#colors are kinda dark but it feels cozy that way

[misstoodles-doodles]

Peaceful Pabu time 🧡

Edit: Fixed some lighting

[astrcmoni]

ೃ❀࿔ sweet surrender ೃ❀࿔

MASTERLIST

synopsis: so…basically you and billie fuck, but like sweetly. ( i don’t feel like writing a proper synopsis)

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 11.2k….it goes up every post i swear😓

warnings: cussing, soft switch! reader & soft switch! billie, nicknames, fingering (both receiving), cunnilingus/oral (both receiving), scissoring, talk of orgasm/cum, aftercare..i think that’s it lmk if i missed something.

authors note: your weekly bedtime story is here…why this kinda eat hold on🫦, who wanna recreate this with me🤨 (jk jk…unless)

soft light spills into the living room, a warm, flickering glow from candles scattered like secrets in the dark. their flames whisper, gentle and alive, from the coffee table and shelves. the scent of vanilla and sandalwood curls through the air, weaving into billie’s perfume— grounding, familiar, like home found in a person. the tv glows faintly, its screen casting soft shadows as it flickers with old reruns of i love lucy— a memory stitched to your childhood, to moments spent with your grandparents. the grayscale images shift and shimmer, the faint crackle of audio tugging you back, making you feel like you’re sitting in the past.

you’re stretched out on the couch, body languid and unwound, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, cradling your head. your legs sprawl lazily across billie’s lap, the fuzzy fabric of your socks brushing against each other in a slow, absent rhythm. the anklets on your right ankle sway with each movement, their gold bands catching the light like small constellations. her thumb traces soft, looping patterns against your bare thigh, the warmth of her hand seeping into your skin. her touch is unhurried, deliberate, each stroke sending quiet sparks through your nerves, grounding you in this fragile, perfect moment.

billie leans further into the cushions, her black plaid button-up hanging loose over a white undershirt, sleeves rolled carelessly to her elbows. silver chains and dog tags glint faintly against her chest, their edges catching the candlelight. her rings shift and gleam as her fingers move, the brim of her cap tilting forward, shadowing her face. but you see her, clear as day— the way her lips curve into the smallest, softest smile, the kind that speaks of quiet contentment, like she’s found something she didn’t know she needed.

you’re dressed in something equally soft— a low-buttoned teddy brown colored cardigan draped over a spaghetti-strap tank, paired with fluffy shorts that skim your thighs. the contrast between you two is striking: her laid-back edge against your cozy simplicity. but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. this is your space, your sanctuary, and all that fills your mind is how perfect this feels. how the air between you hums, tension so palpable it feels like the room itself is holding its breath.

her gaze shifts, and you feel it before you see it— the weight of her eyes settling on your face, studying you with the same intensity you’d reserved for the tv moments ago. turning your head, your eyes meet hers, and the world narrows. her gaze is deep, blue oceans pooling with something that feels too heavy for words. it’s the same look she gave you the night you met, six months ago, in some dimly lit club in l.a. where the music was too loud and the air was too thick, but none of that mattered.

you remember sitting in the corner, a drink in your hand, your feet aching from dancing too long. and then she walked in— quiet, unassuming, but magnetic in a way that pulled all the air out of the room. her presence was effortless, the way she carried herself a study in contradictions: cool and commanding, yet soft and inviting. you’d noticed her almost immediately, the dark fall of her hair brushing against her cheekbones, the way her eyes swept the room like she was searching for something. and when her gaze landed on you, it was like being found.

she crossed the space between you two with purpose, her voice low and steady as she introduced herself. there was no pretense, no false charm—just something raw and real. her dark hair fell into her face as she leaned closer, her words slipping through the noise like a secret meant only for you. and just like that, the thread between you tightened, drawing you closer without effort or explanation.

what started as late-night conversations and quiet companionship turned into something you couldn’t define but couldn’t let go of. it was soft nights spent in each other’s company, your laughter mingling with the sound of her playlists, the kind of intimacy that feels like breathing. and then, one night, everything changed. it was quiet, like the shift of the tide— a hand brushing too close, a glance lingering too long. and when her lips found the curve of your neck, the world tilted. the air sparked, the room blurred, and all that existed was her. that was the moment it became inevitable. that was the moment it became everything.

now it’s become a regular thing, these quiet nights wrapped in each other’s presence, existing in a rhythm that feels almost too easy. no schedules, no expectations—just the way you both fold into each other, however and whenever you want.

“ricky! you can’t be serious!” lucy’s exasperated voice bursts from the tv, the laugh track bubbling up to fill the room, the sound bouncing off the soft glow of candlelight.

you smirk, turning your head slightly. “are you even trying to watch the show?” your tone is teasing, but there’s nothing sharp in it—just warmth, just the comfort of familiarity.

“why would i want to do that,” she murmurs, her lips curving into the faintest smile, “when my girlfriend is right here?” her fingers squeeze gently against the plush of your thighs, the cool metal of her rings biting against your warmth. the contrast is startling and grounding all at once, like her touch is meant to anchor you here, in this moment.

“you comfy?” she asks, voice softer now, almost like the question is more for her than you.

“wouldn’t be sitting here if i wasn’t.” your fist curls under your head as you shift, propping yourself more comfortably. the action presses your body further into hers, the space between you almost nonexistent now. a soft smile tugs at your lips as your gaze meets hers fully, your eyes locking in a way that feels heavier than it should.

she lets out a low groan, the sound rumbling in her chest and spilling into the quiet. “you’re always talking, huh? why can’t you just say yes like a normal person?”

you shrug, the teasing glint in her eyes pulling a soft chuckle from you. “where’s the fun in that?”

her hand slows, her touch shifting from absentminded to something more deliberate. her fingers slide from the outside of your thigh to the tender skin on the inside, her movements light but intentional. her gaze drops to watch the path her fingers trace, her focus sharp and quiet, like she’s lost in her own thoughts. faint whispers fall from her lips—soft, incoherent murmurs that seem to spill out without her even realizing.

and you’d be lying to yourself if you said her touch didn’t make your breath hitch, didn’t make the air feel just a little heavier.

“huh?” your voice breaks through the haze, low and teasing. “i need you to speak up, my love.”

her hand stills, her thumb pressing just a little harder into your skin, the faint pressure pulling a spark of heat up your spine. she looks up at you, and her gaze is different now—something deeper, heavier, like the weight of an unspoken truth. her thumb resumes its path, slow and deliberate, but her eyes remain on yours, studying you in the dim light.

it feels like she’s memorizing you—every curve, every shift in your expression, every shallow breath you take. and in the quiet hum of the room, you feel it again: that thread pulling tighter, wrapping around you both, binding you closer than words ever could.

“you’re so unfair, you know that?” her voice drops an octave, thick with something unspoken, the sound wrapping around you like velvet.

your eyebrows lift, a subtle quirk that dances between curiosity and teasing. “i am?” your voice is soft, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

her head dips in a slow, deliberate nod, the silver of her chains swaying faintly with the motion, catching the warm glow of the candles. shadows flicker across her face, her expression unreadable but her eyes speaking louder than words.

“how so?” you breathe, your playful smile blooming fully now, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something knowing.

her free hand moves, fingers grazing the side of your knee, the touch light as air yet impossible to ignore. her fingertips trail back down, her movements slow, deliberate, like she’s mapping every inch of your skin. “you sit here,” she murmurs, almost to herself, her words dragging in the air between you, “looking like that… looking at me, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

her voice sends a spark straight through you, a thread of heat winding itself tight in your chest. a laugh escapes before you can stop it, light and airy, your body jolting with the sound. “what am i doing, baby?” you ask, your voice dipping into something soft, sweet, and maddeningly coy.

her hand lifts, leaving your skin cold in its absence. she drags it up to her face, her palm covering the flush that spreads like wildfire across her cheeks. your voice—the way the nickname falls from your lips, slow and deliberate—undoes her. it’s the low tilt of your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips, the ease with which you say it, like you know exactly what you’re doing to her.

a deep groan escapes her, muffled by her hand, her body sinking further into the couch like she’s trying to hide from the weight of it all. your laugh spills out again, fuller this time, bubbling over as her flustered state only seems to grow.

her eyes cut to you, sharp but soft, like she’s annoyed and enamored all at once. her hand slides down her face slowly, the motion deliberate, landing softly beside her. she exhales, her head tilting back slightly, her cap casting shadows across her flushed face. “you’re impossible,” she mutters, the words carrying no real bite, just the lingering weight of her vulnerability.

and you smile, a warmth spreading through your chest as you take her in—the way she tries to compose herself, the way her gaze softens despite the tension in the air. because in this moment, with the light flickering and the world quiet, it’s just you and her. and that’s all it ever needs to be.

your stomach tightens at the way she looks at you, with longing and desire etched so plainly across her face. her voice curls around her words, low and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin. but you hold your composure, tilting your head slightly, letting your cardigan slip further off your shoulder. the exposed skin feels cool against the air, but the weight of her gaze sets it alight. your eyebrows lift, an unspoken challenge lingering between you, as you wait for her answer.

before she can speak, her hands find the underside of your calves, her grip firm yet gentle. you let out a surprised yelp as she pulls you closer in one smooth motion, dragging you across the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your thighs slide against the fabric, your breath hitching as her hands settle there again, warm and commanding. the sudden proximity leaves you breathless—your faces so close you can see everything: the deepening blue of her eyes, their edges dark with lust, the faint constellation of freckles scattered across her skin, like stars glimmering faintly against a quiet sky.

you notice the way her lips part, soft and plush, glistening slightly as her tongue darts out to wet them. she catches her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it briefly before releasing it, her gaze locked on yours. she exhales sharply through her nose, the sound low and ragged, her breath fanning warmly against your face.

“you’re so pretty,” she whispers, her voice thick with a quiet ache that sends a shiver down your spine. “it’s not fair. you’re driving me out of my mind.”

your lips twitch into a teasing smile, the heat rising to your cheeks impossible to ignore. “yeah?” your voice is soft, a little breathy, but still teasing as your hand moves up to cup her cheek. your thumb brushes gently across her skin, and you keep your eyes locked on hers, unrelenting, daring her to close the distance.

“yeah.” her voice is barely above a breath now, her face tilting ever so slightly as her lips press into yours.

her kiss is slow at first, deliberate, her lips moving against yours like she’s savoring every second, every taste. her hand slides further up your thigh, her grip tightening just enough to send sparks racing along your nerves. the weight of her free hand against your face steadies you, her thumb grazing the edge of your jaw as she pulls you closer, deeper into her.

your hands find their way to the back of her neck, fingers threading through the soft strands of her hair, your thumbs brushing the skin behind her ears. you tug her closer, her groan reverberating through you, a warm, low sound that seems to settle deep in your chest. her hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you into her lap, the shift effortless, like you were always meant to be there.

your legs straddle her hips, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of her as her hands find your waist. her thumbs draw lazy circles there, the light pressure grounding you even as her kiss grows hungrier. her teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging lightly before her lips crash back into yours, leaving you breathless.

your fingers tighten against the nape of her neck, nails dragging lightly against her skin, and she shudders under your touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. the sound makes your heart race, the heat between you two building, the world fading into the soft glow of candlelight and the quiet hum of your shared breaths. nothing else exists but her—the weight of her hands, the press of her lips, and the quiet intensity that burns between you, igniting something you can’t name but never want to end.

the taste of her is intoxicating, the faint trace of mint on her lips mingling with something sweeter, deeper—something that pulls you under, leaves you wanting more. every kiss feels like a promise, slow and deliberate, building into something that leaves no room for air, no room for doubt. her hands find the hem of your cardigan, slipping beneath it, the cool press of her rings on your skin like tiny shocks of electricity that ripple through you, making your breath hitch.

her lips part from yours, trailing a path of warmth and want from your cheek to your jawline, each kiss deliberate, unhurried, like she’s memorizing you in pieces. when she reaches your neck, she pauses, breathing you in, the scent of your laundry detergent mixing with the soft trace of vanilla candles and the rich warmth of your body butter. “mm—mama, you smell so good,” she murmurs, her words vibrating against your skin before she presses another kiss there, teeth grazing lightly.

your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of her neck, nails grazing her scalp, earning a low, drawn-out moan from her. the sound alone makes your stomach flip, heat blooming low in your belly. she bites down, just enough to make your breath stutter, her tongue soothing the sting, but before the bruise has time to settle, you pull back.

her hands are quick, catching you instinctively, clasping behind your back as though to steady you, to keep you close. her brows furrow, the expression subtle but telling, her lips swollen and slick from your kisses. she’s looking at you like you’ve just shattered a moment she wasn’t ready to let go of, confusion pooling in the depths of her blue eyes.

“what’s wrong?” her voice is low, threaded with concern, her chest rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath.

a grin spreads across your face, slow and teasing, as you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the laugh bubbling up in your chest. “we’re not fucking on this expensive-ass couch, babe,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully, the lilt of your voice light and teasing.

she blinks at you, a beat passing as your words sink in, and then the corners of her lips twitch upward into a grin, crooked and lazy. “seriously?” her tone is laced with amusement now, the sharp edge of desire softened but not gone. “you don’t trust me on your couch?”

you shake your head, the grin still playing on your lips as you make a small sound of disapproval. “not in this outfit, i don’t.” your fingers find the flannel draped over her frame, brushing the fabric lightly as you fluff it out, your touch featherlight and deliberate.

she laughs, a low, throaty sound that rolls through you, her messy brown hair swaying as she leans back slightly, her hands returning to your hips like they belong there. the tension between you shifts, still heavy but now threaded with playfulness, the kind of ease that makes your chest feel lighter. “ you really don’t wanna stay out here?”

“um…no,” you say, letting your gaze flick around the room before meeting hers again, your eyes glinting with mischief. “besides, i’m just saying, if we’re gonna fuck, i’m gonna need more space than this, babe.”

her grin widens, crooked and endearing, her eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “are you serious right now?”

“dead serious,” you reply, your voice steady, your expression a mix of challenge and amusement.

“you’re such a diva, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are,” you shoot back, the smirk tugging at your lips impossible to hide.

she groans, loud and dramatic, but the spark in her eyes betrays her excitement. her black hat tilts slightly as she stands, her movements easy and fluid. “lead the way,” she mutters, her voice still low but threaded with anticipation.

you slide off her lap, your hand slipping into hers, fingers lacing together as you tug her to her feet. her grip tightens, grounding you for a moment before you turn, the soft patter of your feet against the floor the only sound as you lead her to your room.

you smile, the energy between you two shifting again, this time in a direction you both have grown to know so well. every step carries the weight of the unspoken tension that’s lingered between you, each echoing softly in the quiet as the anticipation coils tighter. when the door clicks shut behind you, the atmosphere thickens, the air charged, electric. it feels like stepping into a new world—one that belongs only to the two of you.

you turn to face her, letting your eyes rake over her frame, unhurried, deliberate. really looking at her feels like a privilege, like witnessing art up close. billie stands there, her plaid button-up shifted slightly askew, the white crop top beneath clinging to her in all the right ways. the silver chains around her neck glint softly in the low light, catching your attention like they’re daring you to touch them. her rings shimmer as she flexes her fingers, the subtle movement making you want to trace their paths over her skin. she stalks closer, slow and measured, the faintest smile curving her lips, but her eyes give her away—darkened with desire, the hunger in them mirroring your own.

you toss your head back with a groan, overwhelmed by the way she looks at you, by how effortlessly she owns the moment. “oh my god, you’re so fine. like, what the actual fuck,” you whisper, half to yourself, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

billie’s lips part as though to respond, but you don’t give her the chance. instead, you close the distance, your lips colliding with hers in a kiss that’s urgent, desperate, all-consuming. her hands find your waist almost immediately, the heat of her touch burning through the fabric of your cardigan as her fingers trace the outline of your frame with a reverence that makes your knees weak.

your own hands slide up her chest, palms pressing against the cool press of her chains, the metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. your fingers reach the buttons of her shirt, and you work them loose one by one, savoring the soft hitch of her breath with each undone clasp. her lips never leave yours, the kiss deepening with every second, every layer of fabric removed between you adding fuel to the fire.

when the last button falls free, her shirt slips open, revealing the soft curves of her stomach beneath the hem of her crop top. your fingers ghost over her skin, tracing the faint lines of muscle, dipping lower to the curve of her belly. your touch brushes against the delicate silver of her belly piercing, the small charm swaying lightly, catching the light. the sight of it, the subtle movement, makes your breath catch.

billie lets out a soft moan, the sound rippling through you like a wave, her body trembling beneath your hands. your nails scrape lightly against her skin, just enough to make her gasp, the sharp intake of air like music to your ears.

your hands move upwards, palms grazing the curve of her chest before sliding even higher, finding their place on her shoulders. your thumbs brush back and forth over her exposed collarbones, the motion slow, deliberate. her breath hitches, her lips parting as her head tilts back slightly, giving you an unobstructed view of her face. the way her brows knit together, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the faint sheen of sweat gathering at her temple—it’s all so breathtaking, so unguarded.

you can feel her body reacting to every touch, her soft moans and sharp gasps filling the space between you, grounding you in this moment. her hands find your hips again, her fingers digging into your sides just enough to leave you craving more, her touch equal parts grounding and electrifying.

your hands wander down her back, tracing the planes of her body, mapping her with a devotion that feels almost sacred. every dip, every curve, every inch of her feels like it’s yours to discover all over again. her skin trembles beneath your touch, her reactions beautiful and raw, each sound she makes wrapping around you like a melody, pulling you deeper.

you marvel at her—at the way her body responds to yours, at the way her moans become softer, more desperate as your fingers glide lower again. there’s something intoxicating about the way she melts into you, like you’re the only thing that matters, the only thing tethering her to this moment.

but billie being billie, she’s always so impatient. “oh my god—” she breathes, her voice trembling as her hand slides up to cradle the side of your neck, pulling you into another searing kiss. it’s hurried, electric, but beneath the urgency lies something deeper, something tender. her lips press against yours like she’s afraid you might slip through her fingers, and for a moment, nothing else exists but the heat between you.

her hands find your waist, fingers curling around the fabric of your cardigan as she moves, never breaking the kiss. step by step, she guides you back until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs, sending you tumbling softly onto the mattress. billie follows instantly, her body hovering over yours, the weight of her pressing you gently into the bed as her lips trail back down to your neck.

she takes her time, scattering a mix of hickeys and featherlight kisses along your skin. her lips drag over the curve of your throat, her breath hot and uneven as her teeth graze you ever so slightly, each nip leaving a trail of heat in its wake. her hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, fidgeting with the buttons of your sweater. but her frustration mounts quickly as the fabric refuses to cooperate, her movements becoming more frantic with every passing second.

“fucking hell—” she mutters, voice low and husky, her breath hitching as she sits up slightly, straddling your hips. her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, grounding herself as her fingers tug impatiently at the stubborn clasps.

“what?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to see what’s wrong, your own breath catching at the sight of her disheveled hair and flushed cheeks.

“these damn buttons, babe. why did you decide to wear a sweater?” she grumbles, her lips pressing into a thin line as her fingers fumble. the frustration is written all over her face, but there’s a fire in her eyes, a hunger that makes you ache in the best way.

you bite back a laugh, your heart swelling at how adorably flustered she looks. “hey, be gentle. this is my favorite cardigan, okay?”

her hands pause for just a moment, her gaze flickering up to meet yours, lips parting as if to argue. but then she groans, a soft, almost desperate sound escaping her. “i don’t care. i’ll buy you another one—just take it off,” she whines, her voice trailing off, heavy with need.

her yearning is palpable now, written in the tension of her shoulders, in the way her fingers twitch against the fabric, in the way she looks at you—like she’s starving, like you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy her. but there’s something more behind her frustration, a depth to her longing that catches you off guard. it’s not just about the physical connection; it’s about being completely, utterly yours in a way that words could never fully express.

you take her hands gently, stilling their restless movements as you guide them away from the buttons. “relax, babe,” you whisper, your voice soft but teasing as you take matters into your own hands. your fingers make quick work of the buttons, sliding them free one by one with practiced ease.

billie watches intently, her gaze flickering between your hands and your face, her breathing shallow as the sweater falls open, the fabric slipping from your shoulders to reveal the fitted spaghetti-strap tank beneath. the hem of the top has ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of your stomach and the tiny diamond piercing that glints in the low light. her eyes darken as they trail upward, lingering on the curve of your breasts peeking over the neckline.

“see?” you murmur, your voice soft and playful as your eyes meet hers. “you just have to be gentle sometimes.” a small, knowing smile tugs at your lips, and for a moment, all the tension eases, replaced by something sweeter, something that feels like an unspoken promise.

billie swallows hard, her lips parting as if to respond, but the words don’t come. instead, her hands move back to your waist, her touch gentler this time, almost reverent as her thumbs trace slow circles against your skin. her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her gaze fixed on you like you’re the most captivating thing she’s ever seen.

“i guess,” she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper before grabbing you once more, pulling you into another kiss. it’s softer this time, slower, but no less intense. your fingers thread through her hair, the strands silky against your fingertips as you accidentally knock the baseball cap from her head. it falls behind you, landing on the comforter with a soft thud.

without breaking the kiss, you reach back blindly, your hand swatting around until your fingers brush against the cap. grasping it, you pull it forward and carefully place it on your own head, twisting the brim backward in one fluid motion. it’s a small gesture, playful and unassuming, but the effect it has on billie is immediate.

her breath catches, a sharp inhale that seems to echo in the quiet room. her hands tighten on your waist, gripping you as though the sight of you in her hat has stolen whatever composure she had left. her lips part, her pupils dark and blown wide with desire as she stares at you like you’ve just set her entire world on fire.

“you… fuck,” she breathes, the words spilling from her lips in a low, shaky exhale. her voice is thick, raw, dripping with something primal, something almost desperate.

you don’t miss the way her hips press into yours, the way her entire body reacts to the simple act of you claiming her cap like it’s yours now. it’s intoxicating, the rush of power and intimacy swirling between you like a storm neither of you can control.

her hands are on you again, roaming your body with renewed urgency as she tugs at your cardigan, sliding it off your shoulders with a rough but measured pull. your undershirt follows shortly after, the fabric soft as it glides over your skin, leaving you in just your bra.

your own hands are anything but idle, sliding beneath the hem of her black-and-white flannel. your nails skim her skin, drawing goosebumps in their wake as you work the shirt off her arms. the flannel slips to the floor in a quiet heap, followed by the white crop top she’s been wearing. the cotton clings briefly before you pull it over her head, her chains catching the light as they fall back into place, swaying gently against her chest.

the air is thick with the weight of the moment as you both stand there, stripped down to bras and pants. the silver of her chains glints with every rise and fall of her chest, her breathing heavy and uneven. the cool metal contrasts sharply against the flushed heat of her skin, a juxtaposition that feels almost poetic.

her hands slide down to your thighs, her palms warm as they press into your skin, urging them apart. her body fits perfectly between them as she lowers herself, her lips returning to your chest. she trails kisses over your collarbone, her mouth soft and deliberate as she works her way downward.

her fingers glide up your torso, slow and steady, until they find the clasp of your bra. with practiced ease, she slides the hooks free, the tension releasing as the straps slip loose around your shoulders. she hooks her index finger beneath the center of the fabric, the touch deliberate and teasing as her lips venture lower, kissing a steady path toward your navel.

your breath hitches as you feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. it drags down your sternum in a maddeningly slow motion, the chill of it sharp against the warmth of your skin. she pulls the bra along with it, the fabric slipping away to leave you completely exposed.

billie’s lips don’t stop, their pace shifting between urgent and languid as if she’s memorizing every inch of you, leaving no part of you untouched. her hands follow the curve of your body, reverent and hungry all at once, like she’s trying to make up for every second she’s ever spent without you.

“you think it’s cute to play with me like that?” she asks, her voice low and teasing, though the hunger in her tone is unmistakable, wrapping around you like smoke.

you don’t answer right away. instead, you reach down, fingers grazing the cool metal of her chains, the links warm from the heat of her skin. they clink softly as your touch trails lower, over the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her chest, down to the subtle rise and fall of her abs. her muscles tense beneath your fingertips, and you deliberately let your nails drag lightly, just enough to leave a tingling path in their wake.

“i think you love it,” you whisper, your voice soft yet edged with challenge, your lips curling into the faintest smirk as you look up at her.

she doesn’t dignify the statement with words; her response is instant and all-consuming. her lips crash against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs in a kiss so searing it sets every nerve in your body alight. her hands grip your hips with a desperation that makes you dizzy, pulling you into her as if she can’t get close enough. the weight of her body presses against you, grounding you, tethering you to this moment as your fingers slide up into her hair. the strands are soft against your skin, and you give a gentle tug, earning a throaty groan that vibrates against your lips.

“fuck,” she breathes when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at you. her chest heaves as she takes you in—the way your bare chest glows in the soft light, the hat perched on your head backward, your lips kiss-swollen and parted. her blue eyes burn as they trace over you, drinking in every detail like she’s trying to commit it to memory. “you’re so perfect,” she murmurs, her voice raw, almost reverent. “you don’t even know.”

her lips find your neck again, moving with purpose. she lingers at your pulse point, where her teeth graze your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. the sting is fleeting, soothed almost immediately by the warmth of her tongue, and the combination sends a shiver down your spine. your back arches involuntarily, pressing you closer to her as a soft, unbidden moan escapes your lips.

her hands explore you with a sense of ownership, gliding over your body as if she’s mapping you out, committing every curve, every reaction, to memory. her touch is deliberate, possessive yet achingly tender, like she’s determined to make you hers in every possible way.

when her lips descend lower, trailing a line of heated kisses down your neck and over your collarbone, your breath catches. the anticipation is electric, each kiss leaving a spark in its wake until she reaches your chest. she pauses there, her movements slowing as her eyes flick up to meet yours. for a moment, the world stills. the vulnerability in her gaze is raw and unguarded, a quiet question unspoken between you, and your heart stutters in response.

slowly, she leans down, pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your breast. her lips are soft but purposeful, the contrast making your body hum. when she finally takes your left nipple into her mouth, the warmth of her tongue against your skin sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. your gasp is sharp, filling the room, and you feel her smile against you.

her hands knead your thighs as her mouth continues its deliberate exploration, the cool metal of her rings biting into your skin in the most delicious way. she takes her time, savoring every reaction, as if each gasp and whimper from you feeds something deep inside her. every touch, every kiss feels like a promise—silent but unbreakable, binding the two of you together in a way that words never could.

“billie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your left hand pressing against the bed behind you, propping yourself up as your right grips the back of her head, guiding her where you want her.

she hums against your skin, the vibration seeping deep into your bones, a shiver running down your spine like a whisper of fire. “say it again,” she murmurs, her voice dark, smooth, commanding, drawing out every syllable as if it’s a secret just for you.

“mm—billie, baby,” you repeat, louder now, desperate, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer, and it’s enough to drive her further, spurring her on. her lips continue their slow, relentless descent, teeth grazing, biting in all the right places, leaving marks that will linger into tomorrow. she revels in the thought of you carrying her with you, a part of her left behind even when she isn’t there.

by the time she reaches the apex of your thighs, your body is trembling, every inch of you electrified, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. billie pauses, her lips brushing against the soft skin just below your hip bone, and you feel the tender press of her breath, her hands gently coaxing your legs wider. she looks up at you, and the sight of you—skin flushed, chest heaving, her cap still perched on your head—makes something fierce stir in her. her voice is low, rough, as she speaks, the words laced with a hunger that matches your own. “sweetheart, you’re everything i’ve ever wanted.”

you’re too far gone to respond, but the way your fingers tighten in her hair, tugging just enough, says everything she needs to hear. her hands knead the inside of your thighs, her touch light, teasing, before she slides your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, discarding them carelessly. a sharp gasp slips from you as the cool air brushes against your skin, the dampness of your pussy already betraying your need.

her middle finger hovers over your slit, teasing you just enough, before she presses a kiss just above where you ache for her. the soft, teasing pressure pulls a frustrated whimper from your lips, and billie smirks against your skin, her own desire too fierce to be denied for long. without warning, she gives you exactly what you’ve been begging for.

her lips press against your clit, light, teasing kisses that send shivers through you. then, her tongue darts out, slipping between your folds with a slow, deliberate motion, tasting you. the sensation causes your back to arch, a soft cry escaping your lips as her hands slide down your right leg, propping it over her shoulder, opening you up further. the taste of you, mixed with the soft jangle of your anklets brushing against her ear, makes her moan, the vibrations sinking into your pussy, intensifying the pleasure.

her mouth moves with a rhythm so perfect it feels like she’s made for this, her lips and tongue working together in a dance that makes every nerve in your body hum. your hand drifts down to the side of her face, fingers brushing against her cheek as you tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. she lays her head on the inside of your thigh, leaving one last lingering kiss on your clit before her fingers take their place. her middle finger teases your entrance, slick with your essence, and she spreads it gently through your folds, rubbing you with a slow, sensual rhythm.

the room fills with the sound of your soft cries and her low groans, the air thick with the need building between you. her hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you writhe beneath her, your body trembling with the overwhelming sensation. “my girl’s so pretty…” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust. “gonna cum for me, mama?”

you nod, the wordless answer spilling from you as you can barely form coherent sentences. “yea—‘m gonna cum—fuck…”

“yeah?” she teases, her voice thick with pleasure, as she removes her fingers from you, making you whine in frustration. but she’s quick, taking her middle and index fingers—both slick with you—and tapping them lightly against your clit before thrusting them inside. your eyes roll back, the sensation overwhelming, and you shut them tightly as a moan rips from your throat. the cold metal of her rings against your skin, the sight of her inked angels curling around her fingers, is enough to make you gush, your body trembling beneath her touch.

“uht uht gotta look at me, baby.” her words are hot against your thigh as she pumps her fingers inside you, your cum dripping down onto her digits. you struggle to open your eyes, the pleasure so intense it makes it hard to focus, but when you do, you meet her gaze—her blue eyes darkened with lust, locked on yours through the fluttering of her thick lashes, her stare searing into you with an intensity that makes everything else fade away.

your hands reach to the back of her neck, fingers trembling as you try to pull her face back to your cunt, guiding her with the desperate urgency building in your chest. billie doesn’t hesitate, her fingers curling inside you, flexing in a ‘come here’ motion, and the sensation makes you moan once more, a string of curse words tumbling from your lips, breathless and broken.

without missing a beat, she places her mouth back on you, her tongue lapping at your juices in long, slow strokes, her fingers moving in tandem, creating a rhythm so perfect it threatens to unravel you completely. each movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the euphoric feeling almost too much to bear. your hands scramble for something to hold onto, your fingers desperately clawing at her skin as you start to break, your body trembling under her touch.

your release comes like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity it leaves you gasping, your body shaking as billie fucks you through it, her steady pace never faltering. “my sweet girl, doing so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice low and possessive as her mouth pulls away from you. you watch, breathless, as the taste of you drips from her chin, glistening in the dim light like a mark of ownership.

but she doesn’t stop, not until you’re completely done. her fingers remain inside you, caressing you softly through the lingering tremors, her touch almost reverent as you come down from your high. through hazy eyes, you watch her lift her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste you, her eyes fluttering closed as she moans softly at the sensation, savoring the taste of you like it’s the most exquisite thing she’s ever experienced.

billie watches you as you slowly return to yourself, your body still trembling lightly, chest heaving with each shallow breath. the sight of you—flushed, glistening with sweat, her hat still perched on your head, tilted just enough to give you an air of control—makes her heart race in her chest. she swears she could combust from the sheer magnetism of you, the power in your presence, the way you hold her with just a glance.

you catch your breath, a lazy smile curling on your lips as you gaze down at her, fingers trailing lightly over the smoothness of her neck before you grasp the chains, tugging her up until your faces are barely inches apart. “your turn,” you murmur, your voice low, thick with desire. the words send a shock straight through her, and she swallows hard, nodding with a hunger that matches your own as you push her back onto the bed.

billie’s breath hitches as you straddle her hips, her hands instinctively finding purchase on your thighs, gripping them with a tenderness laced with urgency. the weight of you on top of her, combined with the dark intensity in your eyes, ignites something deep within her, setting her whole body on fire. you lean down, your gold necklace glinting between you, and let your lips trail along her jaw, kissing her in a slow, teasing rhythm that makes her shiver beneath you.

“keep the hat on,” she breathes, her voice trembling, breaking slightly as anticipation clouds her every word. “please.”

you smirk against her skin, the corners of your lips curling with a mixture of mischief and adoration. your fingers graze over the silver chains around her neck, following their curve before sliding lower. her bra clings to her, damp with sweat, and you take your time peeling it off, savoring each moment, each inch of skin exposed to you. her breasts, her toned stomach, the glint of her belly piercing, all draw you in. billie groans when your nails trace lightly over her nipples, a shudder running through her before your hands travel lower, gliding over her abs, the sensation making her grip your thighs tighter.

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmur, voice thick with awe, your fingers brushing delicately over the piercing. you dip your head, placing a kiss right above it, before trailing your lips back up her chest. billie lets out a soft curse when your mouth finds her skin, kissing and nipping along her collarbone, your lips moving with reverence as your hands roam across her body.

the rings on her fingers clink softly as she grips the sheets beneath her, trying to stay grounded, but it’s impossible when your nails graze her chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, or when the ink on your skin brushes against hers, creating an electric contrast to the softness of your lips. her head tilts back, a low moan escaping her, your name falling from her lips like a whispered prayer as you continue to worship her, exploring every inch of her with maddening focus, leaving no part of her untouched.

and then you lean back slightly, hands settling on the waistband of her jeans, your gaze locking with hers in a silent question. billie nods quickly, lifting her hips to help you slide them down. the sight of her—bare, vulnerable, completely at your mercy—makes your heart race in anticipation.

your fingers trace the contours of her tattoos as you kiss your way down her body, moving with purpose, savoring every sound she makes, every tremble of her muscles beneath your touch. your nails brush lightly over the dragon inked into her skin, a sensation that sends a shiver through her, while your tongue lingers on the cursive “hit me hard & soft” tattoo, tasting her, each movement slow and deliberate.

when your lips finally reach her most sensitive spot, billie’s back arches off the bed, a low groan escaping her as her hands fly to grip your hair. her movements falter when she sees you—hat still perched confidently on your head—looking up at her like this, all control and hunger in your eyes.

“jesus christ,” she groans, her voice breaking, the words barely coherent. “you’re gonna kill me.”

the sound of her surrender only spurs you on. you let your nails trail lightly up and down her thighs, teasing her, your touch languid and calculated. with a satisfied smile, you pull back, a thin string of her slickness attaching itself to your lips. billie watches, her eyes hazy but still alert, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. you shake your head gently, crawling back to her, your lips capturing hers in a kiss, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

a moan slips from her as she savors the moment, her hands pulling you closer. you shift your position, straddling her, grinding your body against hers as you break the kiss to adjust the cap on your head, the motion subtle but commanding.

a small, playful smile spreads across your face, a light laugh escaping you as you take her in, her face glistening with your essence. her eyes, clouded with desire, wander over you as you hover above her, your lips bending down to nibble and lick at the skin of her neck. your bodies align, a slow and deliberate grind causing a wet, audible sound as your slickness meets hers, the sensation of your clits kissing sending electric shocks through both of you.

billie’s hands leave the sheets, finding purchase on your body, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other skimming the curve of your back as you move against her, slow and deliberate, savoring the intimacy of each motion. each shift sends a jolt of electricity through both of you, the friction of your bodies igniting a deeper craving with every passing second.

the pressure builds, subtle but undeniable, as your clits brush against one another. the sensation is intoxicating, the heat of her body against yours becoming a drug you can’t get enough of. her fingers slip into your hair, gripping the roots, tugging gently to pull you from the sensitive spot on her neck, forcing your gaze to meet hers.

you whine softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to focus, the sensation of her pussy against yours overwhelming you. the feeling of her so close, so perfect against you, makes you ache, your body begging for more, even as you’re already on the edge of losing control.

“i need you to look at me,” billie breathes, her voice a soft plea, but you’re too consumed by the rush of sensation to fully register her words. your body is a storm of fire and need, and it’s all you can do to hold on.

she tugs your hair again, harder this time, and the sharp pull makes your eyes snap open, catching the intensity in her gaze.

“there she is,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky, “need my pretty baby to look at me, okay?” the words break through the haze of pleasure, and you nod, your breath coming in short gasps, teetering on the edge of your release.

“oh… billie…” your voice trails off into a soft whimper, your body trembling under the weight of it all.

“i know, mama, come on. cum for me sweet girl” she coos, her hands moving with purpose now, one finding the side of your throat, the other gripping your hips, guiding your movements with steady pressure. the cool metal of her rings presses against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding your body. her tatted hand caresses your neck, her thumb gliding along your jugular, a rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of your pulse, squeezing lightly every so often, grounding you in the moment, urging you closer to the edge.

both of your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound thick with need and the pull of release. your movements are rhythmic, steady, as you bring her closer and closer to the edge, her rings catching the dim, sultry light with each twist of her wrists.

and when she finally falls apart, her body goes rigid, every muscle tense, before she lets out a long, drawn-out cry, her release crashing over her in waves. you don’t stop. your hips rock back and forth, chasing your own high, each thrust a mix of need and pleasure, the sensation of overstimulating her clit pushing you further. her name spills from your lips like a prayer, each syllable a whisper of devotion, and you feel yourself unravel, your own release flooding over her, warm and consuming.

when billie finally collapses back against the pillows, her body trembling beneath you, she pulls you with her, your weight sinking into her as her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. her hair sticks to her damp forehead, but the dazed expression in her eyes quickly melts into one of pure adoration. the softness in her gaze is all-consuming, making you feel like you’re both in this space where time has stopped.

you sigh, your chest still heaving as you bury your face into the crook of her neck, the cap brushing gently against her jaw. her fingers find their way to your back, scratching lightly, grounding you as you try to catch your breath. your fingers trace shapes over her collarbone, the coolness of the chains brushing against your fingertips, dragging them back and forth.

her touch sends a tremor through you, and as she turns her head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you feel anchored, her love a steady force that calms you. she holds you close, and for a moment, everything else fades.

you smile softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face, the motion tender. “you okay?” you murmur, your voice gentle as your fingers trail down her cheek, the warmth of her skin grounding you.

you roll yourself over, your body shifting to settle against hers, your chin resting on her chest. the soft rhythm of her heartbeat lulls you, a soothing pulse against your skin. your fingers graze the sides of her neck, the touch absentminded but intimate, each stroke of your nails a quiet reassurance, offering comfort in the stillness.

she nods, a lazy smile tugging at her lips, her hair tousled, sticking up in places, a wild mess of strands framing her face. her blue eyes are still hazy, but they sparkle with adoration, that soft, tender look that makes your chest ache. “more than okay,” she whispers, her voice a quiet murmur, as though she’s still lost in the moment. “you?”

“never better,” you reply, your voice low and warm, bringing her down for a gentle kiss, your movements slower now, more deliberate. your hands cup the sides of her face, your thumb brushing gently over her lips as you try to erase the remnants of the passion you shared, as if it could all be wiped away with the lightest of touches.

a hearty chuckle bubbles up from her throat, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you. the vibrations of her laughter send a current of heat through your body, and you fight your own smile, not quite managing to keep it at bay. “stop laughing at me,” you say, your voice a teasing whisper, though it holds no true reprimand. “you’re so pretty…” you trail off, your thumbs now wandering over the delicate curves of her face, brushing over her smooth skin, memorizing every inch of her softness. her eyes follow your movements, wide and full of affection.

“oh, is that why you were screaming like that?” she teases, her voice playful, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. your smile falters, and you stare at her, blinking, trying to process her words. the playful shift catches you off guard, and in an instant, you quickly remove your hands from her face, sitting up sharply.

“okay, cause see, now you ruined the moment,” you grumble, but there’s no true bite to it. you can’t suppress the giggle that rises in your chest as she laughs. her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back toward her, her fingers locking behind you, caging you in, and you instinctively grab onto her biceps, the muscles flexing slightly under your touch. you steady yourself, feeling the solid warmth of her, the strength beneath the softness.

“you were all like, ‘oh billie, please—fuck me.’ ” she fake moans, her voice high and exaggerated. your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but laugh at her poor attempt to mimic you, the mockery both endearing and ridiculous.

“oh, shut up! i was not. besides, don’t act like you weren’t worse. as if you weren’t loving it,” you retort, your tone playful but full of truth. you jab a manicured nail lightly into her chest, the sharp point making her flinch slightly, before you press the flat back of the chains against her sternum, the cool metal a contrast to the warmth between you.

“i wasn’t, it was mid. i’d rate it a 7.5,” she says, her shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. the glint in her eyes tells you she’s just playing, enjoying the way your attention sharpens on her every word.

your eyes widen in exaggerated shock, and you lift the cap off your head, fingers brushing against the brim that’s now facing backward. you point to your hair, the strands sticking up in all directions, messy and unkempt. “so who did all of this? hm? baby, tell me?” you tease, your voice soft but full of challenge.

she licks her lips, the slow motion of it drawing your gaze, and her eyes flutter closed briefly as she takes in the way the nickname rolls so easily from your tongue. “i don’t know, but it definitely wasn’t me,” she says with a playful tilt of her head.

“it wasn’t you? okay, bet.” you place the cap next to you, feeling a small sense of humor bubble up. leaning down, your body hovers halfway over hers, your arms stretching out to the side to grab whatever article of clothing you can find. you return with her plaid button-up in hand, the fabric soft in your fingers as you shrug it on, its warm scent wrapping around you like a reminder of her.

“what are you doing?” she asks, eyes following your every move, her fingers instinctively tightening around your waist. it’s a subtle sign, but one that doesn’t escape you—she doesn’t want you to leave.

“i’m taking my 7.5 ass somewhere else,” you say with a grin, your voice light but purposeful. you reach behind you, trying to unlock her hands, but she holds tight, not giving an inch. “…girl… the fuck—let go of me, you heathen.” you tug once more, and with a small sigh, she releases her grip, though you can feel the reluctance in the gesture.

billie groans dramatically, flopping back against the pillows with a hand draped over her face, hiding from you as if the drama of it all could somehow shield her. you laugh, grabbing the cap and tossing it playfully at her, the hat landing perfectly on her face, obscuring her vision of you. with a last glance, you rise to your feet, your body lingering in the moment, letting the warmth between you both settle before you finally make your way to the door.

she sighs contentedly as she removes the hat from her face, knocking it lightly to the side before pulling your comforter around her. the soft, plush fabric wraps her up like a cocoon, the weight of it a comforting embrace. her head sinks into the fluffy pillows, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she reaches out, grabbing the remote on your dresser. with a quick click, the tv flickers to life, a random cartoon playing softly in the background.

time passes slowly, the quiet moments stretching on, and soon enough, she realizes you still haven’t returned. “babe!” she calls out, but there’s no reply. she calls your name again, louder this time, her voice cutting through the stillness of the room as she waits for you to respond.

“no, billie! leave me alone,” you drag your words, the irritation clear but fake, she can tell. a grin plays at the corners of her lips.

“hurry uuuup,” she mutters, her voice muffled by the pillows as she rolls over onto her stomach, pressing her face into the softness. the fabric feels cool and feathery against her skin, and she closes her eyes, letting herself drift for a moment.

she senses you walking back into the room before she hears the jangle of your anklets, the soft sound alerting her to your presence. the quiet clattering of objects against your nightstand follows, the rhythm familiar, like a soft heartbeat in the background. she hears you move toward the bathroom, the water running as you clean yourself off, and then the sound of drawers opening.

after a moment, you walk over to your dresser, the creak of the wood under your fingers as you grab a fresh pair of underwear and bottoms for yourself. she can hear the rustle of fabric as you grab the same for her, along with a black wife-beater tee she had left over a while ago, the soft cotton now carrying your scent, familiar and comforting. it makes her smile softly to herself, the mundane moments with you somehow making everything feel right.

shuffling over to the bed, your hand traces the curve of billie’s back, fingertips brushing against the inked lines etched into her skin, the swirls of tattoos a story in themselves. your nails leave a faint trail, and the goosebumps that rise on her bare skin are a silent response to your touch. the warmth of the rag in your hand contrasts with the coolness of her skin as you gently lift her face, tilting it just enough so she faces you. the rag meets her face with a light dab, and she sighs softly, the heat from the cloth making her eyelids flutter closed in contentment. you’re careful, gentle, as you wipe away any remnants of the moment that clung to her skin.

when you’re finished, your thumbs move to her cheeks, coaxing her eyes open slowly, her gaze still soft and clouded with affection. they find yours, blinking a few times before she’s fully focused, the warm affection clear in her eyes.

“roll over,” you murmur, voice soft, coaxing, and she responds with a low whine, reluctant but not unwilling.

“billie, move. i need you to roll over,” you say again, your voice taking on a slight edge as your fingers slide from her back to her stomach, gently pressing against her ribs. with a soft grumble, she shifts, her body moving slowly, obediently. you reach for the covers, pulling them down her legs with delicate precision. the fabric slides like silk under your hands, and you move the rag to a new spot, gently wiping any trace of slickness from her skin.

you close her legs softly, your touch lingering for a moment as you toss the rag aside. your hands move to her arms, guiding her to sit up, your fingers brushing over the smoothness of her skin, trailing down her arms like a whispered promise. you hand her the clothes with a soft gesture, the fabric cool to the touch.

billie looks at the clothes for a long moment, her expression thoughtful, before her gaze shifts back to you. you’re already standing, dressing yourself with slow, deliberate movements, and with a sigh, she does the same, pulling the clothes on with the same quiet grace. there’s a calmness in the air, a quiet intimacy shared between you both.

turning around, you move toward your desk, the sound of your footsteps barely audible against the soft hum of the room. you grab her signature blue water bottle and your own, the cool plastic in your hands a brief contrast to the warmth still lingering between you both. a charcuterie board filled with light snacks follows, the delicate arrangement of cheeses, fruit, and crackers a comforting touch. you place them carefully on the nightstand, the soft click of the items settling on the wood the only sound that breaks the silence.

stepping in front of billie, you watch her as she works the tee over her shoulders, the fabric sliding smoothly against her skin. her fingers move to adjust the chains, making sure they lay perfectly over her shirt. she does the same for you, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as she tugs at the necklace, positioning it just right over your collarbone. the gentle touch makes your pulse quicken, though she’s unaware of the effect she has on you in this moment.

“thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft and full of affection. she presses a quick, tender kiss to your lips, her fingers slipping between yours, the warmth of her hand settling against yours like it belongs there.

you lean down, grabbing her jug off the sleek nightstand, handing it to her with a soft, knowing smile. “of course. now drink up,” you say, the words light but the meaning behind them deeper than either of you can put into words.

billie raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. her lips twitch, pulling into a mischievous smirk. “bossy,” she teases, her voice a soft lilt.

“okay, and?” you challenge, a small grin tugging at your lips as you meet her gaze. the look you give her is enough to make her snicker, the sound light and carefree, filling the space between you. she takes the bottle from your hand, her fingers brushing over yours before she lifts it to her lips.

she drinks slowly, her throat moving in rhythmic swallows. you can’t help but watch, entranced by the sight of her. when she pulls the straw from her lips, she suddenly collapses back onto the bed, dragging you along with her, the movement fluid and easy. your head falls against her chest, the steady beat of her heart like a comforting lullaby. her hand rests against your side, moving slowly up and down, tracing patterns on your skin that send a shiver through your body, just as it did earlier. the intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, soft and warm like the glow of the room around you both.

“aww, you made a little charcuterie. you’re so cute.” she says, her voice softer now, the teasing lightness replaced with something deeper, more affectionate. she looks down at you, her eyes warm with tenderness. you shy away, half-laughing, as she peppers kisses all over your face, each one a little sweeter than the last. “oh my god, billie, why are you like this?” you mutter, half-embarrassed, but the affection in your voice betrays you.

she pulls back, her gaze never leaving yours, filled with nothing short of adoration. you can’t help but notice the way the soft light catches in her eyes, making everything around you feel like it’s fading away. it’s just her and you, in this moment.

you meet her gaze, your heart doing that stupid little flutter thing it always does when she looks at you like this, when she makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to her. “because, i love you,” she says softly, the words falling from her lips like they’ve been waiting to be spoken for so long.

a bashful smile weaves itself onto your lips as you bury yourself further into the warmth of your bed, the soft sheets and blankets wrapping around you like a cocoon. “i love you too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but it holds everything — all the things you’ve never had the words to say.

billie smiles, her expression softening even further as she leans forward, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. her lips press against yours, slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t. it’s a promise, a reassurance, and in that single moment, you both know exactly how much you mean to each other without needing to say another word.

the two of you drift off slowly back into your normal routine, wrapped up in each other, the space between you shrinking with each passing moment. you pick at the snack tray, the small, comforting bites feeling like nothing more than an excuse to keep touching, to keep sharing this quiet space. conversations flow easily, from the silliest of things — the kind of random banter that only you two could share — to deeper thoughts that weave between the cracks of the mundane. there’s a moment when the two of you spill tea about the latest gossip, laughing so hard your sides ache, but even in those lighter moments, there’s something grounding in the way you fit together.

the earlier passion, still lingering like a sweet ache in your bones, gives way to something quieter, more intimate. the heat fades, leaving room for a tenderness that wraps around both of you like a soft blanket. the love you share, now resting in this peaceful space, is just as powerful, but it moves with the calm of a river, flowing beneath the surface, steady and unshakeable.

this, you think, as she holds you close, her breath warm against your skin, the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat a lullaby in your ear — this is what home feels like.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[angievue]

flower girl ʚɞ billie eilish

in which you work at a flower shop and billie works at a tattoo parlour right next door

contains smut, degrading, dumbification, fingering & oral, ig readers innocent, unsupportive parents, this is really bad LOL

a/n guys i found this i think i made this three months ago for fun and OMG😭 also i’m on my phone so that’s why the layout is so ugly😔 i’m not even gonna proof read this cuz its so bad but i love the tattoo girl x flower girl trope so🫠 might re write this or make a pt 2 idk!!

You’ve always been a bit of a goody two shoes. The obedient type, always following your parents’ strict rules and agreeing to whatever your friends begged for, even though you never truly felt free. Your life felt like it was on lockdown, confined by your parents’ watchful eyes.

That was until you started working at a cozy little flower shop. The space was filled with hyacinths, lilies, and roses, and you felt instantly at home there. You could arrange bouquets however you liked and finally had a chance to connect with the world outside.

But what you liked most was the dark-haired girl who worked at the tattoo shop right next to your little flower shop. Growing up, you were taught that attraction to the same gender was forbidden, so now, alone with your thoughts, you can’t help but be drawn to her.

You’ve never spoken to her, and God knows when you will. You’ve only ever seen her walking into the shop every weekday at 8 a.m. and leaving at 5 p.m.

You’ve always wondered what she was like. Her long, raven hair and baggy clothes. You wondered what her name was or what color her eyes were. You wondered if she’d ever think about you the way you think about her.

But she had one flaw: her tattoo parlor somehow scared customers away. The loud music and her starkly different aesthetic made your beautiful flower shop feel dim and boring by comparison. You found yourself loathing her for it.

Today, you swore to confront her and send her a sweet message.

So here you are, standing outside her little tattoo parlor. The edgy music blasts from inside, and you can feel your knees getting weak.

You open the door and immediately feel out of place. Dressed in your cute pink skirt, white sweater, leg warmers, and Mary Janes, you stand out against the harsh red lights and black, dimmed walls of the tattoo parlor. You can’t believe you’re here—imagine if your parents saw you in a place like this…

You gulp as your eyes meet hers. She’s the one you’ve been secretly watching for months now. Her icy blue eyes and rosy pink lips make your stomach twist, and you bite your lip, nervously approaching her with your hands tucked behind your back.

“You here for a tattoo?” she asks, her voice carrying an edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Um… no! Actually, I’m from the flower shop… right next door,” you manage, voice shaky. “Your music is kinda loud… and, well, I’ve been getting some complaints from my customers, so… if you could maybe turn it down a little?”

You stare down at your shoes, feeling like a complete idiot as you mumble through your words, unable to meet her piercing gaze.

She lets out a low chuckle, biting her lip. “Flower shop, eh?”

You glance up, nodding with wide, blinking eyes. Her gaze holds yours, and you feel heat rise through your body.

Her eyes roam over you, lingering just a little too long. She shifts, leaning in closer. “Hm. I’ll think about it… if you give me something.”

Your face lights up. “Okay! Like… a flower?”

She laughs softly, amused by your innocence. “Mm. Yeah… like a flower.”

And that’s how you found yourself, dazed and flustered, barely able to think straight, hiding out in the tiny, employees-only bathroom tucked away in the back of the flower shop.

Billie was her name. And she didn’t really want a flower…

Your breath hitches as you feel Billie's fingers trace the curve of your spine, her touch both gentle and teasing. You shiver, unable to suppress a soft whine as her fingertips trail lower, dipping into the crease of your ass. Her voice is a low murmur in your ear, honeyed and dripping with promise.

"You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Like a dumb little puppy."

The words should sting, but they only make your heart race faster. You nod, too consumed by your own arousal to form a response. Billie chuckles, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

Her hands slide around your waist, pulling you back against her chest. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it makes your skin tingle. Billie nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Such a sweet baby," she purrs, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You whimper, a desperate plea escaping your lips. Billie’s grip tightens, drawing you even closer. Her mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, and she bites down gently, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

"Please…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Billie hums in satisfaction, her hand sliding down to cup your heat through the fabric of your panties. You feel yourself growing wetter at her touch, your body betraying you with every passing second. She teases you, circling your clit with her thumb, making you squirm in her hold.

"So naughty," she mocks, her tone playful yet domineering. "Such a whore letting a random girl touch you like this. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you?”

You nod frantically, your mind foggy with arousal. Billie’s fingers dip beneath the edge of your panties, slipping inside to find your slick entrance. You moan loudly, arching your back to give her better access. She thrusts two fingers into you without warning, making you cry out.

"That’s it, baby," she coos. "Take it. Take my fingers like the good girl you are."

Her words are laced with condescension, but you find them intoxicating. You press yourself harder onto her hand, desperate for more. Billie pulls her fingers out with a wet sound, bringing them to her mouth to lick them clean. You watch, entranced, as she savors your taste.

"Mmm, delicious," she murmurs. "But you know what you really need, don’t you?"

You shake your head, unsure, but your body tenses with anticipation. Billie smirks, clearly enjoying the power she holds over you.

"On your knees," she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You comply immediately, dropping to your knees before her. Billie steps back, giving you room to maneuver. She undoes her pants with deliberate slowness, letting them fall to the floor in a pool around her ankles. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of her exposed pussy, glistening with desire.

"Come on," she orders, her voice firm. "Show me how much of a dumb little slut you really are.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, your tongue flicking out to taste her. Billie hisses at the contact, gripping your hair tightly as you begin to lick and suck at her clit. Your movements are hesitant at first, but she guides you with forceful tugs on your hair, showing you exactly what she wants.

"Fuck, that’s it," she groans. "Lick it like you mean it, my little baby.

The harshness of her words spurs you on, your tongue working faster as you try to bring her to the edge. Billie’s hips buck against your face, her moans growing louder and more urgent. You can feel the tension building in her body, and you redouble your efforts, determined to make her come.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair.

She pulls away from your mouth abruptly, making you whine in protest. But before you can react, she spins you around, pushing your face against insf the wall. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you realize what’s coming next.

"Stay still," she warns, her voice clipped.

"I’m going to ruin you, and you’re going to take it like the good little slut you are."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. Billie wastes no time, her fingers returning to your soaked pussy. She pushes one inside, then two, scissoring them to stretch you open. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips rocking back instinctively.

"Such a greedy little thing," she taunts.

With that, she removes her fingers and replaces them with something much larger—her tongue. You cry out at the sudden invasion, your body shuddering as she laps at your folds, drinking in your juices. Her mouth is demanding, relentless, and you can feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie… please…" you beg, your voice breaking. "I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Good," she whispers against your flesh. "Let go, my dumb little baby. Let go for me."

And with those words, you do. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses. You scream her name, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as Billie continues to eat you out, driving you further into bliss.

As your climax begins to fade, she pulls away, leaving you panting and spent. But before you can catch your breath, she flips you over, pinning you down with her body. Her eyes burn with intensity as she looks down at you.

"Liked that, did you?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous. "How about we make this a regular thing?"

You blink up at her, dazed and sated. Part of you wants to protest, to say that this is so unprofessional and wrong. But the other part of you, the part that’s currently throbbing with residual pleasure, doesn’t want this to ever end.

"Yes…" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Whatever you want…"

Billie smiles, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Good girl."

a/n someone do this trope justice or if someones already done smth like this LMK PLZ😫 i love it

[leth-writes]

Distance (Yandere tim drake x reader)

SUMMARY: Tim Drake is a fucking asshole, but at least you're moving.

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

“Have you ever noticed anything… weird with Tim?”

Your voice breaks the cozy silence that had fallen in Stephanie’s room. The blond looked over, face the picture of confusion.

“What do you mean?” Your other friend, Conner, asked.

“I don’t know, I just… Sometimes he’s kinda creepy, ya know? Like he knows more than he lets on. Like he’s looking through you, into your soul.” You explain.

Stephanie cocks her head to the side, pretending to think.

“I mean, he can be a lil’ weird, but I think it’s just cuz he was socially stunted growing up…” She hums. What could that possibly mean? You thought, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s cuz of his parents; they like, left him alone all the time when he was younger.” Stephanie continues, turning back to her homework. She seems satisfied with herself.

“I-”

“Hey, maybe you’ll just have to ask Tim, he won’t bite, ya know.” Conner says, not even bothering to face you.

The three of you fell back into silence.

You liked your friends. You didn’t have much experience with friendship, especially growing up moving around constantly because of your dad’s job. You’d met Conner completely by accident; you just so happened to be going to the same school, he just so happened to be walking down the hall, you tripped, he caught you. The two of you hit it off after that. That had introduced you to Steph, and later to Tim, and just like that, you were no longer alone.

Conner was kind, despite his outward appearance. He had dark, ruffled curly hair and a slight southern accent, and he always wore his stupid black leather jacket, the one with the spikes on the shoulders. Sometimes he even wore a dark pair of sunglasses, even inside, like an asshole. Despite his arrogance and his snarky attitude, he was a good friend, defending you from the schoolyard bullies that had plagued your life.

Steph was in some ways, his polar opposite. She had long, slightly wavy blond hair, down to the middle of her back, and the most bright blue eyes you think you’d ever seen, the color of a cloudless summer day’s sky. She was boisterous, constantly laughing and joking around, a sharp contrast to Conner’s cool, calm demeanor.

TIm was an entirely different story. He was… Quiet. Weirdly quiet. It was the first thing you’d noticed, the first time you met him, sitting down for lunch next to Steph and Kon. They’d happily introduced the two of you, and Tim. Shook your hand. You’d never met another person who shook hands, except for uppity businessmen who treated you like a baby.

His eyes were a cold, cruel blue, almost grey. They stared into you, never leaving your form, even as you turned to talk to Steph. You could feel him staring, like he was trying to cut your skull open for a peek inside. You felt like a bad lab experiment every time his attention fell on you.

His hair was always perfectly mussed, like he’d spent the entire morning debating about where to place each strand, and his clothes were impeccably prepped. All in all, he looked more like a doll than a person.

It was creepy, off-putting. Despite all of that, you were in desperate need for friends, especially friends your own age, not your annoying little cousins that you were forced to babysit when your Aunt was away on vacation, which she seemed to always be.

You were willing to put up with him, if it meant being Conner and Steph’s friend. You weren’t willing to give up that first taste of freedom from your overwhelming family.

Even if you hated him.

Tim was perfect, was the thing. Any time you had a problem, he had a condescendingly offered solution. Homework troubles transformed from a normal, if slightly irritating, part of your life into an embarrassing and awkward time for Tim to show off his expertise. Conner and Steph, both seemingly prodigies in their own rights, didn’t have nearly the same problem as you. Sometimes, in fact, you felt like they had some sort of telepathy, reading each other's minds and knowing the answers before you’d even begun.

Tim was also the perfect child, as your parents were constantly berating you. He helped his family, Tim cared for the company his adoptive father would one day be giving to him, Tim had perfect grades, Tim was perfectly behaved. Everywhere you turned it was Tim, Tim, Tim. You couldn’t even escape him on social media. If he wasn’t peering out at you with those icy eyes from Steph and Conner’s feeds, he was staring holes into your skull through pictures of him accepting awards and attending important events.

As you got to know him, the disparities between the two of you only became more clear. He was annoyingly flawless, and you seemed to be built of nothing but flaws, at least according to most of your teachers and your parents.

The constant comparisons were grating on your nerves, and you knew that if you never saw Tim again, it’d be too late. The damage to your fragile self-esteem was already done.

Luckily, today, Tim had to be with his father for some stupid gala, leaving you to hang out with your two normal, non-superhuman friends, who would never rub their perfections into your face. Even if they had plenty of them. You knew the two of them toned down their gloating when you were around, and they were always trying to hype you up, to get you to brag about your accomplishments. To hear about it from them, you’d think you were the most talented person in Gotham, if not all of America.

You were pretty sure that particular award could go to Tim.

Everything was perfect, all three of you working on your own individual homework. Steph and Kon weren’t in the class you were working on. Tim, of course, was, and he was top of the class, as you were constantly being reminded. God, he was pretentious.

Everything was perfect, of course, until Tim walked in. Steph and Kon lit up, smiling and welcoming him in. His hair was, once again, perfectly tousled, and he had clearly changed back into his normal clothes.

“Ditching, pretty boy?” Kon teased, reaching over to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“Awe, don’t tease him, you know he’s a daddy’s boy,” Steph said, laughing.

Tim just batted Conner’s hands away, before turning to face you all.

“I got out of the gala early. My presence was unneeded.” He said, face completely blank. God, he even talked like a fucking robot. You turned away, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, are you working on homework? I can help…” He began, looking over your shoulder. You turned slightly to look at him, baring your teeth in what barely counted as a smile. “I’m. Okay,” you said, teeth grinding. Tim winced at the sight. “A-alright. I’ll just…” he gestured to where Steph and Kon had migrated to Steph’s bed, now painting their nails.

You finished your homework in record time and stood up, eager to just make an excuse and get home.

“Sorry guys, my parents must be worried… I have to get home,” you said, smiling tightly.

“Oh, it’s alright, you can stay. Your parents are still at the gala.” Tim said, not even bothering to look up from where he was concentrating on painting Steph’s pinky.

Shit. He couldn’t even let you leave in dignity, could he?

You gripped the handle of your bag even tighter and turned around. “W-well, still. They don’t want me out too late.” Steph and Kon nodded, saying their goodbyes with ease. Kon waved, his newly painted black nails shining in the dim light.

Tim simply. Stared at you. It’s like he knew you were lying. What a fucking asshole.

You left without another word.

The next day, your parents dropped a bombshell on you. You were all moving. Again. No amount of protest seemed to change their mind. The date was set and your house was sold; you had until the end of the week to say goodbye to your new life.

You, of course, immediately told your new friends. You hadn’t even known them for a month. You should’ve known this would happen; your parents would never let you be happy, and neither would the universe. The mood was solemn as you all sat around your designated table. Even Tim looked upset. More upset than you’d ever seen him, in fact, you think this was the first time you’d ever seen him show an emotion.

Steph looked over, eyes pitying. She squeezed Tim’s hand. What? Geeze, you were the one who was fucking leaving, and he’s the one who was getting comforted! He didn’t even like you!

Kon leaned over the table and grasped your hand, blocking Steph and Tim from your view.

“Hey, kiddo, you okay?” You simply shook your head, biting on your trembling lip. Sure, you didn’t like Tim, but you’d miss your friends!

“Is there any way to change your parents’ minds?” Steph asked as Kon leaned back. All hint of emotion was gone from Tim’s face. He couldn’t even pretend to be upset for the rest of lunch?

“No, no. They already sold the house…” You sniffled.

“Oh…” She said, looking down at the floor. You could hear the defeat in her voice, even as it wavered.

“Well, maybe you can come over tomorrow? One last hurrah, you know? We can spend the night together, do each other's nails, watch a movie…” She asked, voice hopeful.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds okay…”

“You’re crying.” Tim stated, voice cold and hard. Your hands flew up to your face, shocked to find tears slowly running down your cheeks. Fuck. Fuck him for saying something. You were fucking done. You were done! He couldn’t even pretend to care for a few minutes, and now he was mocking you?! You felt your anger boil up, faster than it ever had.

“Jesus, I’m sorry for fucking expressing emotion, not like you’d know anything about that!” You said, voice cracking. You slammed your hands down on the table as you stood up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder. Tim looked up, startled by your outburst, mouth agape. Steph and Kon wore similar gobsmacked expressions. If you weren’t so pissed, you’d find it almost comical.

Still, you were incandescent. You fled the room, rage boiling underneath your skin, masking the hurt you were burying deep inside.

You ignored Tim the rest of the day. As a consequence, you were unable to talk to Steph and Kon. The distance pained you, but you knew if you had to see Tim’s smarmy face, you’d punch his teeth out. Neither approached you alone, though they did shoot you guilty looks from across the classroom. 

The pain was the worst part. Tim’d been an asshole, he’d made fun of you for as long as you’d known them, and they were choosing him. Everyone always chose Tim; your parents, your teachers, the press… You were stuck in his shadow, doomed to never meet his fucking mold. You were done. You just couldn’t deal with it, not while losing your two best friends, the best friends you’d ever had.

Steph texted you that night, asking you to still come over. She’d assured you that Tim and Kon wouldn’t even be there. The knowledge that Kon was still choosing Tim was painful, but you could deal with it, just to see Steph that one last time.

So, you’d agreed.

The next day came with a fresh wave of grief, pouring off you in waves. It was exhausting, so exhausting that your parents asked you to stay home, concerned you would pass out and be injured right before the big move.

You’d agreed, and spent the day catching up on some much-needed sleep.

That evening, you waved goodbye to your parents, bag slung over your shoulder, and began the walk to Steph’s place. Her family was middle class, not as wealthy as yours, but still quite well-off. You had never seen either of her parents, but Steph assured you she had a very competent housekeeper to help her out when she needed an adult.

You were almost to her house when it hit you. What the fuck were you doing? You shouldn’t be doing this. You were being naive. You’d only known them a short while, they’d forget you in a week! It would be best to just turn right around and go home; that way, you’d be spared the pain of a slow, petering off relationship. You didn’t want to watch as they made new friends, replaced you, slowly stopped responding to your calls; you couldn’t bear the pain.

So, you turned around and walked right back home, not even bothering to text Steph. You’d call her at home, when you were safe in your bed, and you had the room to cry all you wanted and eat as much ice cream as you could handle.

As you walked home, shivering, you couldn’t help but look up. The bat-signal was up, projected against the cloudy night sky. If there was one thing you wouldn’t miss, besides Tim, it was the constant crime. The constant need to carry a gas mask or a taser, the constant preparation to be kidnapped or maimed or tortured. It was tiring, always being on edge.

You kept your eyes on the rooftops, hoping for a glimpse of one of the bats. You couldn’t help your slight fascination with them, despite the way your frie- former friends constantly laughed at you. Tim had looked weirdly smug after he’d wheedled you into admitting Red Robin was your favorite, though you thought the newest superboy on the scene was your favorite hero in general. You just liked his hair (and the way he reminded you of Conner).

It was only once you were back in your neighborhood that you noticed the feeling of being watched. You whipped your head around, looking every direction and clutching your taser. You couldn’t find anyone.

Shrugging it off as needless paranoia, built up over your stay in Gotham, you continued.

The lights in your house were off. The lights in your house were off, but your parents had promised they’d leave them on for when you got home. Did the fucking forget about you?!

You grumbled and stomped up the driveway.

The door was open. A sense of unease began to build, tension keeping your stomach in knots.

You slowly pushed it open, taser in hand.

The house was dark, and empty. Even the curtains were gone. You stepped further in, anxiety beginning to build.

“Mom? Dad?” You called, walking through the living room and to the stairs. You checked each room; each was as empty as the last, both devoid of any furniture, and your parents.

You made your way up the stairs, searching each room, all empty, until you came upon your room, tucked away in the corner away from your parents’ room. The light was on, shining through the cracks in the door and barely illuminating the dark hallway. You snuck closer, taser out and ready.

Finally, you were in front of the door, and you kicked it open.

Inside, your room was perfectly preserved, the overhead light shining down.

Sitting on the bed, head buried in his laptop, was Tim fucking Drake.

“Wha- Tim?” You said, tensed shoulders drooping.

He looked up and smiled, though it didn’t reach his stony eyes.

“Hey, come in.” he gestured to the bed. Confused, you wandered over and plopped down. 

He sighed and turned to face you.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this. I never meant to upset you, but I’m afraid it’s simply inevitable.”

You stared at him. “Tim, where-where are my parents?”

He sighed again, looking out the window.

“I thought we’d be able to avoid this. I thought I’d have time. I’m sorry it had to happen this way.”

“...”

He turned the laptop to you and clicked play on the video queued up.

On screen, your parents appeared.

“I know about the assistant.” Tim’s voice came through, tinny from the low quality of the   video.

“Wh- I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your father’s voice was shaky, shakier than you’d ever heard it.

“There was an accident, wasn’t there.” Tim.

“N-no. No!” Your mom, anger clear on her face.

“It only takes one push and the story gets out.” Tim, voice and face clear. His eyes were stony, glaring down at where your parents sat on the couch.

“We’re leaving town, it won’t matter. We’ll leave.” Your dad said, voice sure. He stood up.

“Sit down.” Tim commanded, and your father did, fear flicking across his face.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re leaving. The Daily Planet is an internationally renowned paper.”

“Please, that would ruin us, you can’t!” Your mom begged, tears springing up.

“What do you want.” Your father said, face stormy. You knew he was picturing hitting Tim, and you knew he was calculating the risk.

“I want you to leave, right now, and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened.”

“We will, we will! Just let me call my daugh-”

“No. Right now.”

“...” 

You could see the acquiescence, the relief, on your father’s face. He nodded, determination slowly creeping onto his features. Your mother just sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“And what of our things?”

“I’ll have them sent to your new address.”

“How-”

Tim just stared at your mother, face grim. She closed her jaw with a sharp ‘clack’.

The video ended.

You stared, speechless. Tim simply looked over at you, face blank.

“W-wh- I don’t… I don’t understand?” You said, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, but when you said your parents were moving… I had to move quickly.”

You stood up and began walking, feeling as though you were pushing through cotton, like you were seeing yourself in 3rd person. You could barely hear Tim calling your name as you walked down the stairs, toward the door, slowly walking faster and faster. You pushed the door open hard, barely flinching as it slammed into the frame, and burst into a sprint.

You didn’t get far.

A red blur streaked through your peripherals before coming to a stop in front of you. There was superboy, staring at you with guilt in his eyes. No, not superboy. It was Conner.

Just like that, your heart fell. 

“No.” you said, voice shaky with disbelief.

“No!” you backed up, raising the taser. Conner moved closer, hands raised in placation. You flicked the taser on and let it connect with his side. He didn’t even flinch.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You shouted, dropping the taser and whirling around to run.

Arms like steel wrapped around you and picked you up. Suddenly, you were thrown over his shoulder, your vision upside down. He marched you back into the house, plopping you back on the bed where Tim still sat, the laptop on your nightstand.

Conner shot you another guilty look, standing guard by the door, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. You’d never noticed how buff he was; you guessed the jacket was there to prevent you from noticing.

You were crying in earnest now, tears running down your cheeks.

“Please,” you begged, voice cracking.

Tim looked at you, blew out a breath, and wiped your face gently, hands cool. He cradled your face, bringing it closer.

Gently, oh so gently, he kissed your forehead, then brought your head into his shoulder, as you continued to cry. He shushed you, patting your back comfortingly.

“Why?!” you cried.

He gave no answer.

Finally, your crying slowed, then stopped. You pulled away and wiped your eyes with your sleeves.

“You’re going to come with me. We’re going to go back to my place, and you’re going to meet the rest of your family.”

You looked up at Conner, pleading with your eyes. He looked away, grimacing.

“Tim, I- I don’t want to do that, I want my parents, you get that this is fucked up, right?!” You questioned, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

[httpiastri]

favorites – pa17

genre: fluff, suggestive

pairing: paul aron x reader

warnings: mentions of 18+ stuff but it's pretty lowkey

word count: 1k

author's note: sleepy paul <33 forever in my heart <3<3 aaaaa this started out as me just praising paul's eyes and then his entire face and just.... yea idk im kinda obsessed. hope you enjoy and that this maybe can cheer you up from these last few races :)

3k celly l f2/f3 masterlist

paul aron is a pretty sleeper.

well, he is pretty at all times. after a race, cheeks flushed and hair messier than ever; curled up on the sofa with five blankets wrapped around him, the flu making his eyes all droopy; and maybe especially when he's standing on the top step of a podium, cap perched on his head and giant smile adorning his lips.

but even when he's asleep, lips slightly parted and nose scrunching up every once in a while, paul looks like god's most stunning creation. he's not just pretty, he's beautiful, with the type of boyish charm that can make any girl swoon.

back in the day, he adored the attention. nowadays, he only needs you to swoon, thankfully.

his light blonde curls are still tousled from the number of times your hands went through them last night, the feeling of his soft strands still lingering on your fingers. his face is so peaceful, a stark contrast to how concentrated it was a mere few hours ago when you were writhing beneath him as he whispered sweet praises into your ear.

the memory of yesterday makes a shiver shoot through your spine. it's your favorite way of getting ready to sleep; there's no better way to tire out than to spend some time with your needy boyfriend who's just come back from a triple header.

however, this is paul's favorite way of waking up.

the first thing he wants in the morning isn't coffee or a good bagel. it's to feel your legs tangled with his, your skin rubbing against his, your fingers intertwined with his. he doesn't really enjoy the sun shining in through the creak in your blinds, though.

"turn off the damn sun..."

the words lure out a sweet laugh from you, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you relax further into your pillow. "can't really do that," you tell him with a shrug. "sorry, love."

paul groans – at you or the sun, you aren't sure, but the grumble that vibrates in his chest sounds a little like a frustrated whine, and you have to hold back another giggle. despite his sweet looks, he's a grumpy little thing in the morning; a fact you know better than anyone else. "not fair," he huffs. his accent is always a little stronger, a little thicker when he's just woken up, paired with the very melodious and dramatic tone he often uses which always manages to bring out a smile on your lips. "'m really tired..."

you hum in response. it wasn't too long ago that you both finally fell asleep, after all. when he lets out a sigh and finally opens his eyes, your heart skips a beat. or two. or five.

paul's eyes are your favorite things in the world.

they always have been. since the moment they first met yours, you haven't been able to look away. it's not just a common blue – one day, they've stolen the deep color of the ocean, and the next, they've mimicked the light blue sky of a sweet summer day.

they're especially hard to tear your gaze from since they remind you of so many things you love. the waves by the sea you used to visit when you were younger; the dark rain clouds covering the sky during a cozy storm; blueberry-flavored candy, blue raspberry sour patch kids, bubblegum cotton candy. sometimes even a purple nebula, giving birth to butterflies in your stomach instead of stars in space.

even half-lidded like this, sleep still clear in his gaze, his eyes are enough to send goosebumps all across your skin. the effect he has on you is just not fair.

"how are you even already so awake?" he questions, his tone complaining as if there's a personal vendetta against you not being as sleep-deprived as him. you shake your head, letting go of his hand to instead let yours graze his cheek.

"i've been awake for a while now," you say, watching as he pushes his head against your hand like a cat seeking physical attention, letting out a soft hum when your hand slips past his jaw and lands on the back of his neck.

"doing what?" he raises an eyebrow, albeit clumsily as he's still too tired to control his face properly.

his arm drapes over your waist, his large hand finding the small of your back before lazily tracing up and down your spine. "watching you."

"i can't tell if that's kinky or only creepy."

you scoff, tone growing defensive. "how would that be kinky?"

"i never know with you." paul gently pulls you closer so that you're flush against his chest, making it easier for him to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he inhales slowly, drinking in your scent, before letting out a sigh, his exhale tickling the bare skin of your collarbone. "you still smell of me, you know."

"wouldn't be surprised if the whole room smells of us..." his lips begin a journey upwards, trailing kisses all the way from the sensitive skin between your shoulder and collarbone to the underside of your jaw, before stopping to nibble on your earlobe. his callused palm caresses the skin of your naked back, before sliding down to your ass, squeezing it gently.

your eyes close again, body basking in the feeling of his lips and hands working in perfect synchronization. despite how awake you said you were, it's far too early for wherever this is headed. you call out his name once, then twice, but the sole difference is that his hand moves down to trail along your thighs.

the only thing you can think of is tilting your head down to meet his lips, your toes curling at the passion with which he's kissing you so even early in the morning. his tongue is already begging for access to your mouth, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs and leaving you squirming under his touch.

it's all so perfect, exactly like it always is; with him pressed up so close not even a single atom could fit between you, with you finding no reason not to give in.

hips pressed against hips, chests against chests, mouths against mouths. your favorite place, your favorite feeling,

your favorite person.

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Rapunzel featuring Choso! While gathering herbs in the forest, you stumble into the garden of a strange man living in an abandoned watch tower. He talks often about his three little brothers, but you’re beginning to suspect they’re no longer there.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty Here!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Reader as Rapunzel. Reader has long hair (she kinda has to for this story) but no other distinguishing physical characteristics. Choso as a classic Yandere. Possessive behavior. Toxic love. Manipulation. Reader is locked up. Mentions of characters dying before the story began. Bondage (not used in a sexual context… yet).

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You bend down to pick some of the herbs you just found, carefully placing them in your basket. These will be perfect for several different medicines you make for the other villagers. You can’t believe what a treasure trove you’ve found. How have you never seen  this place before? 

The basket is feeling heavy on your arm by the time you finish, but you’re so happy with what you’ve gathered that you don’t mind the extra weight. You pick one last handful and turn to head back through the woods and to the village. 

That’s when you see him. A pale man dressed in black, dark hair pulled into strange ponytails on each side of his head. He’s standing directly in your path. 

“Why are you in my garden?” he asks. His tone is curious, not accusatory.

You freeze in place. This is a garden? And it belongs to him? You dip your head in a slight bow. “I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t realize this was your garden. I picked a lot of your herbs,” you say, holding out your basket. “Would you like to keep them?”

He stares into your basket, then at your face. “What do you want herbs for?”

“I make medicines,” you tell him. “Tonics, ointments, all sorts of things.”

He’s silent for a moment, then asks, “Could you make some for me?”

“Of course,” you say, happy that he’s apparently going to let your accidental theft slide. “What kinds do you need?”

“Something for scrapes and cuts. I have three little brothers and they’re always getting hurt while playing in the woods.”

You smile. “Alright. I’ll make some and bring them back to you, as a thank you for the herbs.” You glance around the forest. “Where is your house?”

He hesitates for a few seconds, as if reluctant to reveal where he lives. You’re just about to offer to meet him here in a few days when he turns and begins walking through the woods. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”

You tag along behind him, waiting for a house to come into view. You really didn’t know anyone lived out here. But instead of a house, he leads you to a clearing with an enormous tower standing in the middle of it. 

“You live here?” you ask, using your hand to block the sun as you squint upwards, trying to see how high it goes. 

It’s made of stone, gray in color except for a deep red door and matching red shudders all the way up at the top. A window? But why so high? The grass around the tower is thick and unkempt, wild rose bushes climbing the sides, going at least thirty feet up. Red and white roses are blooming beautifully, making the tower look like something from a dream. 

When you step closer, you notice there are black roses blooming here and there. What an unusual color! 

The man opens the red door, made of heavy wood, and motions for you to come inside. 

You follow in behind him, finding a living area with chairs, a fireplace, a rug, and a desk.  Off to the side is a cozy little kitchen with a stove and a small table with four chairs crowded around it. 

“Do you live here by yourself?” you ask, looking around. 

He looks at you with a slightly confused expression. “No, I have three little brothers, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry, I forgot.”

But the tower doesn’t look like three kids live in it. Things are too neat and orderly, and there’s only one place setting on the table. Maybe they’re just very well behaved. 

He notices you glancing around and says, “They’re out gathering wood for the fire right now. They’ll be home soon.”

You nod, then look straight up. “What’s up there?”

He follows your line of sight, tilting his head up. “A couple of bedrooms shared between us,” he answers. “This used to be a watch tower during the war. My brothers and I found it abandoned a few years ago and moved in.”

“That was fortunate,” you say. “I bet they love playing in this tower.”

He smiles, the expression lighting up the room. He has a really nice smile. “Yes, they love it here.”

You smile back, then start toward the door. “I’ll make some medicines for you and come back in three days. Is that alright?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

As you step outside, you turn back to wave goodbye to him. He waves back, and you leave. Walking back through the woods, you half expect to run into his little brothers, laughing and playing. But you never see another soul until you reach the village. 

In the comfort of your own home, you remove your bonnet and let the long ponytail slip down your back and hit the floor. Even with the ends looped around and tied at the top, your hair brushes the wooden floorboards as you move around the room, assembling your tools. Pans, bowls, a kettle of water set to boil, stone cups and mortars. 

As you begin your work, you realize you never asked the man for his name. 

Three days later, when you return to the tower, the man meets you at the door with a smile. He really does look so kind when he smiles. You wish he would do it more often. 

“I brought the medicines, uh… sir,” you say, holding up a leather bag. 

“Choso,” he says. “My name is Choso. And you?”

Feeling just a bit shy, you avert your eyes as you tell him your name. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize it last time, but he’s very handsome. Even the faint dark circles under his eyes can’t diminish his lovely face. 

“Come in, please,” he tells you, opening the door wider and stepping to the side to give you room. 

Once inside, you go to the kitchen and begin pulling the glass bottles of medicine from your bag and sitting them on the table. Choso walks over and listens intently as you explain their uses. 

“This one is great for scrapes and minor burns or cuts. Wash the wounded area first with warm water, then apply the salve. Bandage if necessary. This one here helps with a cough. Give them one spoonful before bed. Oh, and this one relieves itching from bug bites or rashes they might get from plants while playing.”

You pick one bottle with a purple colored liquid inside. “This will help them sleep, but it’s strong. Only a few drops into some water or milk, okay? Otherwise they’ll be knocked out all day.”

Choso looks at you warmly as you finish explaining them. Then thanks you again. “These will be a big help. My little brothers can be unruly at times.”

You look around the room. “Are they out today?”

Choso nods. “They went to fish in the stream nearby. They should be home later.”

“That’s a pity. I’d like to meet them someday,” you say. 

As you start to head for the door again, Choso places a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Wait. Would you like to join me for dinner? My brothers will be late, so I’ll just give them leftovers.”

Your eyes shift to the stove, where iron pots and pans are sizzling and steaming. You realize then that you can smell food cooking, and it smells delicious. There’s definitely some sort of bread baking, and you’re fairly certain an onion has been sautéed. They’re warm, comforting scents. They remind you of when your parents were alive. 

“Are you sure you’ll have enough?” you ask. 

“There’s plenty,” he replies, gently ushering you to the little round table and pulling out one of the chairs. “My brothers don’t eat much. You know how kids can be picky eaters.”

You sit down in the offered chair. “Alright then. Thank you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Choso says, filling a plate for you. “I haven’t had company for dinner in a long time.” He pauses, seems to think of something, then adds, “I mean I haven’t had a guest for dinner in a long time.”

You look at the plate filled with piping hot food that he sits in front of you. “This all looks incredible!” 

Choso fixes a plate for himself and sits down next to you at the table. “I hope you enjoy it,” he says before beginning to eat. 

Everything you try is divine, from the freshly baked bread to the fried potatoes with onions to the seared pork loin. You wonder how his brothers could possibly be too picky to enjoy this, but you suppose there’s no accounting for kids’ taste. 

After finishing your meal, you stay for a little while to chat with Choso. He’s not overly talkative, but he’s friendly enough, and seems to genuinely enjoy your company. He asks you questions about your medicine making, the village you live in, and eventually reaches the topic of family. 

“My parents died when I was sixteen,” you tell him, “and I have no siblings. My only relatives live so far away that I never see them, so it’s just me.”

His expression softens. “Don’t you get lonely?”

You place your elbow on the table and lean your face onto your hand. With your other hand, your fingers trace over a name childishly carved into the wood. “Yuji”. It must be the name of one of his brothers. You can imagine a little boy doing that, and Choso gently chastising him for it. 

“Sometimes I do,” you answer. “Sometimes I miss having someone to tell my problems to, or something fun or interesting will happen and I’ll want to go home and tell my parents, but there’s no one there. Most of the time I’m fine, but sometimes at night the house is so quiet, all I can hear is my own breathing, and it feels…” You stop and look at Choso. His eyes have a strange intensity to them as he stares at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, feeling embarrassed, “I shouldn’t have rambled on like that. You have your brothers, so it must be hard for you to imagine what I’m talking about.”

All at once his expression returns to its normal warm and kind one. “Ah, you’re right. I’m sorry for asking something so personal.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m an open book. Ask whatever you want.”

“Really? In that case, why do you keep your hair so long?” he asks. 

You took your bonnet off to eat dinner, and it would be strange if he hadn’t noticed how long your ponytail is. You reflexively reach up to touch where it’s looped and tied at the back of your head. When loose, your hair drags far behind you. 

“My parents come from a very isolated clan, where a person’s hair is considered their spirit. Hair is sacred to us, so I’ve never cut it since I was born.”

His eyes seem to follow your hair from your head down to the floor. “It’s very beautiful,” he says. “I’d love to see it let down.”

You blush at that remark. He couldn’t know it, but in your parents’ clan, only your spouse is allowed to see you with your hair completely loose. Though your parents left the clan, they raised you to respect many of their customs. 

“Maybe someday,” you say with a faint smile. “Letting my hair down is a very… intimate thing.”

Choso’s pale face turns slightly pink. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, you didn’t know. The clan was a bit strange.”

You leave later that evening, still seeing no signs of his brothers. 

Over the next few weeks, you visit Choso often. He lets you raid his herb garden in exchange for making medicines for him, and you always stay a couple of hours to have dinner with him and talk. 

Choso is still a little quiet, but he’s an excellent listener, always seeming engaged with whatever you talk about. The only topic that makes him chatty is his brothers. He loves telling you stories about their mischief. He clearly loves all three of them, but he seems to have a soft spot for the youngest, Yuji. 

But the more time you spend with Choso, the more you talk to him, the more you start to suspect something terrible. 

Maybe his brothers are gone. 

You’re not sure if a relative might have taken them in, or if they simply ran away to one of the nearby villages, or… if they’re dead. But you’re starting to believe they don’t live at the tower with Choso anymore. You’ve never seen them even once, despite visiting at different hours on different days. Choso always has plenty of food to share, and you’ve never seen any evidence of them still being there. 

You can’t ask Choso about it. Whatever the truth may be, it’s obvious that Choso doesn’t want to deal with it. He’d rather live the lie that they’re still with him than face the truth, and it’s not your place to try to change that. 

So you go along with it. You don’t act suspicious when he says they’re out playing in the woods. You don’t ask any questions about what they’ve been doing lately. It’s none of your business anyway, though it does make you sad. 

One night you end up staying at the tower a little later than usual, wrapped up in a conversation with Choso. When you head home, it’s dark out, and the woods seem a little creepier. 

You start to walk the familiar path to your village, but you hear a wolf howl in the distance. Another wolf howls, then another. It sounds like there’s a pack on the path you need to be on. Deciding to take the long way around, you step onto a different path, one that would take around the other side of the tower. 

On your way, you spot a small clearing. The full moon shines down through the trees, illuminating three identical objects. Stepping closer, you realize what they are. Small cross shaped grave markers. There are no names on them, but the fact that there are three sends a chill down your spine. Three graves for three little brothers? 

You can’t be sure, so you choose to ignore them for now. You’ve already decided to go along with Choso’s sad lie, so what’s the point of saying anything now? 

Continuing on the path, you hear wolves howling again. Are they on this path as well, or did they catch your scent and follow you? 

The air is unseasonably chilly, feeling like winter despite being early autumn. The trees are still full of leaves, and during the day their foliage creates a rainbow of lovely colors: golden yellows, burnt oranges, lush reds. But tonight, they just look dark brown. 

You wrap your thin cloak a little tighter around yourself and hurry along, hoping the wolves are farther away than they sound. Your footsteps are nearly silent on the soft forest floor. It rained yesterday, so the ground is still slightly damp, and the woods still have that earthy smell that always follows the rain. 

A howl again, stopping you in your tracks. Should you run? Or go back to the tower? You’re not sure which option is safer, especially in the dark. It’s hard to judge exactly where you are on this unfamiliar path. 

You hear a growl, and it’s definitely close. Close enough to make your heart pound wildly and the hair on your neck stand up. 

A twig snaps somewhere behind you, and more than one growl can be heard. It sounds like you’re surrounded! As the first wolf emerges from trees to your right, you let out a terrified scream. 

Choso is cleaning up after dinner, humming quietly to himself as he washes the plates he and his guest ate from. 

He finds himself smiling often these days, feeling happy and content for the first time since… 

No, he refuses to think about that right now. He has someone to talk to, to eat dinner with most evenings, to share things with. He’s not alone anymore. 

He’s never really had a guest before she wandered into his garden, and every day since he’s thanked the stars above for sending someone so lovely. She’s sweet and honest and talks to him about her life and seems to actually care about what he has to say. 

And she’s beautiful. 

Choso hasn’t been with a woman, or even been interested in one, in years. Before finding the tower, Choso sometimes sold his body to make enough money to feed his brothers. He didn’t hate it, but most of the encounters felt hollow to him. 

Now, for the first time since he was a teenager, he feels actual desire for someone. But he’s not sure how she feels about him. Maybe he can figure it out if he spends more time with her. 

A shrill scream pierces the night, causing Choso to drop the plate he was washing. A tiny piece of it chipped off. 

He pauses, listening carefully. He hears another scream, and this time he’s certain. It’s her. She’s in trouble! 

Terrible memories flash through his mind as he runs for the door and throws it open. Other screams, calling for Choso to help, begging to be saved as he ran toward the sound. This time, he’ll make it! This time, he won’t lose anyone!

He sprints through the forest, following her voice, tearing through the trees and ignoring the branches scratching his face. 

Another sound fills his ears. Growling and snarling, the snapping of teeth. He knows what makes those sounds all too well.  

As he breaks free of the tree line and onto a path, he sees her. She’s lying on the ground, curled up to try to protect herself, as a small pack of wolves circle her. In the small patches of moonlight, Choso can see that her cloak is torn and there are bloody marks all over her. There’s blood soaking into the dirt beneath her, and she’s alternating between screaming and whimpering. 

Choso yells at the wolves as he rushes forward, kicking the closest ones away. They turn on him, baring their teeth, but he glares at them with the sort of animalistic rage they can understand. They whine as they slowly walk away, leaving him to crouch down and pull her into his arms. 

“I’m here! I scared the wolves away!”

She looks up at him with a tear-streaked face, terror in her eyes. “Choso?”

“Yes, it’s me!” he assures her. “I’ll take you back to the tower to bandage your wounds. It’s closer than the village.”

With that, he scoops her up and carries her back to his home, lying her on a rug in front of the fireplace. She’s awake, thankfully, and fully alert. 

“I’m going to take off your cloak. Is that alright?” he asks. 

She nods, raising up to help him remove it. Then he begins looking over her wounds. They’re not deep, though they are bloody and look quite painful. Choso breathes a sigh of relief to know they’re not life threatening. Unless they get infected. 

He looks from the bite marks, mostly on her shoulders, hands, and calves, to her face. “We should really clean these,” he tells her. “But I don’t want to pull up your dress or your sleeves without permission.”

She gives him a weak smile. “It’s okay. Get some of the ointment I made for you. It should help.”

He leaves to get the ointment from the kitchen, as well as some cloth and warm water. When he comes back, her bloody dress is lying in the corner, and she’s sitting up on the floor in a thin but modest slip. It’s sleeveless, falling to knee length, and it perfectly reveals her wounds. 

Choso doesn’t take the time to stare or blush. This isn’t that type of situation. His only concern is bandaging her up and ensuring her safety. 

With her directing him, he cleans the bite marks and applies the ointment, then carefully wraps them in cloth. One arm had to be wrapped from shoulder to fingers, but the other only had a couple of scratches on her shoulder. Both calves had bites that required bandages, and one foot was bruised. 

Choso steps out of the room while she examines herself for any hidden wounds, and is relieved that she found none. When all is finished, they sit together by the fireplace. 

“Thank you for saving me,” she says. “Those wolves would have killed me.”

“I would never let that happen,” he tells her, looking her in the eyes. 

She looks surprised by that comment, but then smiles in that sweet way that has captivated him. “You’re a wonderful person, Choso. You know that, right?”

He feels himself blush a little. “I’m not. I’ve had… many failings. But I’m glad you feel that way.”

They talk a while longer, sticking to light topics that occasionally make her giggle. He thinks she’s marvelous when she laughs, like a bright ray of sun in his dark world. He can’t imagine his life without her in it. He can’t fathom going back to the crushing loneliness. If anything ever happened to her…

His thoughts freeze when she reaches up and begins untying her hair. He watches in stunned silence as she pulls out pins and thin ribbons, finally letting it all come pouring down, fanning out around her. It shimmers in the flickering light of the fireplace, almost seeming to glow. 

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

Then he remembers all at once what she said about her hair before. Letting down her hair is intimate to her. It’s not something she does for everyone. Does that mean she feels comfortable with him? That she trusts him? 

He wants to touch her hair, to run his fingers through it, but he doesn’t want to offend her. Instead he stares at it in wonder. 

She looks a little shy as she asks, “Do you want to touch it?”

“May I?”

She nods. 

He reaches up close to her face and touches one shiny lock, moving his hand down to run over the fine tresses. It feels magnificent. But most wondrous of all is the look on her face: heated, flushed… aroused?

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, his face close to hers. 

You don’t know what you’re thinking. Letting your hair down? In front of a man who is not your spouse? Your parents would be turning in their graves. But in the moment, it just felt right. 

There’s no point in denying it to yourself any longer. You’ve fallen for Choso. When the wolves attacked you, all you could think about was how sad you were that you’d never get to see him again. These past few weeks you’ve spent visiting him have been your happiest since your parents were alive. 

And unless you’re reading him completely wrong, you think he feels the same way. So when he leans close to you and tells you you’re beautiful, your natural reaction is to kiss him. 

It’s not a deep kiss, just a soft, slow kiss to his lips. When you part, he’s looking at you as if you’re a goddess that has descended to earth. Then he kisses you back. 

In a whirl, you’re wrapped in each other’s arms on the rug, his hands in your hair, his mouth on yours, his body pushing against you. While kissing you, his hands move down to your shoulders and slide the straps of your slip down your arms. You feel the silky fabric glide down over your breasts, revealing them to Choso before the slip is pulled down your hips and off your legs, finally discarded near your dress. 

He pulls back to look at you with awe, and you feel like some rare treasure, almost too precious to be touched. Choso’s touches are so light and gentle, it feels like he’s afraid he might break you. So when he stares at your panties, clearly wanting to remove them but hesitating, you pull them off yourself. 

Choso removes his own clothing, displaying his surprisingly well toned body. You had no idea he was hiding such a perfectly sculpted torso beneath those loose fitting clothes. 

He eases you onto your back, then softly pushes your legs apart before positioning himself between them, a little too far back for what you’re expecting. Then he scoots back a little more, bends forward, and kisses your exposed pussy. 

The action sends a shiver down your spine, and soon you feel his fingers opening your slickened folds so that his tongue can reach the most sensitive parts of you. Your back arches off the floor as pleasure radiates through your body. His thumb strokes you, his tongue massages your clit, and one of his fingers slips inside you. 

“Ch-Choso!” you cry out between gasping breaths. His eyes flick from his work at hand to your face, but he never stops. Not even when you cum, trembling and panting. And soon enough, with his lips wrapped around that tiny little bundle of nerves, you cum for a second time. It washes over you, making your entire body tingle, your wounds forgotten and lost in a sea of ecstasy. 

He takes the time to lick up any juices, as if he can’t bear for a single drop to go to waste, before pulling back and sitting on his knees. That’s when you notice his erection, already twitching and leaking. 

You raise up and reach toward him, but he gently catches your hand and smiles at you. “It’s alright. You don’t have to do anything. It’s enough for me to know I’m giving you pleasure.”

It doesn’t look like it’s enough. He looks like he might burst. You slip your hand free and reach out again. This time he doesn’t stop you as your fingers brush over his tip. He sighs, his eyes closing, as your hand glides down his shaft. “I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him. “I want us to feel good together.”

His eyes open and he looks at you, a soft blush across his face. “Do you mean…?”

You lie back on the rug, your thighs parted. “Make love to me, Choso. I want to feel you inside me.”

His eyes shine in the fire light, and you think there’s only one word that could describe his expression: love. You look back at him, hoping your expression mirrors his. Because now you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you love this man. 

You’re not entirely sure how this will all work out, if you’ll be able to convince him to move to the village and live with you, or if you’ll end up living in the tower with him. And you don’t even want to think about how to deal with his grief over his brothers right now. But you want to help him. You want to put in the effort required to make this work. 

He moves closer to you, crawling over top of you while bracing himself with his arms, ensuring he doesn’t let his weight rest on your body. Every move he makes seems to revolve around not hurting you, and you’ve never felt so cherished, so protected. 

He leans on one arm while his free hand moves down between your bodies, positioning himself. Then, he pushes in. In true Choso fashion, he’s careful and slow, afraid to cause you discomfort. You wrap your arms around his neck and look up at his face. He seems strained, as if he’s using all his willpower to hold back. 

“You’re not hurting me,” you tell him, pulling him closer. “Please, I want you deeper, harder.”

He hesitates for a moment, staring at your face. Then all at once he plunges in, all the way, making you gasp and tighten your grip on his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but you shake your head, bucking your hips up to take him even deeper. 

When he starts thrusting, you moan out his name, your nails scratching at his back, your body rising to meet him each time. His bare chest brushes against yours, one of his hands at the back of your head, holding you snugly, his fingers laced in your hair. 

“I love you,” he mutters into your ear. “I love you so much!”

You shudder as he hits an incredibly sensitive spot. “I love you too, Choso!”

He thrusts faster, deeper, groaning when you clench him. His body is scraping across you, creating delicious friction against your clit, making you whimper into his shoulder. 

Within minutes, you cum again, squeezing him tightly, almost sobbing. You feel so overwhelmed with pleasure, with love, that it feels like you’re unraveling in his arms. 

A little after, you feel Choso pulsing and twitching within you before strings of hot cum fill you up. You stay latched onto him for a while, reluctant to let go and be out of his arms. 

When you finally part, you both sit in silence, only breathing, until the two of you regain your strength. Then Choso helps you clean up before sitting back down on the rug beside you. 

Feeling a little awkward after all of that, you decide to make light conversation. 

“I think I can make it home tomorrow,” you say. “I have a lot of medicines to make. The villagers can get impatient. Would you like to come visit me sometime? I can show you how I use your herbs.”

He looks at you for a moment, a strange look on his face. “Are you sure you should try tomorrow? You’re still hurt.”

“I think I’ll be alright, thanks to you. None of the wounds hinder me from walking.”

He’s silent for several seconds, then says, “The wolves might come back.”

“I don’t think they’re as active during the day,” you reply. “Maybe you could walk me home.” You add the last part as a way to invite him. You really hope he’ll take a liking to the village. 

He smiles, but there’s something off about it, as if the emotion isn’t genuine. “Sure. I can walk you home.”

Did you do something wrong? He’s being strangely closed off. He seems to be avoiding your eyes as he stands up. “I’ll fix you some tea.”

You nod, suddenly feeling insecure. When he returns with the cup, you’re so distracted that you barely glance at it before taking a long drink. 

Maybe, if your mind hadn’t been elsewhere, you would have noticed the strange smell. But even so, you definitely notice the taste. How could you not? It comes from something you made after all. But why would Choso put the sleep aid medicine in your tea? And if it’s strong enough for you to taste this clearly, he must have used way too much. 

Oh no. This will knock you out for at least a day! 

As your vision gets fuzzy, you drop the cup and try to look at him. “Choso? Why…?”

His face looks pained. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous for you to go home. Let’s wait until you’re healed up, okay? I’ll take good care of…”

You black out before you hear the rest of the sentence. 

When you awake, you’re lying on a straw mattress on the floor of an unfamiliar room. There’s a blanket over you and a soft pillow beneath your head. 

You sluggishly pull the blanket off and sit up, holding a hand to your head. You feel groggy and tired, your muscles sore. Looking down at yourself, you see that your bandages have been changed and your slip, the only clothing you have on, has been washed. 

But most alarming of all is the metal shackle on your ankle. There’s a long chain attached to it, so long that you can’t yet see the other end. Underneath the shackle, strips of cloth are tied around your ankle, probably to keep the metal from bruising your skin. 

You get to your feet and look around. The walls are gray stone. There’s a small dresser and mirror off to the side, a shelf lined with books, and the mattress you just got up from. On the dresser there’s a basket of fresh fruits and nuts that can be found in the forest. And on one rounded wall, a pair of deep red shudders. 

Gathering your strength, you walk over to the shudders and open them. As you suspected from the minute you stood up, you’re in the top of the tower! You look down, the cold wind hitting your face and blowing your hair around wildly. It’s a straight drop, not a single foothold in sight. 

You glance at the only door in the room, noticing the numerous locks attached to it. The terrible truth sinks in to your drowsy brain. 

You’re trapped here. Choso has effectively taken you prisoner, and you have no idea why.  

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (7)

ー☆ Chapter 7: Figure It Out

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing ー☆ Word count: 5.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hey, lovelies! I'm back with another chapter, sorry for the longer wait, but I had to finish a veeery lengthy oneshot (you can check it out if you want, it's another Mingi one and it's part of my pirate series). I really liked this chapter, it isn't very charged with action, but I think we can finally see the progress in their relationship (or maybe it's just me haha). You know the jist, but please listen to this chapter's song Figure It Out before or while reading the chapter! Let me know your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy and have a nice rest of the week! <3

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『Nothing here to see

Just a kid like me

Trying to cut some teeth

Trying to figure it out』

            Mingi’s studio wasn’t so big compared to how it appeared from the outside. But it felt cozy and rather homey with a few polaroid photos stamped up on the wall above a small dark green couch, which had a dozen of colored pillows, and a yellow blanket thrown haphazardly on it. I slipped the straps of my backpack off my shoulders and placed it by the couch, clearing my throat, feeling a bit awkward as I disregarded my jacket, and placed it next to Mingi’s on the sofa. There was a small window, but blinds were covering it, and the lights were rather dim as I turned to face Mingi. He was grinning, hands gripped together in front of himself, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked as he gestured around, and I chuckled, letting my eyes roam around for a second time. His desk was long and seemed rather organized, a few notebooks opened and pens littered around it. His whole setup took up a lot of space, but you still had enough to be able to write comfortably. He had yellow little notes scattered all around his wall in front of his desk, and for some reason I found that adorable. Mingi tended to be forgetful, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d have to jot down his thoughts quickly while working on his songs.

“It’s cool,” I muttered with a shrug, pushing my hands in the pockets of my jeans, “I’ve never been inside a studio before.”

“Glad to be your first.” My eyes narrowed at Mingi’s words, and judging based on the cheeky smile on his face, he knew what he was doing. I huffed and rolled my eyes, feeling a little weird being cooped up in a small space, alone with Mingi. We’ve never really been on our own before, despite texting and talking at university as well, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit awkward still. It’s like the feeling never truly went away, but maybe it was just me as Mingi seemed rather relaxed and nonchalant. I cleared my throat when Mingi didn’t say anything else, suddenly a question pressing on my tongue.

“Uh, have you had lunch today?” I asked as I shuffled on my two feet, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowing in an almost adorable manner. And as if on cue, his stomach growled loudly, making me chuckle as I shook my head at him, “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get the chance.” He sighed, pouting, “I kinda overlooked the date of the deadline and now I really can’t afford wasting any more time.”

“Then why would you drive me home? Isn’t that wasting your time?” I asked as I went to retrieve my bag. I had bought some butter croissants this morning that I never got to eat as I had a smaller stomachache, to which the cure was a good, warm, soup. If I ate these croissants, it would’ve only upset my stomach more.

“It’s raining.” As if that was reasoning enough, but I stayed silent as I unzipped my backpack and dug into it, looking for the plastic bag, “And to be fair, I kind of need a break. I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind.”

“I thought you didn’t have a mind.” I teased with a pointed look, making Mingi roll his eyes as I finally found the plastic bag and grabbed it out of my backpack before I lowered it back onto the floor, “Here, eat these.”

Mingi’s eyes widened in surprise and he seemed reluctant for a second, “Just take it, I won’t eat them and I’d rather you eat it then I throw it away later.”

“Aw,” Mingi cooed as he took a few steps to come closer, batting his eyelashes at me in a cringe worthy manner, “Did you buy this specifically for me?”

“I bought them for myself, did you not hear what I said?” I deadpanned, and whiskey my hand away when Mingi went to grab the plastic bag. He quirked an eyebrow and I gave him a long stare, slightly glaring, “I wouldn’t waste my little money on you, you’re not special.”

“In that case, I don’t want it.” Mingi’s face slipped into a neutral mask, and I gulped, suddenly regretting my words. Perhaps I was being too harsh with him when he was always rather nice to me. I cleared my throat and grabbed his hand, ignoring the warmness of it, and pressed the plastic bag into his palm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I muttered and quickly released Mingi’s hand, looking off to the side as Mingi tried to fight off the smile on his face, looking rather pleased with himself.

“You’ve been making progress.” He grinned, as he opened the plastic bag and grabbed a butter croissant out of it. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched him take a big bite, smiling in bliss as he quickly chewed the food in his mouth, basically inhaling the pastry in mere seconds, making me rather amused.

“What are you talking about?”

“You recognize when you make a mistake, and you apologize for it.” Mingi said through a mouth full of croissant, and I grimaced at his antics. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and balled up the plastic bag, aiming for the trash can which was next to the door, just a few feet away from it. He made a show of throwing it, only for it to land on the floor merely two steps away from us. I snorted in amusement as Mingi cleared his throat, flashing me a small embarrassed smile, “Anyways, I want to show you something.”

“Won’t you pick it up?” I raised an eyebrow as Mingi ignored my question and grabbed my right wrist, dragging me towards his desk, “And don’t get too used to my apologies. I know you’re only pretending to be mad at me, so I’ll stop being apologetic.”

“I’m not pretending,” Mingi huffed, throwing a quick glance at me as we reached his desk, and he reached for a chair pushed off to the side, “You have a special way with your words and you always manage to hurt my feelings somehow.”

“You’re just too sensitive.” I quickly snapped, defensive for no reason. Or maybe not for no reason, but because I knew he was right. I couldn’t help myself. I might’ve started growing more accustomed to having Mingi in my life, in a very friendship sort of way, but I still couldn’t help but have my doubts about him. I could never know. He was Yunho’s best friend after all, and whoever associated themselves with that man, wasn’t the best kind. And I know judging Mingi based on who he’s friends with is rather wrong, but it only felt right as of now. We didn’t know each other too well yet.

“I’ve been told so before,” Mingi gently pushed me in the chair he had fetched for me, pulling his own chair behind himself to take his seat, “Yunho always says despite my tough exterior I have a rather soft heart, easily harmed. Hence why I cried a lot as a child—”

“You were a crybaby?” I asked with a chuckle, watching Mingi amused as he huffed, leaning back in his chair, looking as if he regretted admitting that.

“Of course you’d make fun of me for that,” He rolled his eyes before he leaned forward, pulling his chair closer to the desk, grabbing his mouse, “But yes, I still cry.”

“A lot?” I teased, biting my lower lip when Mingi gave me a pointed stare.

“Says the one who looked like a kicked puppy abandoned by the curb when I found you at the restaurant.” Mingi muttered under his breath as he turned his computer on, clicking through various folders rather quickly. I scoffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You didn’t find me there, we just happened to be at the same place.” I corrected him, “Much to my dismay.”

“Yeah, right,” Mingi scoffed, pulling up a file of various recordings on his computer screen, “if I remember correctly, you were rather grateful that I drove you home that night.”

“You kept insisting.” I pressed, giving Mingi a look when he turned his head to look at me.

“You must always have the last word, don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, not looking too impressed, “Even through texts.”

『Nothing better to do

When I'm stuck on you

And still I'm in here

Trying to figure it out』

I just shrugged and remained silent, not admitting to his correct observation. Mingi just shook his head with a quiet tsk and then went and unplugged his headphones from the computer. He licked his lips and grabbed his glasses off the desk, pressing them up on his long nose, ruffling his black fluffy hair. He seemed to be a bit nervous as he swiveled his chair around to face me, interlacing his fingers in front of himself as he rested his arms on the armrests of the chair.

“So, uh, this isn’t finished yet,” Mingi spoke up, chuckling almost awkwardly, “it’s just a sample, still raw and shit. I started working on the track this week, but I’ve been writing the lyrics for a few weeks now. Found some inspiration for it quite recently, actually.”

“Why’s that?” I found myself asking curiously, glancing at the screen of his computer before looking back at him.

“Well, just…reasons.” Mingi was evasive as he averted his eyes, but I didn’t press the matter as he clearly looked like he didn’t want to talk about it. So, I just hummed and nodded my head in understanding, waiting patiently for him to speak up again.

“Anyways,” He cleared his throat and clapped his hands, turning back to face his computer, “you’ll be the first one to hear it. And don’t laugh, like I said, it’s far from being perfect.”

“I would never laugh, Mingi.” I said seriously as my eyebrows furrowed, making Mingi glance back at me. He studied my face for a second before he nodded once, ruffling his bangs quickly as he pressed start on the player. The song started out as a steady beat accompanied by the guitar playing softly, the melody rather comforting. It was a delicate way of easing you into the song, and as it flew naturally, Mingi’s voice suddenly made an appearance, his rasp not as noticeable as normally as his vocals were soft, completely in tune with the music and the beat.

“My head is haunting me, and my heart feels like a ghost/I need to feel something 'cause I'm still so far from home/Cross your heart and hope to die/Promise me you'll never leave my side.” I gulped as I leaned back in the chair, eyes fixated on the big screen of Mingi’s computer, soaking in the words, trying to be less aware of Mingi sitting next to me, trying to ignore my unsteady heartbeat.

“Show me what I can't see when the spark in my eyes is gone/You got me on my knees, I'm your one-man cult.” Mingi’s leg was bouncing up and down rapidly, his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes were fixed onto the screen of his computer, something suddenly dropping in the pit of my stomach as I took a glance at him from the corner of my eyes, “Cross my heart and hope to die/Promise you I'll never leave your side.”

I gulped as my fingers wrung together, lightly bobbing my head to the steady rhythm of the song, enjoying the instrumental as I drunk in Mingi’s words, his deep voice warm and pleasant to listen to, feeling goosebumps erupt on my arms, underneath my long sleeves.

“'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need/I promise you, you're all I see.” I took a peek in Mingi’s direction as was slightly startled to find him watching me, his eyes trained on me intently. His eyebrows were very lightly furrowed as his right hand was fisted, and he sniffed loudly, holding eye contact as the next words flew smoothly against the melody, my cheeks suddenly flushed for no reason, “'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need/I'll never leave.”

The melody was light, instrumental smooth as Mingi’s voice almost faded with the next words, that is until the drums kicked up and the beat became heavier, Mingi’s strong voice easily accompanying the instruments, rasp harsh as Mingi’s voice audibly shook with emotions poured into the song, “So, you can drag me through hell/If it meant I could hold your hand/I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell/And you can throw me to the flames/I will follow you, I will follow you.”

And just as I blinked, the music stopped as Mingi hit the pause button, clearing his throat loudly as he rubbed at his chin, averting his eyes as I noticed a deep flush on his face. He swiveled his chair a little towards the desk, angling his body away from mine, “Uh, like I said, it’s still raw, so it’s not that good. I recorded the first two verses like yesterday, and was playing around with the chorus before I noticed you…yeah.”

I couldn’t help but smile softly as I looked at his profile, meanwhile Mingi quickly closed the folders he had open, “Mingi, it’s…like, really good. I have no idea what standards music majors and your professors have, but to my painter ears this is…a masterpiece or something.”

Mingi froze for a second, eyes wide when he faced me again, “Really? You think so?”

“Of course!” I exclaimed with a huff, growing embarrassed as Mingi continued to look at me with a surprised expression on his face. Perhaps I really should stop teasing and playfully insulting him so much, what if he doesn’t believe my compliments when I’m being genuine?

“I’m glad.” Mingi suddenly muttered, a soft smile settling on his lips before he chuckled, turning his head away, “I’ve have to finish the chorus and then we can go, is that good with you?”

“Sure,” I smiled, grabbing my phone from my pocket as Mingi went and plucked the headphones back into the computer, throwing it around his neck, “Take your time.”

『Getting hard to sleep

Blood is in my dreams

Love is killing me

Trying to figure it out』

He hummed and then put on the headphones, clicking away on his computer as the music file opened again, and I could hear the soft melody quietly slither through the headphones. I found myself looking at Mingi a second too long before I snapped out of it, clearing my throat as I unlocked my phone and looked down at it, checking for any unread messages. As expected, there was nothing from my mother as she preferred calling even for the smallest things. From Seulgi there was also nothing as she was on a date with Wooyoung, probably too preoccupied by each other to pay attention to anything else around them. I could only hope they would finally make things official, their feelings way too obvious to be beating around the bush for any longer. They were rather cute, but also extremely annoying. I’d rather prefer Seulgi gush to me about Wooyoung as her boyfriend, than the guy she just has a massive crush on, repeating the same things over and over again, completely ignoring the advice I give her.

As there was nobody else I would be texting, other than Mingi, I clicked out of the app and absentmindedly opened Instagram, scrolling through my feed, sighing quietly. There was a light tapping sound coming from Mingi’s direction, and I looked up to see him hitting his pen against the table rhythmically, following the beat of the song, probably. There were a few new words jotted down in his notebook, the page looking like a mess of jumble to me, but probably to Mingi it was quite organized, and clear what he had scribbled down there. I looked back down at my phone, smiling as cute puppy videos popped up in my recommended, watching the video until the end before I left a like on it, scrolling past it. There were a few other posts from my acquittances from my uni classes, and I liked them all as I sighed, realizing a little get-away sounded rather nice now that I saw pictures of people traveling. I scrolled some more down, and froze for a second as Yunho’s familiar username popped up, three pictures posted one after another. There was one of two coffee cups placed on a small round table, with the view over the city in the background. The second picture was of the sunset, the sky purple and pink. And then the third one was of two intertwined hands, and I didn’t fail to notice the tag on the picture. It was probably that new girl, but I found myself not wanting to actually check, to actually confirm that it was her. I sighed, eyes lingering on the last photo, yet quickly realized, rather startled, that I didn’t feel as bitter about as I once used to. It didn’t make me react as badly like the first time I had seen his story with his new girlfriend, and my eyebrows furrowed as I ruminated on the feeling, taking my lower lip between my teeth. Yes, I still felt rather bitter about it, but it left me rather…cold? Unimpressed, maybe? Unphased, even? My eyebrows furrowed further more at the sudden confusion of my feelings, and I went to scroll again, when a username down at the comments caught my eyes.

minkiprncess: u never invite me out on coffee dates, im jealous

YuYu🌻: i thought u liked picnic dates more?

I quickly shut the app off and cleared my throat, finding my eyes glued to Mingi instantly. Seeing him talk like that to Yunho…was strange, but certainly not unexpected. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Their bond ran deep, and the way Yunho would often gush about Mingi, it only seemed right to see those words typed out by Mingi. But I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around their friendship, and how it worked, since Mingi seemed to be…quite genuine as days went by. I hated to admit it, but he really wasn’t as bad as I had thought at first. Perhaps I was prejudiced, but it felt too soon to let my guard down, to truly open up and let him in like I once had done with Yunho. That was a mistake, and I was scared of committing the same mistake twice. With my eyes on Mingi, and seeing as he was rather occupied at the moment, I allowed myself the luxury to truly look at him, to take him in as he was. His profile was pretty as his black hair fell over his forehead in soft waves, definitely not styled, as I had seen Mingi run his fingers through it numerous times since I had arrived. His brow bone was rather defined and it came more forward, his brows thick and dark, seemingly a perfect fit for his features. His nose was tall and long, the bridge straight and almost perfect, probably leaving many jealous for not having a nose like his. His glasses framed his face, and they were once again slipping down his nose, but Mingi made no sign of wanting to fix that, of pushing them up as you were supposed to wear them. The distance between his upper lip and nose wasn’t too big, even from the side, his cherry red lips were plump and had a rather pretty shape, forcing me to swiftly try and look down at my own lips, wondering why a guy had better and prettier lips than a woman. I followed the sharp line of his jaw, chin not too forward, perfectly aligned with his nose, his well-defined cheekbones visible even from the side. My eyes lingered on the small mole on his jaw, way too familiar with its placement already as I had drawn it numerous times in my portraits of Mingi. I gulped and subconsciously licked my lips as my eyes ventured further, slipping down his exposed neck, his tan skin soft looking in the dim lights, his characteristic silver necklaces hanging around the base of his neck. Mingi sighed loudly and I looked at his face alarmed, thinking that I had been caught, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he took the pen he held in his hand between his white teeth, biting down on it as he looked frustrated. I had noticed before already, but his front teeth were slightly more ahead, protruding a little, and I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, finding this trait rather…adorable. Not wanting to linger too much on that thoughts, my eyes found themselves fixated on Mingi’s fingers, and I frowned upon just realizing something.

『I'll let it go 'cause I won't see you later

And we're not allowed to talk it out

I said I'd go, put myself on show

But I'm still trying to figure it out』

His nails were painted black, with rather abstract looking designs, and as I squinted, absentmindedly leaning forward in my chair to catch a better glimpse at his middle finger, I could read the words, fix on, painted on it. My eyebrows furrowed as it made me wonder whatever that meant, and I decided to ask Mingi about it later if given the chance. I allowed my eyes to linger on his nails longer, gulping as I noticed almost each long finger of his was decorated by a ring. I wasn’t foreign to his rings, I have noticed that Mingi loved wearing rings, and the one on his middle finger, with the big red gemstone seemed to always catch my attention. I hummed silently, taking my sweet time to closely analyze each one of his rings, noting which were new, to me, as I haven’t seen them on him before, and which were the ones he wore almost daily. He seemed to have two silver ones that he never failed to leave at home, both littered with small stones, prettily shining under the sunlight each time. Mingi’s fingers flexed for a second, tightening around the pen he was holding, and I watched as he started tapping the table, a low humming sound coming from his lips. I blinked as I realized what I had been doing, memorizing every bend of his fingers, every line and any scar decorating it, storing their shape and length deep in my mind for the time when I would have to recall it in order to draw his hands. In the process of all this, I couldn’t help but also notice that his hands seemed rather big, they would probably engulf mine nicely. The thought made me lightly flush as I remembered us holding hands in his car after we shared some personal stuff, and I shook my head lightly, trying to get rid of the memory. There was a light shuffle as Mingi cleared his throat, making me very slowly drag my eyes up, until they fell on his face. More particularly on his sharp and small eyes, which were on me, his eyebrows raised curiously as a smug smile seemed to be plastered on his lips. Fuck. I would’ve face palmed myself if it wasn’t for Mingi watching me, so, instead, I tried to flash him my best poker face while I totally, and absolutely, flushed red in embarrassment.

“Were you…” Mingi pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes playfully, “checking me out?”

“Like hell I was.” I snapped with a loud huff, definitely way too fast.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mingi feigned confusion, “But—damn, then I must be mistaken. You certainly weren’t like…totally ogling my face and then salivating after my hands, right?”

As if to prove a point, he wriggled his fingers, making me clench my jaw as I forced a pathetic excuse of a laugh out of myself, giving him an unimpressed expression, “I wasn’t checking you out nor any of those things you just said—”

“Are you like, really sure?” Mingi huffed, tapping his lips in an annoying manner, “Because now you’re making me feel crazy—”

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed exasperated, eyes widening as I huffed at Mingi, “fine, I was looking at your hands, but before it gets to your head, bro, I just simply think guys painting their nails is hot, okay?”

There was a long pause, Mingi’s eyes boring into mine as a smirk made its way on his lips, looking all smug and pleased with himself, “So…”

I gulped nervously as he suddenly pushed his chair slightly back, and started leaning in towards me, the look taunting on his face, “You think I’m hot?”

“Not you.” I snapped, glaring at him, “That’s not what I said—”

“But you indirectly admitted that I’m hot—”

“No, Mingi. I didn’t admit anything, God, this is why I don’t talk to you.” I huffed and pushed my chair back, feeling uncomfortable as he was siting so close to me, making me gulp nervously. I quickly stood from my chair and went to walk to get my backpack, but Mingi quickly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

“Where are you going?” He asked, smugness and smirk gone from his face. I rolled my eyes at him, but didn’t pull my wrist out of his grip.

“Home, obviously.” I huffed, and Mingi very gently pushed me back towards the chair, making me sit in it.

“Let me finish this up, and we’re leaving.” He quickly turned and went back to clicking away on his computer, pursing his lips as with his left hand he closed his notebook, throwing the pen absentmindedly on his desk. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, but didn’t say anything else, waiting for him to do whatever he needed to do before we would finally leave. Some fresh air would certainly serve well for a wakeup call.

            The light drizzle had turned into rain after we’ve reached Mingi’s car and waited for the engine to warm up a bit. Mingi wasn’t as embarrassed about it as last time, and I found myself feeling the need to reassure him that I didn’t give a shit whether his car was a fucking rocket or a simple carriage, as long as it was safe to drive and shielded us from the rain. Perhaps it was one of the very few times when I heard Mingi’s rich laughter, his head thrown back against the headrest and mouth wide open as he repeatedly hit the wheel, prompting me to match his laughter until my stomach hurt and I had to ask him to stop, unable to breathe anymore as tears sprung into my eyes. The radio was playing softly in the background, neither of us actually paying attention to it as Mingi had asked about my art class, inquiring about the painting I was currently working on. I briefed him about it as we had taken off, the rain making it rather hard to see well, but Mingi was a careful driver and he didn’t speed at all, being extra careful as the wipers of the car were placed on the fastest setup, the rain hitting the car loudly, making us raise our voices in order to be able to hear each other well.

“I assume you know Wooyoung and Seulgi are on a date.” Mingi spoke up as we had stopped at a red light, people running as they crossed the road, umbrellas doing almost nothing to shield them from the harsh rain anymore.

“Yeah, I hope they chose to go somewhere indoors, this rain is merciless.” Mingi chuckled, but nodded his head in agreement, leaning his head against the headrest. The cars in the lane to our left took off, their traffic light having turned green.

“Wooyoung mentioned about them going to the cinema, or at least that’s what he had in mind two days ago.” Mingi explained, shifting into first gear as the light turned green for us.

“Seulgi said something about a new place opening up where you could paint pottery while enjoying their delicacies.” I said in thought, wondering which one they have chosen.

“We should go there sometime,” Mingi took a right turn, mindful of the pedestrians and the huge puddles on the side of the road, “just the two of us.”

I hummed, thinking about it for a second before I looked at Mingi, “Sure.”

“Sure? Did you just say sure?” Mingi’s voice slightly raised and I chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I said sure.” I repeated, Mingi’s mouth falling open.

“Did you just agree to going out with me?!” Mingi almost exclaimed, making me snort as I looked away, focusing on the road ahead.

“You didn’t ask me out.” I corrected.

“But I still could.” Mingi quickly said, making me shake my head with a small smile.

“Anyways, I hope Wooyoung makes his move soon.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead tiredly, “I’ve had enough of listening to Seulgi whine about how much she’s into him, but is confused of what Wooyoung wants.”

Mingi chuckled as he took a left turn, driving off the main road, barely three blocks away from my neighborhood, “Good to know I was right.”

I looked at him again curiously, and he quickly explained himself, “I’ve been telling Wooyoung she was into him, but he never believed me. He did say he’d ask her out today, but knowing Wooyoung…he might chicken out, again.”

I chuckled, amused by these two idiots, “Well, knowing Seulgi, she won’t chicken out. She also planned on asking Wooyoung out today.”

Mingi laughed, turning left, slowing down as he drove down my street, looking for my house closely. I smiled subconsciously and undid my seatbelt, planning to help him out by pointing my house out to him, but I didn’t have to. He was quick to come to a stop in front of it, placing the gear in neutral. He turned his head and looked at me, smiling, “Arrived.”

“Yeah.” I whispered and grabbed my backpack, looking out the window, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden downpour, the car’s windshield wiper good for nothing at this point, “Damn, why is it raining so hard?”

“I hate it.” Mingi whined as he looked ahead too, lips jutting out in a pout, “I can’t even drive home now.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t.” I agreed as my eyebrows furrowed, “It’s not safe at all.”

“Yeah,” Mingi sighed and turned the engine off, undoing his seatbelt, “I’ll just wait for it to settle down, and then I’ll drive home.”

“Yeah, you should do that.” I agreed, looking at him, the rain hitting the roof of Mingi’s old Honda Prelude loud, “And text me when you get home, so that I know you’re safe.”

Mingi’s cheeks flushed, but just ever so slightly, and my eyes widened as he tried to avoid eye contact the more persistent I became, “Yeah, uh, I will. Promise I won’t forget this time.”

“You better,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes remembering all the times he would forget to text me that he had gotten to his destination safely, “I’m going now.”

“Okay.” Mingi’s head turned and we made eye contact for a second, before I offered him a small smile and pushed the door open, springing out of his car. It didn’t even take a minute for me to be completely drenched by the rainwater as I very quickly slammed Mingi’s door shut, gasping as my clothes got instantly soaked, hair sticking to my head. I turned and took off towards my house, running, but realizing it didn’t matter since I was already soaked. Well, so much for Mingi driving me home to save me from the freezing cold downpour. As I reached the middle of the driveway, I dared to take a peek at the sky, realizing that the almost black clouds looked menacing, and God knows when they’d pass, when the rain would stop. I stopped and turned, looking towards Mingi’s car as I bit my lower lip, having to blink my eyes fast to be able to see something. No car was driving down the roads anymore, no person out on the streets. What if the rain wouldn’t stop at all? It’s happened before, not even once. Would Mingi stay out in the car? He wouldn’t be able to leave if that were the case. Taking a deep breath, I made my decision as I raced back to his car, yanking the door open as I leaned down, Mingi’s wide eyes falling on my soaked form.

“Come inside, who knows when it’ll stop raining.” I called out loudly over the sound of the rain and the sudden rumble of the sky, making me shiver. I hated the thunder perhaps more than the flashing lightning. Mingi opened his mouth, probably to refuse my offer, but I didn’t leave room for him to argue, “Come on!”

And as I slammed the door shut again, he was out of the car in a second, closing his own door and locking his car quite clumsily, exclaiming as he got soaked in seconds, just like myself. I laughed as I took off towards the house, Mingi racing after me, giggling loudly as we reached the front steps of the porch, both shivering as I struggled to grab my keys out of my pocket.

“Oh my God, this sucks!” Mingi exclaimed just as another thunder shook the ground, and I jumped, throwing a glare towards the sky. Mingi saw it and chuckled, urging me to unlock the door, “Doll, I’m freezing my ass off, please open the door!”

“Who’s the drenched puppy kicked to the curb now, huh?” I asked with a teasing grin as I unlocked the front door, pushing it open. Mingi chuckled and rolled his eyes, but not before playfully pushing me forward, urging me on to step inside the house first.

We could only hope the downpour would stop soon enough.

❱❱ Next chapter

[beneathsilverstars]

yayy post-canon loop designs DONE!!! first one is after they've re-joined the party but are still adjusting, and the second is later when they're more settled and confident.

i knew i wanted to give them a style that's loose and comfortable, but unique and fun; something that can fill a similar niche to siffrin's canon outfit in both style and fit, while remaining totally aesthetically distinct. so i went in a mori kei direction!

design note rambling under the cut

immediately post-canon, loop sticks to dark and black clothing, avoiding siffrin's signature white-on-black. they try both long loose dresses and tighter leggings/turtlenecks, trying to figure out what feels the least weird to wear on their pure-craft-energy body, and end up layering them both. snug and enveloping! they refuse to wear a cloak, but end up just draping their favorite black blanket over their shoulders instead. it's a nice rich lightless, and soft, but still thick enough to block the shine of their head. good for staying cozy or hiding.

after they join up with the party, loop eventually decides fuck it, i can't just define myself in opposition to siffrin, why does he get dibs on our favorite colors. so they start adding white back into their wardrobe! after odile helps them figure out how to craft their body to feel a little more solid, they don't feel like they need to stay so multi-layer covered up anymore, but at this point it's habit. they're still enjoying lightweight fabrics, and getting into fun textures. they don't like the way full pockets affect the drape, so they use a couple bags to store their magpie'd items instead.

once the bodycrafting is more-or-less-done they feel a lot more comfortable in their body, and start to even kinda enjoy how striking their star skin looks among other shades! they still tend to layer, but they no longer need all the layers, and they'll leave the blanket at home in favor of lighter-weight shawls or scarfs that they can still hide their face in. they wear more black and white now, but not in a super high-contrast way; they wear more midshades than siffrin, and less patterns than isabeau. it's all about the variety, lightless and darkless and everything between, draped fabric and lace and ruffles and accessories! their favorite necklace is made out of their five favorite rocks (one to represent each party member, they're finally willing to admit aloud), and they've switched to one nice big bag with plenty of pockets for their various things.

siffrin stuck with the same old outfit for a long time. but just like how having their body forcibly changed made them desperate to change it themself, loop's more experimental and particular about their fashions now as well. they're figuring out who they are, and by the stars they're gonna go full self-expression about it!

[crazylittlejester]

im in such a yapping mood today and i feel like ive made a post like this before but this is how i personally think the Links would dress in a modern era

Time: in a casual setting I know he wears the dark jeans + black band shirt combo and sometimes he’ll tie his hair up if he gets hot. it’s not an intentional fashion statement, he’s not trying to dress a certain way on purpose by any means he just dresses like a guy who plays guitars but says its “just a hobby” (he owns at least three.) and its just the shirt and the pants, there are no accessories, he’s just your father who hasn’t listened to new music or gone clothes shopping since the 80s (/j) but he can absolutely clean up nice and looks good when he needs to

Warriors: Possibly the sluttiest thing a man can wear (/j) is a cardigan sweater and he owns like. 12 of them. and generally just a lot of very nice sweaters, and there are a lot of dark grays and blues in his closet with the occasional green. he always dresses his best, he wouldn’t be caught dead leaving his house in like, a t shirt and jeans. whether or not he’s actually wealthy, he certainly dresses like he is, he pours all of his money into high quality coats and scarves and nice shoes

Twilight: Dean Winchester. Next. (but seriously, the jeans, boots, plain gray shirt and a flannel is EXACTLY how he’d dress)

Sky: Whatever he’s got on, he looks so fucking comfortable. Definitely big fluffy sweaters, I know he’s a guy who likes to be snug and cozy because why face the horrors of the world without feeling like your sweater is giving you a mom hug? I can see him in a lot of white, ivory, orange, brown, and green. Not super bright colors, he definitely has a sort of fall vibed color pallet and sense of style

Hyrule: He’s the personification of those “forest core” outfit collage boards you see on pintrest but he’s not just doing it for aesthetic, it’s all functional. Like he has a little bag he keeps tied to his belt because he goes out and hunts for berries or mushrooms in the woods. he has a leather bound journal that also clips to the belt because he likes writing about what he finds in the woods. He’s your friend who calls you after going missing for four hours like “hey can you come pick me up?” and when you get to his location he’s covered in dirt and says “i got lost…”

Legend: his EXACT style varies quite a bit, but he’d define it as alt. he wears skirts a lot, not all the time but a lot, and has a lot of layers and jewelry. he definitely will go on pissed off rants about how he got bullied for his clothes in middle school and high school and he’s mad that now people are dressing alt because they think its “quirky” and buying things like bags or pants with patches and pins already on them, and he will rant about this twice a week. hes sick and tired of getting called emo not because hes against being emo, it just seriously annoys him when people see someone with dyed hair wearing dark clothes and call them emo based on that alone

Wild: It depends on the days activities, but he likes to look cute. Lots of pretty hairstyles and earrings, bright colors too. DEFINITELY A BIG PANTS LITTLE SHIRT KINDA GUY, and he’s absolutely made a few of his outfits by hand. and ofc he has “gremlin outfits” for when he goes off exploring with Hyrule

Four: Similar to Time with the band shirt + jeans combo, but on the opposite end of the spectrum because he’s bright and colorful. He’s also the most likely to walk around with a shirt with mothman on it and then when people ask him about it talk about it as if he 100% believes mothman is not only out there, but there to get HIM specifically no matter where he goes on the planet

Wind: memes. he has tshirts with memes on them, and he’s the most likely to wear fandom merch and stuff like that. he’s 13/14 he doesn’t put a whole lot of thought into what he’s got on, he’s just against shoes. he’s the one kid who’s always got sandals on even if its fucking snowing because he’s anti socks and shoes

[maweallgotohell]

Jerome Valeska - Brother's Assistant pt.1

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+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:*﹤+*:ꔫ:

pairing: Jerome Valeska x fem! reader

warnings: none

summary: Jerome locates Jeremiahs residence and decides to pay his brother a visit - to kill him. But when the door opens, he is met with the prettiest and kindest woman he has ever seen. But how will Jeremiah react, especially when it turns out, that Jerome has caught feelings for her, his assistant and best friend? And how will Jerome himself react in such a situation?

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He found him.

He searched for him for all these years and now he found him. His brother. And he wanted to kill him.

For all these years he made dozens of plans and figured out the best ways to spread fear and get his name all across Gotham so his brother would notice.

He wanted him to feel unsafe.

He wanted him to be afraid.

A few weeks ago he found out what name Jeremiah now went by and after knowing that it wasn't all too complicated to find him. Well yeah, he lived in a fuckin' bunker in the middle of the woods (fuckin' paranoid bitch), but with a name like his, it wasn't very difficult for Jerome to make out his location. Just threaten the right people and you're ready to go.

And there he stood. In front of his brother's labyrinth bunker. Was he nervous? Yeah. But he was determined to kill Jeremiah.

For the last few weeks, he tried to find a way to break into the bunker without being noticed, but there wasn't another entrance. Just the main one. And so he just... pressed the doorbell?

It was weird for him because it felt like a polite gesture. He felt like a brother, who wanted to visit his twin for dinner, while he was the "evil twin", who came to kill that son of a bitch, he had to call his brother.

* ring*

To his surprise, it wasn't his brother's face, that greeted him at the door, no. A beautiful young woman opened it swingingly, her silky (hair color) hair swaying with her movements. It was quite early in the morning, which was why she was still wearing her nightgown, the dark green silk hugging her curves perfectly and the lace gracefully accentuating her (skin color) skin. Her warm and welcoming smile greeted him like a cozy hug and he couldn't help but stare at her.

" Hello?", she asked, her voice sounding soft and gentle, as if she was an angel, that came down to earth just for him.

Her face changed and turned into a frightened one immediately as she recognized his features. She must've recognized him from the news or from stories his brother told her, he thought, but that wasn't the case. Not at all.

" Omg, Xander! What happened to your face?! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!" She rushed directly towards him.

" Uhm, hello..? No, no Miss, I'm Jerome, Jeremiah's, uh, I mean Xanders' long lost twin brother.", he answered nervously.

Why did he stutter? And why did he lie? Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't honest either. How could the presence of a woman make him this nervous? He should've shot her right then and there. But he couldn't. She was too. .. breathtaking and.. . interesting to kill. He somehow knew she was different. He felt it.

Her expression softened and her smile found its way back onto her face. She hugged him as a greeting, which kinda took him by surprise.

" Omg hello!", she grinned. " I didn't know Xan had a twin. Glad to meet you! I'm YN." You held out your hand for him to shake.

...Xan?

You had a nickname for him? Was he your boyfriend? Jerome came to kill his brother, only to fall for his girlfriend? Wow. That was weird, even for him. And how could someone like Miah even pull a girl like you? Tf?

„ Nice, nice to meet you too YN.", was all he could bring himself to say.

" Xan will be so happy to hear that you're here and that you found him."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the front door with her.

" Come in. Follow me.", she said as she closed the door behind them.

The sudden touch of hers took him by surprise as he stumbled after her into the building.

It was silent for a bit, only the sound of their footsteps against the concrete was to be heard.

Then Jerome found the courage to speak up.

" Sooo YN.. is "Xander" like.. you know... your boyfriend?" He found it so awkward to ask you that, whyever that was, but he just had to. He had to know that to contemplate, whether he had to kidnap or kill you if his brother really was your boyfriend.

She stopped in her tracks to turn around and look at him, only to burst out in laughter.

" Oh god, no.", you giggled. " I'm his assistant and we're like best friends. No romantic feelings between us, really. But I live here. We both needed someone to live with and we've worked together before since we met at St.Ignatius and became best friends there and later, roommates. And here we are."

He was relieved. You weren't with his brother. But were you single? He knew he was there for a different reason and definitely not to go all heart-eyed over his brother's best friend and assistant, but the question occupied his mind completely.

You stopped in front of a door and put your key card in front of the card reader.

" We're here.", you said. "This is the living room. Make yourself comfortable, Jerome. Do you want anything to drink?"

He nodded.

" Soo we have coffee, a few types of tea, water, hot chocolate or orange juice. What would you like?", you asked him with a genuine smile.

" Oh, uhm, coffee sounds amazing. Thank you."

You nodded.

"I'll be right back."

And with that, you turned around and left into the kitchen, which was right next to the living room.

" Xan should arrive here soon too btw. I think in half an hour or so. I'd be happy to have you stay here and accompany me while we wait for him. Only if that's fine for you, tho.", you smiled.

Jerome had always been able to accurately identify and define his feelings. He was also able to consider and assess them rationally. And right now, he felt something he never thought he could feel. Admiration and joyful excitement.

You could've told him to leave or come back when Jeremiah was home or given him an appointment to meet up with his brother. But you didn't. No, furthermore, you invited him to stay with you and said you would like him to accompany you. You weren't even a little bit scared of him, not even because of his "awful" features, which he found sometimes. No, you didn't do any of that. Instead, you were genuinely nice to him and treated him like everybody else, or rather special.

You made him feel wanted just by these small things you did and your naturally nice behavior, which was quite rare for him.

He thought he had, no, he was sure that he had developed a small crush on you. Even though it was unusual for him to trust someone that easily or feel drawn to someone, especially that fast, he wasn't afraid of it at all.

It felt like being near you lifted all the weight he carried off his shoulders without effort. And he wasn't scared to experience these new feelings, because he felt like they wouldn't do him bad at all. It was strange but exciting at the same time and he couldn't wait to learn more about you.

You two chatted a bit until you noticed that you hadn't informed Xan about your guest.

" Sorry, I hate to interrupt you, but I just noticed, that I haven't told Xan about you being here. Lemme just send him a message real quick."

He panicked immediately. What if Miah warned her about him and made her have a different view of him? I mean, sooner or later, Miah would come home and she would find out, who Jerome 'really' is, yeah. But he didn't want their nice little talk and their shared time to end so soon.

"Uhm, YN?", he spoke up, his voice rather quiet. The young woman looked from her phone, back up at him, a questioning expression on her face.

"Could you maybe not tell him I'm here?" His low voice now sounded rather hesitant. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit in astonishment.

"I...I wanted to surprise him. After all this time we haven't seen each other, you know?" He was surprised by himself. He said those words with such emotion, that even he himself would've believed that he missed his brother that much.

Her astonished expression settled again and gave way to a lovely smile.

"Oh yeah, sure! That's a very sweet idea. Xan will be so happy to see you", the young woman cheered.

Jerome exhaled in relief but then lowered his head as well as his voice.

"I doubt that. See, I wasn't always the best brother for him, you know. It may be that he doesn't want to see me at all, let alone talk to me or even have me here. Don't be disappointed then, YN. It's okay, really. I don't want to bother you two. Really, I don't."

He said that. And he sounded like he really missed his brother or felt sorry for the things he did.

Did he? No, very surely he did not. He came here o kill Miah, not to reunite with him and be like 'best buddies'.

But he didn't feel as if what he told the girl before was a lie. Because it wasn't.

The sad undertone in his voice was not a result of missing his brother so much, no. It was because he knew that when Miah returned, he would no longer be able to spend time with the beautiful young lady sitting across from him at that very moment, looking at him sympathetically.

She had changed everything for him in that short time. He had already heard that when you are in love, you no longer have control over what you feel and think. But he had never experienced it. Until this very moment.

No.

Until that moment when she opened the door for him.

" Jerome, please. How could someone, especially Xander, ever be that resentful."

He sighed.

He contemplated telling her the truth. That his brother built this whole bunker they're living in, just to protect them from him.

But he didn't.

Because he was... scared. This was the first time since he killed his mother that he was truly afraid of something.

He feared losing her. And it was more terrifying than anything else.

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

While Jerome and YN chatted and got to know each other better, Jeremiah just then received a text from her.

> Hey Xan! You home soon? We have a surprise guest. C ya.<

At first, he thought of it as a normal text she would send him. Everything was fine.

But then it hit him like a crash.

Nobody knew where they lived. Nobody.

He panicked immediately and quickly got in his car, so he could be home as fast as possible. What if YN was in danger but didn't know yet? He could never forgive himself if something happened to her.

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

word count: 1820

The first part of a new short series (probably gonna be 2 or 3 parts again). Hope y'all like it.

C ya

[gullwrites]

froyo cafe chats

wanted to write something fluffy with these two. or something. ehehehe <3

Summary: Klara decides to stop by a frozen yogurt place because she likes their coffee and meets her friend there.

no warnings or anything 🤍

Klara liked this place. Something about the light pink walls and light brown tables has always made her feel cozy, even if she only ever stopped there for a moment or two. She hadn't even tried their main products, actually, only ever stopped by to get a cup of coffee. The only place in this part of the city that actually had coffee flavor of which reminded her of hazelnuts and chocolate.

She stopped and hanged her coat in the closet next to the entrance, inhaling the scent of coffee floating in the air. The cafe was surprisingly full, compared to how little people she usually sees here. Which was fine by her, to be honest, she never liked crowded places.

Her coworker had recommended this place few months ago, after bringing coffee from here to a work meeting. Since then, she usually went here every time before a busy evening, be it work stuff or grad school classes or any other kind of appountments.

She walked to the counter and looked at the place's frozen yogurts, table full of colors and scents, air colder around it than in the rest of the cafe. She thought about it for a moment, but then quickly glanced outside. The weather was cold, would it make sense to eat something like that?

"Oh hey, Klara, how fun to see you here!" She heard Tobias's voice from behind, and turned to see it standing next to her. It was wearing an oversized t-shirt, its color reminding her of the little blueish 'grey' hairs it had growing on its frontal hairline. The shirt had a print square full of cartoonish cat doodles and a text 'The Atlantic Ocean Cat Show 2268' on the side of the print. It was wearing black leggings, with pink leg warmers that complimented its nail polish. Klara could feel the scent of vanilla coffee body cream she had seen in its bathroom.

"Hi! Uh, hey. Would've never seen you as a frozen yogurt person."

It chuckled. "My friends work here. One of them is working on a group project with me and we came to work on it before xir shift. We've been basically sitting here and staring at our screens since the morning."

The dark haired woman sorting the cups glanced at them and said, "Don't let it fool you, it has already eaten, like, four cups."

"Three, actually. I think."

"You paid for them in front of me, Ray."

"Oh, you know how I failed that one math class, Darya, don't be surprised about all this," it smirked at her as she came closer and turned to Klara, "We studied at MIT together. She's an economics grad."

"Uh-huh, thought I could go to some big corps and get lots of cash. Then something happened and I was like, 'yeah fuck this' and went to a normal job that has lower chance of getting shot. Just like Ray here," she chuckled and gently patted its shoulder, "And by normal job I meant opening this place. Kinda fun, ain't it? Name's Darya, by the way."

"Klara. We, uh, we're in the same bookclub with Tobias. Um, Ri-"

Darya squinted her eyes slightly, before saying, "Aha, another bookworm. Cute."

Klara smirked. "Well, I just got back into reading and all...."

"Oh, sweetie, don't be like that, that's a fun hobby. Besides, it's a fun way to make...friends," she glanced at Tobias who was silently standing still between them. "Okay, anyway, you two keep talking or whatever, I'll let Ibis and the other guy know you'll be stuck here for a moment or something."

Klara watched her walk to the table in the far corner. "She doesn't know why you're back, does she?"

Tobias looked in the same direction. "Pff, no one does. Except for you."

"Wow, I feel special."

"You should," it said, and turned to face her, "I mean, um. In a good way. You know, you're, uh, awesome, and all."

"Hah, I get what you mean. So are you," she smiled as she quickly tried to think of other topic. "What's this project you're working on?"

"Oh, uh, we're still polishing it up but it's going to be something about the differences of how Earth Board talks about some specific topic and how it compares to contemporary discourses. Or something like that."

"Doesn't sound like chemistry... at all."

"Oh, that's for a sociology course."

"Huh. Of course you're studying that."

Tobias smiled widely. "My, um, friend had this large text book about its key concepts. He used it as a makeshift shelf on his desk sometimes. I liked reading it during evenings before going to sleep. And so I decided to check it out more closely now."

Klara wondered if it's the same book she saw among the pile of bookmarked chemistry books near its bed. Though, how would it get it if it belonged to its friend. Did that friend give the book to it as a gift or something? The whole thing sounded weird. How did it read it before going to sleep, too. "Well, to be fair, it does sound like something you'd enjoy," she smiled. She had two compulsory sociology courses in her previous degree, and while it did seem interesting, the workload did not.

"Heh, thank you!"

"Not afraid a little research like that could affect chances of working for the Board or something? I think you'd have fun there."

"Hah, no, um, I'll rather pick a boring office job." It stood still for a moment, before adding, "And I can't really work there beacuse I don't have an Earth nationality. Really limits one's choices, eh?"

"Haha, um, yeah." She couldn't believe she forgot about that. "Their loss, really."

"Well, um, don't know about that..." It frowned slightly and Klara started to think of something nice to say to fight its self-doubt, but it had already switched the topic. "By the way, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, me? I'm just here for a cup of coffee," she said, and added quickly after glancing at its confused face, "I don't really know which flavors are good," she gestured at the yogurts, "and I'm a bit too busy - and, well, they're a bit too expensive - to check them all out..."

"Huh! Well, to be honest, you seem like someone who'd really enjoy the berry one. And the cinnamon roll one, it's sweet like y- um, well, you know, sweet like the actual kanelbullar, not the stuff Americans make with all that, uh, frosting."

"Yeah, alright," she chuckled and stood for a moment staring at the boxes of yogurts, before grabbing a small cup and placing one ball of each flavor it had mentioned. "I sure hope you're right."

"I am, trust me, they're really good." It stood there for a moment, smiling widely, as she poured the dark roast coffee in a take away cup, leaving a third for milk, and quickly emptied a small honey pack into the cup. As she reached for oat milk, Tobias asked quickly, "Completely unrelated. Where did you get that shirt?"

"Hmm... A thrift shop near my brother's, uh, farm. That's on the West Coast. Why?"

"Ah. Um, nothing, just marveling at it. The color looks amazing on you," it said and smirked, though Klara couldn't tell if it was doing it awkwardly or if that's just how it smirks sometimes. It did it quite often anyway, which she thought was kinda cute. Something she liked to see. She felt that weird mix of feelings looming somewhere in her brain.

And realized that she was still staring at it. "Uh, sorry, got lost in my thoughts for a moment. I have a long evening today." It was true, but not what actually made her lost in thoughts.

"Hey, don't worry, I do that all the time," it said and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Um. Hey, I should probably get back to my group work, huh? And finally let you do whatever you came here for instead of talking to me."

It's not like she wouldn't mind talking to it a bit longer. "Hm, don't worry about me, I'm in no hurry or anything," she looked at the table Darya had visited and noticed the two people looking at them, "Your friends... they do seem like they're waiting for you, though., so I guess it's more of me stealing your time."

"You're not stealing my time, every second has been quite fun," Tobias said, "But you're right about them, though. I, um, I guess I'll go there. Let me know what you think of those yogurts."

"Oh, I will, don't you worry about that."

"Great! Thanks," it stepped away, "And, uh, I'll see you around, then. At least on the next book club meeting."

"Of course. See you then," Klara said and smiled.

It walked a few steps toward the table, then stopped by the counter, slightly waving to get the woman's attention to itself. As Darya came closer, it said something to her in another language Klara couldn't recognize. The woman smirked and replied something, and it chuckled slightly in reply, added something and left to the table.

Klara stood for a moment, then took out her little journal to write a note to ask it about the language next time she saw it. She placed it back into her pocket. She looked for the right sized lid for the take away mug and closed it before finally making it to the counter.

Darya was already leaning forwards, smiling. "Talking with Toby always gets interesting turns, eh?"

"Hm. It's fun," she replied.

"Uh-huh," she smiled even wider.

"Why use 'Ray' if you know its preferred name, by the way?"

"Well, I didn't know you, and how much you know about it. Surprisingly much. Interesting. Good for it, I guess. You seem fun, tjej," she paused and smirked, "Sorry, had to. Saw it mention a Swedish word in a conversation and wanted to try it out. My partner's from there and is slowly teaching it to me."

"Huh, that's fun. Which part are they from?"

"Umeå. Said it's cold as fuck there. Are you also from there somewhere, sweetie?"

"No, San Francisco Bay, actually. One of my moms is from Skåne, though."

"Ooh, I've seen photos, it looks nice."

"Huh, yeah, I guess. Um. Speaking of languages, what were you speaking with Tobias a moment ago?"

"Oh! Persian. Its accent is awful though - I mean, it did pick it up again only a few months ago after not using or learning it for years. Something about its father, I guess. I'm native speaker so it likes to speak it with me. It's fun."

"Huh, interesting," she thought that she could still ask it about it anyway, maybe hear some more things.

"Yep. Your coffee's getting cold, sweetie."

"Oh, shit. Uh. I haven't even paid yet, hang on-"

"Oh, no, your order's paid already. Enjoy your treats, sweetie, hope we'll see you here again," she smiled and turned back to the coffee machine.

Klara stood still for a moment. She didn't remember paying for it or even getting a notification about payment request. Did Darya just decide to give it for free or something. No, probably not. A mistake, maybe? Not like she would mind that.

She looked at the table in the far corner, where the three were talking loudly about content analysis and the topic they wanted to pick. Tobias leaning on its arm, nodding along as another person was explaining something, it's brown eyes moving as its gaze wandered around the room. Klara kind of understood it, eye contact was the most annoying part of conversations.

Their eyes met for a moment, a short one, though maybe a longer than all the other parts of the room it had looked at. Could've been that she was just imagining, though, at least she told herself that it could have been that. The warmth of its gaze made her want to smile for some reason.

A thought came to her head, did it pay for her order while talking to its friend? Surely it wouldn't, why would it?

Klara sighed and picked up her coffee and a-bit-less-frozen yogurt, put on her coat, and walked out of the cafe.

[nebulousmedic]

Hihi! Love your art! I'm quite curious though. If there a specific reason why you draw sniper the way you do? For instance you have more darker skin, is that perhaps to make him look Maori? Either way I freaking love the way you draw him! (sorry if this offends you any way)

I'm not Maori or even remotely dark skin (I hate the sun), I have nothing to be offended about lmao

About his skin color: I just imagine that he... Spends time in the sun, but I'm too lazy to draw the tan lines or I just think that they don't fit the drawing, so I leave them out unless I'm going for a more realistic style

His eyes: the most striking feature of his design, I think. Besides from me thinking that heterochromia is really cool, I find it would make quite a bit of sense, like why always hide your eyes (even indoors, god) from other people? it's my headcanon that he kind of got bullied for it on his childhood, and when he was gifted a pair of shades he not only found himself looking very cool, but he also found that people didn't really notice his condition, so he just decided that he'd wear them pretty much all the time. He uses his shades to hide that he's high as well but, yknow

Facial hair: not much to see here, really. giving him a couple longer hairs on his upper lip and chin just kinda makes him look more rugged and feral

Hair: Come on, how could I not give him a mullet? in the game and the comics he already has a sort of.... mullet-y thing going on, so I just like to make it way longer, it makes him appear even more rugged and feral in my opinion. I will usually vary the length depending on what I feel like drawing, no particular reason for that specifically

Clothing: I want to make him look like a cowboy most of the time, but his comfortable and very casual attire is more dad-esque, I think? I want all the outdoor vibes, honestly. The hat and the shades are always a must, but you may notice that I tend to depict him with a fang pendant, I just headcanon that it's a trophy he kept from a particularly arduous hunt

As for his body, I like to make him sort of... Sharp-looking? To make him stand out from the other mercs a little more. He's tall, and a little gangly, but not skinny, he has muscle and a little fat on him. I also like to make him the hairiest out of all the mercs, because he deserves it

Color palette: I really like giving him a very warm and cozy sort of color palette, it just kinda fits with his vibe, I guess? certainly fits with the "cowboy" theme that he has going on

I want to note that my style for him specifically is inconsistent at times because I just cannot make up my mind on how to draw his facial features, but the one thing that I do keep is his nose and his ears, long and sort of triangular

Overall I think I just kinda took the canon Sniper and exaggerated him even more? Cowboy-ified him, maybe? Anyway, yeah, that's it that's why I draw him the way I do

I have changed how I draw some of the mercs since I made this but these are my pseudo references for them, if you're curious.

[radioactivedragonbones]

Back In The Ol' Days [2014] we had the punk/nerd AU... but I have my gripes with the PNAU; it feels outdated to me. In 2014 I ate that shit up, but it's 2024 and the rampant micro-trends have me re-thinkin modern Hijack portrayals...

So here I am to propose a new PNAU: Grunge X Emo.

Hiccup as a cozy grunge kind of guy- basically just classic comfy casual clothes but with earthy tones, ripped up jeans covered in motor oil stains, and loose flannel shirts over worn-out tees.

Jack as a casual emo kind of guy- Skinny jeans with rips (often on the end of the legs cause they annoy them when they're too long), tight band tees, and his classic hoodie he can disappear into the shadowy hood of to sulk.

Elaboration ⬇️

I think it could be fun to explore the way Hiccup has a ton of hand-me-downs and spends a lot of time patching up old clothes, or adding custom painted patches to his bags. Maybe he knows how to sew just from patching/mending. I like that in the movies we see him doing bith heavy work in the forge, and having gentle hands as an artist. I think he'd be good at a ton of different diy skills and put them to practical use with his wardrobe.

In canon, Hiccup does have a lot of leftist and punk ideology; The Edge is literally equal-ownership equal-imput everyone else just decides he runs the show. And he literally changes the dominant mindset of the society he lives in to better the life of both his people and the ones they've been at war with for decades. Hes pretty punk... but I don't see him going so far aesthetically as to be a full Spiky Punk TM. He's always on the move, working on something, or chilling outside with Toothless, so I think a more casual comfortable style suits him. Though I do think he would like jackets with extra straps and buckles on the pockets and stuff, and maybe a good belt bag + leatherman combo. Totally the type to always have a pocket knife. He'd paint himself patches and slap a few of em on his bags, coats, maybe over that burn hole in his jeans that's been annoying him. He'd favor practicality over aesthetic, but he still has a sense of style. As he gets older he probably leans into the edgier style, wearing more black and red combos, more strappy belts/coats/bags, and even gets a few tattoos. But I do see him as a grungey earthy engineering guy with comfy, often oversized silhouettes.

Jack I could see being super impulsive and latching onto pop culture; something emos were notorious for. I, personally, was clamoring for a branded tee shirt the moment I deemed a band good enough to youtube->mp3 to my ipod. I could see Jack doing that kind of thing, and latching onto this misunderstood invisible-yet-visibly-different identity. He probably favors dark blue, brown, and black. Deffinitely the type to get on the colored jeans trend when it hit. Maybe he even doodles little swirling patterns on his clothes when he's bored- an adhd habit I know all too well.

Without being, yanno, dead, Jack's Different Look would probably come just from him wanting to express himself. He feels isolated and finds it hard to make lasting friends because when people *do* notice him, they tend to see him more as a silly little jester than a person worth getting to know. He copes with humor and trying to get attention every now and again but ends up with a closer knit group of oddballs. He's good with kids, of course, and tends to take on a cool-big-brother to anyone in need of one. All of this playing into this casual and easy-going but edgy, kinda emo look. He probably listens to sad emo music while sitting on a roof, staring at the moon, contemplating his purpose in life. He pretty much does that in his movie so it isn't much of a stretch lol.

Anyways, feel free ro give your 2 cents and build onto or off of this as you please, I'm just brainstorming I guess. Thinkin aloud... visually. I tend to like psychoanalyzing characters and it's interesting to me to think of Hic & Jack's canon portrayals and what they would mean in a modern-human AU.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Okay,as someone who is a sucker for home decor,I want to hear your opinions on the Boyd character's dream house style. Who's a minimalist?Who wants cement- I mean brutalism architectures as their best friend?Who has taste enough to be into mid century modern?

Steve Murphy: Ooh Steve *is* into brutalist architecture, he thinks it’s cool and imposing and likes the lack of (what he sees as) ostentatious frills, but I guess he’s also a hypocrite ’cause that’s not the kind of space he’d like to make a home in! His ideal house is actually a cute little brownstone with a big enough backyard for him to do some careful gardening.

Donald Pierce: Pierce is a sucker for hacienda style homes. He likes the look of them, he likes that they’re practical and work with the environment (he’d also prefer to live in a hot, dry climate), and he really likes the idea of having a nice secluded central courtyard he can work or relax in without having to deal with neighbors.

Cap Hatfield: Cap’s not picky about where he lives, but he’s got a secret soft spot for gothic revival architecture. It’s dark and ominous and a little breathtaking! It’s not what he had growing up at all, and he’s kind of awed by how ornate and majestic it is! He’d *love* a pointy house with a lot of iron and arches and unnecessary decorative trim.

Clement Mansell: Oh Clement loves art deco. He really love the sense of luxury that it implies, too – high-rises and skyscrapers and penthouse suites overlooking the city. It’s pretty and easy on the eyes, but also intense and dramatic in a way he respects.

The Corinthian: Contemporary minimalism for the Corinthian. He’s sort of a beige mom! He likes the monotone color palate and the simple, clean functionality. It also suits him, the way it imparts a sense of sleekness and class without… really having much personality.

Eli Klaber: Aw, Klaber is a sucker for art nouveau: – the stained glass! The sinuous lines! The glamour! It’s pretty and lush and ornate in a very delicate, feminine sort of way that he’d absolutely go crazy for. He’d especially love to live in an art nouveau style house or apartment that he can fill with greenery and flowers to complement the naturalism of the architecture.

Ty Shaw: You’d think it’d be ranch style houses, and you’d be right, but even more than that, Ty’s got a weakness for storybook style houses!! He just thinks they’re so cute!! They look like something out of a fairy tale!

Quinn McKenna: Oh man, Quinn’s into rustic styles so damn much. It feels a little more natural, a little more homey, and he’s genuinely really into wood and stone as construction materials. He also love the idea of having a rustic style home because a lot of them are kinda far from civilization! He wouldn’t mind just having a little cozy cabin in the wilderness! …maybe with enough space for one other person. And a warm fire. And a deerskin rug in front of it.

[pajulammas]

19 with sonadow for the fic prompt meme? You write them so well I couldn't not ask for them too :3

(YIPPEE Sonadow my beloved!! I love how these are like. Soft prompts. And I still don't make these scenes very romantic KFHSKLFHLKS)

19. ‘it made me think of you.’

“Hedgehog,” a deep, monotone voice called Sonic.

It was early autumn, and Sonic was relaxing in the shade of a tree, his back against its trunk. He opened one eye and glanced towards Shadow standing right in front of him. His hands were behind his back, which was unusual for him – Usually he kept his palms visible, either on top of his chest with his arms crossed or clenched tightly against his sides. This unusual pose made him look almost shy or nervous, if it wasn’t for the intense stare and serious face. Regardless, Sonic found it a little adorable.

“What’s up, Shadow?” he asked.

“I found this,” Shadow replied and moved his arms, showing off a knitted scarf.

It was a long scarf with white fringes, consisting of white, light blue and pink stripes. It was clearly meant for humans considering how long and wide it was – but for a tiny hedgehog it would be just as cozy.

“Found it? Like a lost item on the ground, or bought from a store?” Sonic chuckled with a shrug.

The scarf looked brand new, but he still found it hard to believe that Shadow would buy such a scarf. The colors didn’t look like something he would wear, although they would look nice against his dark fur. Maybe it was for Rouge? She was known to wear pink and white, after all.

“The latter,” Shadow said and placed the scarf into Sonic’s hand, “It made me think of you.”

Sonic looked at the scarf for a moment, then glanced at Shadow with a raised brow. Shadow’s face didn’t change, so Sonic wrapped the scarf around his neck once around, letting it hang loosely. It was a nice scarf; it was warm, and the wool didn’t feel too itchy. But he was still a little confused why Shadow would get him one.

Sonic grinned and gave Shadow a thumbs up, “Thanks! Why so, though?”

“It has similar colored stripes as that button on your hoodie,” Shadow said and pointed at said button.

It was a round pin button consisting of five stripes: the top and bottom stripes light blue, the middle one white, and the two in the middle of them pink. While Sonic didn’t wear clothes that often, his trusty red and white hoodie came in handy whenever the weather got cooler. And since it was his favorite hoodie, he displayed his pin button on its chest proudly.

“I’ve seen those colors in that order in many places. Is it a symbol of sorts?” Shadow asked.

Sonic nodded: “Oh yeah, it’s a flag.”

“Which country?” Shadow asked.

“No no, it’s a pride flag. The transgender one to be exact,” Sonic explained, trying to hold back his laughter.

Shadow tilted his head – that was a new term for him. “Transgender?”

“It basically means that your gender differs from the one you were assigned at birth,” Sonic explained with a smile.

He didn’t talk about his past often, but Shadow was someone he could trust. His brooding rival had shown his vulnerable side to him many times, demanding that Sonic should never let anyone know about it. So, he could trust Shadow to do the same with his personal life. Even though him being trans wasn’t really a secret, per se.

“For example, I am a guy, but I wasn’t always one. Or, technically I was, like deep down. I kinda knew it from a young age, but it took me a while to realize it,” Sonic added, lifting his gaze towards the sky. He gazed at the horizon with a contented smile. “And I couldn’t be happier with who I am today.”

“I see. So, you don’t let the circumstances of your birth determine who you are, but forge your own identity instead?” Shadow asked.

Sonic let out a lighthearted snort. Shadow was so dramatic, but in a very endearing way – it was clear his words were genuine.

“Yeah, you could put it that way,” Sonic grinned.

“I can respect that,” Shadow nodded and crossed his arms, “But it won’t stop me from beating you in the battlefield.”

“Sure thing, buddy. But come sit with me for a moment,” Sonic said and patted the empty spot right next to him. “Five minutes of rest, and then we can fight.”

Shadow huffed and sat down, closing his eyes and leaning his shoulder against Sonic’s. Sonic turned his face towards him, giving him a fond look. He really liked being around his rival during gentle moments like these. Even when he came to him looking for a battle, he was still thoughtful – Sonic would have lots of use for that scarf now that the weather was getting colder every day.

“Tch. You need five minutes to prepare for your loss?” Shadow mumbled.

“Hah, I’m so gonna kick your ass in a moment, Shadster.”

[scumgum]

You feel like a fall morning. Like those mornings you would wake up on an October day and have to get ready for school. You walk outside in a cozy coat and feel the crisp air. It’s cold enough you can see the condensation when you breathe out and the cold has a way of lingering on your lips. The smell of the air, so distinct. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but it smells clean almost. The ground is litered with orange, red, and hues of yellow leaves that have taken their final breath before falling. The morning feels quiet. Very still. As if the human race all disappeared and left to find some other paradise. Houses are colored with pumpkins and Halloween decorations. The sky is blue, but not a bright blue. A gray kinda blue. You know the sun is there, but it’s hidden momentarily amongst the dark. You feel like the peace before everyone starts to wake up and complain about things that don’t matter, or run late to their 9-5. Scramble to figure out how to spend their day off without dreading the next work day. For a brief moment you feel still. You feel like a fall morning.