#and I did my best to put those feelings down on the canvas

[anotherdescentintomadness]

TaeMin’s Just Me and You

Another piece for the birthday project over at @taemindiscord on Xitter

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Epilogue: Smooth Sailing

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your new job at The Parador allows for some exciting perks.

Chapter Warnings: language, angry!joel, oral (m!receiving), smut (18+ MDNI), office sex, unprotected piv sex (reader has implant now as previously mentioned, we're safe), spanking, praise kink, mentions of substance abuse (not Joel or reader)

WC: 6.1K

Series Masterlist

Ten Months Later

It was still surreal sometimes to walk into an office with your name and Creative Lead printed on a nameplate next to your door, but after a handful of months, you were beginning to feel like less of an imposter.

Admittedly, it wasn't the type of job you had been applying for. You tried to use your experience as a production assistant to get your foot in the door with a talent agency, but you weren't having any luck. When Joel offered you the job in his marketing department, you didn't think you were qualified for it, but after discussing the duties with Caroline Harris, the creative director, you discovered your background would be well suited for the job. He must have known you would have instantly taken a liking to her because after a few more days of soul searching, you accepted the offer.

It felt strange in the beginning, and sometimes you still felt paranoid other employees were looking at you like you didn't deserve your success, but you felt confident all the hard work you did in the past several months spoke for itself.

And as it turned out, you were actually really fucking good at your job.

You left your office door cracked and set your things down on top of the chest of drawers behind your desk. Smoothing down your simple, grey dress that fell just above the knee, you sat down with a sigh in your leather chair and booted up your computer. While you waited for it to turn on, you sipped your coffee and glanced at your phone.

Zoe: Remember to call me later, I have news! I'm dating someone new!

You grinned and tapped out a quick response, promising to call before it got too late on the East Coast. Zoe never found out the truth about you and Joel, but you figured by now it didn't matter much. As far as she knew, you were still planning the "wedding", but it was just delayed until the hotel was built in Fiji, meaning you had a decent chunk of time to come up with another cover.

You saw a flash on your computer screen, indicating the monitor was up and running, so you placed your phone down to type in your password, then gasped excitedly when you were reminded of a Zoom call you had scheduled with Ellie.

Even though hiring Ellie wasn't technically your idea, Joel told Caroline it was because as he had told you at the time, he wouldn't have given her a second thought had you not been so taken with her work. So Caroline put you in charge of overseeing her progress, as well as a few other things for the new hotel.

It had been almost a month since you last spoke to Ellie and you were thrilled to get an update. The little video popped up, briefly displaying her name before she turned her camera on. You grinned from ear to ear when you finally saw her, specks of paint adorning her face and hair.

"How are you still up? Isn't it, like, three in the morning?" you asked.

"Yeah, but you know I do all my best work at night," Ellie replied before flipping the camera around so you could see her studio. There were a few drop cloths down, splashed with all sorts of colors of paint, and about six easels, all of which held paintings in different stages.

"Don't look at those yet, they aren't done," she said, and you laughed.

"You're the one in control of the camera, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled. You could hear her converse sneakers scuffing along the canvas drop cloth while she took you across the room. She flicked on a light and you gasped at the shock of color.

"Oh, my god!" you exclaimed.

"Man, I was feeling so inspired last week, I just couldn't stop. We had a little tropical storm blow through and it just created all these beautiful scenes. Like, beauty amongst the wreckage, you know?" Ellie was saying as she slowly walked around the room, panning the camera to each painting so you could get a good look.

"Oh, wow. Ellie... these are stunning. You've made such incredible progress, I'm so impressed!"

She finished her lap around the room and there was a pause in the video before her face returned to the screen.

"Yeah, thanks. It's going really well. You know how nervous I was in the beginning, I didn't think I would be able to make the amount of paintings you were looking for, but at this rate I think I'll have them done ahead of schedule."

"Well, I always knew you could do it. You're so talented and you see things in such a different way than everyone else. I swear, your work is going to make the hotel really stand out," you gushed before taking a long sip of coffee.

"You gotta thank Joel again for me," Ellie said, flicking off the light and heading back into the main part of her studio. "The amount of money he's paying me is keeping my bills paid so I can focus entirely on this."

"I will. I'm sure I'll see him later this afternoon. He'll be so happy to hear about all your progress."

"I'll take a few pictures and text them to you before I go to bed. That way, he can see for himself," she promised.

"That sounds perfect. Is there anything else you need? How's Dina?"

You spent the rest of your thirty minutes catching up with her about her girlfriend, laughing as she told you how Dina finally wore her down and they adopted a cat. Just as she was telling you how the cat stepped in some paint and walked across one of her paintings, she yawned.

"Go get some sleep. We'll touch base again next month but in the meantime, if anything comes up, you know how to reach me."

She gave you a little wave before ending the call and you sat back in your chair, your office filled with silence once again.

The rest of your morning was spent reviewing potential candidates for a pianist position in the hotel lobby. On one screen you had a video of a candidate playing and on the other, their resume and list of references. All of them were natives from Fiji, just like Joel had promised Glenn.

By noon, you had whittled down the candidates to your top five. You were making a little pile with your notes written on bright pink post-it's when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

"Come in," you answered distractedly.

"Hey... busy?" Liam said. You looked up and smiled before shaking your head and offering him a seat.

"Just getting some resumes ready for the pianist job. I have to set up some interviews after lunch. What's up?"

Liam sighed dramatically and collapsed into a chair.

"Your boyfriend is on a tear today, I needed a break," he said, curling his fingers into a loose fist so he could examine his cuticles.

"Why? What's going on?" you asked, setting down your pen, curiosity piqued.

"Well... first, Jack kicked his ass during his boxing lesson, which he always fucking hates," Liam said with a roll of his eyes. "Then he found out there was a delay in shipping the marble flooring, but I told him that shit's coming from Italy and it's custom!"

"He really hates when there's any delays in construction," you said, wrinkling your nose. You had seen your fair share of his outbursts over the past few months as the hotel in Fiji slowly became a reality. Joel always said, Time is money, baby. The longer this takes, the less money I make.

"Then Tommy called to tell him some wood or... something... got damaged in a storm they had down there recently, so now he's waiting on another shipment from the states."

You buried your face in your hands at that point, knowing exactly the type of mood Joel was in just one floor above you. On one hand, you were always thrilled whenever Joel and Tommy spoke after they finally hashed things out and made amends six months ago. But on the other, you would have much preferred Tommy call with an update about his wife, Maria, or TJ, their son.

"And about ten minutes ago, Chrissy spilled his coffee," Liam finished, dropping his hand to his lap and crossing his legs. "Only saving grace was she spilled it on the floor and not on him."

You cringed when you imagined how stressed out poor Chrissy must have been in that moment. She was a trooper, you had to hand it to her. She had been Joel's secretary for almost three years and every time you saw her she looked more meek and frightened than the last time.

"So, what you're saying is I should surprise him and take him out to lunch."

Liam's face broke out with a huge grin and he lightly clapped his hands.

"Would you mind? I think it would really help. He's always so much easier to handle after he sees you." He was really laying it on thick now and you knew it.

"I already agreed, you can drop it," you laughed, locking your computer and grabbing your purse.

"It's not an act," Liam said, following you out the door towards the elevator. The floor was quiet, most employees likely out to eat already. "I mean, yeah, maybe sometimes I try to flatter you into helping us out, but I'm serious. It's like you're chamomile tea on legs."

You arched an eyebrow at him when the elevator doors slid open. "Chamomile tea?"

"Is a tranquilizer dart better? Or lion tamer?"

You pursed your lips, thinking it over when you pressed the button to his floor. "Yeah. I like lion tamer."

Liam laughed and pulled out his phone to check his texts.

"This is perfect timing. He's about to wrap up a meeting and he doesn't have another one until two." Liam slid his phone back into his pocket and gave you a pleading look. "Please feel free to take your time."

"Oh, come on! He can't be that bad," you said with a hand on your hip. The doors opened up and let you out onto the executive floor, on the opposite side of the building from Joel's office, which is why it was so impressive you could hear him shouting from where you stood.

"Is the door open?" you asked quietly.

"Nope," Liam replied, giving you a look that said I told you so.

You swallowed nervously then lifted your chin with confidence as you made your way past the conference room towards his office. When Chrissy spotted you, she practically jumped out of her chair.

"Oh, my god, thank you," she whispered, her curly brown hair bouncing across her forehead with every step she took. She clasped her hands together and held them tightly against her chest.

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything," you replied, but gave her a reassuring smile anyway. "Why don't you guys go to lunch? I'll take it from here."

The speed in which they tore out of the office was Olympic level.

You perched on the edge of Chrissy's desk as you waited for Joel's meeting to be over. Through the door, you could hear some voices through his phone, as well, one of which you recognized as the project manager for the hotel in Fiji. You looked down at your hands, ignoring the raised voices in the next room, and stared down at the huge diamond ring on your right hand. Splaying your fingers wide, you admired the way the light caught the little facets of the diamond, smiling a little when you saw rainbow flecks dot the walls of the mostly empty floor.

Ages ago, Joel had asked you to keep the ring he got you to use in Fiji. You nearly had a heart attack until he realized how it looked and he nervously clarified he wasn't asking you to marry him, just that he felt the ring was always yours and he couldn't bring himself to return it, so he bought it.

You smiled to yourself when you thought back on that day. It was just after he finally said I love you for the first time. It was a little ridiculous to think he would be asking you to marry him when it took him months to say those three words, but your heart still skipped a beat in that half a second of confusion.

After your pulse slowed, you accepted it with an awkward laugh, putting it on your right hand where it had remained ever since. You knew there was no use arguing with him about gifts and money anymore. When he bought you something, he was relentless until you took it.

Actually, you've grown to kind of like it.

Or, maybe you just liked the idea of Joel thinking about you when you weren't around.

Through the door, you heard the phone call cut with a terse farewell and then, the tell-tale rustle of men's dress pants with the clearing of throats. One man was still talking, his voice forcibly calm as he assured Joel that he would get back to him by the end of the day with the correct numbers on some payroll report, and then the door swung open. Men poured out, some hurrying past you without even realizing you were there, their faces red and their jaws clenched. The ones that did notice you gave a quick nod of acknowledgement before hurrying away, as if they were afraid Joel would remember he had one or two more biting comments and call them back in.

When the last of the men filed out, you heard Joel bark, "Shut the door," and then the creak of his leather chair under his weight. A man you vaguely recognized pulled the door shut behind him before spotting you. He was frazzled and exhausted when he exhaled and loosened his tie.

"Good luck," he said, and you laughed softly. You watched as the last of the men filed towards the elevators, their padfolios and phones overflowing in their hands as they shuffled onto the car and disappeared behind the closed doors.

The floor was quiet now. Joel's office was the only one with a light on.

Biting back a smirk, you pushed off Chrissy's desk and straightened your dress before rapping your knuckles on his door.

"What the fuck now?" came Joel's sharp voice from the other side. You pushed the door open and crossed your arms, waiting until he dragged his gaze up from his desk. When he realized it was you, his expression instantly softened and he stood.

"Sorry," he grumbled.

"It's okay," you replied, stepping inside the room, shutting the door behind you. Joel rounded the desk and raked his fingers through his hair. You bit your lower lip, gaze quickly drifting down his broad frame. He was wearing a white dress shirt with his dark grey suit, the coat abandoned over the back of his chair. It was the first time you had seen him since you left him asleep in bed early that morning.

"What's goin' on, baby?" he asked as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. You made a face at the amber liquid and he swiveled around, raising the glass of whiskey in your direction.

"Want one?"

"No, Joel. It's barely noon. I came to see if you wanted to get lunch, but I'm guessing today's not the best day," you said, closing the distance between you to smooth down the front of his shirt with your palms. He lifted the glass to his lips and tossed the drink back in one go before setting it down on the bar and wrapping his big hands around yours, pressing them firmly to his chest.

"'M sorry, not havin' a great day."

"I can tell."

"You hear all that?" he murmured, bringing one of your hands up to his mouth. His lips brushed over your knuckles as he gazed at you through tired, heavy eyes and you smiled. Moments ago, those eyes were firey and filled with rage.

But not when he looked at you.

"Some of it," you admitted. "What's wrong?"

Joel exhaled through his nose and dropped his hands to your hips, giving them a little squeeze and pulling you closer. "You weren't there when I woke up this mornin'."

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and he gently pinched your side.

"I told you I had to get up early so I could get ready for work-"

"'N I told you to bring your stuff over last night," he countered.

"Joel, I hadn't been home in days. I needed to make sure the place was still standing and water my plants."

Then, he said something that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

"Just move in with me, then it ain't a problem anymore."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you forgot to breathe for a moment.

"What?" you asked breathlessly. But Joel just shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Move in with me," he repeated. "Plants, too."

"Y-you... you want me to move in with you? Like, permanently?" you repeated in disbelief. Joel smirked down at you and nodded.

"Yeah, like, permanently. The hell you think I mean? Get rid of that place, you know I don't like that neighborhood," he said, then lifted his chin when he heard his email program chime somewhere behind you.

"Joel... are you sure? That's a big step for you," you replied, feeling completely knocked sideways by his blunt request. Sure, he had the room. His house was the closest you'd ever come to being inside a mansion. Hell, to you it was a mansion. Six bedrooms and four bathrooms with an in-ground pool, tennis court, steam room and gym was only ever something you'd seen on television. But living in Los Angeles told you there were plenty of houses three times the size of his.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want you with me all the time," he said, kissing your cheek before leaving you by the bar so he could check his email.

"My stuff, too? I can't imagine my shitty television in your house," you joked. Joel just nodded, his eyes pinned to his computer screen.

"Your stuff, too. I want all a'you. Even your coffee pot."

Joel collapsed angrily into his high back chair to answer the email while you sneakily slid back to the door, quietly flicking the lock before slowly walking towards his desk. You knew most people were at lunch, but you still didn't want to risk it for what you had in mind.

"Okay," you said softly, hip pressing against the hard wood, fingers nervously digging into the complex design carved into the edge.

"Okay, what?" he murmured, focus still fixed on the email. You watched his scowl deepen the more he read and you knew he was slipping back into that mood you found him in earlier.

"Okay... I'll move in with you."

His eyes snapped up to yours and for a moment, the scowl smoothed out into a pleased grin.

"Good. Start packin' tonight. Don't wanna be wakin' up anymore without you," he said, then his eyes dropped back down to his email. "Messes up my whole day when I do."

You giggled and rounded the desk, intentionally slotting yourself between his eyes and the computer.

"Is that why you're up here screaming at everyone? 'Cause you woke up without your sugar baby?"

Joel leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at you.

"Quit it. You ain't a sugar baby."

"Didn't answer my question."

Joel laced his fingers together and dropped them in his lap with a sigh. "Sure didn't help."

You gave him a fake pout and leaned forward, hands bracing yourself on each arm of his chair. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, mouth hovering over his as you spoke. You could see his muscles tighten under his shirt when he heard the seductive tone in your voice. "Want me to suck your dick and make it all better?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a devilish half-smirk, email long forgotten.

"Feels like it's the least you could do," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly. It sent a shiver down your spine and you grinned.

"The least I could do? What else do you want?" you asked before allowing your lips to brush delicately over his. You could taste the whiskey there and you licked your lips.

"Wanna bend you over this desk and fuck you. Hard."

A soft moan slipped past your lips right before his mouth crashed into yours. His tongue opened your mouth, licking feverishly past your teeth, giving you a stronger taste of the whiskey and mint from the gum he was likely chewing in anger during the meeting.

"I think that can be arranged," you gasped when you pulled away from his kiss. His dark eyes lit up when you sunk to your knees, his legs spreading wider when you began to unbuckle his belt. Two fingers rubbed against his lips, hiding his smile while he watched you pop the button on his slacks and slowly work the zipper down.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when you dipped your fingers past his waistband and felt the stiffness of his cock hiding just underneath a thin layer of fabric. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and with a sly smile, you said, "Hard already?"

Joel shrugged with a shit-eating grin.

"Been hard since you walked in the goddamn room, baby."

You bit back a smile, chest bursting with pride and, yeah, it turned you on to be the one who made this big, scary man all soft and weak. Rubbing your thighs together, you inched forward to gently pull his stiff cock over the top of his underwear.

You tutted under your breath and frowned, both of you watching your hand slowly slide up and down his shaft.

"Poor thing," you murmured, smiling when you heard his breath stutter after your thumb swiped over the bead of arousal pooling at the tip. "Look at you. All worked up and angry the whole morning when all you needed to do was call me. I would've come up to help you."

Joel gasped, fingernails digging into the padded leather armrests when he felt your fingers tighten around him.

"Then fuckin'... goddamnit - fuckin' help me now. C'mon, quit teasin' me and suck it," he commanded through clenched teeth.

You raised an eyebrow at him and your hand paused.

"Say please."

"Please," he whined without hesitation. The sound made you weak, eyelids fluttering for a second before you shook it off and met his gaze again.

"Good boy."

He smirked down at you, some snappy response on the tip of his tongue but it disappeared when your wet lips wrapped around him, tongue darting forward to flick teasingly at his slit, all while maintaining eye contact.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, allowing his eyes to close and his head to tip back when you took him deeper into your mouth. Before he reached the back of your throat, you swirled your tongue around his girth, moaning when you tasted a new drop of precum.

"Yeah, baby, just like that," he murmured when his hand found a new home on the back of your head. Carefully, he urged you down, hissing when you hollowed your cheeks and took him as deep as you could handle. Joel forced his eyes to open so he could admire the pretty little mess he made of you. Your lips were swollen and wet, stretched wide over his considerable length while you focused on keeping your breath steady and your gag reflex in check.

He could have came from the sight alone.

You pulled back with a gasp, saliva pooling around the corners of your mouth as you dragged in deep lungfuls of air. Your hand picked up where your mouth left off, twisting your wrist and spreading the wetness up and down his shaft as you caught your breath for a second.

"You taste so good, Joel," you whispered, locking eyes with him again. "Might just have you come down my throat, instead."

Before he could answer, your lips were wrapped around him again, sucking and moaning around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"No," he rasped, fingers tightening their hold in your hair. "Wanna - fuck you," he added with a deep groan. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he let you keep going, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards your mouth as he spoke.

Right when you began to get carried away, your head bobbing faster and your wrist flicking quicker, he yanked you off with a shared gasp.

"Sorry," he apologized, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them. "Too close."

You stood up, thumb swiping your lower lip with a cocky grin. Then, Joel watched as you shimmied out of your panties, dropping them in his lap before hiking up the skirt of your dress to your mid-thigh.

"Whenever you're ready, sir."

He chuckled darkly and stood, thighs trembling for just a quick moment before he swiveled a finger in the air.

"Turn 'round."

You did as you were told, palms pressed flat against the top of his desk, tilting your hips back so your ass jutted out, just barely covered by your dress.

With one hand he pulled the material up, exposing you to the tinted windows behind him. His other hand came down with a sharp smack across your skin, the action so fast and unexpected that it took you a few seconds to register it.

"Again," you whispered over your shoulder, this time bracing for the hot sting of pain across your ass. When he gave it to you, you moaned, arousal pulling tight between your legs, then you dropped your head limply between your shoulders as the pain blossomed into pleasure.

"That's my girl," he growled in your ear. His knee pushed your legs open and you held your breath when he leaned back to slide his cock through your folds before lining himself up at your opening.

"Breathe, baby," he whispered, and you let out a shaky breath right as he pushed inside.

"Shit," you panted, arching your back and digging your fingers into the dark wood of his desk while he continued to ease inside of you, muscles only relaxing when he finally buried himself to the hilt and his lips returned to the shell of your ear.

It wasn't the first time he fucked you in his office. In fact, both of you were very eager to take advantage of the new situation only a week into the start of your job. But it didn't matter how many times you'd done it because it was still always a thrill. There was something incredibly hot about this powerful man fucking you on his desk. Or his couch. Or his chair.

Or one time on the conference room table long after close of business.

Joel set a quick pace right away, knowing full well your time was limited before people began to return from lunch and inevitably came looking for him. One hand remained firmly on your hip while the other drifted up to squeeze your breast through your dress, fingers giving your nipple a little pinch just so he could hear you whimper for him.

"Always ready for me, ain't you?" he groaned, teeth grazing over your earlobe. His breath was shallow, soft pants against your skin matching the rhythm of his hips. "Christ, baby. So fuckin' wet. You love takin' my cock like this, huh? Or was it me askin' you to move in that did it?"

"Both," you moaned, tossing your head back to rest on his shoulder, eyes gliding shut and mouth falling open as you focused on the intense pace he set. The tip of his cock brushed steadily against that spot inside you that had your knees going weak and you could feel that warmth in your stomach turning into fire the harder he fucked you.

Joel's eyes lifted to glance at his door when he heard the faint sound of voices filing off the elevator. Lunch hour was wrapping up, and so was your time. He clenched his jaw and pounded into you faster, the telltale sound of skin slapping against skin the only noise echoing in the room.

"I... locked it," you gasped, falling forward onto your elbows, hips sparking with pain against the hard wood of his desk. He grinned and straightened his spine, watching the way your ass rippled against him every time he slammed into you.

"Good. 'Cause no one gets to see you like this 'cept for me."

You nodded dumbly, unable to form words as your orgasm began to swell, threatening to destroy you. Your pussy started to pulse around him, stars littering your vision and you slapped your palm over your mouth to muffle the sound when you came.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groaned, hips losing rhythm. Breath growing sharp. Fingers digging deep and eyes rolling to the back of his head. You whimpered when he pounded into you one last time, stilling as he pumped you full of his release, broken moans tumbling from his lips until he was spent.

Almost immediately, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up and pressing you protectively against his chest.

"You okay?"

"Mhm," you hummed, admittedly still in a bit of a daze but you were starting to snap out of it. His ragged breath in your ear was all you could hear, his pounding heart against your back all you could feel, and it was enough.

Without warning, he slipped out of you, but kept his arms circled around your front, pressing sweet kisses behind your ear and down your neck. You melted into him, knowing how much he enjoyed holding you after, at least until he caught his breath and came back down to earth.

"I love you."

Those three words still managed to send a tingle down your spine and brought a lazy smile to your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered, twisting your neck so your mouth could seek out his. His beard was untamed and prickly against your lips, tickling you and making you giggle.

"C'mon, get yourself decent," he teased with a playful grin and a smack against your thigh. He stepped backwards to fix his clothes while you swiveled back and forth, searching the ground for your panties.

"Lookin' for these?" he asked, holding them up between two fingers when you turned around. You reached out to grab them but he pulled them back, shoving them in his pocket before tucking in his shirt.

"You're gonna make me walk around the rest of the day without underwear? With your come dripping out of me?" you asked. You already resigned yourself to your fate and pulled down the skirt of your dress.

Joel pinched your chin and pressed a quick kiss against your lips.

"Yep. Just the way I like you."

"Dirty man."

"Just the way you like me," he laughed, dodging your hand when you reached out to smack him against the arm.

You opened your mouth to say something back when his desk phone chimed and the red light in the corner lit up. Joel finished buckling his belt and glanced up at you to make sure you had fixed yourself before pressing the intercom button.

"Yeah?"

Chrissy's nervous voice filtered through the speaker.

"Mr. Miller, just confirming your dinner reservation for tonight. Still expecting three people?"

"Yep," he replied, then thought about it for a quick second before pressing the button again. "Thanks, Chrissy. Why don't you take off early, after my two o'clock?"

You grinned, practically sensing her shock through the wall as you sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

"Uh... okay. T-thank you so much!"

"No problem," he said, then the red light turned off and he slumped down tiredly into his leather desk chair.

"Where are we going tonight?" you asked, crossing one leg over the other while you watched him shake his computer mouse back to life.

"Sarah picked this time. Some Mexican spot she wanted to try," he murmured, already fixating on an email in front of him. After some encouragement on your end, Joel had reached out to Sarah around the same time he called Tommy for the first time in years. While things had been rocky and awkward at first, it got easier over time. Eventually, they committed to dinners every other week, and after maybe the fourth one, Sarah had asked to meet you.

You were nervous leading up to it, but the moment you met you knew you'd get along. She was smart, beautiful, funny and had the same smile as her dad. She told you both a little bit about high school but preferred to talk about her soccer team or the play she was trying out for.

She didn't mention her mom much, and you didn't want to pry. From what Joel had mentioned, her mother ended up having some substance abuse issues in the past, which caused a strain on her relationship with Sarah. He felt horrible when he found out, told you that he felt like he should have been involved more to protect her, but you reminded him that he was there for her now and that you were proud of him for stepping up.

Despite it all, Sarah was a great kid. Every time you saw her, she opened up a bit more, smiled wider and laughed louder. After your dinners together, you could see the change in Joel: he was happier, too.

"Sounds good. I like Mexican," you said, fidgeting with your ring while Joel quietly replied to an email. The scowl was gone, his shoulders were looser and there were no more angry taps on the keyboard.

You opened your mouth to announce you should get back to work when he suddenly spoke.

"Why're you wearin' the ring on your right hand?"

Your eyes flickered up to his face but he looked like he was still absorbed in an email.

"This ring?" you asked, holding up your hand. It was the only ring you wore but you didn't know what else to say. You'd been wearing it on your right hand for months and he never said a word.

"Yeah. You wore it on your other hand in Fiji," he said, tearing his eyes away from the computer to look at you.

You stood up from your seat and gave him a curious look. "We were pretending to be engaged then, if you recall. We're not engaged now."

Joel smirked, the corners of his mouth dipping down when he shrugged, then stood to walk you to the door.

"Huh. Suppose you're right. Someone oughta do somethin' 'bout that."

You threw your head back and laughed before coming to a stop at his door and turning around.

"You just asked me to move in with you. What happened to the commitment-phobe I fell in love with?"

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close so he could press a gentle kiss against your lips.

"You're right. I'll wait a week," he joked, then gave your ass a little tap before opening his door for you. "Thanks for lunch," he added as you walked past Chrissy, who was mid-whisper to Liam, no doubt telling him about Joel's sudden burst of generosity. You gave them both a little wave and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Joel leaning against his doorway, hands shoved in his pants pockets with a sly smirk on his face after his fingertips grazed the wet fabric shoved in there.

"See you tonight."

"Can't wait," he said, watching you disappear around the corner towards the elevator bank.

"So, you ate?" Liam confirmed, holding a leather bound journal and pen in his hand as he approached Joel. Even though the answer was no, he still nodded in response. "Good, because I have a couple things," he continued after clearing his throat. "Ellie's painting arrived yesterday, I'm having it gift wrapped right now. I got a call back from the guy who's renting you the yacht. He's good for Saturday. The captain and crew know the deal, too. Drop the anchor, make the food, pour the champagne, and disappear after dinner's cleared up. They have a little boat they can take back to land so the yacht's all yours til morning."

A slow smile stretched across his face and he looked down the hall again, towards the elevator bank.

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

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[yurinaa-world]

Could I request Blade, Welt, and Dan Heng with a who likes drawing and painting them?

"𝓓��𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Welt, & Dan Heng x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who likes drawing and painting them

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫𝐵����𝒶𝒹𝑒 "����𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“Could you at least try to smile?”

Your 10th critique about him. You loved drawing him all the time and now you’ve made him into your subject to draw. But you don’t seem happy at all, squinting at him, in hopes that he listens.

“I’m not smiling.” He groans, refusing your demand—honestly, in your eyes, a smile might fix the only atrocious pose he does all the time—arms crossed, while accompanied by a blank-looking face. “Come on! You would look perfect with a smile on your face!” You rebuked. You didn’t bring out all your best supplies just for a basic sketch of him you do all the time! This has to be perfect!

“Hmph.” 

That meant no…

Then you’ll play dirty yourself. 

“I thought you loved me!!” You began to fake cry and looked away to make him feel bad. “If you loved me enough, you would at least smile for me. I’m only painting the man I love dearly out of my free will and time.” Every word you spoke made him out to be a terrible person, and until your last breath, he did not hear the end of it.

“Fine…” 

He had enough of your anger directed towards him, as he sighed, the ends of his lips shakily spreading wide and revealing an ugly and awkward-looking smile—which makes him look like you’ve got him at gunpoint— “Uh, forget I said that, you don’t have to smile,” those words alone leave him instantly frowning and glaring at you.

“I was just joking earlier!”

💫𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈"

“Are you going to line those sketches?”

You jump the second you hear his voice from behind you, a bit flustered, closing it and pressing your sketchbook right against your chest to hide the drawings of him, though it’s clear he’s already seen it. “Well…Well, I'm not sure yet.” you sputtered, watching him sit beside you while you were embarrassed by the fact he saw your sketches of him.

“Could I see them? Your sketches look beautiful from a distance, you want me to see them, that is.” 

“Uh…” Gazing back at his hopeful eyes while he awaited your answers. It wouldn't be harmful to show him, since already seen everything.

“Uh, sure, they aren’t that good though.” 

Shakily handing him your sketchbook in his, his hands flipping through the pages while looking at every one of your drawings with a distinct eye. It feels like an inspector is looking through them (if you’re being truthful). Watching his expression every time he flipped through a page; nervousness pools its way into your stomach.

“These are incredible, you’ve left me speechless.” Even the way you drew him; made him look far better than he does in person. The way you draw, each pencil stroke having its place when during a messy sketch, your hands are truly gifts.

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔 "𝐼𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐿𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑒"

He could feel the tips of his ears go red as he awkwardly posed for your painting. Your detailed gaze looked at him; it felt like you were looking through him. You could even get up to capture a certain detail on his clothes.

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

He keeps repeating that phrase in his head. Your fine eyes looking up at him make him freeze even more. You make him feel so see-through as if you were trying to unravel his deepest secrets.

“Dan Heng, inch your head up a little.” you move away from your canvas to look at him, signalling with the tip of your paintbrush in your hands, yet you frown at him when he inches his head a bit too high up, which makes him freeze up—unsure where to move his head.

“A little down,” 

“No, no, that too downwards,”

“Now you're too high again, wait a second.” You sigh, putting down your paintbrush and pallet somewhere off the side, before quickly reaching to his side, gently cupping his chin, and lifting it to your desired height and position. He could feel his sweat dripping down his forehead as you quickly fixed his appearance once again; maybe his ears might go red with the close proximity you have with him.

“There you’re perfect now, Do not keep that position for me please.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[syoddeye]

consequence / cupid

price x f!reader | 1.2k words series directory tags: alcohol, exes, a touch of angst. a/n: have a snack. next one's a meal. john price vs. art. ☕

it isn’t as if john hasn’t seen an arse cheek before. he’s a man. he’s military. he’s seen soap’s full moon upwards of fifty times in the last year.

but this cheek, barely beyond his arm’s reach, is connected to his barista. his friend, as she keeps inferring. it’s lovely and round, and those little lightning strikes peeking over the waistband of her jeans are a tease. it’s not even the whole expanse, only half, but oh, what a half. the heart-tipped arrow notched by the impish cupid tattoo begs for a kiss. a bite. he thanks christ for decorative pillows and his superiors for putting him through multiple rounds of resistance training.

a lesser man, he thinks, would break. say something crass or play his hand here. john simply hums appreciatively, as if observing a masterpiece in a museum.

(which it ought to be.)

“so you lost a bet.”

“yes.”

“the result of which was…this.”

“yep.”

“it’s cute.”

she pulls her jeans and underwear up and collapses back onto the couch dramatically. “cute is a word for it.”

“did it hurt?”

“no more than my thighs or stomach.”

john’s mouth dries despite the drink. although he initially planned to nurse it to prolong his stay, he considers downing the rest immediately. get out while his dignity is intact. before he does something careless.

cece clambers onto the back of the couch, putting on a show of stretching each of her legs. she bumps against his head, pausing to plant two paws on a shoulder to steady herself, then drags her tongue where his beard connects. sandpaper matting it aslant. deep, contented purring drowns out the dull roar of his blood. it diffuses some of the one-sided tension. some.

“wow. cee really likes you.” 

“feeling’s mutual.” john reaches blindly to find the cat’s withers for a scritch. he lets his attention wander in the silence that follows, roaming the room to see if anything’s different. so long as the cat’s using him as a saltlick, he doesn’t foresee himself venturing to her end of the couch.

“so. special forces.” 

“mhm.”

“the arms aren’t just for show, then.”

and where are we going with this? john shoos cece, leaning forward to peer at his host. he brushes over his wet, cemented sideburn and spares a brief glance at the lovable interloper, responding in a flat, unsure tone.

“my…arms. no.” he squints. “why do you ask?”

“how confident are you with a drill?”

“that’s it—yeah, right there, john.” 

john grits his teeth. sweaty from the unplanned exertion, his palms nearly slip at her praise. he shoots a mildly frustrated stare at the ceiling. it’s about time.

nearly an hour of dialogue and negotiation as to where her new shelves would best fit, the task’s finally at an end.

not that he’s genuinely annoyed. he could’ve guessed she was meticulous, no, a perfectionist. it’s a latent trait, he thinks as he attaches the shelves. one he’s watched how she pours the milk into those artsy lattes she serves. tongue poked out, brow furrowed, muttering self-flagellations—he just hasn’t been the focus of it. in her crosshairs. he spits the screws into his free palm and starts to fix the bracket to the wall.

“can’t thank you enough. i’ve had those sitting around since before the whole wrist thing, but i, uh, it’s still finicky.”

“not a problem.” 

she stoops to rifle through a stack of books and frames while he tests the anchors. ensures the mdf won’t collapse the moment she sets one of those thick artbooks on it.

“your tenancy agreement even allow these?”

“no,” she smirks. “but nothing patching plaster can’t hide.”

john chuckles, gaze catching on a shallow stack of canvas set against the wall. he shuffles backward to get out of her way as she slots books on the shelf, but he stares at the stretched fabric. a splotch of orange bleeding into the edge. before he can stop himself, he steps closer to card through them.

“what do we have here?” 

“oh, those–those are old–oh god, don’t laugh.”

laughing is the last thing on his mind. he finds himself staring at a portrait. it’s, well, shit, he doesn’t know the vocabulary. it’s…evocative and bright at the border, with oranges and golds gradually cooling into greens. at its center is a profile of a woman, with her hair tied up and face expressionless. pensive? she almost looks wary with the side eye. the style isn’t one he recognizes, not that he’s a mind for art to begin with. her skin consists of thick brushstrokes, a gradient of complementary shades from the same color family. he’s unsure if he should look at each individual stroke or the face as a whole. the uncertainty is an uncomfortable thing—he’s made a career out of knowing precisely where to focus. looking past the surface to decode the complex.

he does know one thing for certain: it’s good work. belongs in a museum.

“well, she’s pretty,” john murmurs as he stands the piece facing out. his eyes flick to her with a grin. “not as pretty as you, ‘course. who is she?”

a flurry of emotions passes over her face and ultimately settles as a nervous smile. “old classmate.”

he grabs the next canvas and flips it, expecting more of the same, but it’s decidedly not. this style he recalls, though not the name, just a name. warhol. it’s the same woman, painted identically nine times on the canvas. facing forward, a timid smile and big eyes. a rainbow of colors that’s snatched right out of his hand.

her mouth is a wavering line, struggling to stay still. something wants out.

john repeats himself. “who is she?”

“like i said. an old classmate.” she shoves the painting over the first and waves him away from the rest. “there was an unofficial tradition. students are paired and each term, you create a piece based on each other. i painted and…those are the results.”

there are three canvases left. quick math. if the program was full-time, she dropped out with maybe a single term left.

he wilts at her tone. it’s slightly sugary. practiced. it’s her customer service voice. “well, it’s getting late.”

it’s not. it’s barely dark outside.

“so i won’t keep you.”

please do, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. 

“thanks for coming over.”

on the way to the door, he brushes a thumb between cece’s ears, toeing his shoes on with a resigned sigh.

“this was nice.” she tells him at the door.

“it was.” until i ruined it.

“see you around.” probably not. 

the streetlight’s dead outside her place. he’ll report it in the morning before he heads to the café and after he perfects an apology.

~~~~

you shove the paintings in with the box. ben’s supposed to fetch his last box of odds and ends any day now. a sour taste bubbles in your throat, furious with yourself for not hiding it better. you’d become lazy in john’s absence, not tidying as well as you should have. though, in your defense, it’s not as if you have friends to invite over. no company to speak of or to keep.

now you’ve shoved your first shot at something out the door. in your head, you hear how stupid it sounds. show your arse, sure, but god forbid you share the whole story.

crawling into bed, you turn the argument around. 

you’re a washed-up artist and a boring barista with emotional baggage. john’s some secret agent soldier type. he’s not interested in the dramatics of failed relationships. he’s just…john. a man you shouldn’t’ve shown cupid to. a nice fella. your favorite regular. 

best leave it at that.

[blackfemdoll]

��� u so… pretty, ellie williams

black!fem!reader does bsf!ellie’s make up for fun. friends to lovers. yearning. reader is oblivious. i typed ‘doll’ instead of y/n, replace with ur name. wc 1.5k

this is a reupload from my old account! i did not steal!

ellie had no idea why she even agreed to this. she tended to be much more easy-going when she was high, but still. she hated make-up. she absolutely loathed the way it felt on her skin. it felt like a mask — thick, heavy. felt like her pores were suffocating on whatever chemicals made up the composition of the products. and god… don’t get her started on cleaning it off. so much of it was meant to be waterproof or long wear, getting rid of make-up was almost as deliberate of an effort as putting it on.

but then her olive eyes flickered up to catch her face. doll. and the meaning found ellie. suddenly, it all made sense why ellie agreed to letting her make-up-loving best friend play around on her canvas.

doll only wore an absent-minded smile, holding ellie’s soft face in her fingertips as she used a weird egg-shaped sponge to press the concealer into her under eye. pleasantly oblivious. it’s like the pretty woman had blinders on. her gaze was fixed on the little space beneath ellie’s eyes and she was so deeply absorbed into the process of achieving an “airbrushed finish,” she didn’t notice ellie melting to her touch like putty. she didn’t notice those very green-colored marbled eyes drinking her in.

from doll’s beautiful sun-kissed brown complexion… to her thick, dark coils put up in a pineapple bun… to the acrylic nails ellie could feel slightly pressing into the flesh of her cheek… to that playfully delicate smile on her plump, glossy lips… to the silage of spicy sweetness enveloping the both of them. even the dreamy, watery sound of kelela playing from ellie’s bedroom bluetooth as the two of them shared the space of her bathroom — ellie sitting on the sink, doll’s waist wedged between her thighs.

it made sense now.

“i didn’t put a lot of concealer ‘cuz,” doll began, her voice as soft as her fingertips, “i wanted to show your freckles.” she continued pressing the sponge into ellie’s under eyes. “i really like them.”

ellie felt herself melting even more. she was sure doll would be able to feel and see the heat pooling in her pale cheeks — a recipe composed of three ingredients: shock, fondness, and embarrassment.

“really?” ellie cautioned. “i used to get made fun of for my freckles… i kinda didn’t like them.”

doll’s face contorted into an expression of disapproval as she pulled her hands away from ellie’s face and set the beauty blender back into her make-up box.

“they’re cute,” she affirmed and shifted through her box in search of a lip product.

ellie for sure was blushing. “thank you.”

the girl only beamed. her chestnut face radiated such a glow and warmth, it was infectious. she was like the sun. “you’re welcome, el’.” then she grabbed the product she was looking for — her nyx liner and a nyx butter gloss.

setting the gloss down, doll picked the liner up and returned her decorated fingers to ellie’s warm chin (the blushing heated her entire face). then doll brought herself closer to ellie… squeezing between her legs as she lowered the pencil onto her lip. gently, she swiped the colored tip along her skin.

“we’re almost done…” she muttered softly. “just the lips now…”

the paler girl’s entire body grew hot. doll was sooo close, ellie could see the beauty marks speckled around her eyes. her lashes were thick, long, and curly… framing those sweet irises of hers. and those irises were trained on her lips… attentively lining them with a pencil. having such a pretty girl focusing so much attention on her mouth made her a bit nervous. ellie wasn’t undisciplined around attractive women. but this was different. she was different.

“open your mouth a little…” doll instructed. and ellie found herself thoughtlessly obeying, parting her lips slightly so that doll could more easily access the corners of her lips. “good…”

oh god. ellie felt her eyebrows furrow at the hushed praise. she never really was the type of person to just obey someone else. she’s always been headstrong and a bit stubborn. but doll had powers over her that were unheard of. doll could tell ellie to move the ocean with a fork and ellie would do just that.

the coily-headed girl slightly blurred the lining of the pencil with the pad of her thumb. ellie only froze at the contact. and began imagining that the digit was instead doll’s lips — they were so plush, full, and juicy. she wondered how it felt to kiss her.

then doll set the pencil down and exchanged it for the gloss. it was peachy with a touch of red. she loosened the top and then raised her hand up to ellie’s lips. slowly, she painted them with the creamy substance.

“pretty,” doll praised with a smile beginning to spread across her face as the look finally came together. she pulled the applicator away and fastened it closed, wearing a proud expression as she marveled at her work.

it was a soft make-up look, since doll knew ellie hated make-up. “clean girl,” as they say on tiktok. no foundation, just a skin tint. some light concealer. a bit of mascara. some rosy blush and that to die for lip combo. it was worn well on ellie’s face — a nice little complement to her features without overpowering them and overwhelming her.

ellie felt like a deer in headlights. like an alien. she had never been someone’s muse before, so the praises were foreign. she only slouched as she sat on her sink, interlocked her hands together in her lap as she nervously wriggled her toes. her shoulders were high. poor baby was nervous.

“you look so cute,” doll gushed. she noticed that ellie seemed to feel a bit unnerved by the spotlight. but doll couldn’t help but profess how she felt. ellie only awkwardly half-smiled in response, to which doll rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around ellie’s wrist, tugging it as if to pull her beside her.

“come down, ellie. turn around.”

once again, ellie mindlessly obliged and pushed herself off of the sink counter, easily towering over doll. but the shorter girl’s big spirit made ellie feel a bit… small. not in a bad way… but more like the whole world was doll, and ellie was her satellite.

doll wrapped her arms around ellie’s arm comfortingly with a beaming expression. “look at yourself. you are so cute.”

ellie hesitantly looked up into the mirror, standing awkward as ever. she held the hem of her hoodie’s sleeves in the palm of her hands and raised her gaze to her face. and the reflected image staring back at her was someone she could barely register as herself. she was so used to her bare face that such slight changes in her appearance could almost disorient her, but it wasn’t a negative experience. being so close to doll… ellie could even smell the strawberry conditioning deep mask in doll’s curly tendrils. feeling those soft hands on her face as she stood between ellie’s thighs. it was a core memory.

her rosy-painted cheeks merely imitated her actual flush. at her reflection, she could only offer an awkward little smile. like she was reluctant to admit she actually did look pretty cute. unlike herself, but cute. in a way, her head seemed like it was borrowed from another body in comparison to her hoodie, band tee shirt, and ripped jeans. but it was her.

doll’s own painted face smiled up at her. a soft glam. glitzy and doll-like. beautiful as ever. maxi dress-adorned body molded into ellie’s side. in many ways, they opposed each other. but ellie couldn’t help but love to see them side by side.

“yeah, it does look good,” ellie had to agree. then she pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked down at her friend. “thank you.”

doll’s eyebrows cautiously furrowed. her happy smile became a bit insecure as she removed herself from ellie’s side. “do… do you like it? you don’t sound very happy.” oh god her voice sounded so small, it physically hurt.

ellie’s eyes widened. “no no no! i love it! you did amazing,” she reassured. then her expression became bashful. “i’m just not used to seeing myself like this.”

doll looked at her curiously as she walked over to the bathroom sink and began assorting her make-up products back into the little container. “like what?” she was turned away from ellie, but they could still see each other in the bathroom mirror.

ellie flushed. “you know… all pretty and stuff.”

doll halted as if she were being insulted. her eyes flicked up into the reflective surface, meeting ellie’s gaze. doll’s face was doused in a somber sincerity and her lips formed a slight pout.

then she turned around to look ellie in her face. ellie’s eyes widened in response to those big, doe-like eyes fluttering up at her like butterfly wings. but doll didn’t react to that. she only shook her head to ellie’s statement and what it implied. then candidly, she corrected her friend.

“you are pretty, ellie. really pretty.”

ellie felt like her insides turned to mush. her breath got caught in her throat as it hitched, and she felt her palms grow a bit moist as her whole body heated in response to her words.

“really?” ellie questioned, feeling her cheeks blush beneath the rare beauty applied to them.

doll nodded. “mhm.” she licked her lips. “you are.”

[annaloveshjp]

Warming a Cold Night

-18+!! hermione granger x fem!reader

-warnings: SMUT! public sex if you have anxiety, yelling at the start, oral sex ( reader recieving ), fucking outside on leaves, third person POV

-summary: hermione and y/n haven’t touched anyone in months, and who is better to relieve that than your best friend?

-a/n: first Hermione post!!! expect more in the future and leave requests! (fluff coming up soon, promise :) )

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

“See you later,” Y/N waved to Harry and Ron as she walked out of their shared tent and sat beside Hermione, who was leaning on the cold canvas.

Hermione gave a small smile in greeting, unfolding a blanket and covering the both of them. Y/N sighed in content as she curled into Hermione’s warmth.

It was November and the quartet had apparated into a forest filled with beautifully colored trees a few days ago, Hermione and Harry having found a spot a few miles from a small town.

The previous night, Y/N had taken the Invisibility Cloak and walked to a small shop, filling a sack with food (Hermione insisting she leave money). She had returned two hours later to a panicking Hermione, Harry trying to calm her down.

When Y/N walked into the tent, the sight of Hermione on the verge of tears had almost immediately vanished when they saw her. Hermione rushed out of her seat and enveloped Y/N in a hug so tight that she thought she might break her ribs.

“Hermione, gosh!” Y/N squeaked as Hermione crashed into her. Hermione gave a relieved laugh (it could’ve been a sob) as Y/N dropped the cloak and bag of food to the ground to wrap her arms around Hermione’s waist.

“W-what took you so long?” Hermione said breathlessly as she pulled away from Y/N, her eyes wide and slightly red. Y/N reached her cold hands up and held Hermione’s face.

“It’s a long walk, and I found an empty clothes shop,” Y/N nodded to the bag on the floor, almost bursting at the seams with food and what seemed to be gloves.

Ron barked a laugh. “Nice, Y/N!” He walked past Y/N, thumping her on the shoulder, picked up the bag and dumped it onto the main table, spilling out clothes and food.

Harry walked over and began examining the clothes, picking up three pairs of gloves. “Oh, sorry,” Y/N said, taking Hermione’s hand and leading her over to the table. “I could only fit three pairs, but I think they’ll fit you all well,”

Hermione looked at Y/N, shocked. “Y/N! You can’t expect us to take these and leave you with nothing when you did all that for us! Take mine, I insist,” she found the smallest pair and shoved them into Y/N’s hands.

“Oh, Hermione,” Y/N smiled. “It’s alright, really. I have my own gloves,” Y/N gestured to her bunk where a pair of fingerless gloves lay, unused for days.

“But, Y/N, your fingers will freeze off with those!” Hermione said. “Just take these, no returns,”

“She’s right, Y/N,” Harry said. “Your fingers will freeze off with those,”

“Finger-cicles,” Ron said.

Y/N sighed. She knew there was no changing Hermione’s mind. “Okay, thanks guys. Sorry I couldn’t get another pair,”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Hermione snapped. “You did all this but say all these things like you’re not enough? You are! And it really bothers me that you think otherwise!”

Y/N glanced to Hermione’s neck, seeing the familiar golden chain dangling down to her chest. Y/N looked into her eyes and gently reached behind Hermione’s neck to unclasp the locket.

Once off, Y/N took the locket and clasped it around her own neck. “Better?” She asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” Hermione whispered. “But I still meant what I said. You are enough,”

Y/N had gone to bed that night, though with the locket around her neck, feeling much more wanted than before. The others had never shown even a sliver of dislike toward her, but for some reason, she felt she wasn’t good enough. Hermione’s words had spread a loving warmth through her whole body.

Now, as she leaned on Hermione outside of their tent, she didn’t feel as if she were putting an unwanted weight on her shoulder, but a comforting one.

Hermione’s warm hand found Y/N’s cold one, squeezing gently. Y/N’s stomach did a backflip at her gesture, the corners of her mouth involuntary tugging into a grin.

Y/N leaned over and kissed her on the shoulder, hoping Hermione would feel her love through her sweater. Hermione turned her head and had an odd look on her face; it resembled deep thought and love.

After a moment of looking into Y/N’s warm eyes, Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips to Y/N’s slightly chapped ones.

Y/N closed her eyes and reached the hand that wasn’t holding Hermione’s to cup the side of her face, the latter reaching to hold the back of Y/N’s neck.

The blanket dropped off of them when Hermione deepened the kiss by moving herself onto Y/N’s lap, both her hands now on the back of Y/N’s neck. Y/N’s hands went to Hermione’s waist, keeping her steady.

After a minute, Hermione pulled away.

“Wait, Y/N,” she said, panting. “We shouldn’t do this. Not here,”

Y/N looked at her, tilting her head. “Why not? Afraid we’ll get caught?”

“I mean—“ Hermione stuttered. “Yes! And—“

Y/N cut her off by kissing her again, this time, with more passion. Her hands traveled down to Hermione’s thighs, gripping onto them tightly. Hermione let out a whimper.

“Hermione,” Y/N muttered against Hermione’s lips. “There’s no better place to do this, really. We can never get alone inside the tent, it’s only out here when we’re left alone.”

“I know, but—“ Hermione started before Y/N interrupted her.

“‘What if someone does find us?’ Has anyone ever found the tent, Hermione?” Y/N reasoned, leaning back and tucking hair behind the brunette’s ear.

Hermione sighed. “No,”

“That’s right,” Y/N cooed before taking her wand and casting a silencing charm on the tent opening. She turned to Hermione and began kissing her again, reaching her hands under her best-friend’s sweater.

Y/N’s cold hands gave Hermione chills. She started to roll her hips onto Y/N as they kissed, craving the friction.

Hermione gasped as Y/N’s hands traveled from her stomach to her breasts, squeezing them gently and feeling her nipples harden at the sudden chill.

Hermione’s hands raked through Y/N’s hair, tugging almost harshly, desperate for more. Y/N suddenly dropped her hands down to the waistband of the muggleborn’s pants, dipping beneath and into her underwear.

Hermione threw her head back as she let out a moan; her best-friend had started rubbing circles on her clit, her cold fingers only enhancing the pleasure. She bucked her hips towards Y/N’s core, the latter’s other hand gripping her hips, guiding her.

“That’s it, good girl,” Y/N mumbled against Hermione’s neck. She wasn’t leaving her any marks, she only wished to rest her lips there, leaving gentle kisses every now and then.

She then dipped her hand lower and pressed her middle and ring finger against Hermione’s entrance, earning a loud whimper from her.

Y/N sunk her fingers into Hermione, rapidly thrusting in and out. Hermione cried out many curse words of pleasure along with strangled moans, pushing her hips onto Y/N’s hand, riding it.

Y/N took her other hand and tilted Hermione’s head down to take her lips in her own, swallowing the brunette’s moans, her tongue pushing into her mouth, exploring every inch.

“Y/N, I’m almost there,” Hermione managed between whimpers. “Faster, please!” She was vigorously humping Y/N’s hand, close to her release.

Y/N leaned her mouth to Hermione’s ear and whispered, “come for me, darling,”

With an almost pornographic moan, Hermione reached her climax, releasing warm cum onto Y/N’s hand, warming it.

Y/N kissed Hermione as she pulled her hand from her trousers. She pulled away, bringing her hand up to show Hermione.

“Open,” Y/N instructed. Hermione obliged, opening her mouth. Y/N pressed her cum soaked fingers to Hermione’s tongue, the latter closing her lips around them, humming as she sucked on the delightful taste of herself.

Y/N removed her fingers, then patted the crunchy leaves beside her, inviting Hermione to sit again.

“Come on, we’ve talked about this,” said Hermione. She continued when Y/N raised a brow. “You can’t do all that for me and expect nothing in return!”

Y/N blinked. She suddenly remembered the other night when Hermione basically screamed at her telling her she was enough.

“Now,” Hermione said, grabbing the forgotten blanket and folding it into a square, setting it beside Y/N. “Sit on this,”

Y/N did as she was instructed. “So, my turn now?” She smirked.

“Mhm,” Hermione confirmed as she crawled up to Y/N, kissing her once again. Hermione’s hands quickly traveled to undo Y/N’s belt, tugging her pants down not long after.

Y/N shivered from the lack of clothing, an autumn breeze just passing by. Hermione, still kissing her, searched for her wand with her hand (thrown in the leaves earlier), and casted a temporary heating charm onto Y/N’s bare legs.

Y/N sighed into the kiss, relieved at the warmth. Hermione then traveled her hands to Y/N’s panties, sliding them off of her fellow Gryffindor.

Hermione broke apart from the kiss, but only to dip her head down and start kissing Y/N’s thighs, making her shiver.

Once finished leaving a few marks on Y/N’s thighs, Hermione traveled her mouth to attach her lips onto the younger girl’s clit.

Y/N gasped as Hermione licked a stripe up her soaked cunt, the former's hand shooting down to grip Hermione’s brown curls.

Hermione pushed Y/N’s thighs apart gently as she lapped at her cunt, sucking on her sensitive bud. Y/N’s hips continuously bucked forward, pushing Hermione’s face closer as she did so.

“Mm, fuck,” Y/N groaned when Hermione pushed her tongue inside her vagina, her nose rubbing against her clit. Hermione moaned whenever Y/N forced her head closer, vibrating onto Y/N’s pussy.

Hermione’s tongue moved faster and faster, Y/N getting closer and closer to her climax. She sucked on every part of Y/N that she could.

“I’m close— I’m cumming, Hermione!” Y/N cried out as she reached her climax, spilling her juices out into Hermione’s mouth. Y/N felt Hermione lick and swallow every drop.

Hermione gave one last kiss to Y/N’s puffy pussy before sitting up and reaching for the girl’s clothes, Y/N putting them back on immediately.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Y/N said as her best friend sat down next to her. “I didn’t know you were experienced with that,”

“I’m not, really,” Hermione went pink. “I just— watched some videos… and read books,”

Y/N giggled. “Works for me,”

[genericpuff]

I'm about to ask an embarrassing art question: what's your advice for beginner artists who struggle to draw a good circle?

You don't need to draw perfect circles! I can't even draw perfect circles! My circles are shit! Look at this garbage!

But! They do what they're supposed to do :)

(and if I really need a "perfect" circle for something, I just use rulers LMAO)

But! There's still a lot of value in learning how to draw circles ✨ confidently ✨ and with ✨ gusto ✨, so let's do an ACTIVITY >:D Please feel free to follow along! All you need is a sheet of paper and a pencil, or, if you're a digital artist, a fresh canvas and a round brush!

On your clean sheet, draw circles like how you normally would. Scribble them out, don't take your time with them, just do a 1-3 pass circle, you should only be spending like a second on each one. Start with small circles, and then gradually build up to some bigger ones.

While drawing those circles, did you notice it got harder to draw them the bigger they got? Maybe it felt like they were "outgrowing" your range of motion?

Start with a new page again. But THIS time, as you scribble out the circles from smallest to largest, focus on your elbow when you draw. Pretend there's a heavy jug of milk taped to your wrist that's preventing you from moving it. Oh no, what do you do now? Keep that wrist still and move your elbow instead. This will give you a MUCH larger range of motion that will allow you to fully utilize your drawing tool without your wrist restricting your movements, which is, as you might be discovering, very helpful when you're trying to draw bigger circles.

These are exercises we would do in our life drawing classes back in college, every single day, before proceeding with our actual model studies. It seems silly and boring, but it can really help you develop confidence with your technique which is ultimately all it comes down to - it's not about perfection, it's about decision-making, and building confidence in the lines you put down, even when they're not "exact". Imperfect lines and circles are often more expressive than if they were perfect, anyways! You just need to develop the confidence in creating them <3

Best of luck anon! (•̀ᴗ•́)و

[goldenstring6123]

Zayne & Rafayel: Married to...

Warning: Angst no comfort. Major character death. implied suicide. Drama. Self insert. AFAB!reader.

Author's note: I was supposed to upload another thing but my tumblr is having problems so i hope y'all could settle for this in the meantime...

Zayne:

It was a bittersweet sensation. Seeing you at the front of the stage, wearing the gown you always dreamed of wearing. It was the most beautiful gown he had ever seen, yet the soft, warm glow of the chandelier made you prettier than the dress.

He was reluctant to attend your wedding; after all, he, too, proposed to you back when you were together. He got on his knee as well and offered you the ring you kept eyeing when you went on that particular date. He placed it on your finger, and from that point on, he thought that you were his future.

His foolish thinking blinded him to other possibilities. He didn't know where it went wrong, but all he knew was that he lost you and that your kindness to end it on nice terms with him was a double-edged sword.

Perhaps a part of him wished you never got along once you canceled the engagement. Maybe it would've been easier for him to move on. Maybe...

He could've used your anger as an excuse to not see you ever again.

But the heavens wished otherwise.

Much to his dismay, he never truly had an excuse to turn down your wedding invitation. You wished the best for each other and bid farewell on that chilly morning; he dropped you off at your house, wanting to embrace you and wipe away your tears that never stopped streaming.

Zayne, despite being the collected and intuitive man that he is, waited for you to at least call him back. You never did. Only the universe knows how many times he wanted to call you and how many times he wrote you a message only to delete it. But after a few months, he never once thought that the first time you ever contacted him again was to send him a wedding invitation.

The world was too cruel.

He gifted you both some old champagne, one that was recommended to him by Yvonne; it was the very same champagne he would open for you had you managed to celebrate your first wedding anniversary with him.

The rest of the reception was bleak. He couldn't recall things quite clearly despite not touching a single glass of alcohol. Those few hours, he was left in a daze, teetering between joy and grief, with him congratulating you face to face being his respite. He was happy that you were happy in the embrace of your new husband, and although another chapter awaits your life, his had come to a standstill.

The passage of time felt faster than it did, yet when you, your husband, and your daughter visited him for your child's check-up, only then was he reminded of where he was. It had been years since you ended your relationship with Zayne, but he clung to the memory of you every day.

Nothing changed for him. You were happily married with a child, and he was still working in the hospital as the chief surgeon, the only difference being he's now focusing more on research. It was unfortunate that his feelings didn't change, too.

Maybe in the next life, he'll get to stand next to you in front of the altar.

Rafayel:

Before him stood a painting.

A painting of you on the beach holding hands with your current husband. Under the moonlight, the painting seemed dull, devoid of the color that he ever so loved putting. It was an ugly painting, barely able to capture the smile you made on that day. Your husband's face was blurred in the painting, seemingly almost finished. The brush strokes were gentle, blending into one another, yet as the layers of paint built up, the strokes were sharper, rigid, almost seemingly cold, and coated with anger.

And it was precisely because of that that he scrapped it. And as he did, he pulled another canvas. It was a gift for you, a remembrance of a new beginning in your life and the end for Rafayel. He wished that even if you never got together in the end, there would still be remnants of him in your home.

He gave you a different painting. It was still at the beach, yet rather than blue, the sky was colored orange and red, and your bodies and faces turned into silhouettes, yet embracing one another. He couldn't capture your husband's face. You were beautiful in his painting, immaculate even, yet he can't ever recall the expression your husband made simply because he was imagining himself in that position.

With enough alcohol, Rafayel mustered the courage and energy to make the best piece he could; he wanted to see you light up once he gave you the painting. He wanted your smile to be the last memory rather than your tears when you broke up.

"Congratulations," he remembered saying to you.

"Thank you, Raf."

Your voice played in his head over and over again like a broken record. The alcohol swirled everything in sight, and seemingly, the only thing he could make sense of was the harsh crashing of the waves outside his home.

The night was the darkest at that hour. He reeked of alcohol.

Rafayel dropped the empty whiskey bottle onto his floor, hearing it shatter loudly. He picked up the biggest shard and dug it onto the canvas before him. Once, twice, thrice; he slashed the image of your husband, yet your figure was never harmed. He wasn't angry, no. He was grieving.

He flung the canvas away, disregarding whatever it crashed into, and the moment he did, another canvas stood against the wall.

He stared at it for a minute and then looked at the sea once more.

He felt happy, like a sense of pressure lifted off of his heart. With slow steps and feet against the cold parquet floor, he walked to the outside of his home, through the neglected garden, and to the sandy shoreline.

Every splash and whisper of the waves soothed his mind. The blank sky became a canvas for his thoughts. I love you's, I'm sorry's, and thank you's mingling with one another, incoherent. The image of your smile warmed up his body against the growing tide that crept to his waist. A phantom of an embrace, numbing the sharp, cold breeze against his damp back.

He waited for you for more than 800 years.

He's grown tired. He still wanted to wait, but he deserves some rest.

Emptiness washed over Rafayel as he continued to walk farther from the sandy terrain.

Nobody heard his woes, not a single soul; the only thing he left behind was that big canvas that captured his unfulfilled wishes.

The image of you kissing him under the moonlight.

His smile and yours are as vivid as they can be.

He'll wait for you again in the next life, but until then—

he'll rest with the sea.

Author footnotes: No footnotes but poor Rafayel.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[noa-ciharu]

Alternatively: fyosig + 36

fyosig + "please don't leave me behind"

Post Meursault, angst, hurt/questionable comfort, religious symbolism, sort of brainwashed Sigma

- - - - - - - -

Last thing Fyodor expected is to be tracked down in the back of beyond, much less by Sigma.

Peculiar indeed. But warranted reason for alarm? Not so much, or at all if he's to be candid. After all Sigma did read all his memories, not too implausible to presume he put wits to good use and figured out his whereabouts on very own. Impressive Fyodor had to remark - if not served as an immaculate litmus test. Not necessarily of Sigma's capabilities and lengths he's willing to go, those are nothing groundbreaking. But of Sigma's irrefutably wheedled decision - spoke of all darkest hues he managed to smear on the once blank canvas.

Dozen seconds ticked by in suspensive silence. Sigma stared at him with those vacant yet fiery eyes, at sixes and sevens. Fyodor didn't rush him anyhow - best to give Sigma illusion of freedom, although judging by how spent he looked Fyodor assumed that by this point Sigma can see through all of his smokes and mirrors.

Accented inhale. Tone eerily flat. Simultaneously clash of emotions and none at all on features - "I know everything"

Of course he does. That came as no surprise; what did is that Sigma felt the need to remind him of that. Fyodor crossed legs, tipped head and offered a meak smile Sigma should know by now serves just to disarm. "So you do", affirmed Fyodor while staring right up into oddly unguarded eyes. "But you've surely didn't come all the way here to tell me just that" - surely there's an ax to grind, but judging by confusion flashing over Sigma's twisted face it's not too far fetched to assume he's knocked out for six.

So no, not even Sigma himself knew why he sought him out. Itch for him became hardwired - no matter how much Sigma fought the newly found impulse he needed him like oxygen to breathe. Akin to moth to the flame Sigma will always be draw to the one that burned the life he used to know to the very ground.

"I..."

Pause followed by couple stressed sighs. Lips twisted and quivered, chest heaving in dire struggle for breath, eyes snapped shut with force that had to sting - inner conflict was manifest. Much to his credit Fyodor kept expression impassive; best to neither insult via glaringly fake consideration nor unnerve via brutal honesty. Considering everything Sigma went through in his memories this level of lucidity was to be applauded instead.

Frowning Sigma clasped both sides of his head and groaned - "Ugh, my head feels like a mess", kneaded forehead and huffed, likely wishing to cast away his presence from mind - futile endeavor, by this point he was engraved in every fiber of Sigma's being. Like clockwork he admitted just that - "Ever since that cursed day I couldn't get you out of my mind"

Your curiosity had a price tag on it, Fyodor wished to wise off but kept poke behind teeth. No need to fan the flames, especially when Sigma was on the brink of cracking; nothing but an empty shelf of former self. Greed got the best of him. In accordance, his freedom was clipped away. Every sin calls for a punishment, just because he didn't take over Sigma's body didn't mean there aren't other ways in which he can consume a greedy soul whole.

Sigma took a step backwards; then wobbled forwards, subliminally drawn by him and him only. "Your presence has engulfed me", heavy breath, foggy eyes, skin unhealthily wan - perplexed like this Sigma painted rather drained picture. Child's play to forge into a perfect weapon, however Fyodor knew a prod too firm could topple fragile mind pass the point of return - if he's to take this one into his embrace he'd need to thread carefully for regular manipulation would no longer cut it. By this point it's not even a matter of whether Sigma would take his hand or not, just when he'd realize caving in is inevitable.

"Gosh, what have you done to me?!", snarling Sigma paced back and forth; rocked throbbing head between arms and tried to soothe himself; to no avail. "No matter how much I try", sharp inhale, Sigma threw head back and combed fingers through hair; likely pucked out few strands from stress alone. "I cannot stop viewing life from your twisted perspective"

Ah, there it is, symphony to his ears. "That's a given", snickered Fyodor, allowing ounce of sadism to seap onto surface; insulting to keep the mask of benevolence after Sigma drank in his every cruelty. Thence Fyodor let devilty touch smile, in contrast kept tone mellow - "After all you've never taken in that magnitude of information" so it's only natural I tainted your sense of identity to the point where you cannot distinguish your thoughts from mine.

For a split second Sigma looked at him like he's not even human - no, not a devil either but something divine that transcends life itself. Atypical sure considering he never elicited anything but fear or anger in that timid yet assertive gaze, but also not surprising. Sigma's life divided in before and after; this one in front of his eyes is the fool who let the devil in on that faithful day; as result lost himself. In spite of godlike ability God he's not, merely one bestowed with His mission of bringing harmony to the entropy. But for Sigma's entranced eyes Fyodor would gladly become one.

In an instant reverence evaporated, leaving nothing but spark in weary eyes that surely would be rekindled. "I know you're up to no good", Sigma hissed and glared, but jab lacked the bite; crystal clear he's desperately clinging to last threds of life he used to know. Biting inside of mouth Sigma rewarded him with another meak scowl, only spoke volumes of how torn he's inside. "I know you'll inevitably end up using me again", accusation yet it came off as more of a wail.

Smart man, that Fyodor had to give it to him; but again foreseeable considering Sigma knew him down to the wire now - quite the strange sensation Fyodor had to admit, however nothing to lose sleep over; upper ground is still and forever will be his to claim. Transitory he toyed with idea of deception; promising Sigma to never lead him on again. With a shrug opted out of it. "It'd be insulting to lie to you after everything", explained Fyodor inaptly lightly considering gravity of the topic. "After all you are the one who knows me the best", flashing a roguish smile he finally stood up and strode towards his unwilling worshiper.

Rather than flinching or showing disdain Sigma appeared strangely relieved for a heartbeat by their close proximity - as if subliminally craving his presence, tactile presence, after being exposed only to indoctrinating memories. "And in spite of all that...", thin voice, head bent low. Sigma squeezed eyes and heaved. "I wish I could hate you", went off the tangent. "But I'd be hating myself in process" - because separating 'you' and 'I' is no longer feasible.

For a second Fyodor weighted the idea of patting Sigma's shoulder and consoling; not even as a part of deception but merely to have him calm down. Much to Fyodor's surprise Sigma beat him up to it - curled arms around Fyodor's frame, shoved coat down shoulders, cried out and threw himself in his embrace.

Ah, so you do have it in you to take me off guard. Silent sobbing, light shaking; hard to tell if Sigma burst in tears but definitely was distraught. Despite being stunned Fyodor found himself smiling; knew right away this one is hopelessly trapped in his web of lies - ironically constructed of nothing but truth, but with mind distorted beyond remedy Sigma couldn't distinguish own projections from reality.

"I know it's pointless to demand sincerity from you", faint hush, Fyodor more felt his chest move than heard the words, nonetheless could tell exhaustion and anguish in tone. In turn he embraced back; hummed into crown of Sigma's head and combed fingers through hair, just to coax Sigma into revealing more.

"But can you promise me one thing?"

Even if I do, how could you ever trust a word of a liar? By this point Sigma should know better than anyone else to expect honestly from him, admitted so himself moments prior - yet like a fool still held onto hope. If there's one thing Fyodor found admirable, albeit sinfully foolish about humans it's how unbreakable their spirits are - surely entertaining, but far and in between were ones worth his while.

Rather than offering any response Fyodor just chuckled; kept on caressing the trembling frame, privately savoring warmth of another human being in his arms - in all sincerity forgot how touch void of malicious intent even feels. Closing eyes he pressed lips against Sigma's temple. After this I won't let you go even to very death itself.

"Whatever you do please don't leave me behind ever again"

[tvgirlzz]

Gwen Stacy x fem!reader

notes: did not proofread this but enjoy 😣 also the only story I’ve really written was an English assignment on a book so feel free to give critiques if you have any 😋👍

“Sit still, Gwen!” You laughed as she moved uncomfortably.

Gwen had snuck into your window and while you were trying to decide what you wanted to make your art project on. Your teacher said it ‘had to be something close to you and not a random thing you traced from the internet.’ It was unbelievable the amount of times someone in your class used a dog they never met before for their project. Being the amazing girlfriend you are, you decided to make your project on her.

Which brings you to now, watching Gwen squirm uncontrollably on your bed.

“How long is this gonna take Y/N? I don’t think I can feel my butt anymore.” She complained, shifting around.

“Not long, I swear! Only a few more minutes.” Your brush delicately strokes, the light watercolors slightly dripping down the canvas. Painting beautiful pastel colors such as blue for her eyes, yellow to match her blonde hair, and topping it off with a pink and purple background.

Making sure to miss no detail, you picked up a small tipped brush. Carefully painting the small dots of her freckles, to the small, visible veins on her hands.

“Are you done yet? Lemme see!” She stood up, picking at the canvas in front of you.

“No! Sit down!” You lightly pushed her back down, moving her hands so she could pose again.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise. You can see the finished product once my teacher grades it.”

Setting the brush down, your eyes scanned all over the canvas. Sighing, you bit your lip nervously. This was good, right? You knew your art teacher was a hard critic but very easy on the grading. So why were you nervous?

“What’s wrong, babe?” Gwen furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to read your facial expression. She stood up and walked behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and laying her head on top of yours.

“If it makes you feel any better, I love it.” She knew you didn’t want her to see it yet, but she couldn’t help it. Your art was one of her favorite things about you. How different and unique it was.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet..” You whispered in a downhearted tone.

She kissed the top of your head and hugged her tighter. “I know, but I can’t help myself. Your art is so beautiful.” Gwen was trying to cheer you up since she knew how much pressure you put on yourself to make these projects perfect.

“And your muse is pretty hot, don’t you think?” She smirked and poked your cheek.

Letting out a chuckle, you let your lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah, she is. The prettiest muse ever.” You move your head to look up at her.

She smiled back at her and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. “Don’t worry about this, okay? You’re the best artist ever and probably better than everyone in your class. I’ve seen some of those works and damn- it’s awful.”

“Maybe we’ve seen different works because everyone in my class is advanced.”

She gasped. “You call Ned’s self portrait advanced?!”

“That’s different, he’s just really bad at art.” You stood up from your stool, let Gwen’s arm slide off of you. Picking up the canvas, you move it to your desk where it can hopefully dry. Then, you felt Gwen grab your waist as she turned you around to look at her.

“I love you, alright? And if you don’t get a good grade on this, just know that I still think you’re the best artist in the world.” She placed one hand on your hip and the other resting on your cheek, stroking it lovingly with her thumb.

“I love you too.” You replied in a soft tone. She smiled at you and leaned down to give you a kiss.

Pulling away, she moved her hand down into your pants pocket. “Now come on, I want to lay down together and binge a show. That’s why I came here.”

“Alright, you can pick.” You handed her your tv remote and crawled into your bed. She hopped in after you and laid her head down on your chest, letting you run your fingers through her hair.

As you and Gwen spent the rest of the night watching 90’s television shows, your art project slowly dried on your desk. Leaving bright, colorful watercolor marks as Gwen’s painted face stood still on the canvas.

She was really the prettiest muse you could ever have.

{ written by @loversrockxx please don’t steal 🙏🏽 }

[jarofstyles]

A little valentines blurbby miss jars? Fluff?

Sure thing :) this is full on fluff. I can do some smut too later if we are feeling it!

Check out our Patreon!

———

Harry was at a loss.

In all his other relationships it was simple, really. Valentine’s Day was going out to dinner, buying jewelry, getting expensive wine. It was heart shaped boxes of chocolate and roses. He had done enough of them that he had been pretty sure he that he had it down to the core until he had heard Y/N’s request.

“I'd really love to stay home, make some sweets with you, maybe try one of those painting videos and then drink some boxes of wine. We can make paintings for each other.”

Y/N was by far the most confusing woman he had dated, but the one he had loved the most the quickest. The most. Something about the simplicity of it almost felt like a trap- until he got a happy call from her asking if he would rather do oil or acrylic and that she was at the craft store with a few different size canvases in the cart.

So he showed up, baking supplies and boxed wine in tow to her flat, letting himself in. She had insisted on messy clothes because they were definitely going to get dirty, and she wanted a comfy night at home with no phones. That had been the big rule- notifications off, phones plugged in and put away. It was the opposite to any other date he had on the day. No dressing up, no photos, no extravagance.

To Harry? That had been one of the sweetest things. She had only wanted to spend the time with him. It reminded him about what he truly did think the meaning of the holiday had been before the commercial bits had been stuck into his brain. Spending time with the woman he loved, uninterrupted and doing things they’d both like.

He did still feel a little lost on what to give her, though. He was nervous she wouldn’t like the gifts he had chosen, though she had given him a large kiss for the flowers as soon as he had walked into the door that had nearly taken him off of his feet. She hasn’t left his side, choosing to allow herself to show the clingier side that he was relishing in. Y/N was an interesting creature, keeping Harry on his toes in the best of ways. This was just one of them.

His eyes focused on her as she stuck her tongue out in concentration, the easel holding her painting rocking a bit as she moved the brush over the canvas in short strokes. He found that she was far more interesting than the video, seeing her hair falling slightly in her face from the ponytail she had tied up high on her head and a dash of blue paint smudged on her cheek from the sky she was painting. His heart ached with how much love he held for her. This sort of love had been something he felt through his whole body, ebbing and flowing with the beats of his heart. Everything with her felt exciting.

“I can feel you staring.” She tried to be serious but he could see her lip quiver as she tried to hold back her smile. “Why aren’t you painting?” It wasn’t like he was hiding it but it was always something that had her wanting to smile. Mostly because it felt like a lot of the time he couldn’t help it.

“Cause I’ve got my own work of art right here.” He teased, watching as she set down the paper plate holding the paints she had mixed. “Can’t believe I got lucky enough t’have you all to myself.” The breathy tone of his voice showed how serious his awe was, making her turn to look at him.

It was true. Some days he did wonder how he ended up here. Y/N was unlike the people he had dated before. It wasn’t that they were all bad, that they weren’t good people. Most of them were. But they just didn’t make him feel as… full as she did. As excited. As childlike at times, getting excited over slice and bake cookies and holiday movies, over matching socks and museum exhibits. No one had allowed him to truly get down to the core of what he was supposed to feel in a relationship. She had become his best friend and more so easily it was like he didn’t even have to try.

They just fit.

Y/N paused the video, crawling into his lap. Her hands rested on the sides of his neck, eyes examining his face as her lips pouted a little bit before she began to speak. “Not fair that you’re so sweet to me. I’m trying to paint and then you go and make me want to kiss you.” And she did. Leaning in, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and exhaled through her nose as she felt his hands slip under her shirt to feel her warm back. It was something he always liked to do and she allowed it. “When you’re sweet and soft it makes me horny. And I want to finish these paintings so we can hang them up.” They didn’t quite live together yet but they spent enough time at each others places that it would always be seen. At least one of them.

“And we can.” He smiled, clasping her bare waist under her shirt. It was one that was far too big for her frame but it was cute anyways, the shorts underneath not visible from the length of it. “I do enjoy making you horny, though. I can take care of that when we’re done.” He raised a brow, showing the seriousness of the offer as she merely sighed.

“Fine. I’ll hold you to that. But this has been the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had and I want to enjoy all the activities.” Her ex hadn’t really been into the whole thing and the fact that Harry had let her choose anything she wanted to do and fully indulged in it had been enough for her to know that he was the one she wanted to be with. “I am very full from cookies but I want at least one cupcake before you get my pants off. Deal?”

“I’ll let you have 2 if it means we can take a shower together. You’re covered in paint and sugar, sweet girl.” He chuckled, thumbing some of the powdered sugar from her neck. How she always managed to wear her food, he had no idea- but he knew he would always find it endearing.

“Hm. Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

[rangerzath]

I've finally played the Lake House and now I'm going to talk about it for awhile. Spoilers below the break.

I will start off by saying this is one of the BEST DLCs I have ever played in any game.

I have always loved Kiran as a character since we first saw her, but The Lake House really highlighted just how fantastically rounded and detailed this character is given the short amount of time we spend with her. Her humor, the fear she experiences, but above all the determination she has to do her job makes a great character.

I appreciated how much we see of the everyman FBC agent. Not everyone at the FBC is a parautilitarian, a lovable scientist dork, or the Director. There are normal people working there believing in what they do. This is a very important part of the overall story of this organization to me. Often I see the Bureau demonized as a whole by the fandom and that really upsets me. Bad apples are everywhere, as we see in this DLC. But we also see how a good person like Kiran stands up against it. Even through the emails and documents we find in game you see good people trying their best against that evil. I am again thankful for Remedy's writing team that they really highlighted that. Even going as far as showing Darling denying a request to capture live test subjects, which means he learned after Dylan. You even see that Trench denied outlandish requests despite being being in the late stages of a galactic war raging in his mind.

You know I had to talk about Trench and Darling, but it was nice to see them again in this way. They still felt a part of this world in a way that made sense. Document storytelling has been one of my favorite things about Control. They present us with just enough framework to use on our own canvas to try and piece together details of those blank pages.

Did I get emotional over signatures? Yes, yes I did.

The atmosphere of this DLC hit all the right horror points. From the moment you walk into The Lake House it captures all the scariest horror vibes from the main game. The paint spattered on the walls like blood, but somehow even creepier because of how it wouldn't make sense to see paint like that (until you figure out just what is happening). Being helpless to the painted because again you are just an FBC Agent not a parautilitarian emphasized this feeling.

Using a picture frame set up with Kiran telling Saga what happened at The Lake House made sense and gives us the point in time Kiran would be providing this information. She left us clues in the main game with her dialogue of something horrible that went down at the Lake House, so it feels very appropriate that we get to see that in detail.

The question that resounded throughout this DLC of what is art was very appropriate given the struggles we face today with AI and plagiarism. How is art perceived and how does its emotional impact play on its viewer? Again the writing team really shines here with all the little details. The room with the ATDs was truly horrifying. I don't think they have ever made a room with no one feel so ominous.

Obviously there was a lot in the DLC for Control fans. We will be speculating on every detail for the next couple of years. I always hoped this last DLC of Alan Wake would lead into Control 2, so I couldn't be happier to see just that happen.

Unlike some DLCs that feel as though they were an afterthought, the story feels like the natural ending of Alan Wake 2's story. It felt like the only goodbye we would have with this game and its characters.

The ending song was a beautiful final note to capstone a game that Remedy struggled for so long to make, and I imagine at times doubted that it would ever be made.

I often struggle to put my feelings into written words, but I wanted to try and get them out. Remedy's future looks bright with multiple games on the horizon, but we see how quickly companies can run into issues and nothing is set in stone. Anything could happen in these uncertain times. We may never see these characters again, and most certainly not in the form they are now. It makes me really sad to think we may never see Saga and FBI Casey or Kiran ever again. Maybe there won't ever be an Alan Wake 3. Maybe we won't see Alan battle the Dark Presence again. Maybe we won't ever see Dark Place Casey's echos pave a path for Alan. Maybe we won't see Alice show us just how much a character can grown into her own. Maybe we don't even get to see more of Jesse, or Emily, or Arish. I already know with the passing of James McCaffrey some of these things are impossible. But its not only death that separates seeing a character again. The song End of an Era highlights this goodbye. This end scene. The curtains close. It is an end.

What I appreciated in this song was that it highlighted the struggle of getting to that ending. No matter what goal you are trying to reach, whether it's Alan trying to escape the Dark Place, Jesse finding out what happened to her brother, any one of us creating things that make us happy, that path always has its ups and downs. And that end will always be bittersweet. It will change us. It is a goodbye.

Whatever Remedy creates in the future it could be something we may like or something we may end up disliking. They could ruin characters or make brand new ones for us to fall in love with all over again. We can take that or leave it. Whatever they decide to do. Maybe we like Firebreak and their new type of Remedy game, maybe we don't. But none of that will change how we felt about these prior games and how these characters made us feel at this moment in time. We can look back and remember how it made us feel. When we laughed, when we cried. The journey they took us on.

I will always be grateful that I was able to experience these games. They moved me in ways I cannot find the words to fully describe. I will carry these feelings forward and cherish this memory.

“There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, So just give me a happy middle And a very happy start.” - Shel Silverstein

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (ch 10)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

[last chapter was incorrectly labeled as chapter 10, my bad]

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

It was the sort of spring day that promised a perfect summer: the air was thick with the scent of flowers and growing things, the sun shone down hard but the breeze was cool enough to soften it. Whether or not that promise would be fulfilled, at that moment, it was perfect.

Cafes and eateries all over Mechanicsburg had set tables and chairs out in the sunshine, often clogging up the roads to do it, and all were doing a bustling trade. Mechanicsburg took brunch very seriously, and tables were packed with friends and partners chattering over boar bacon and bottomless Mechanicsburg Slings (‘because that’s what you’ll end up in if you drink too many’).

There was only one table in the entire square that bore a single occupant. The table was scattered with several plates and pots of tea, indicating the occupant had been there for quite some time. Hanging from the chair was a canvas bag stuffed with books. The occupant herself was visible only as a cowlick of blonde hair poking out from behind a hardcover copy of The Heterodyne Boys and the See-Saw of Destiny and a pair of legs kicking absentmindedly back and forth under the table.

A shadow fell over her. Slowly, Agatha looked up.

And up.

And up.

Agatha wobbled in her seat, nearly tipping over, and still she could not clearly see the face of the monster looming over her. The creature took a few polite steps back.

He was huge, so big Agatha barely came up to his second knees. Bull’s horns curved from the sides of his head, and four eyes gazed down at Agatha in polite curiosity. A hat was balanced between his horns; he removed it and bowed slightly.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said, his voice a basso profundo rumble Agatha could feel as much as hear. “But you are Miss Agatha Sannikova?”

“Yes,” Agatha said. “That’s me.”

She tried hard not to sound wary, as it would be quite impolite. During her time in Mechanicsburg, Agatha had gotten used to seeing monsters walking around in the open, but it was hard not to be intimidated by the really strange ones. But Lord Saturnus talked so insistantly about how important that was—Mechanicsburg was a haven for monsters, and they should be treated like everyone else—so she did her best.

“I am Guildmaster Jorbelox, of the Guild of Monsters.” He put his hat back on his head and touched the thick chain that hung on his shoulders. The links were the shape of skulls, interspursed with round red gems. In the middle hung a large medallion, emblazoned with a clawed hand reaching up towards a crescent moon. Around the edges it said Guildmaster of Monsters.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Agatha set her book aside and held out her hand, politely.

Jorbelox stared at the hand for a moment, and then—hesitantly—reached out with two fingers (which still swamped Agatha’s hand) and shook it very carefully before releasing it again.

“I wished to inquire after the health of Lord Saturnus. I hear it is improving.”

“Yes!” Agatha said, beaming. “He’s talking again and everything!”

“How wonderful!” Jorbelox said. “Perhaps I shall attempt a visit.”

Agatha hid a grimace.

“Um...you might try a letter instead,” she said.

Jorbelox nodded, apparently unsurprised.

“And the Lady Teodora is also well, I trust?”

“She’s up at the hospital for a checkup. I get to wait here and read my books if I promise not to go anywhere.”

A waiter materialized by the table.

“Guildmaster Jorbelox, will you be joining us today?”

“I would not wish to further interrupt,” Jorbelox said, but he said it in that way people did when they wanted to say yes, but weren’t sure if you wanted them to say yes.

“I don’t mind. I’m pretty sick of this one, to be honest,” Agatha admitted, gesturing at the book on the table. “It’s not very good.”

Jorbelox chuckled.

“Then it would be a pleasure.”

He removed the colorful cushion from the chair and set the chair aside, placed the cushion on the ground, and sat down. Agatha discovered he actually had three sets of knees, which allowed him to fold his legs up quite neatly, leaving him only slightly too high up for the table.

The waiter disappeared momentarily, and returned with a fresh pot of tea.

“I’ve never heard of a guild for monsters before,” Agatha said, carefully pouring tea for both herself and Jorbelox. She tried not to be openly fascinated by how delicately he picked up the teacup with his claws.

“I believe we are the only one in existence,” Jorbelox said. “Mechanicsburg is quite unique in its treatment of the…shall we say, less normal inhabitants of Europa.”

“I meant I didn’t know there was one here,” Agatha admitted. “Do you have a guildhall?”

“Oh yes. If you look at the top of that building, the one with the red shutters, you can just see the capstone figure that sits on the guildhall roof.”

Agatha squinted and yes, she could just about see a winged statue holding a large bowl over its head in both hands.

“It must be a very impressive building,” she said. Jorbelox smiled.

“I like to think so.”

“But why are you all the way out here in the hospital district? All the other guilds are in the Court of Gears.”

Jorbelox hesitated, and covered it by taking a sip of his tea.

“The Court of Gears is where most of Mechanicsburg’s manufacturing is done, and most of the guilds are related to industry—the carpenters, the bricklayers, the merchants. We are not a profession—we simply are.”

“So what made you decide to put it near the hospital?”

“Ah, well. It is not so much that we built the guildhall near the hospital as the hospital was built near the guildhall. Do they not teach Mechanicsburg history in school?”

“They do, but it’s mostly the old stuff.”

“A pity,” Jorbelox mused. “Before Master William built the hospital, this was, er...Well, it wasn’t officially the monster district, but most of us lived here. You may notice some of the buildings have unusual proportions.”

“Oh, I wondered why that house had such skinny doorways!” Agatha exclaimed, brightly. Jorbelox smiled.

“The one three stories tall with only two floors? That would be Mr Amigara’s residence. You may have seen him around--very tall, very thin, rather…” He paused, searching for a word.

“Squiggly?” Agatha suggested, and Jorbelox smiled.

“Rather squiggly in the bones; yes, that’s him. Not much for conversation, I’ll grant you, but a marvelous chimney sweep. Very good at navigating tight spaces.”

“So why did they pick here to put the—”

“Agatha.”

Ms Teodora’s expression was placid, but the corners of her mouth and eyes were very tight, and her eyes were fixed on Jorbelox.

“Lady Teodora,” Jorbelox said, tipping his hat to her. His mouth had also gone tight. “Good day to you. I had just stopped to inquire after Lord Saturnus’ health, and Miss Sannikova was kind enough to invite me to sit with her.”

“How nice,” Teodora said, with a stiff smile. “Agatha, get your books. It’s time to go home.” Teodora drew out her coin purse.

“Oh, please,” Jorbelox said. “Do allow me.”

“No,” Teodora said, sharply. Then she smiled, almost painfully, and said in a very polite voice “Thank you, but that really won’t be necessary.”

“I see,” Jorbelox said. His voice was also very polite. He tipped his hat again. “Do give my best to Lord Saturnus.” In a more genuine voice, he said “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sannikova.”

Agatha, very aware that something was going on that she couldn’t follow, smiled all the more cheerfully to balance out the strangeness.

“It was nice to meet you, too,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Maybe I can come see your guildhall someday.”

“I would be honored to give you the grand tour.”

“Agatha.” Teodora put a hand on Agatha’s shoulder and began to steer her away without another word.

Agatha, feeling contrary and not knowing why, looked back over her shoulder and waved.

“Goodbye!”

Teodora’s grip tightened on her shoulder, and she began to walk faster.

By some unspoken agreement, the argument waited until they were back inside the house, out of earshot of the nosier Mechanicsburg citizens.

“Agatha—”

“What was that all about?” Agatha demanded, fists on hips.

“You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“I was just making polite conversation,” Agatha said. “I wanted to know about the guild. You were mean to him!”

“I was not mean.”

“Well you weren’t very polite.”

“Monsters are dangerous,” Teodora said.

“All people are potentially dangerous, that’s why you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“All people aren’t twelve feet tall with claws.”

“We were in the middle of the square in broad daylight, it’s not like he could eat me.”

“Agatha.”

“You’re always saying it’s important to be kind to other people! He’s a citizen of Mechanicsburg, just like anybody else,” Agatha said stubbornly. “Lord Saturnus says most of them got chased away just for existing.”

Teodora sighed.

“I told you you shouldn’t listen to everything Saturnus Heterodyne tells you. You shouldn’t listen to anything he tells you.”

“Is that why you don’t like that guy? Because he’s friends with Lord Saturnus?”

“He’s a monster.”

“Guildmaster Jorbelox or Lord Saturnus?”

Teodora’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together, but she did not answer. Agatha felt compelled to press on, even though she could already tell this was going to be one of those arguments where neither side would be willing to change. She’d had just as many with Teodora as Lord Saturnus.

They were all three very stubborn people.

“Lots of people in this town have done bad things,” Agatha said. “You only ever get like this about the ones that don’t look human.”

Teodora’s smile was wry to the point of bitterness.

“Because you don’t try to make friends with the human ones. Why do you think we go to the bakery on Bonemeal Road, when there’s one just a few streets away? Why do you think there are some places I let you go alone, but not others? There are many monsters in this town. I do my best to keep you from all of them.”

Agatha was quiet. She knew in her heart her grandmother was right, but it rankled her for reasons she could not explain.

“It only seems like I judge them all because so many of them have done terrible things. I would have been perfectly fine with you having tea with Doctor Hembelbrogg, but if you knew half of what I know about the Guildmaster—”

“They won’t hurt me! They never did bad stuff to the people they live with.”

“That is not my concern. My concern is they are violent, dangerous people who thought nothing of hurting others for glory and fun. I know well enough none of them could stop the Heterodynes, and I am willing to...forgive those who benefited from inaction. But the ones who joined in? I do not want you to associate with those kinds of people.”

“You let me associate with Lord Saturnus,” Agatha pointed out.

“Because Saturnus is blatantly evil. Unapologetically so. You can see him coming from miles away – and if he has one virtue, it is that he admits to what he is. He makes up no excuses; he does not try to convince anyone that what he did was not wrong.

“But most people will come up with excuses; they will lie to themselves and to you, and they can be very good at it. Good enough that they can convince others. Do you remember what I told you about hurting people who hurt you, and how easy it is to let that become an excuse?”

“Hurting people for fun is a universally immoral act,” Agatha said, irritably, confounded that she was having to make this argument to both of them. “No one and nothing in the world can convince me otherwise.”

Teodora stared at her, then rubbed her face with her hand.

“But you already have been,” she said, tiredly. “You think ‘but they don’t do it anymore’ excuses what they’ve done.”

“I don’t think it excuses it!” Agatha insisted. “And I don’t excuse it, I know they were wrong to do it, but I...I don’t…I don’t...”

Agatha struggled to put her feelings into words. Teodora was right, but in her heart, there was no judgement. She could find it in herself to condemn them.

“You don’t care,” Teodora finished for her, not unkindly.

“I do!” Agatha said. “It’s just...cognitive dissonance!”

Teodora looked startled, then amused.

“Yes,” she said. “There is a lot of that here. You may not have been born here, but you certainly...fit in quite well.”

This was said with some strange mixture of emotion, fond but sad.

“Is that...bad?”

The smile grew fonder and sadder, and Teodora reached out to cup her cheek.

“No, of course not,” Teodora said. “I meant you belong here. That is not a bad thing – I simply worry about the influence it has on you.”

Agatha wrapped her arms around Teodora’s waist and hugged her as tightly as she could. “You influence me, too,” she said. “I do listen to you. I just sometimes choose not to internalize your worldview without question.”

Teodora laughed, and it sounded genuine enough to dissuade any of Agatha’s lingering worries.

“That’s what I get for raising you to think for yourself,” Teodora said, with deep amusement, and kissed the top of Agatha’s head. Agatha stepped back and looked up at her, and was reassured that the amusement was in her eyes, too.

“If I promise not to be morally corrupted, can I go see the guildhouse?”

“Next weekend, perhaps. Tonight is a school night, and you have homework.”

Agatha flopped her head back and groaned as she slouched towards the stairs. Morality could be argued, but homework remained frustratingly irrefutable proof of objective reality.

[beababoobies]

Helloooo you asked for some Sally face requests and I have one 🤭

Can you write Larry x fem! Reader who struggles w anxiety like hurt comfort kinda thing 💗💗💗💗🫶 THANK UU

Hiya! Absolutely, I’d love to do that for you lovely! Enjoy :) and thank you for the request!

Calm Me Down, Work Me Up.

Larry Johnson X anxious fem!Reader,

(0.6k words)

You had been having the absolute worst day. Whether it was panicking about your math test with Ms.Packerton and convincing yourself you had flunked it, or the fact that you had gotten too nauseous looking at the mystery meat for lunch and been unable to eat, you had practically come to your breaking point.

Sitting in your boyfriends room, huddled up on the corner of his bed while he paints pretty strokes on a canvas, closing your eyes and trying to focus your attention on not falling victim to the current bout of over exhaustion and overstimulation that your brain was falling into, knees hugged tight to your chest as you took deep breaths.

You loved Larry dearly, you really, really did, but the way too loud hard metal music was tipping you over the edge. Normally, you’d bring your headphones or even be in the mood to head bang with him, but the time being? Before you could stop it, you started crying. Full on tears and sobs, falling harder into sobbing when you realized how embarrassingly loud you were crying when Lar turned off his music and came to sit next to you on his bed, looking at you with those confused brown puppy dog eyes.

“hey hey hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He cooed softly, watching you try to take a breath between the sniffles and sobs to actually explain yourself, wiping your cheeks on the back of your hand, watching the black of your eyeliner and mascara wipe off on your skin, sniffling and swallowing thickly as you finally got yourself to speak, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath, feeling him out his hand on your back softly, rubbing circles into your skin.

“I - I don’t know! I just, im so scared about my math test, and and, I don’t know, maybe my blood sugar is just too low right now? I don’t - I’ve been nauseous most of the day because of that stupid fucking mystery lunch meat, I just - I can’t.” You whine out, stopping to sob and whine a couple times, looking up at you with panda-black eyes from rubbing your makeup out all over your face.

“oh, babe, I’m sorry I didn’t notice. Do you want some water? Do you want to cry about it more? Or would you just like me to stop asking you questions when you don’t know what will help and I’ll just do my best?” He asks with a small smile, thick eyebrows pinched and droopy eyes looking into your face for answers, and you just offer up a weak nod, watching him get up to go get what you can only assume is a glass of water and some tissues, so you take the time to let out a few last dry sobs before he walks back into the room.

”here you are my love” he coos softly, handing you a glass of water and watching you bring it up to your shaky lips, taking small sips of it and swallowing softly, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead before taking the empty glass of water from your shaking hands, putting it back on the bedside table before gently placing you to face towards him, gently wiping off the remaining smudged makeup from around your eyes, whatever you hadn’t cried off.

“t-Thank you.” You hiccup out quietly, looking down at your hands, before being wrapped in a warm hug by your beloved boyfriend as he places gentle kisses to your hair, reassuring you as you start to come back to your senses and your own emotions, silently cradled in your boyfriends arms.

~

hope you enjoyed strawberry!! I love your user it’s super cute! <3 sorry it was a little short!

[beaulesbian]

some zolu valentines thoughts bc as always, they're on my mind, but today there's two ways i think about it -

one, that's almost in the typical romantic sense - the devotion and love beyond the heaven and hell, and the trust that speaks volumes in just one look they share, the promises and kisses and everything in between.

but there's also the second idea in my head, the one with more of the aroace aspect of zolu that i love so much.

if there would be a valentines or love day that they would celebrate, it'd be for the whole crew something special.

nami is the only one to keep some sort of semblance of a calendar to keep in mind what day it is, and she mentions it kinda quietly, thinking of vivi and how she misses her, but sanji hears it and immediately starts to put together a plan how to win over the hearts of those he likes. then luffy overhears when sanji mutters to himself about a dinner celebration. and because if luffy hears 'celebration', he hears a party, which means food and drinks and joy for the whole crew!

robin explains with a quiet laughter that such day has different meanings for different people, and how everyone celebrates it in their own way, and luffy would shrug at the romantic parts with 'oh, i guess thats nice for you, can i have some meat now?' but would be excited for the dinner the whole day.

zoro would pass by on his way from his training, saying 'ditto' and going to pour a drink and sit beside luffy, until something new needs their attention, like usop and franky shouting excitedly from the workshop over the sound of various experiments.

maybe without realizing, luffy's eyes wonder over to zoro most of that day.

luffy then spends the day with each of his crewmember, learning new things they've been working on and finding out how they've been doing lately, he knows they're watching him with a simple curiousity of 'why the sudden interest, captain?' but he pays it no mind, he just wants to know more about his crew, about his friends.

he listens to nami going on about her new pencils and papers for charting maps she picked up at the last harbor, and fishes for a while with chopper who needed a break from cleaning his medical supplies.

he admires usopp's painting on canvas, his new ideas and sketches for stuff luffy never heard about, and plays with franky's hair just because franky seems to have fun watching luffy being so excited about his changing hair designs.

he compliments brook's new song when he ends playing the melody on his violin - it was something new, something more mellow and soothing and sweet.

jimbei is at the helm, watching over the ship, and luffy can be really quiet around him when he needs it, they watch the sea and the clouds pass by overhead and by the time the sun starts to set, luffy's stomach grumbles, letting itself know.

luffy tries to spend more time around sanji, but he kicks him out of the kitchen after the fifth time he asks him to get some samples before the big dinner. he can wait, it shouldn't be long after.

so he leaves the galley and finds zoro watching him, knowing their eyes met over the deck of the ship throughout the whole day, full of love and calmness. there's that comfortable feeling in his chest, settling down and making him sleepy. he smiles at zoro and swing over to him, finally, and finds out it's the best time for a nap before they get called over for the special dinner.

zoro presses close to him, a warm embrace at the end of the day, keeping the chill away. he's finished with cleaning his swords for the day and they're put away close to his side, so luffy settles closer and adjusts his straw hat on his head.

there's no need for many words between them, luffy couldn't help but keep his eyes on zoro during the day, just because he loves him, and because robin and sanji did say the day is special for celebrating love. he smiles at his swordsman and knows that zoro feels the same.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

I dare you - Leo V x gn child of Nike/Reader

part one

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

It wasn’t his fault. Really, it wasn’t.

How would Leo have known that challenging a child of Nike would turn out badly for him?

It wasn’t his fault they’d been so cocky, crossing their arms across their chest and doing that thing where they stick their chin up in the air slightly and stare him down with a raised eyebrow. It was infuriating… It was also really hot, but that wasn’t the point.

They had that ‘I'm better than you and I know it’ look in their glimmering eyes, so of course Leo had to smirk back at them and say, ‘prove it’.

That was how he found himself trying to work out the difference between a gold tipped spear and a double bladed spear in the weapons shed. Honestly, he didn’t know nor did he want to know all the different ways he could gut someone, but it was either hide in the musty wooden shed or become one of those gutted people. Leo wasn’t exactly a combat fighter, but he had dug himself into this hole, and he had to do something about it.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

He doubted anyone else was awake, and if it was up to him he’d walk back across the dewy grass and hop back into his warm bed. But then he thought of the satisfied look they’d get on their face, and he grabbed the least scary looking spear off the rack and took a deep breath. 

Once he’d made it over to the arena, they were already standing there, wearing the basic orange Camp Half-Blood shirt paired with black tracksuits, and… adidas sneakers, Leo noticed with a chuckle. When they made eye contact, his hand grew sweaty and he nearly dropped the spear, only just managing to catch it and not make a fool of himself. Yet. 

Curse his stupid stubbornness and need to prove himself. 

“C’mon Valdez, you chickening out already?”

“Nuh uh,” he muttered, sticking his tongue out at the way too excited for someone who woke up before the sun did, child of Nike. “You’re the chicken.”

Not his best work, he had to admit. Leo’s breath formed a cloud in the cold air, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling anxiety growing in his gut. There was no way he could get out of it now, so he just had to put up a good fight. And hope the small crowd already gathering would go away.

Jason gave him a pathetic looking thumbs up and Piper just took out her vintage camcorder, the one Shel had bought her a while ago, with a smirk. When he glared at her, she brushed one plait over her shoulder and mouthed back, ‘you’re fucked.’ 

The rest of the Nike cabin [which was only really the twins] had come over too, elbowing each other as they ran to get the highest seat in the stands. They didn’t seem to have any worrie about the outcome of the dual, which only made Leo more sure of how, in Pipers words, fucked he was. He was briefly distracted by his inevitable death when his opponent twirled their golden tipped spear, the weapon of Nike herself, around a few times. “Are you gonna keep staring, or you gonna fight me?”

Leo knew which one of those options he preferred, and with a gulp, he did the opposite. The spear was heavy in his hands and the canvas grip shifted around awkwardly. “Fight you, obviously. What else would I be here for?”

“I dunno, maybe my stunningly good looks?” They pushed up multiple coloured bracelets from where they sat around their wrists, and moved quickly into a fighting stance, the spear tilted in a way that made the tip gleam in the only just rising sun. 

He gulped, and tried to copy their stance. They had already pounced at him, a wicked grin on their lips as the sound of metal clanging together echoed through the arena. He winced and took a few steps back, adjusting his grip as he tried to hold his defense. “Ah shit.”

Dust was churned up in their wake, and he lost count of how many times they spun circles around him. They poked and prodded with their spear. His only option was to jab randomly with his own, blocking the attacks pitifully. 

He ran out of breath quickly. Someone called out something in the distance. A stitch formed in his side. His misused weapon went flying, and landed meters away when a particular twist of the gold tipped spear caught him off guard. 

Then there was a dull jab behind his leg and something hard slammed into him from behind with no warning. 

Electric volts of pain shot up his spine, and his breath decided to leave as quickly as his pride when he realized he was already on the sawdust-y ground. An ache was growing in the base of skull as he gasped for breath, his lungs being squeezed by invisible hands. He was prodded in the chest, and he half expected to see Will Solace frowning above him with a defibrillator in hand.

Instead his crossed eyes were met with a spear tip and a smirk. Leo groaned and threw his head back, which only made the pain worse. He raised a hand over his eyes to block them from the assault of the sun, “okay, okay, you won.”

His opponent, with their stupid cocky grin and an eyebrow piercing he’d never noticed before, bent down and put a hand flecked with scars around their ear. “Pardon me, what was that?”

He glared back at them as they stood above, holding their spear out lazily as the tip rested on his heaving chest, probably poking a hole in the orange shirt he wore on top of his white long sleeve. Apparently his spite only made it all the more funny, because he got another held tilt. “What made you think you could beat someone literally born of strength, speed, and victory, of all things?”

Then to his surprise, was offered a hand up. 

 “Uhm, thanks.” He blinked, and then took the offer, brushing sawdust and sand off himself. 

They nodded at him in return and retrieved his long lost spear, holding it under their arm as they made their way back over. Leo ignored the exaggerated cheers on his behalf coming from where his friends sat. 

“Why did you say you could fight?” He was asked, while they grabbed their water bottle. It had a few faded converse logo stickers on it. “You obviously can’t, why’d you challenge me?”

Their tone wasn’t even rude or overly confident, like it had been a moment before, and Leo realized they were genuinely curious. He shrugged, hands in his pockets as they carried the spears back over to the weapon shed.

He followed them, “you would too, wouldn’t you?”

They thought for a moment, a little crease between their eyebrows that he sort of wanted to smooth out. “I suppose I would, but that’s sort of my whole thing, isn’t it? Beating people, taking up every dare, following through with every idea or thought i’ve ever had, never backing down from a challenge because otherwise it’ll kill me… complaining about my OCD.”

Leo might be bad at social interactions, but even he could see the little admission slipped in the end there, and he figured it’d probably be kinder to not mention it. 

“It won’t actually kill you?” He tried not to let worry slip into his voice. “Will it?”

“Not physically… Not that I know of.” They opened the swinging wooden gate to the weapons shed, letting a stream of light into the dusty little room. They waved a hand absently, like that would explain what they were trying to say. “What I mean, is like, I'd never let it go. It’d just sit in the back of my head until I die, telling me that I should’ve done it, that I'll never live it down.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“When I was eight, Butch asked me to fill in for his shift cleaning the stables. I said no, because I wanted to make friendship bracelets with Drew instead.” They took a deep breath. “I didn’t go to sleep that night, because it was all I could think about. I snuck out that night to clean the stables, even though Butch had had to do it anyway, but..I just.. I had to do it. 

They pointed at their bicep, and Leo had to draw his eyes away from their muscles and back to the long jagged scars stretching from their elbow to where they disappeared to underneath the sleeve of the orange top. 

“The Harpy’s found me.”

Leo’s stomach dropped down to his scuffed shoes, his breath catching. He couldn’t imagine thoughts spiraling so much they’d get you injured. His voice sounded too hollow to convey his emotions when he spoke. “Oh…that, like, really sucks…. You can’t do anything about it?”

“Me, Holly, and Laurel all have medication now, but it only just takes the edge off it. Upside is, I don’t break pinky promises, I guess.” They didn’t look over at him, just stacked the spears up on the rack in the correct order, and then picked up a stray shield from the ground and popped it back onto the hooks jutting from the walls. 

Then their eyes widened, the white of them showing as if they only just realized how open they were being. “Anyway, uh, maybe don’t try challenging anyone else at a duel again.”                                                        They cleared their throat and moved to the door, grabbing the rusty lock off the little shelf. Part of it fell out of place and onto the ground with a small thud. 

The way the poor lock was being glared at, it could’ve killed someone. Leo picked it up gently, hoping not to lose any of the small parts. “Oh, I can just-”

“You don’t think I can use a screwdriver?” He was asked with narrowed eyes as he pulled a few tools out of his belt. Even his nimble fingers couldn’t fix something this old and broken.

Leo shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t think fixing things is your area of expertise, but if-”

“Okay, you’re on.”

He shook his head, not wanting to rope the child of Nike into a challenge that’d rot in their brain and force them to go through with it. “Wait! No that wasn’t a challenge, you don’t have to-”

They shook their head back at him just as quickly, folding their arms like that would seal the deal. The way they looked down at Leo made him want to agree with anything they said though, so maybe they did have some reasoning behind it. “Tomorrow, the forgery, I'm gonna beat you.”

“At what?” He scoffed, fiddling with the lock in his hands, and pulling one of the wires back into place. Then he pulled the screwdriver back out of his toolbelt and screwed the bolt back. “Building?”

“Exactly.”

“Well if you’re gonna make it a thing, you can’t host a competition like this in the forge, we’re going to bunker nine.” He said back, jutting his chin out as they moved him out of the way and shut the door behind them. 

He passed them the fixed lock, as they stuck their tongue out at him. “You’re on, Valdez.”