but there was nothing else she could be talking about, since he had nothing else he actively kept from her.

“You did?” Levi asked nervously.

“Hmmm,” (Y/N) purred against him. “I did.”

“(Y/N), I am so sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I don’t even know why I drew those pictures of you. I just really love you and I guess it got out of hand but I am so-”

(Y/N) placed a finger to his lips and rolled her eyes affectionately at her lover’s uncharacteristic rambling. Levi immediately stopped talking and waited impatiently for her to condemn him, his face flushing slightly with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in and surprised Levi by capturing his lips, encouraging him to relax until he finally gave in, the tension melting from his muscles as he kissed her back with a quiet groan.  When she leaned back, Levi was looking at her with half lidded eyes, his silver hues sparkling with love and wonder for her. Her heart clenched and she smiled genuinely at him before it turned sultry, making Levi’s heart flip. Leaning forward again, (Y/N) nibbled lightly on his earlobe before speaking.

“Next time, Levi, draw me without the sheet.”

[lostlittleturret]

The Mishaps of Time Travel || Closed RP with @timetakeover

Silence.

Silence was deafening....sure, there was the occasional hum of the facility, sometimes the sound of some lonely construct far away, almost sounding like a phantom, calling someone forward to its grasp...perhaps it was. The whispers were always present ..but even then, the silence struck hard.

Aperture Science Enrichment Center, in it's prime, was lively, filled with music from the very structure of the facility to fully capable AIs, the panels humming their harmonies in the song that was Science....

......but it has been far too long since any music has been heard....but...at least...for a moment, there was some kind of light in the dark.

A bright splash of blue made contact to the concrete of a panel, the blank canvas coming to life with a simple brush stroke, texture added with white with a dab of a brush...red light following along with each mark, each stroke, transfixed in its work.

Alone in a darkened hallway sat a small girl, using bright colors as an escape from the aching loneliness that felt crushing within her chest...a flicker from a broken optic on her chest as her hand slipped, bringing paint with it, turning her head to a possible sound she heard....

...was it a real sound? Or just a fabrication of her mind, the reality it creates for her in the empty science facility...

After the pause, she slowly went back to her art, glowing eyes locked back onto her task.

Did you hear something?

The child paused, glancing behind her, staring at the soft comforting pink glow of her only companion...the glowing heart in the center giving her some comfort.

"....there was a sound....but it was probably my mind..."

Are you certain?

"...no...." She started painting again. "...but it doesn't matter...it's probably just crumbling structures..."

Perhaps... The pink seemed to brighten. Or it could be him. Could be him...GLaDOS-

"no." The humanoid's voice was dull but firm. "There's no one left here....just you and me.".

They could still be out there.

"no...they can't be. I've looked everywhere."

Perhaps if you investigate -

"they're not here!"

Snap!

The 10 year old glanced back at her hand...a paint brush now snapped in half rested in her palm...hesitantly, she gently laid it upon the ground before looking at her unfinished painting...she didn't have another brush around..not in this hallway.

With a heavy sigh, she dipped her paint crusted fingers into the paint and continued onward.

"....even if it was something, why would I risk myself getting hurt?"

You know you will regret it more if you don't try.

This caused the small turret to pause...her chest piece flickering with conflicting emotions....but slowly, she let out another sigh, wiping the paint onto her dress before standing up and walking over to her companion.

"....I don't know how I let you talk me into these things...."

With a bit of adjustments, her friend now rested on her back in a sling, a small crossbody sachel bag now on her person as well. And with a heavy sigh, she ventured towards the noise.

Soft blues and oranges trailed off the tips of her fingers as she walked, dragging her hand against the panel walls, mind troubled...but Chibi let the soft hum from the companion cube on her back to soothe her.

"....are you sure you don't remember what happened to him...?"

Positive. He went looking for you. But never came back.

Chibi's hand tightened around the strap of her bag. "....he...shouldn't have looked for me....maybe....maybe Chell found him and brought him to the surface....or....or maybe Mom let him go?..."

She didn't want to be too hopeful...the familiar crushing weight of disappointment always hung around the corner, just waiting to crush her spirit...

Perhaps.

"....I'm glad I found you..."

Me too.

After taking a shaky breath, Chibi came to a stop, peeking around the corner of an abandoned overrun testing chamber, only lit up by the filtered sunlight from the broken ceiling above...chancing to see if the noise was truly something that existed in the real reality...the disgusting amount of hope slowly starting to build in her chest as her heart raced in anticipation.

[narrators-journal]

To kill a mockingbird

This is the first part of a Gogol fic I’m uploading here to flesh out my bsd masterlist and to feed you all. Don’t worry though! I will also work on hunter x hunter stuff while I do this story, not to worry! Just sit back and enjoy this very sketchy, dark, self-indulgent, pure fantasy! Please note this is PURE FANTASY.

Warning: here

CW: Reader-Chan gets kidnapped, dubcon kissing, this fic really turns up the bad things.

It had been a while since you'd passed out that hard after such a lazy night. You don't remember doing much, only making yourself a drink and turning on (favorite show) to burn your Saturday night away at home. Whether you'd go out or stay in was usually a 50/50 split, sometimes friends would ask you out to hang out or party, sometimes your weekends were spent spelunking social media or watching TV. However, this time, you'd gotten super tired only an episode and a half into your night of binging.

When you awoke, it took you a moment to realize something was majorly  wrong. To start, it was oddly cold. Sure, your home could get drafty, but never as cold as you were now. Next, you noticed that you were laying on a bed of satin pillows, or maybe one big pillow? It wasn't clear through the cloud of grogginess when you first woke up, but when that sleepy haze lifted you confirmed that yes, it was one big pillow, some sort of cushion beneath you. However, that wasn't the first thing you noticed. The first thing you noticed was that you were in a massive metal bird cage.

It was big enough for you to stretch out on the cushion with about half of your body length to spare room-wise, it was also tall enough for you to stand and still be unable to reach the dull lamp hanging above you, even if you stood on your tippy-toes, but you also couldn't see a way out. To say you were terrified would be an understatement. When your (e/c) eyes finally focused enough to let you see into the darkness surrounding your prison, you noticed you were not only in a big bird cage, but suspended in the air in some concrete-floored basement as well. It wasn't a super cluttered space, from what you could see, some boxes, a big bed on the opposite side of the room, and some other furniture denoting that someone must've been setting the place up to be a sort of bedroom, even some rugs or something to keep the basement floor from being too cold, which you couldn't decide made the place creepier or not. This situation was getting weirder and weirder by the second, but you had no time to feed the bubbling stew of panic in your throat and break down, you had to try and think, to find a way out.

Sadly for you, there was no door save for a thin bird-cage-like one just big enough to let a tray of food or something in, other than that, no feasible way to get in or out. Even the little clamps meant to hold the bottom and bars together were welded down, so you couldn't pry them up to get the bottom to fall out. That brought out a new layer of emotions, confusion. If there were no doors and the bottom was welded on, how did you get in? Was this a bad dream? However, before you could try to calculate how long you could've slept, if you'd be able to sleep through the sounds of welding, anything like that, you heard someone open a door, letting a slice of light trickle into the quiet basement before a silhouette was cast and a man came down the wooden stairs. The man was tall, you'd gauge him to be at least 6 feet tall, with long snow-colored hair that he kept pulled back in a braid. He also wore either a long coat or some sort of cloak/cape thing, striped pants, and a sort of jester's collar or something, you didn't know exactly what the frilly thing at his neck was. Together with his mismatched gold and silver eyes, he was quite attractive. With a charming smile and a very handsome face, you were pretty damned sure he could've been some sort of model, you inwardly hoped that maybe some sort of playboy, or whatever the female equivalent is, model, but for now you made sure to stay on your guard.       "dobroye utro golubka'~" he hummed, his deep voice sing-song and jovial, as if he was used to bringing food down to women kept in suspended bird cages. After a moment, you tentatively tried to talk to him,       "Um...e-excuse me, do you know English?" You asked, letting that edge of pitiful hopefulness drip into your words to maybe get some pity or something from him, and the smile he gave you infused you with hope,       "Yes! I do speak english, not to worry golubka!" he chirped, his voice having a rather heavy Russian accent, as he opened the short-but-wide door to your cage and slid the food he'd brought in, shutting the little door back and locking it with a padlock as he spoke, leaving you with a tray of food  and still no way out.       "Great! C-can you get me out of here? Do you know how I can get out?" you asked, grabbing onto the bars and feeling your stomach flutter with hope and joy before it crashed right back down when he spoke next.        "Of course not," he scoffed, "I went through all of that work to set it up for you and get you in there, I can't let you out so simply." You really did not expect that alluring voice to turn so sour so swiftly.        "What?! WHY?!" that made him laugh, reaching into your cage and snatching your hand before you could yank away out of his reach, using that to pull you forward so he could stroke your cheek with his free gloved hand,        "Oh sweet, sweet golubka, because I want you of course." he hummed, and you could see the light of madness in his mismatched eyes while he stroked your (s/c) cheek "I want you to be my lovely little domokhozyayka!" he said, finally letting you pull away after a brief moment of seemingly admiring the loss of hope in your wide (e/c) eyes.

You pushed away from the bars, holding onto the hand he'd kept captive protectively close to your chest while your cheeks turned a relatively dark pink against your paler cheeks.         "W-what does that mean?" you asked after some hesitation, continuing to give him dirty looks while he reached in to try and touch you again, something you didn't allow. It took a moment, but with a huff, he replied,         "Domokhozyaka means house wife, golubka means dove...now let me touch you," he ordered, moving around the cage to a side where he could try to reach you easier, obviously getting cranky when you moved away again.         "Let me out first," you ordered, continuously moving or trying to find the perfect middle so he couldn't reach you as you spoke with a semi-forced confidence. The man shot you a dirty look, finally pausing to stand back in front of you, his arms looped around the bars in front of him,         "I'll let you out when you earn it. Not until then. The only way to earn freedoms? Behave, simple as that." he said as if you were supposed to know that rule. "Now, I'll give you an easy command to ease you into this new set up, alright? Just, give me a kiss." he hummed, that charming grin returning as he watched you like a panther observing his prey. You inwardly had to admit, kissing him wouldn't be a struggle, he was pretty, but he was also your captor, so you didn't want to be that easy to read.         "I-I can't. Kissing through these bars would be d-difficult and uncomfortable." you argued, mentally chiding yourself for the flustered stutter, but your argument didn't last too long either way,        "No problem! I can just do this!" he chirped, and with a flurry of movement, vanished and suddenly appeared in your cage, making it sway slightly when he landed. The sudden shift made you shriek and scramble back until you felt the cold metal bars digging into your back. The tall man grinned at you, going down to his knees so he was less imposing and closer to your face, not to mention somewhat caging you in with his arms,        "Now, be a good golubka and kiss me," he ordered, and before you could try to escape he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours and swallowing the squeak you let out. The kiss was rough, he put a hand behind your head so you both couldn't pull away and weren't forced against the cold bar, but that did little to help the icy fear warring in your veins with a dark dash of lust while the man pushed his tongue into your mouth, gripping your (h/l), (h/c) hair in a silent threat so you wouldn't bite, and held it for a long moment before pulling away for air. He grinned at the dark red blush painting your (s/c) cheeks afterwards. That sort of kiss wasn't new to you, you weren't a stranger to the more dangerous sides of exploration, and it wasn't like you disliked the force he put into it, but him grinning like that hit you with a bit of shame. You were kidnapped, you shouldn't be aroused. Curse your darker kinks. However, self-scolding and maybe some shame would have to wait, you still had to stay on edge in case your captor decided he didn't want just a kiss. You were into some messed up things, but you doubted if he really pushed he'd set up any sort of safe word. Luckily though, all he did after that was pet your hair and continue to grin,          "Good girl~ Now, eat your food, I'll be back for the tray in about an hour," he said, and with another flurry of movement he was back outside the cage and left, leaving you back in the darkness with only your dim light above you and your conflicted emotions.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

pascal pt. 2

summary: spencer deals with a grueling case which reminds him of his son, and so he decides to finally come home 

word count: 1,307                                                                                     reading time aprox: 5 mins

masterlist

part 1

It has been a few days since Spencer had left, in which I had left him numerous voicemails about his whereabouts and mental status. Unfortunately I had received no intel about him, until Garcia had reassured me that he had been cooped up in Derek’s house.

It was around 2 pm in the afternoon and I had just put Pascal back in his cradle after feeding him. The sun beamed through the windows, emitting a gorgeous array of  blinding rays into the living room where I sat. A book lay on my lap, specifically ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen, while I sipped on a cup of tea.

Despite the serene atmosphere, harsh thoughts permeated my head space and completely betrayed the peaceful setting I was situated in. Throughout the days of the empty apartment, my mind had wondered about nothing but Spencer; even when I was cleaning, I would get caught up on a single task because I was overthinking.

Just like now, I had been staring at the same sentence for 10 minutes without a distinct clue of what it meant. My guilt had built its own narrative that took me out of my own reality. Truthfully, Pascal was the only thing that had kept me grounded in the past time. However, he also reminded me of the fight that ensued previously.

I was stressed- we were both stressed- at the time and the fight was nothing but agitation fueled nonsense. Me and Spencer had gone through so much worse compared to our argument, yet I felt like this conflict embedded itself in Spencer’s memory in a malicious manner.

On cue, the front door had opened tentatively, startling me in process.

There he was in flesh and bone: Spencer.

He didn’t look at me when he entered the living room, but he also wasn’t angry. His shoulders were slumped, his hair was a mess, and he wore a grimace on his face. These were usually the telltale signs of a ghastly event.

He had dropped his belongings beside him carelessly and made sluggish, yet earnest strides to the chair I sat in. Within a few moments, he stood in front of me with his head still hanging low. Although with an abrupt maneuver, he placed himself on his knees and laid the side of his head on my lap.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled, his voice sounding distorted and muffled.

Instinctively I laid an apprehensive hand on his head, running my fingers through the tangles of his hair. I was still disoriented from his sudden behavior, slightly baffled to what his intentions were. Although I had received clarity as I felt my lap dampen with Spencer’s tears.

“Hey Spencer, what happened?” I asked gently, lifting his chin up slightly to get a good look at him. His eyes were puffy and dark circles encompassed them, making them more apparent. His eyes were flushed in a rouge color, yet they were painted by Spencer’s melancholy tears. His lips were slightly pursed into a frown, a small habit he did whenever he was despondent.

“I’m so sorry”

He persisted in apologizing, repeating the sentence continuously as he ignored my inquiry. He muffled his head deeper into my lap, grabbing a hold of both of my wrists in the process.

“Spencer...tell me what happened” I stated, worry encompassing my entire consciousness as my heart wrenched at the state of him.

He had finally responded to my suggestion, looking up at me with his doleful eyes. “I had- there was this c-case we had and- I- just can’t” He broke down in a fit of tears, incoherent whimpers emitting from his supple lips.

“Spencer…” I pulled him up from where he knelt, before taking him into my embrace. “You can talk to me- and if you don’t want to that’s fine- but I’m here” I professed, feeling him clutch onto the sweater I was wearing.

He pulled away and wiped his nose with his sleeve, recollecting his composure to elaborate on the reasoning of his discomfort. “I- we had a case and the unsub- oh my god, you won’t believe it- he was strangling infants Y/N...INFANTS!” He explained, becoming exasperated as he came onto the topic of the activities of the criminal. I cringed as he spoke about the methodology of the abhorrent unsub, my heart wringing as I placed my shoes in the parents of the victim.

I continued to stroke his hair, knowing that was a comfort for him, as he continued with his disdainful spiel. He stumbled over a few of his words while venting, especially on the parts where he would mention the sadistic tendencies the unsub had. I noticed the volume of his tone increase whenever he’d get passionate about the subject, considering it was about the death of a child.

“And- Y/N- all I could think about was Pascal… what i- what if it was Pascal?” He lamented, gazing into my own eyes with regret. His attention flickered to the hallway where Pascal’s nursery was situated. “I can’t even b-be th-there for him, how am I-” He paused, getting choked up as his throat contracted in dread.

I was now stroking his cheek, wiping away any evidence of tears that were once there. I paid full attention to his words, observing how his facial features would contort in genuine agony. My feeling matched his own as if our emotions were intertwined or if our bodies transcended into the same being.

“I can’t even be there for him...how can I protect him from people like that” He enunciated every word with self reproach, shaking his head at his inability of being a father. Tears cascaded down his cheeks once again, hitting the sides of my thumbs as I comforted him.

“Spencer come here” I cooed, pulling him up to my level, so he was more accessible. I stood up with him, tightly holding onto his hand as I guided him into Pascal’s nursery. He followed me in apprehension despite his disquietude, baffled about my intentions. I dragged him to where Pascal laid quietly, the music box playing in the background.

A paternal smile etched on the corners of Spencer’s lips, contrasting the ferment mood he was in before. “That’s your son” I whispered, encouraging him to take a step closer to Pascal. “And I know that he loves you with all his heart despite him not understanding what that is yet” I reassured, standing beside him with my arms wrapped around his free arm.

He reached into the crib, stroking the forehead of our son lovingly. “He looks so peaceful” He stated with a smile. I nodded, watching his face morph into a more content expression. It was as if all the horrible things in the world had dissipated and all that were in the room were the sources of his bliss.

“The things you- the incredible things- you do are all for protecting the little family that we have and I’m so grateful for you in my life” I began, snuggling into his embrace as he lifted his arm up to invite me into a hug. “And you were right, I’m sorry for-”

“No Y/N- I’ve put my job over my family numerous times, so I should be the one apologizing” He sighed, pressing a longing kiss on the top of my head while we stared at the bundle of our creation in front of us.

I pressed my hand against his stomach, clutching onto him like he would disappear again. “Let’s not worry about that anymore” I suggested, closing my eyes in bliss. He nodded in agreement, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my lips.

“I love you so much Y/N- and Pascal” He professed, pulling me into him.

“I love you too Spence- and Pascal”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @april-14-blog​ @haylaansmi @guessthatswhyiliveinhell​ @aperrywilliams​

A/N:

this was def. fun to write! i love writing about more taboo or uncommon prompts

anyway i hope you enjoyed this little story, see you soon <3

[alby-rei]

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3 

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side. 

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement. 

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love. 

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.  

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”            

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you­ see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed. 

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made. 

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did. 

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode. 

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”      

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. 

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

[sxdmoonchxld]

Tell Me U Luv Me| MYG

Summary :  You should have stopped this a long time ago. Hell it wasn't even supposed to begin. But now it's too late no matter how hard you try you always go back to him. And now he wants you to tell him the feelings you've been hiding...the feelings you weren't supposed to have.

Genre: smut, smidge of angst, fluff if you cross your eyes and read it upside down

Theme: Infidelity

4k words

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Fuckbuddies, Bad Dirty Talk

a/n: i use to be lizardsocial, so if this seems familiar that's why.

———————————————————————

You stood outside the cracked door to his room shaking as frenetic nerves fired through the synapses of your brain. The cold draft flowing from the inky darkness escaping the room assaulted the warmth of your skin with coolness. Galvanizing waves of charged currents rushed through your bones, blunt teeth worried the inside of your lip as sizzling bubbles of anxiety, and zealous anticipation boiled in the pit of your gut.

"Are you going to just stand out there the whole night? " His voice, sonorous and smooth akin to dripping molasses reverberated softly through the quiet hallway. 

His words mixed to the distorted pulsing of the blood in your veins. Flowed so heavenly to the crashing drumline beat of your heart resonating violently in your ears. You glanced down focused on the jittery motions of your hands. Remorse and guilt waged in the jumbled mayhem of your thoughts. For a spilt second. Oh such a painful second the image of your original lover manifested itself through your cloud of ignominy. This was wrong, the truth apparent. It didn't take a genius to deduce how inequitable and sickening it is. He didn't deserve this cold dose of adultery and deceit you served him with a cum smeared smile.

But you are weak.

There were several countless failed tries, where you sought to stay away. To purify yourself of his narcotic magnetism, to expunge all late-night escapades unraveling when the moon kisses the sky. Altering to omitted memories to never resurface in the sunlit horizon. Many times there a been that expected moment of reasoning. Albeit choosing to strike post-coital when you’ve been belatedly freed from the smog of arousal. Momentarily sated with the pulsating of your cum filled cunt. It’s usually then, only then you find yourself with the urge - the need to flee. 

To be spooned in the warming embrace of your loving, naive boyfriend. To shield you from the freezing chills of your sins, and help sooth the pain as you reflect on your harrowing actions. Pathetically the shame, pain and regret are wistfully short-lived emotions, forgotten like an old childhood toy. Not soon after, in their place the yearning begins. Boiling at odd hours in the night, symptoms of withdrawal surfacing, devising you desperate.

Oh so fervent

Aching - desirous for your next moment with him.

He is slick and cunning like a snake. Coiled in captivating colors, poisonous, yet so enticing. He was no good for you, it was no secret. But when it all bubbled down to a concentrated thought. You were like a drug fiend, addicted to the empirical taste of his angel dust. Caught deep in the sweet down spiraling remedy that was Min Yoongi. He was the proverbial forbidden fruit and the serpent mix into one deadly package. 

Not much coaxing was needed to take a bite. His tempting words and intoxicating presence was just enough to seal your fate. So with unsteady sock laden feet, your body propelled toward the dimmed room. The creator of your greed and secret ruler of your body waiting just beyond the door.

“I didn't think you were coming."

How funny. In a pathetic way that is. He didn't think you were going to come? Where could he possibly get that idea from? Admittedly it's been a while since the last encounter with busy and conflicting scheduling keeping you apart. Though not once have you missed that hypnotizing tune that always led you to him. Not once have you denied him a chance to ravage a body that was never his from the beginning.

“Did you finally get him to fall asleep?”Yoongi mused, the bed creaking lightly as he rose from lying down. You watched as he began walking towards you with a steady gait. The lamp on his nightstand casting a shadow to hide the right side of his face. Shivering you nodded, a small shaky smile of fondness playing on your lips as you reminisced your boyfriend's excitement over their new album.

"Good. You know how restless Namjoon gets when we have new material on the way." Spoken like a man who knew his best friend, his fucking brother. Yoongi was right though, it took time and patience to soothe a riled Namjoon. 

Listening to hours of animated rambling, chatted amid eye-watering yawns and repetitive strokes through chemically damaged, yet soft and lush strands of hair. Though once his burning enthusiasm trickled down to a burnt-out wick, he was dead to the world.

"Yeah. I know." You responded with stifling discomfiture, a wave of salty transgression washing on the sandy banks in your chest. It was an unspoken rule. Namjoon was not to be mentioned in the immoral extent of you and Yoongi. Not to be slandered and tainted with the actions that would inevitably condemn you to hell. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about him while in this place, in this position; in this context. It served no relief. Only proving to be a conduit of neglected emotions that would be mulled over in the future. 

You flinched at chilled forearms enclosing around your waist. The thin silk material of your nightgown, ineffectively blocking the cold press of his fingertips against the lower portion of skin on your back. Yoongi habitually kept it cold in his room. He joked claiming he liked the way your nipples hardened to stiff little nubs when they met the air. Yet he knew the biting element of his room did naught to rouse your body. It was him, simply him.

"I've missed you," he spoke soft and sweetly with cool lips resting patiently below your ear. His heated breath a spreading raised goosebumps to the surface of the skin on your neck. Pulling back to glance at him, you internally gasped. The verve burning in his eyes as he stared at you unwaveringly, was startlingly surprising. The passion swirling in his chocolate orbs were strange but not unfamiliar. Still, they held his desire and lust, but there was something else mixed in that was unknown, and didn't belong there. It made your heart speed up and palpitate uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

Scowling, your eyes dropped at his words and your own foolish flare of emotions. Of course he missed you, but not in the same way you missed him.

"You just missed my pussy Yoongi," you said unfiltered because it was true and despite knowing that truth, you hated the way your heart pained with a tinge of sadness.

‘No! Feelings weren't to be caught’, you scolded yourself mentally. It was unfortunate enough that you were already addicted to the sex with him. A weakness that you were failingly to recover from, a flaw Yoongi exploited with sick joy. The extent of this relationship carried no purpose beyond a way to release the sexual tension. 

Temporarily rectified by secretive fucking behind his best friend and your boyfriend, Namjoon's back. Any feelings could and would utterly ruin you, except in the recess of your mind, you knew it was too late. The opening for evacuating slipped through your fingers the moment you opened your legs for him.

"It's okay because I've missed your cock." You tried cooing seductively, the partial lie trailing with the hand maneuvering between your frames as you lightly palm him through his sweatpants. An exciting jolt and rush of arousal raced down your spine at the discovery of his cock already at half-mast. Yoongi hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the palm of your hand rubbing slow circles on his clothed member.

"Hmm, are you sure that's all you miss?" he asked his hands languidly stroking your waist.

"I can assure you, your tight little pussy isn't all that I missed from you." His eyes burned into you like he was capable of seeing the hidden parts of your soul. Jarred, your palming slowed down to a stop. Your hands falling limply to your sides and brow bone turning down into a perplexed frown.

"Y-Yoongi, what are you talking about?" You tried pulling away from his hold, exceedingly confused to the implication behind his words. That out of place, foreign emotion whirling deeper, burning brighter in his eyes. 

This wasn't like Yoongi, in fact, it was unnervingly out of character. He wasn't one for teasing or insignificant banter. Honestly, you were surprised you were still on your feet and clothed. If this were like any another of your previous encounters, you would already be on your back. Legs lewdly spread, your gushing pussy filled to the brim, trapped in the clutches of primal fulfillment.

"W-what are you talking a-about." He mocked, tongue sucking his teeth.

"Don't try and deny it. I see right through you. In you."

Enthralled, Yoongi pushing you towards his bed didn't register in your muddled brain until the plush softness of his bedspread cradled your spine. You flinches as hands slammed down beside you caging your head in among extended elbows and bent knees straddled over trembling thighs. 

Yoongi drew his head down to your neck and like a bitch in heat, your neck craned effortlessly. Lips parting for the escape of an airy whine at his warm lips on your skin. The next Picasso in the making he nipped at the column of your neck, sucking your skin with differing pressure, painting the bare canvas with blotches of cherry and mulberry.

Another big no-no.

"Y-you can't see a-anything, because t-there is nothing t-to s-see." you lied again, stuttering terribly in between breathless pants. Yoongi chuckled, you could feel his leer against your skin.

"I can feel it-," he said with a tender lick to the blemishes littering your neck. His head moved down your chest, irritatingly feather-light pecks left by a brush of his lips. His mouth coming to rest over the swell of your breast where your heart pounded furiously below his lips. "-the way your heart beats for me."

A large hand abandoned its post beside your head, cupping a breast wrapped in delicate silk. Gently he massaged the soft tissue, alternating amidst firm and gently caresses. The meat of your breast spilling between clenching fingers. You arched your chest further into his hands, fluctuations of venereal relief rippled from his touch, your throat fluttering out moans. Warm wetness engulfed your other unused breast. Helpless you keened lustily and flagrantly, as flat teeth nipped at the hardened nub poking through the material of your gown. 

Another lusty moan rumbled from your throat as a thick tongue began laving around the bud to soothe the sting of his bite. Your nipple stiffened further the cold air hitting the wet splotch, as Yoongi detached from the fabric encased teat. With seductive chocolate feline-like eyes scorching with ardor. His gaze lingered to your exposed thighs and the bunched up bundle of cloth resting on the apex of your legs.

Your heart throbbed in a frenzy when you noticed the focus of his gaze. Was he actually thinking about eating you out? As long as this affair has been occurring, never did he perform the act, or hint at wanting to. Judging by the cockiness of his rap lyrics, its apparent he is confident in his skills. 

There was usually little to no foreplay, with your pussy easily dripping like the cock slut it has proven to be. Not much needed to be done to have you soaking for Yoongi. A couple of rough fingering thrusts with stomach coiling pressure against your g-spot and you were ready to meet him raw and ready.

A lecherous leer quirked the corner of his lips, he trained his eyes on you as he shifted down your body, his stomach now flat against the bed. You yelped when frigid fingertips seized the flesh of your thighs yanking you closer to his face. The rest of your nightgown rising up to rest in a crumpled heap underneath your breast. He snickered condescendingly at the exposure of the slick wetness coating the center of your panties. 

Unfazed, thick fingers pressed into your dampness, collecting more of your arousal in the seat of your panties. You always got so wet for him, copious fluid dribbling to catch between your ass cheeks, your cunt pulsating wildly in anticipation, eager for his next move. With no hesitation, Yoongi pushed his nose into your pussy, the tip nudged against your covered clit, shamelessly breathing in your fragrance deeply.

"I can even smell it." Another deep inhale through his nose and a hot exhale through his mouth.

“So sweet.”

He pushed your panties to the side, a trail of sticky slick following its wet departure.

"I bet I could even taste it. How much you missed me."

You whimpered, your hips shoving up in silent desperation. You wanted, no needed Yoongi to give you more. You weren't accustomed to being teased, never having to beg. Yoongi always delivered with hip bruising, backbreaking, unrestrained strokes, his cock splitting your walls in rapid succession. That was what you were accustomed too. It was what you thought he wanted, the foundation of this liaison, fast and rough fucks. This time something was off. Things were changing, his intentions shifting, and you were scared, deathly frightened. 

That even an ounce of his true affection, would overpower you. The taking over of your being complete, the tipping point of your inevitable overdose. An abrupt bloom of pleasure unfurled in your lower gut as Yoongi spread your pussy lips lewdly. The thumb of his hand hooked deep within your ribbed walls, your cunt clenched tightly around the thick digit. The stark temperature difference of his thumb and the torrid heat of his ascending tongue drew a high- pitched yelp from your throat. Searing energy blossomed through your core as the tip of his tongue flicked off your fattened clit at his first swipe. Brazen and amplified he sucked on his pink muscled appendage mouth parting loudly with a pop.

"You taste delicious, sweet like I said," he complimented before burying his face in your pussy. His thick tongue squirmed within your core joining his thumb, as it shoved as deep as it could reach before it started flicking out in an amalgam of movements liquifying your insides. You cried out helplessly throwing your head back against the mattress, your hips angled high pressed against his face to him feed more of your cunt.

"Tell me I’m better," He spoke around mouthfuls of your center. You whined, his words cutting through the buzzing vibrations in your ears. He was better than Namjoon, on a different spectrum. It was evident in how your body sang for him, how your hips ground helplessly on the twisting muscle inured so fathomlessly in your cunt. But you couldn't say it, you wouldn't dare say it out loud even though the words burned the base of your throat. That was too close in crossing forbidden territory.

"Tell me how much you missed me." His tongue drew your clit in his mouth, plush lips sucking the corded nub.

"No!" You denied him for the first time.

You just couldn't say those words no matter how much your vocals cords seized to shout the words Yoongi’s request. A muffled chuckle spilled out of him at your surprising defiance. He was calm in his movements, his thumb dragging along your walls to shift to press up against your g-spot, applying pressure with each outward stroke. His gaze was heated, staring at you over the mound of your cunt, balmy puffs of air fanning over your jumping clit as he spoke.

"Tell me how much you missed this. Us. How right this feels."

"Tell me how much better I am than him-" he demanded again. "-can he make your body sing like I can?"

"Y-Yoongi," you gasped harshly sweat permeated on your skin. Descending over the valley of your breasts in opaque pearls. You couldn't say it. Ceasing his stroking thumb, the whine bubbling in your throat was choked down by the replacement of two of his fingers. Scissoring them apart, his fingers curved on your g-spot assaulting the area with pressurized tenacity. With lips back on your clit sucking all the collected fluids down his greedy throat. Your teeth clenched together, hands fisting into the bedspread, your thighs shuddering terribly around his body.

"How much you wished, that was me fucking your pussy 5 days ago instead of him."

You gasped at his words surprise and fear mixed with lust, distorting your features into an almost comical expression. Yoongi laughed cynically.

"Didn't think I'd find out, would you kitten?"

Fucking Namjoon was more so out of guilt than some kind of vendetta against Yoongi. Namjoon was your boyfriend for fuck's sake, you couldn't go on denying him for much longer without him becoming suspicious; if he wasn't already.

"N-o, no!" Still you denied him, unwillingly to come to terms with the truth, both the latter and internally.

Toes folded in on themselves as Yoongi sped him his fingers to deep thrusting aimed directly for the spongy bundled of nerves. Your orgasm started intensified at an alarming pace, you could feel it in the way your stomach cramped. How your hips sloppily thrust toward Yoongi's face, your back arched off the bed. Soft, euphoric cries ruptured from your larynx, binding themselves onto the edge of every fleeting gaspy breath disbanding in the air. You slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your scream, the sudden snapping ties of your pleasure, hitting you with the force of a freight train. Your upper body flailed around on the bed, unrestrained portions of your legs kicking out at the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes pricked with tears and lungs suffocated as they were robbed of air.

Floating in post-orgasmic limbo, you vaguely registered his fingers withdrawal from your clenching cunt or the shuffling of his sweats pants down his hips or he hiking of your legs to perch against his waist. It wasn't until the fevered eagerness of his leaking cock head pressing against your quivering core, did you return from the clouds. 

Yoongi stroked the skin of your thighs with sticky tenderness, his face coming closer to yours to capture your chapped lips in a sweet kiss. You gasped in frail distress and shock, your heart constricted tightly within your chest. Stars bursted behind your eyes at the strange feeling of his lips moving against your own. Another act taboo in the relationship that was this. Yoongi seized the perfect opportunity to ease his tongue into your mouth, dancing with your own. He was tart with your flavor, mixed with his addicting treacle.

Gradually his cock split your glossy folds, breaching your cunt's hole with the tip of his cock. You cried out in his mouth, detaching your lips from his. A string of conjoined spittle landing on your cheek as you turned your head to the side. Yoongi's lips followed you, connecting your mouth once again as he began surging his cock, deep, deep, and deeper. The slow pace allowing you to feel the burning stretch, every eager throb of his cock, every engorged vein pulsing under his skin. 

Yoongi didn't give you much time to adjust as he started his leisure strokes. He barely withdrew before he was spearing you back on his cock, much deeper than before. Tearing your mouth from him again, you gasp with the stinging need of air, a forearm coming over to cover your face. The bright light of the lamp on his nightstand shining across your face suddenly a nuisance, as you greedily swallowed in the fresh air between mewling cries of pleasure.

"Does your slutty pussy squeeze him as tight as your squeezing me?" Yoongi grunted reducing his already sluggish pace, his hips rotating with each stroke.

Your head felt like it was ready to implode. You were overheating, short-circuiting, the blood in your veins boiling and curdling. Namjoon infiltrated your thoughts, his kind hardworking nature, how much he loved and adored you, but was it enough? Did you even love him anymore? Or were you stolen away by the man he considers his brother? It was all becoming too much, Yoongi's slow strokes and demanding queries were causing you to overthink. You needed him to speed up, to fuck your brains out so you wouldn't have to be pestered with your evolving thoughts.

"Yoongi, I-I need you to speed up. I want you to fuck me faster, fuck me harder please!" You begged as if your life depended on the tempo of his thrusts, and in a way it did, at least your sanity did.

"Shhh" he cooed. One of his hands abandoning its place on your lifted legs, to come and pry your arms away from your face. Your breath hitched as your blurry gaze focused in on the unbridled emotion raging in his dark eyes.

"Tell me I'm the one you want." He eased out of your body, grunting lowly as your cunt clutched desperately at his retreating cock.

"Tell me I'm the only one who owns you, who owns your heart." Again he sunk back within your depths.

"Tell me you love me and not him, and I'll fuck you until your coming on my cock."

Yoongi promised in one swift stroke buried deep within your cunt, speeding up his thrust to his usually relentless rhythm. You screamed in familiar delight, arms wrapping around his neck in a loop. Your breast crushed into his chest, fingernails embedded in his shoulder leaving raised red crescents. You could already feel your second orgasm approaching, your cunt enclosing Yoongi's cock in a vice-like grip, you never lasted long when he rammed into you like this. It was what you needed, the perfect escape to the feelings boiling in your chest. Another mind-numbing orgasm and he would follow suit, then you could leave and close this chapter of your life, the end of a book with a bittersweet ending.

"Oh, no you don't." Yoongi tsked. He knew the telltale signs of your orgasm, he ruled your body with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Reducing his strokes to that of a snail's pace, he laughed at your wail of frustration, a bead of sweat dropping off his body at the shake of his shoulders. How obtuse of you to think he was going to let you come without you telling him what he's been dying to hear from your lips the whole night, for months.

"Say it. Open that pretty mouth sweetheart and tell me what I want to hear." Yoongi cooed, his cock now surging into your depths with shallow, unfulfilling strokes.

"Yoo-ngi." You hiccuped clamping your eyes tight. The coiling tightness of your orgasm was still there, maybe if you concentrated hard enough-

"Say it! Tell me you love, how I love you!" Your eyes flew open, dilating to focus on a blurred image of Yoongi. Him? Love you? How? Why?

"Yes, I love you." He said smoothly, no hesitation, not an inkling of regret, just confidence and love glimmering in his eyes.

"Now. Tell me you love me too and don't lie." Yoongi reiterated with a rough thrust.

"I-I don-" your mouth opened and closed, a fish out of the water you were caught. You fell back on to the bed, a hand placed on your chest over the blood-filled organ crashing against your chest. Your heart captured by another, no longer could you deny it, deny him, deny yourself. So with a heavy heart...you told him. "I love you."

You didn't want to. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. A one-time thing, he...you let escalate too far. Now it was too late. The truth was out now, and all hell was about to break loose.

"Tell me again."

You strangled on a wad of spit at the sudden rough thrust, your teeth clanking together at the single motion. "I love you."

Yoongi groaned loudly, the loudest you think you've ever heard from him at your affectionate confession. His hands readjusted themselves off your thighs to better support himself as he began lifting his your legs to rest on your chest, your knees pushed into your breast. Immediately his hips set off at a fast pace, the slaps of his balls hitting your ass nearly rivaled the shout of pleasure or the wet slapping of where you were connected. 

Your hips met his with bruising contact, but you didn't care, the angle of his cock drilled at your g-spot relentlessly. Black and white dots floating in your vision, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Jumbled repeats of his name wretched themselves from your lips, you were sure the other boys in the shared apartment could hear your cries of satisfaction. Namjoon as well.

You didn't care, your love for Yoongi, the feeling of his cock in your guts, was the only thing on your mind. A couple of more thrust and your orgasm was ripped from you, your legs thrashing about in Yoongi's hold. The sweet pull of your cunt on his cock bringing forth his own release, and with one last surge of his hips, the bulbous head kissing your cervix, he spurted warm ropes of his cum straight into your womb. Breathlessly he dropped your legs from his hands, a mixed wad of your and his cum spilling out from around him. Gently he withdrew and fell onto the bed beside you, lowly he sighed in satisfaction.

"Tell me again."

You told him.

"I love you."

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.