#his hair is rough to draw in profile view man

[kaveh-a-day]

Day 108

[unsat-and-strange]

this Friday seems like a good day to install some more emergency exits

image id: a pen sketch of Thor and Odin from the bifrost incident. thor stands in the bottom center of the paper, back to the viewer and face in profile to the right. he is a heavyset man with a beard and long hair, with an angry expression. his right hand and both feet are covered in pink blood. his right hand holds a hammer above his head. behind the hammer the drawing is split vertically. the right side is colored in completely black, except for a few white stars, with darker tentacles barely visible. the left side has Odin, after her transformation into a snake monstrosity. her body twists down towards the bottom left of the drawing with another loop in view in the top left. her mouth is full of very sharp teeth and is open very wide as if she's about to eat Thor. one pink eye is visible, staring down at Thor. the background of the left side is full of jagged pink lines, like lightning or cracking glass. a few of the lines overlap Odin's rough line work. end image id

[quacka-quacka]

Hi i want to ask you about Paul jealousy towards John. Do u think his jealousy are same as John? Thats what i see from Get Back, Paul always get away from this. People always focus on John jealousy and mental psychology while Paul often being ignored or under explore. I just want hear something from you because your blog quite fascinating about Paul, makes him more human i think.

Yes, Paul is also a jealous guy, especially towards John. The legendary partnership of Lennon-McCartney is not only created by cooperation, but the mutual competitiveness that neither of them wanted to be behind each other in any way. It's just that Paul is the only one alive who can always say his songwriting partner was jealous of him whereas John, unfortunately, was busy being dead.

The rivalry is always there, I think, it didn't explode until the final time of the Beatles- when John brought Yoko into the studio. That's really pushed Paul's jealousy to a new level, he actually spends rest of his life competing with JohnandYoko, either about itself or its enormous impact.

The intimacy between John and Yoko bothered Paul most at the beginning when he just got dumped by his fiancee not long ago. It can be seen that he is jealous of John for diving into a romantic relationship so much as well as Yoko taking his creative partner away. He always considers himself as the only one who was desperate to keep the band together but he actually made the situation worse by bring several girlfriends into the studio to get his own back. He couldn't help doing it even if he knew how absurd this competition was. As George said, "That really helped put the nail in the coffin."

We all know what happened next: The Beatles was disintegrating while John and Yoko was at the height of their popularity as the high-profile anti-war couple who acted like messengers of peace with the famous slogan "Make love, no war." A succession of eye-catching peace activities during the Vietnam War made JohnandYoko a cultural iron and made John well known as an intellectual, a political figure, a true artist. After his death he was put on a pedestal not even his Beatles colleagues could reach. Till today, even the wife beater image can not weaken his influence, actually, it's part of it for being so famous that even the bad things are so widely known.

I don't like any of their peace events and works (including the song Imagine), nor the saint John people worship who has been reduced to a couple of labels. It's kind of sad to see such a funny man with extraordinary charm be remembered as a hyper serious person talking about world peace. But it can't change the fact that they are the main reasons that made John much more famous than other Beatles. Paul isn't content with it, he has always been trying hard to prove that he deserves the same praise. Those main public images of John are the ones Paul highlights in his interviews and books:

Intellectual

It's an old chestnut that Paul has always been arguing he isn't viewed as an intellectual like John. Obviously it's another competition with John as well his resentment towards stereotype he thinks caused it all. The lad who said "we ain't written no poetry" with his innocent huge eyes widely opened eventually become a bitter gammer babbling "John never had anything like my interest in literature." What a sad thing to see.

Artist

The one Paul seems to care about most - as a rough estimate, praising how artistic Paul is takes up half the length of Many Years From Now. Whether it's avant-garde loops, film, orchestra or painting, he's good at it.

PAUL: We used to have drawing competitions in the group where we'd sit down and say, 'Let's draw Mal,' and mine was often the likeness. I used to catch it. John's were often like crazy, because he couldn't actually draw like that. He did character drawing, he drew his little men, people with bulbous noses with hair coming out of them, bizarre character stuff, but he wasn't actually that good at representing something figuratively.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(If I never saw his drawings I may buy that Paul is a realist painter more distinguished than John.)

In fact, it connects with the intellectual one, only in a more specific aspect. When it came to making loops, he didn't forget to say he and John was "wildly in reverse" on intellectual level:

PAUL: I was into a lot of those things, which was very strange because I was at the same time known as the cute Beatle, the ballad Beatle or whatever. I hate to think what I was known as. John was the cynical one, the wise Beatle, the intellectual. In fact at that time it was wildly in reverse.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

Political Figure

I don't like this one but it's crucial to John's public image. As he thought John would become "Martin Luther Lennon", Paul must be aware of that too.

He could be a manoeuvring swine, which no one ever realized. Now, since his death, he's become Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn't him either. He wasn't some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker.

— Paul McCartney, off the record conversation with Hunter Davies, 1981

Paul's rude remarks can be understandable consider what mental state he was in just five months after John been shot dead. But he doesn't seem to mind calling John "a manoeuvring swine", which can be found quoted in Many Years From Now - his official biography written in the 90s.

The others, much as they also loved him, regarded him as a 'manoeuvring swine', as Paul once put it.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(George and Ringo: How did we get dragged into this?)

He already had a problem with Bagism back in Get Back session. And 30 years later, after praising his leadership in marijuana legalization protest for a whole section in Many Years From Now, the long journey of "Expanding the Field of Consciousness" end up with a comparison with Bagism and Imagine:

This was the first example of Paul's involvement in political lobbying, a skill which he would later apply with great success to saving his local hospital in Rye, Sussex, and in starting and funding the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts. The Beatles signed and paid for the advertisement at his instigation. There was no high-profile posturing. He did not sit in a black bag or sing a song about it, just supported a traditional method of lobbying. In this instance quiet and effective work led to a change in the law - from which he himself benefited when police found pot plants growing on his Scottish farm in 1972.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

In a certain way it is really an intense relationship that both of them can make the other one extremely jealous if any inequality exists. In Paul's case, as a person so insecure and so afraid of losing face, his jealousy also fueled by the public. The competition continues after John's death because he isn't on Lennon's bandwagon of being one of the greatest men in the world. It sounds snobbish but it's hard not to believe this is true.

[midnightmoonkiss]

now you got me THINKING:

reader picking the lock to her holding cell for the hell of it, wandering the deck at night and catching deku muttering to himself, compass in one hand, tugging at his lips with the other, to which she helps him using scraps of knowledge she picked up from her snob of a father, learning her father was the the reason for a few of his scars in past battles, tracing them gently and explaining how she hates her life and blah blah bLha my brain rot is REALL

YESS OMFG???? HOLD ON I GOTTA.. GOTTA WRITE THIS..

Kidnapped By A Pirate (Cont.)

Pirate Deku X Fem! Reader

This basically is a continuation of this short fic, only going further into the early-on relationship between Captain Midoriya and you, (Y/N).

Category: fluff I guess?

Word Count: 2.3k

Just To Clarify:

This is a continuation

“You know,” His mellifluous voice startled you, “It’s awfully rude to stare.”

The sentence sliced through the silence of the night like the sharp sword resting upon his jutting hip.

The sea was calm and the moon was full, not a cloud in the sky. Stars shimmered brightly above, milky way weaving through each dot of light.

And here you stood, on a pirate ship.

Gathering your bearings, you inhale sharply through your nose, the salty scent of the sea nearly making you gag,

“It’s awfully rude to kidnap someone and throw them into a dirty old cell with no food or water as well.”

His hearty chuckle made you gulp, the tickling of butterflies has no place in your stomach. Not now. Preferably not ever with him, but most pirates did have this.. salacious charm to them.

“Very true…” He sighed, “Forgive me.”

The fact that you were having this conversation with his back infuriated you.

He didn’t care enough about your escape from your cell in the dead of night, when all his crewmen were asleep, to even pay you full attention.

It was as if he viewed you as the least frightening and threatless thing on this vessel, a harmless, stowaway mouse.

Swallowing the lump of logical fear lodged in your parched throat, you strung together all the courage you had on you with a flimsy string and strode over to him, hands fisting the fabric of your dress.

The pirate was leaning against the railing of his ship, staring down at a dirty compass resting in the palm of his large hand, lip pulled between his thumb and index finger and he studied the spinning of the needle trapped behind cracked glass.

His features from behind became clearer with every cautious step you took, messy green curls pulled into a ponytail, few strings of loose hair framing his chiseled face. He was practically glowing in the light of the moon that shone in front of him. Beautifully dangerous, like a barracuda.

“It’s broken.” You pointed out to him, the captain who wasn’t wearing a hat, an air of finality in your tone.

If he was plotting a course by a broken compass..

You were royally fucked.

You’d be lost at sea.

Would you ever see land again?

The nauseating rocking of the ship had you almost on your knees, praying. As the days went by, your sea legs grew, but you still weren’t used to it. You didn’t want to be used to it.

“It's only broken to those who don’t understand it,” He teased, sparing you a glance before returning his gaze down to the old piece of junk.

He didn’t seem to want to bother with taking you back down to your own personal hell, yet.

That was good enough for you.

You came up here for air, after all.

It was suffocating below deck.. The stench of mildew having made you sick.

Who knew you took fresh air for granted? Even if it was salty.

At least you could see the open sea and how the moon reflected on the murky water. It was enchanting, something out of a romance novel, but you wished you saw it under better circumstances.

Something about being on a piece of wood out where land was nowhere in sight and the bottom of the ocean was so far out of reach you couldn't even imagine it unnerved you.

You never understood seamen, or pirates, even.

They did this stuff for fun.

At least seamen did it as a way to make income.

The click of his tongue brought your attention back to the freckled man, murmurs under his breath only just now reaching your ears.

Directions and landmarks, sea terminology, things you didn't understand slipped past his chapped lips.. Until something you did know was uttered.

“You’re sailing for the port of Baringham? The low-profile port? That only deals with textiles?”

“Many questions for an answer you already know,” he quipped, “I’m taking you there.”

“How are you going to take me to a place where you cannot even plot a course to?”

Huffing, he finally turned his head to you, amusement written on his face along with a charming smile that would’ve made anyone swoon,

“Alright, you’ve got me.”

Pushing himself up with his cloth covered forearms, he moved to lean with his back against the rail, crossing his arms as he gave you a sliver of respect with direct eye contact.

You briefly considered pushing him over.

“I’m a bit lost.”

“Ah, so you admit it.”

Humming, you mimicked his action, crossing your arms under your chest.

“Fortunately for you, I happen to know where it is.”

“That so?” He mused, leaning toward you ever so slightly, panicked interest cracking through his calm, forest green eyes that you couldn't help but notice twinkle, “Care to tell me?”

“Mmm. I would… but what’s in it for me?”

“What is it that you want? Isn't your guaranteed freedom at said port enough?”

“No.”

“..” The captain was shocked into silence, clear amusement still written all over his face.

Combing his dirty fingers through his messy green locks, he gave you an inquisitive stare,

“Then what else?”

You thought for a moment. What else did you want?

You wanted many things, things of which he could not grant. No one could.

You’d have to settle for something else.

Something you would prefer.. suddenly, the sickness you felt when you were in that gross cell came to mind.

“Don’t put me back in that damned cell!” The shout bubbled up from nowhere, shocking even you, “And.. and water. I want water.” You mumbled out.

Silence settled into the night once more after your loud declaration.

Your face burned with pure embarrassment as he became the one to stare at you..

Until he started laughing.

The kind of boisterous and infectious laughter that forced you to look away from his regrettably handsome self.

“You have yourself a deal, princess!”

The title further made your cheeks burn, drawing your attention back to him just to meet his enchanting gaze.

It draws you in like a sailor to a mermaid.

“Now, mind telling me?”

Licking your lips, you pointed to the heavens, his eyes following, “Travel so the brightest star in the sky is behind you, and follow the little dipper. The port is due north from there.”

It was a route you didn’t mean to memorize years ago.

The loud snap of the compass being closed made you jump, composure temporarily lost yet again.

“Ahh..” His gaze flickered over the sky, no doubt seeing a plethora of routes with each familiar constellation as he mapped the one you spoke of.

“I see it now, silly me.”

Looking down at the deck, he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck, messing with the curly hair that fell loose. Would you be so bold as to think that he may be embarrassed?

He clapped a hand on your shoulder after pushing himself fully off the rail, the whisper of thanks fanning hotly across your ear as he climbed the creaking stairs to the helm, brown boots clicking on each step as he did so.

Spinning the wheel round, the ship croaked as it turned so that the north star fell behind.

“How did you know this course?”

His curiosity was natural. After all, how did you, daughter of a well-off navy general who had never stepped aboard a boat before, know the way to a port not many knew of?

The answer was simple, though it was an answer you didn't exactly wish to know. Cursed with knowledge as you would say, blessed would say the others.

“My father.” Bitterness stung your words, and Izuku whistled.

“Slimy piece of shit he is.” It was grumbled under your breath, and yet he still somehow heard you, offering a grunt of agreement, eyes focused ahead.

“I hate the bastard myself,” he seethed through his teeth, “I’d offer up all the rum and shillings I have to see his blood spill and stain my deck by my own hands.”

The fury that clung to each word he spoke sent shivers down your spine, his aura threatening as he fell to his thoughts.

“I have an obvious reason to hate him,”

“You do?”

Your childlike curiosity warmed his heart, bringing his attention back to you,

“You don’t get scars from nowhere, love.”

Your nose crinkled at the term of endearment, climbing the stairs yourself as you rolled your eyes.

“Your scars are hidden,”

“His scars mark my back.”

Blood drained from your face, bile creeping up your throat at the meaning.

You felt sick and disgusted with the blood that ran through your veins.

You hated being the daughter of a monster.

“Oh..” The whisper caught on the wind pulling at the sails.

Silence fell once more, the unbearable kind that made even his skin crawl with uncomfortableness.

Had the crew been awake, he probably would have laughed, grabbed a bottle of rum, and stumbled into his captains quarters to drink the memories away.. But his crew was asleep.

Oh, how he missed his first mate. He was the whole reason you were on his ship in the first place.

“Just your back?”

“Do you wish he gave me more?” Izuku chuckled, teasing you once again.

“No.” You huffed, furious he would even suggest such a thing.

“I have a few.. Mainly on my hand but I-”

His words died on his tongue, heart beating in his ears when he felt your much smaller and daintier hands grip his own, the only one covered in white scars.

He gulped as you traced the smooth cicatrix on his rough skin, a small blush on his cheeks, your touch soothing the pain behind each one.

Tears not his own fell onto his skin, rolling off and spattering onto the deck below, but he remained silent, allowing you to trace the scars over his forearm, not specifying which were and which were not created by your father.

He liked your touch.

“I hate him too.” Your words were raw with hatred, touch fading as you pulled away and yet he still felt the tingle of it under his skin.

He wanted more. He hadnt felt such gentleness in so long..

That doesn’t matter, though.

“Why?” He found himself asking.

Lips pressing into a frown, he watched the sea as you mindlessly walked around behind him, stories spilling past your fervent lips, stories that made silent anger bubble in his gut, stories that you had never told anyone before - that you were forced to keep inside yourself for so long that they spilled out without care.

His desire to burn that man's ship down, to watch as the bright flames engulf him and it, destined to forever be lost at the bottom of the sea, grew tenfold.

Deku, the infamous pirate, prided himself on not giving a shit half the time, but he couldn’t ignore the empathy he felt in the moment.

You both had a common enemy.

Two strangers.. Where’s the irony in that?

“I don't like you,” You started after finishing up your uncontrollable word vomit, stopping in your tracks, “But the fact that I find this kidnapping to be the most enjoyable days of my life because I’m away from him and all the power he possesses is concerning.”

Why you told this to an untrustworthy, murdering thief.. You had no idea.

Perhaps it was because you had a feeling he would understand after hearing you out.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was currently the only person you could say it to.

After kidnapping you, all he had said to you was ‘welcome aboard!’ before locking the cell you just escaped from days later.

You should hate him, you should wish him to hang like every other disgusting pirate out there, especially for snatching you from your home in the dead of night, transferring you from one cell to the next, but you don't.

You wouldn’t show that, though.

Many words weighed heavy in Izukus mind, words he was unsure if he could say, or if it’d be the right thing to say.

He wasn’t heartless like some assumed, he wasn’t this traitorous asshole stories floating around about him told, he was just a pirate with a kind heart and skilled hands.

He almost felt bad that he planned to give you back to your father.

He felt bad that for that first day you were aboard his ship, he had wicked ideas of marking and ruining you in so many ways your father would only ever look at you and see him. 

It was a cruel way to get revenge, revenge through someone else.

Actually, maybe he was an asshole.

Right then and there, he decided that that would no longer be his course of action, not if he could help it.

Hell, he wanted to keep you as far away from your father as he could. Would he abandon his first mate? No. He’d devise some other plan. Maybe get you somewhere safe, ask for your dress, and then cover a scarecrow in said dress and use that as a tool to get him back.

It could work!

Or maybe not.

Nonetheless, plan A through D were just thrown overboard,

“Well,” He smacked the wooden wheel to get your attention,

“You’re a pretty little thing, so I like you.”

You scoffed, he continued,

“Consider yourself prisoner to your fathers enemy for a long time to come, because darlin’,”

He drawled, sauntering over to you as you instinctively backed up, only to be trapped against the railing.

His muscular arms caged you in, taller frame towering over you as electrifying green eyes intoxicated your soul and sent heat flashes up your body,

“I’m not gonna let you go so easily.”

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

[ulenehlervu]

thank you everyone for writing to me in the tags and special thanks to everyone who donated a commission. this year ended rough & it meant a lot to me to connect with you all, much love <3

ID below the cut

ID: eowynking’s 2021 Summary of Art, a form taken from DeviantArt showcasing one drawing done by me for each month. In January, a colored painting of Helisma from Dragon Age Inquisition against a brown background, shaded with stylized orange light. Her eyes are closed. In February, a drawing of Gianna Parasini with her hair cut in a short afro, wearing a yellow button up shirt, denim shorts, and green backpack, shading her eyes as she looks out over a purple alien landscape. Kneeling beside her is a white male Shepard with red hair streaked grey on the sides, wearing a black t-shirt and brown backpack and holding a glowing blue tablet screen. Both are in profile. In March, a monochrome pen drawing of a white Mahariel in three quarter view with their long hair partly pulled back, wearing Andruil’s vallaslin. In April, a monochrome painting of Eowyn from Lord of the Rings as a Mongolian woman, inspired by Khulan Chuluun specifically as a fancast, wearing a thick winter deel and fur-lined hat. Her hair is long and braided in two braids. In May, a bust colored drawing of Ahlam from Skyrim, wearing her hair in long thin braids with her trademark blue lipstick, looking to the right and smiling slightly. In June, a collection of sketches of a Black female dwarf and white half-elven man from Dragon Age Inquisition, both with neutral expressions. In July, a pen drawing of Merrill from the side with outlines of leaves drawn in a crown around her hair, which is thickly curly and cut short. In August, a painting of a red tiefling man with a finger held to his mouth in contemplation; his hair is blue-black, his eyes are yellow and one has a sparkle around it. In September, a colored portrait of Shuftharz from Skyrim, wearing a hide shirt embroidered with small red designs around the collar. In October, a monochrome drawing of a white female hunter with dark hair and scar across her nose and Lea Chen from The Northern Passage. In November, a colored bust sketch of Alistair Theirin from Dragon Age, drawn several years older with shoulder-length hair. In December, a sketch of Pharamond from Asunder with red lettering and peacock feathers in the style of the Dragon Age Origins opening cinematic sketched around him. end ID

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot. 

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER. 

d a m n  s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg. 

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.” 

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

[xsugarysweetsx]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 5

A/N: I may have made a twilight reference but I do like their concept of vampire abilities

Warnings; language; Levi having feelings??;

Previous     Next

°°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°

“Ugh..no..p..please no..No..NO!“ you spring up in bed panting in a sweat. Just a nightmare, another nightmare. This was only the 3rd day you had been there but the nightmares never gave you a break. The next thing that happened was footsteps running into your room. Your door swings open with Hanji holding a book in hand, Levi was in a fighting stance. They only saw you disheveled from your previous nightmare

“S-sorry guys it was just a stupid nightmare...I’m okay“ you reassure them moving the hair from your face

“The hell were you going to do with a book?“ Levi asks looking at Hanji

“You know maybe, knock some sense into them“ she looked around the room hoping for a laugh from her corny joke. You had to give it to her, she always tried to lighten things up “Hehe, anyway enough bad jokes we need you for something really quick”

“Oh sure“ getting up from the bed you grab a sweater and throw it on over your tank top. Following them you realize it was about 2 am, the forest was quiet and the house’s atmosphere was cool against your skin.

“So what do you need me to do?“ you ask as Hanji opens the front door

“Well, Levi here is our spy and we need to know the exact location of where Zeke can be. You’ll also need some info from the underground” grabbing a coat from the hall closet she gives it to you “Only you know where it is so you’ll have to go with Levi.“

“Only problem is the bastard’s got a couple of goons and the last thing we need is for them or him to pick up your scent. So throw the jacket on“ taking your sweater off you put on the black jacket. It smelled of lemon and detergent, it was nice. Next thing you knew Levi squatted slightly in front of you “Come on we don’t have all night, the sun will come up soon and that’s the last thing I need“

“Right“ hesitantly you take a hold of his shoulders. His hands find the back of your knees and hoist you up on to his back

“Alright, you both have 4 hours to locate and try and get any information you can. Good luck” and just like that, you were off. For someone who was his height, he was strong. He swiftly jumps onto lower tree branches, as to not be too far from the ground. Being up so high and on his back made you hold on to him tighter

“Relax I won’t drop you,” he said hoisting you a bit higher on his hips “now which direction did you run from?”

“I...think it was that way” you point to the northwest of where you stood. Jumping from one tee to the next he barely made a sound. With the occasional rustle of leaves, he was a quiet as a bird. Soon a broken-down roof comes into view. Going into a tree with more leaves he sets you down for a moment. You still hold on to his shoulder for balance

“This shit place it?” He asked

“Yeah this is it...” you confirm

“For the most part, we know where the monkey lives.” Facing you he looks you dead in the eyes “We have to go somewhere and I need you to stay close to me and try not to draw attention. Got it?”

You give him a sharp nod, getting back on his back you hold on tight as you fall back to the ground. He continues his way on the ground, you so happened to have gotten a whiff of his scent which was exact to the one on the jacket. That’s when you had started to notice the way he was built. There wasn’t much skin to see but you could tell he was well built just by the feel of his shoulders.

You would be lying if you said he unattractive, you could feel your cheeks heating at the thoughts, but right now wasn’t the time. It was a bit awkward so you struck up a conversation

“So um, what’s this underground place anyway?“ you ask

“Think of it as a place where vampires can roam around during the day. They can get their blood fills, party, gamble, anything a human can do aside from being in the sun.“ coming to what looked like a cave entrance he puts you down “Remember what I said, keep a low profile, and stay close to me. We’re going to see someone who might know the answers to all this shit.“

Upon entering the cave it was almost like a whole city in there. Buzzing with chatter and the smell of blood filled the air, it almost made you nauseous. Your hand stayed locked in his elbow as you let him lead you through the crowd.

Looking around vampires were much closer to humans than how they were always described as. Not all of them were pale, or mysterious or walked around in capes and dressed like goths. Huh, maybe you should make the next vampire film.

“We’re almost there“ he makes a turn to an alleyway and came to a lonely door “Listen this old man has some screws missing, just stay close.“ knocking on the door there was silence then some low cursing as the door swung open. A tall man with a bit of stubble on his chin, and with the same sharp grey eyes.  

“Well look who came, and you brought a little lady with you too“ he smirked and looked your way

“Shut it old man I just need some information“ Levi sneered. They seemed to know each other well

“The hell would I know about humans mixing in with vampires, “ he said leaning against the doorway “I’ve been around for a while runt, I can spot a human in any crowd.“

“That’s exactly why we need to talk, Kenny.“ damn was he that good that he could tell you were human? Moving aside he lets you both into his small home, it was mostly covered in alcohol bottles, and much dirtier than it should be. Nonetheless, he pulls out a chair and sits down ready for questions.

“What do you know about hybrids?” he said trying not to touch anything in the home

“What? Thinking about having kids with the lady here“ he motioned to you

“No, some bastard wants to make them by force and we don’t know what he’s planning, “ he said crossing his arms

“Ah Levi, always playing the hero huh?“ he chuckles and leans further back into the chair “Well, we Ackermans used to part of hybrids some of the family were hybrids themselves. Having the ability to walk in daylight gave them the up hand. They fed anytime they wanted, healed easily, on top of that they had fewer weaknesses. But people started abusing power, women died..“

“Abusing power?“ you questioned and he nodded

“Some people wanted to dominate any other race, just a world of vampires and hybrids. It came to a point only certain women with a certain blood type could bear the kids and live after it.“ he explains further “So now it’s a bit taboo to have or be a hybrid, knowing the history.“ the beeping of Levi’s watch started going off. Sunrise was coming soon, you had to leave before it was too late.

Nudging through the crowd he’s practically carrying you just to be faster. Emerging from the cave the smallest specks of light could be seen lighting up the sky. It was honestly beautiful, but it was deadly for him, so no time to stop and admire. Luckily Levi was as fast as he was strong and you made it in no time. As soon as he stepped inside you waited just a moment to see the sunrise

“Hey Levi?“ you called

“What is it?“ he asked from the inside out

“You wanna see the sunset?“ you ask him. Walking inside you find some lose cardboard and take him outside

“The hell are you doing?!” he asked not trusting your idea for a damn minute

“Just trust me, I won’t let you burn” you reassure him. He rolls his eyes but still takes your hand and you lead him outside. You set the board up at a certain angle to give him shade and for him to see. As soon as the sun came up he was almost hypnotized.

“Beautiful huh?” You ask as you watch his face in amusement. You didn’t have to know much about him to know, he’s had a rough life. The sun rose higher into the sky which was your cue to get him inside. Covering him with the jacket you take him inside, unharmed.

There was a bit of silence between you both. As you took your shoes off and made your way to the stairs he speaks up

“Thank you.” He said bluntly “....for coming with me..” he sounded almost strained. Maybe he was thanking you for the little sunrise show, you just smile and respond

“Of course Levi,” you said with a smile “I’m um...going to go and shower real quick alright, you should rest up” you leave making your way up the stairs leaving him in the hall.

“I see you’re warming up to her“ Erwin says coming from a different room “that’s good, you’ve needed the interaction for some time now“

“Tch, I don’t have any time for that“ he scoffed as he made his way to the stairs

“you did at one point“ he mumbled to the raven-haired man, making him stop for a moment. Without turning he said

“...maybe I did...but not anymore“ and continued on his way up. Walking down the hallway he could hear your conversation with Hanji. The door was slightly open and he saw you sitting on a chair fresh out of the shower. Your hair was still wet, and your skin dewy. You may have been giving her information but at the same time, you had a gentle smile on your face.

For the past 3 days, this was the first time he saw a genuine smile.

“Hanji...do you..will Zeke find me here? Will he..“ even with all the hope in the world you were still afraid

“Y/N“ Hanji took your hand “I know it’s a lot to take in right now but, with Levi here I’m pretty sure Zeke won’t even step foot in here.“ she smiles with a yawn

“Thanks, Hanji...you should rest“ before you could spot him, Levi leaves to his room. Closing the door he huffs as he leans against the door and stares at the ceiling. He pushes himself off and walks over to the small nightstand and opens the first drawer, pulling out something. He gazes at the picture in hand, not wanting to look at it much longer he outs it back and closes the drawer.

He falls with a sigh on to his bed and says to himself

“The hell is happening to me?”

...

You cleaned up around the house while everyone else slept. Your friends crossed your mind. Sasha taking you out to restaurants, Eren telling you some weird stories, Christa just being the sweetheart that she was. It made you chuckle a bit, but you wondered what they thought of you being gone. You missed Mochi too, his adorable face waking you up every morning.

But, this was better for you and the people you cared for. The less they were involved the fewer people will get hurt. For whatever reason Levi popped in your head. The way he was looking at the sunset, almost like a child looking at stars for the first time. It made you just a bit sad that he never saw something so simple yet so amazing. Next thing you knew a giggle escapes your lips along with a smile

“...oh god Y/N, no.” You murmur to yourself “you shouldn’t now, especially him, he could never...” your head and heart were saying two different things. Yet, you couldn’t at least not in this situation.

<><><><>

“I’m telling you he’s gone insane!“ one man whispered

“I have to agree with you...at first it was a good idea abut now I think he’s going too far-“

“Too far huh?“ a deeper voice enters making the two previous men jump

“N-no it’s nothing like that we-we were-“

“patience is virtue “ Zeke simply says “but so is madness. Without it, can I achieve what I am after?“ he said as he lit a cigarette and took a puff. “you both can wait for your reward right? Unless you want to be one of my labrats. Understand?“

“Y-yes, sir.......”

“Besides, what's one sacrifice for our goal huh?” He chuckled looking at a picture of a certain brunette in his hand. Just how much worse can things get?

<><><><>

Taglist: @mysteriousmagicx @kameko-ko @jin-mowi @mystic-starlove @chronic-claire-universe​ @shrimp1026​ @captainchrisstan @givemea-dam-break @actual-trash-goblin @leiaausmus @sugarysweets-appreciation-blog @levisfilm @kingdoms--night--star @leviiiiiiiii @dilirx @super-peace-fangirl @ultimateelitepenguin @happygalaxymilkshake @lola2001 @sillykawa @queenofcurse @fanfictionreaderholic @notgoodforlife @deludedimagines @xcityretro

[taetaespeaches]

“Are you always this much of a brat?”

jungkook x reader genre: fluff (college au) word count: 2K

a/n: I wrote this for my lovely angel, @babeejeon​. This is not part of the long-term couple! This is just film student Jungkook and student reader working on a class project together. This is pretty unedited so good luck, y’all! I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

YOU knew the dude was cute. You’d known that since the first day of class. However, eyeing him from a few seats away as he focused on taking notes, his eyes squinted to see the projector screen, was a lot different than seeing him in action as he concentrated on the camera screen, his eyebrows pulled together. The man was stunning.

Breaking character, a small smile formed on your lips as you were supposed to be looking solemnly ahead. Jungkook let out a sound of frustration as you giggled. “I’m sorry, you just look so serious, Mr. Director Man.”

“I am serious,” he defended with a boyish smile. “I’m trying to get us a high mark, remember?” You playfully rolled your eyes as he shook his head at you. You and Jungkook were partnered together for a film assignment in your digital story telling class, an assignment you had been worried about all semester as you didn’t have an ounce of film experience. Fortunately for you, Jungkook was actually a film major, which made you feel infinitely more confident in the project.

When he found out you wrote, he easily came up with the idea to make a film about one of your stories, you as the subject with a voiceover of your narration. Little did either of you know, you were almost physically incapable of filming a scene for five seconds without breaking into laughter, which was not a great visual to put with your “sad boi writing,” as you had dubbed it when explaining it to Jungkook.

“Ok, I didn’t think I’d be this bad in front of a camera, but I have seen your films, Kook. I still have total faith in you to pull this off,” you complimented him.  

Giving you an unconvinced nod, he looked around the street, planning the next shot. “I think we’re almost done, maybe just one more shot of you walking away from the camera and I’ll follow you.”

“Ah, a scene I can’t screw up,” you grinned. “Good thinking Mr. Director.” He chuckled again, and you decided right then and there you had never seen a prettier smile before.

Set up for the shot, you waited for Jungkook’s cue to start the scene. “Ok, walk,” he shouted out to you, however, you stubbornly refused to move. “Walk,” he yelled louder.

“You’re a director, Jungkook,” you shouted back, looking over your shoulder at him. “Say action.”

“Are you always this much of a brat?” He questioned teasingly, you throwing your head back in amusement.

“Kind of,” you shouted to him, Jungkook chuckling at you.  

“Are you ready?” He asked, you nodding exaggeratedly so he’d see it. “Ok, action.”

You began walking, however, five seconds into filming the shot, you tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, though catching yourself easily. Turning around you found Jungkook with a wide-eyed stare and you began laughing loudly, drawing the attention of the people walking by.

“Jesus,” Jungkook breathed out through his laughter as he approached you. “At least you’re a good writer.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, taking the backhanded compliment. “Did we get some ok footage at least?”

“I think we can make it work. I mean, you look good on camera,” he told you, a blush instantly heating his cheeks, as he looked down at the camera, looking over a piece of his film.

“I do?” You pressed annoyingly with a wide grin, Jungkook’s shy smile directed toward the camera as he avoided your gaze. “You look good behind the camera,” you told him, sincerity laced in your tone. “Like you belong there.”

His doe-like eyes softened as he looked at you in surprise. “Thanks,” he said simply before turning the camera off. “I think we got it.”

STEPPING into a café near campus that many college students frequented, you quickly scanned the room, doing a double take on the very man who had been occupying your mind for most of the semester. He had taken up a permanent residency in there since you started working with him on this film project, and the sight of him sitting across the café from you had your heart racing.

Forgetting completely about the drink you came to order and take to-go, you started toward Jungkook, his eyes lifting from his computer screen just enough to catch you in his eye line, doing a double take of his own.

His eyes widened in what almost looked like panic as he ripped his ear buds of out his ears, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you greeted with a smile, your eyes looking from Jungkook to his computer to the notebook he had sitting open next to the keypad.

“Hey,” he said back, still coming down from his surprise, a faint smile on his lips. Your eyes glanced over the notebook just barely catching the title of your short story for your digital storytelling class scrawled onto the top of the page.

Your eyes lit up in excitement at the realization. “Are you editing right now?”

“I-yeah, but it’s not done,” he told you with a panicked edge in his voice.

“How is it so far? Did the footage turn out ok?” You asked.

“Uh,” he started with a small breathy laugh. “You’re smiling and laughing in most of it.” You stared at him with a serious expression, understanding that was not a good thing. “Yeah, we might have to reshoot,” he told you, looking at the computer screen as he clicked through different scenes.

“Fuck, really?”

His eyes flashed up to inspect your face, noting your concern. “Yeah,” he told you with a sympathetic expression.

“I’m a bad actress,” you pouted, Jungkook grinning as he shook his head.

“No, you’re really not,” he told you sincerely. “Kinda think you were born to be in front of a camera.”

Holding back a smile, you dropped your gaze to the table. “What if I gave you a happier story? I could re-narrate.”

“You have another piece?”

“Let me see the footage.”

He pulled the top of his laptop down a bit defensively, to which you glared at him. “I didn’t know you were so protective of your work,” you teased.

“I’m usually not,” he said quietly.

Pausing a moment, you cocked your head at him thoughtfully. “Am I that bad?” You giggled, Jungkook shaking his head immediately in protest before realizing you were kidding. Pink tinted his cheeks as he flashed you a small smile with a scoff.

“It’s really rough right now. I only have a fifteen second intro and then the rest of it just doesn’t fit the vibe of your writing,” he explained, frustration taking over his features.

“Oh the vibes, huh?” You smiled. “Well we gotta get the right vibes, bro, let me look.” Jungkook laughed, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before they glanced back down to the computer. “I’m gonna have to see it eventually, Kook.”

Letting out a big sigh, Jungkook ticked his head to the side. Wordlessly, he opened his laptop wider before handing you one of his ear buds, placing the opposite one in his own ear. “Like I said, I only have 15 seconds done, but there is music,” he told you. “To capture the vibes,” he added with a smile.

“Love music,” you said stupidly, trying to ease his nerves as you sat down next to him and pushed the ear bud into place. “Blow me away, Spielberg.” He chuckled before pressing play, resting his chin in his hand as he nervously awaited your reaction.

Your eyes were glued to the screen as a slow lo-fi kind of beat started playing into your left ear. The screen faded from black to a shot of the sunrise glowing through the street, people walking in and out of the shot on the busy weekday morning.

The scene cut to a close up of your side profile, your hair blowing into your face before you pushed it back, your hand and wrist partially covering your features from the viewers. The camera cut to a zoomed out shot of you from the same angle, showing you seated on the curb of the street.

Next, the shot showed you from across the street, your melancholic expression on display as cars drove in front of you, cutting you in and out of the frame.

The music continued to play as the next shot displayed a closer view of your somber stare, however, it suddenly broke into you smirking as Jungkook’s groan sounded overtop the music. Your laugh played through the ear bud, followed by Jungkook’s giggle.

The following shots were meticulously pieced together shots of you breaking character, making faces into the camera, throwing your head back as the sounds of yours and Jungkook’s laughter mixed overtop the soothing beat. It didn’t take a videography expert to notice how the shots faded in and out skillfully. Jungkook had taken his time putting the film together.

“I thought you said it wasn’t done,” you said softly, eyes still on the screen as your heart raced at the footage. It was shot so… romantically.

“It’s not,” he defended as if being accused of something.

“But it’s amazing,” you told him, peeling your eyes from the screen to look at him. “I’m serious, you were made to do this.”  

“Your story doesn’t fit though,” he told you quietly, a pink tint on his cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips.

There was a delay before you turned to take your backpack off, digging inside for a moment. Looking back to Jungkook to see him watching you, you held your journal up. Flipping through to the most recent entry, you placed it in front of him, allowing him to tentatively take it from your hands.

You watched as he read over the words, poetic in their form and romantic in their intent. His lips curved at the corners as he read further, taking in the sentences about his passion for film and how watching his eyes as he filmed a scene could convince you to take up videography as a hobby yourself. You wrote about his bright eyes and the crinkles that formed around them when he flashed his beaming smile. He took in the words that described how you became weightless when he was around, and if he didn’t reach for your hand soon you’d float into the clouds and never return to earth.

Finishing the piece, he looked up at you with wide eyes and a flattered grin, though you could tell he didn’t want to assume.

“Yeah, it’s about you,” you told him with an embarrassed breathy chuckle. “And from what I just watched, I’m pretty sure this writing will fit right into this film.”

He nodded slowly, looking back down at the journal, scanning the words once more. You watched his lips as he did so, aching to feel their touch.

“But if we don’t have to refilm, how will I find an excuse to hang out with you more?” he teasingly asked, looking toward you to notice you staring at his mouth.

“Good question,” you whispered. “Maybe you could kiss me and then take me out on a proper date,” you suggested.

“In that order?” He asked, his hand reaching up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb soothing over your cheek.

“Yes, please,” you barely spoke.

Leaning, in, he wore a smile just before your lips met. His hovered over yours for a moment before you impatiently leaned into him, catching his lips. He easily fell into the kiss, opening his mouth slightly against yours, just enough to show you how badly he had been wanting this moment with you. Your hands grabbed onto waist as he pulled away reluctantly, not wanting to break the kiss but aware that you were in a very public café.

“Fuck,” he whispered out, you giggling in response. “I wanna do that again.”

“Jeez, Jeon, take me out first,” you teased before leaning toward him again, catching his lips in a soft, sweet peck.

The man smiled against your mouth before kissing you repeatedly. “I will take you out,” he whispered. “Over,” he kissed you, “and over,” another kiss, “and over,” and another kiss, making you giggle into the action, “and over again,” he promised.

Smiling, you gave a single nod of your head. “I like the sound of that, Mr. Director.”

[thestrangeprophet-blog]

The Muse and the Soldier

The Muse and the Soldier

·       f/reader x Levi Ackerman  

·       No NSFW

·       HC storyline

·       I do not own the rights to any of the characters

·       PLS support the actual Attack on Titan anime

 You open your eyes and take pleasure in the feel of the morning breeze coming from the window. Breathing in the air which carried the aroma of those special blue flowers potted downstairs in front of your tea shop. Seems you have left all your pencils across the desk and the drawings plastered to the walls from the night before had fallen again. You pick up the drawings and admire the one yet to be finished. It is of a regular customer you normally see when they come back from a scouting mission. Piercing grey eyes in contrast to his fancy dark undercut. Levi Ackerman. You always wonder how he has the time and will to keep up with his hair. After laying his portrait neatly on your desk, you ready yourself for another day brewing the finest tea you can in hopes of seeing Levi for another bout of his favorite tea.

The Captain and Commander Erwin were frequent visitors to your tea shop because Levi had always recommended it. For one reason or another, the tea you brewed satisfied him beyond what he would brew himself with what he had. Erwin had thought the same as well and it brought you enjoy your tea could be held to such standards. As a fellow tea lover, the subject of tea was never a boring conversation with Levi, no matter how short or blunt it was with him. Sure, most people see it as something more along the lines of hot leaf juice. It’s more than that and Levi understood it though it went unspoken.

Captain Levi came alone today and took his usual seat. It was rather unusual but you carry on and bring his favorite. The teapot whistles and steams like Titan smoke with the lingering scent of black tea that trails through the wind. As you set his cup in front of him and pour his tea, you notice he seems lost further in thought than normal. You finish pouring his tea and hesitantly ask if there is anything else you can do for him. He takes a second to come back to this moment and raises his head ever so slightly. His hair still covering those captivating grey eyes. Releasing an exhausted breath, he asks of one thing of you.

Levi: I- If it’s no trouble to you… will you sit with me Y/N? Even just for a moment?

Y/N: That’s a bit of an odd request, Captain. I’m surprised you even remembered my name. But sure! Anything for my best customer.

Levi: You don’t have to address me as Captain. J-just Levi will do… and thank you.

You sit in the chair across from Levi where Erwin is normally seated discussing the next expedition and plans you have for Eren and the cadets of the 104th Cadet Corps. As of in this moment, this is simply two human beings sitting together enjoying tea. Just sounds of the breeze against your ears and the softened sips coming from across the table at the lips of the man before you. Levi’s cheeks are flushed with a gorgeous rosy blush. It seems he wants to start a conversation but has no idea where to start. Its adorable how a man with a reputation for being such stone cold badass could be flustered over tea. You strike a smile in his direction and find your own way to start a conversation he could initiate. Call it encouragement if you will. The sketchpad and pencil you keep handy finally get put to use. The pencil scratching against the paper caught Levi’s attention though he kept to his tea. He watched as he appeared on the paper before him in awe.

           Levi: Hey Y/N, is that supposed to be me?

Y/N: Oh, uh yeah haha! I figured you weren’t much in the mood to talk so I didn’t want to bother you while you were enjoying your tea.

Levi: You are a woman of many talents I see.

Y/N: I wouldn’t say that much.

Levi: N-nonsense. I come here to enjoy the tea you brew perfectly and the singing you think I can’t hear. Didn’t know you were so skilled with a pencil as well.

Y/N: I usually never have the time to draw during the day Levi.

Levi: Can I request something? I’ll pay for it.

Y/N: No need to pay me. What can I do for you?

Levi: I need you to draw someone for me. I don’t really know them too well, but they have a face I could never forget.

Y/N: Oh I wonder who this special person is! Could you describe them for me?

Levi: Well, they’re around the same height as me maybe a bit taller. They have long black curly hair that glistened as though it was a fire at sunset. Brown eyes like fresh honey in the morning and glistened with a hopeful shine I envy. They wear some rather dark clothing year round even when its hot outside. Their nose is slightly hooked and cheeks soft and red. Their lips glistened and they look soft to the touch. And even though they don’t think it looks very nice, they have a scar across their left eyebrow. I’m not exactly sure how they got, but they always try to cover it behind their hair yet it still finds a way to see the light. Their jawline is soft and looks like it could rest perfectly in the cups of your hands.

Y/N: Wow Levi, I didn’t realize you had a way with words.

As the form you forge is refined from guidelines to distinctive features, the person he is describing truly is a sight to behold. You may not have the colors to use but you understand the value of what those colors are which are just as powerful. Levi sits across from you amazed at your skill for a second time until you’ve finished your work. You hand him the final sketch and you already know he just asked you to draw yourself but play it off. He takes the drawing into his hand and holds it up so you and the drawing are in view with each other.

Levi: As beautiful on paper as you are in person. Tsk, your hands are even a work of art on their own.

Y/N: If I may say I’m rather flattered you’d ask me to draw myself just for you but you aren’t very good at making your flirtations subtle. Unless you weren’t trying to be subtle in the first place.

Levi: Oi its not my fault you decided to pull a journal out of nowhere while we’re drinking tea together!

Y/N: You are one hundred percent correct Levi. Really for a man who exudes such confidence, I’ve never seen you even stutter let alone get flustered over tea. Its cute.

Levi blushes even more and looks away trying to play it off. He already knows you’ve got at least one finger wrapped around him. No one really talks to him like that besides this Hange person he mentions. They sound like an interesting character from the way he describes them. You would love to meet them one day when they aren’t experimenting on Titans. For now, your gaze remains fixed on Levi’s profile as he tries to regain his composure. You would not have assumed he was even interested in such trivial things other than being a clean freak.

You are aware of Levi’s reputation but just getting to sit with him in such an intimate setting gives you a next level view of him. The clean undercut and soft flowing hair was just asking to have someone’s fingers run through it and embrace the feeling of each strand even if it meant making his hair just a little messy. Each group of strands followed the path of the wind as leaves blew from the vines. His jawline was as sharp as the blades he carried to cut down titans like butter. His hands, though they bore the weight his fallen comrades and the destined purpose to eliminate and survive, seemed delicate under the rough calluses of combat. But his eyes. Those damn grey eyes. They pierced right through me whenever you got the chance to see them yourself. All of the things they saw, and the feelings kept behind them like a locked door. There is so much pain rage behind those you wonder when the last time Levi got to see something outside the realm of horror outside and within the walls.

           Y/N: Levi?

           Levi: Yeah Y/N?

Y/N: When was the last time you’ve ever had a chance to relax and just lay low for awhile?

Levi: Can’t say. I don’t think I’ve given myself a damn break but I can’t afford to. I don’t exactly have anything else to do.

Y/N: Hmmm. Let’s change that. Make sure you make yourself available tomorrow at sundown. Come back to the shop and dress casual. I know somewhere we can go. I’ll even grab an extra book so you can out those hands to work other than killing Titans and jotting down whatever it is you do write for your paperwork.

Levi: B-but I c-can’t just abandon my po-

Y/N: Shush. In case you haven’t noticed you don’t have any missions scheduled for at least another week. Plus business around here is slow. We could both use a little time for ourselves. Even if its just a moment.

Levi: *blushing even more* uh- ok. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. You didn’t have to act like such a brat about it.

Y/N: If you weren’t Levi I would throw this lukewarm teapot of tea all over you

Levi: *Smiling ever so slightly* hmp I uh… I guess I could see you doing something like that. Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. I’m curious as to where this place is anyway.

Y/N: Alrighty then it’s a date! No ifs ands or buts. You got that Levi?

Levi: Loud and clear.

You’re leaning over the table to make sure Levi knows where he needs to be. You’re close enough to him you can smell the scent of the tea you made him mixed with just the scent of him. You’d kiss him right then and there if you really wanted to. Looks like he had the same idea but you pull away because you weren’t in that much of a rush. His lips were parted as they awaited your lips to meet his. It was thrilling seeing him even a little desperate for you but making him wait was even better. As much as Levi felt he couldn’t abandon his post, he couldn’t say no to you. He’d been working up the courage to talk to you for as long as he has been coming to your shop. Though he wasn’t the one to ask, Levi appreciated that you were the one to take the lead in making plans to accompany each other on a date. You’d been waiting for the opportunity to even be in this position. Now that it’s here, you make plans to make the date an enjoyable one that Levi would also like. Good first impressions are still pretty important. Especially if you want to make a good impression for Levi.

           Levi: Tsk, its almost sundown. Id better get back to the brats at HQ.

You grab his hands and ask him to wait just a little while longer.

Y/N:  Well if you’re going to be leaving, at least let me give you some extra tea and a meal to take back with you. It’s the least I can do for agreeing to going on a date with me on such short notice.

Levi: Tsk make it quick please.

Y/N: Don’t rush me. I’m being nice to you. I usually don’t just give out free tea and meals to anyone you know.

Levi: I’m sorry. Thank you. I- I uh really appreciate your generosity.

You hand Levi the tea and meal you made just for him. You touch hands for a moment and get goosebumps for the first time in a long time. You blush just enough that Levi notices as well and gives a small smirk. You exchange that smirk with one of your own.

           Levi: Thank you again Y/N. I guess I’ll see you soon.

           Y/N: You guess?

           Levi: I will see you soon.

Y/N: Much better. And by the way, you have a very charming smile. I wish I could see it more often. It suits you almost as much as that cold gaze you’ve always got equipped.

Levi: I never really gave it much thought what that looked like. I’ll pick you tomorrow. I promise.

Y/N: You’d better if you know what’s good for ya hahaha! I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.

END

Comment if you’d like a Pt. 2!

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 9

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word count: 2559

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, talk of losing virginity, I’m sure there is some language in there, fluff, I think that’s it. I promise it picks up in the next chapter y’all!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Dean was right about one thing. It was a short boat ride from the mainland to the island, only about fifteen minutes. 

The evening sun was starting to set just behind the trees that lined the island, as the boat got closer and closer. There was a small mansion situated just on the treeline, in plain view of the shore. It’s largely glass windowed exterior cast a dim light against the shadows that were stretching over the white sand of the beach just below.

You had never seen anything quite like this before, and you were working hard to pick your jaw up off the floor. It was like someone had taken a little piece of heaven, and dropped it off right in the middle of the ocean, just off the cost of paradise. 

Dean’s arm slipped around your waist, and pulled you closer to him as he steered the boat into the small wood dock that was situated just on the side of the beach.

“This is it,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him as his eyes scanned the scenery in front of him. “What do you think so far?”

Blinking, you tried hard to get your thoughts in order. It was all so beautiful, and so overwhelming, that once again you felt stuck in a fairytale of sorts, or as if any minute, you wake up in your ordinary, boring life, and all this would have been just one long, and extravagant dream.

“Dean. It’s amazing!” you tell him breathlessly, as he places his lips to your forehead, letting them linger  longer than you expected. 

“Come on, let’s go inside and get settled in for the night.” Dean said, untangling his arms from around you, and stepping out of the boat onto the dock before turning and reaching to help you step out of the boat. 

The sand was still warm under your feet as you made your way hand in hand with Dean towards the house which was much larger than it looked when you were still in the boat. The breeze from the water put a salty range in the air, and an almost humid feel that made the air feel thick around you. So contradictory to New York. 

Everything felt cleaner here, more pure. It would be easy to stay out here forever, and just forget all other problems existed at all. 

Stepping into the house, Dean threw the one little shoulder bag he’d packed with chargers and things on the floor, and pulled you into him, his lips quickly claiming yours in a dominant kiss that had you melting against him. 

“Come on, let’s go take a shower, get comfortable.” Dean said, pulling you towards the large bedroom that was connected to the master bathroom. Everything you needed was there. Clothes, towles, toiletries, and for a moment you were distracted by that simple fact, and almost overlooked the fact that Dean’s shirt hit the floor right before the shower turned on behind you.

Almost.

Your eyes widened as you turned around to face him. His hands playing with his belt lazily, as he watched you with a smirk on his plump lips. 

“You mean, we’re showering, together.” you said, almost stuttering as his hands fell lower, droppin the zipper on his jeans, before letting them slide down his long, bowed legs. 

“Yup, unless you  don’t want to see me naked baby girl.” he said, that same cocky smirk plastered all over that perfect face. 

Crossing the floor in nothing but his boxers, he pulls you into his mostly naked form, his hands sliding down your sides, and gripping your waist. 

“It’s not that,” you say blushing, hiding your face into his broad shoulder and neck. “I’m just… I’m afraid you won’t still want to do this with me, once you see that you can do so much better than me.” 

Stepping back from you, he looks down at you seriously. His face is hard and calculating. “Y/N, why would you even think that? Baby girl, I’ve been crazy about you from the moment I saw you.” 

Brushing your hair away from your face with one hand he leans down and brush’s his lips over yours. 

“There's absolutely nothing about you that I don’t find beautiful, and that’s why I brought you here this weekend. I fully intend to do everything I can to reverse all that bullshit you think about yourself. If it takes me weeks, then that’s how long we will be here.”

Grabbing the hem of your shirt, Dean pulls it over your head before you can even protest, then ran his finger tips over the bar skin of your sides, playing with the waistband of your pants, taking his time, his movements slow, and patient. 

His lips found yours again in a slow, deep kiss as he pulled your underwear and pants down in one smooth pull, letting them pool around your ankles. His calloused hands slid up your body, making your shiver as he reached for your bra, and popped it open, letting it slide off your arms, leaving you completely exposed to him. 

This was the first time you had ever been naked in front of a guy, and your first instinct was to cover yourself, and hide, but Dean was quicker, grabbing your wrist to stop you from covering yourself. 

“Don’t hide from me pretty girl, you’re  beautiful.”

His voice was deep and rough as he grabbed the wasted band of his boxers, and took them off, adding them to the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor, his already hard length slapping proudly against his stomach, before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you backwards with him under the warm spray of water, letting it fall over the both of you.

Grabbing the shampoo he poured some into his hands before working it slowing into your scalp, his body pressed close to your own. 

He continued to work at you, rinsing your hair, before he used his own soap to lather your body, his hands slowly exploring every inch of skin, his eyes darker than they had ever been, his perfect, pink lips parted just slightly, showing you the bottom of his white teeth in concentration. When he was done, he quickly washed himself before pulling you close to him under the cascade of warm water. 

Slowly you placed your hands on his broad chest as the water ran down you both over his broad shoulders, his freckled skin almost glowing from the water pouring down his body. Letting you explore him, your hands tracing the lines of his soft stomach that still held the scars from his injury. The soft divot in his hips that pooled into a V, leading you to where he was already swollen and leaking, standing hard against his stomach. 

Your hands stopped at his hips, as a deep blush pulled at your checks at the sight of him. Taking your hands in his, he slowly guided them over himself, wrapping your hand around his cock, twitching as your skin touched his. 

“Go ahead baby, it’s okay, I want you to be comfortable with touching me.” he said, his voice thick as he placed both hands on either sides of your hips, pulling you closer to him as you experimentally slide your fingers down his thick shaft, running your thumb back up the thick vein that seemed to be pulsing just underneath the surface of his velvety skin.

Running your thumb over his leaking slit, Dean groans low in his throat, and hides his face in your neck, breathing harder as you wrap your hand around him pumping  slowly. 

Dean's hand slipped down between your bodies as you were distracted getting to know him, and ran his fingers lightly over your folds, drawing a deep breath from your lips as what felt like fire settled in your core. 

His lips brushed over your throat softly as your body stiffened a little at this touch, his fingers still barely teasing your folds, before finding your aching clit, running soft circles as you continued to pump him slowly letting your thumb brush lightly over the sensitive stop just at the tip, quickly discovering the way his body seemed to jerk every time you touched that specific spot. 

Dean’s deep breath and groans became soft moans as he worked your clit faster with his thumb, one of his thick fingers dipping lower to tease your entrance as he backed the two of you against the stone shower wall, the cold hard suffice hitting your back bring a deep gasp from you, and momentarily distracting you, as Dean slipped one finger into your soaked entrance. Pumping and curling slowly, your hips rolled against his hand and he lazily thrust himself into you. 

Your legs were starting to shake when he added a second finger, scissoring you, and curling his fingers in you, hitting that spot deep down inside of you no one had ever touched before. He continued to work you higher, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. 

“Dean,” you moaned against his throat, your breath coming in short gasp as you tethered on the edge of your own release. 

“Go head baby girl, I got you, let go.”

The deep gravel of his voice seemed to be the push you needed to fall over the edge into your first orgasm  of the night. Your walls clamp down on your fingers as he continues to scissor you. Your legs almost gave out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Dean worked you through it, until you had come down from your high,turning the water off as you did everything you could to catch your breath, before reaching behind him to grab a towel that was hanging just outside the glass shower doors, wrapping it around you, before grabbing one and wrapping it around his own waist. 

“Come on sweetheart, that was just a warm up, I still got to make you mine.” He growled in your ear, letting his teeth run over your ear as he picked you up, and carried you bridal style over to the huge king size bed sitting in the center of the room,the large fence doors giving a view of the water and beach just below.

You didn’t see all of that though, Dean’s lips kept your own quite busy as he laid you down softly on the bed, before covering your body with his own, ripping the towel from his waist, and throwing it to the floor, before slipping yours from your body, and discarding it with his own. 

His lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss before his green eyes, dark with lust searched yours. His fingers leave little trails over your skin.

“You okay so far princesses?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your head. Taking a deep breath you nodded slowly, the weight of his thick erection pressing heavy against your thigh, Dean was huge, and you were worried for a moment he wasn’t going to fit.

Sensing your worrying, Dean’s hand came up to rest on the side of your face, his warm palm covering your skin there, grounding you.

“I’m gonna go real slow, okay?” 

You nod again, not trusting your own voice. You wanted this, and you wanted it with Dean. You had never felt the way you feel about Dean with anyone, ever, and you knew you were in love with him the moment you thought you were going to lose him, and the gut wrenching realization had hit you that you might never get to have this with him. So, there was no way you were turning back now out of fear. 

Gathering your slick on himself before positioning at your entrance, he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Relax baby,” he said, his hand gripping your waist firmly, and his lips coming down on yours in a harder, more needy kiss, his tongue quickly dominating yours, distracting you as in one swift thrust he seated himself inside of you, stretching you, and filling you. A sharp pain radiated through your body as your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders, your body tensing at the overwhelming sensation. 

Dean reached up with his hand, brushing the tear that was sliding down your face as he peppered you with little kisses in an attempt to distract you from the pain. 

“Relaxy honey, it will only last a moment.” he said, his eyes softer than you had ever seen them, and you will yourself to do as he said.

Slowly, so slowly that you couldn’t even tell it at first, Dean started to rock his hips back and forth against you, pulling out more and more with each thrust before sinking back into you. His perfect, white teeth sinking into his lower lip as a shuttering groan ripped through his body.

Pain turned more and more to pleasure with every thrust, and before long your lips rolled against his as his trust became deeper and more calculated, hitting your G spot with every thrust, making that burning coil tighten again in your belly. 

Your walls started to clench around him with every thrust, pulling him in deeper, and Dean moaned loudly as your nails raked  down his back.

“Fuck baby, your tight, I’m not gonna last. Come with me sweetheart, let me feel you.” 

His hot breath fanned against his neck as his hand smacked between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles with every thrust of his hips. 

Your walls collapsed around him as the coil snapped, and the strongest orgams you had ever experienced in your life took over your body. Your vision blurring around the edges, and your body arching off the bed into his as he stilled and emptied his seed inside of you, working you both through your highs, until his body finally  collapsed on top of you, his arms holding up his weight so that he didn’t completely crush you.

When you could finally breathe properly, you opened your eyes, finding the most astonishing pair of green eyes that ever existed staring back at you.

In that moment, your bodies still connected to one another, you had never felt so safe, so secure, so completely and totally whole in your entire life. It was like you had found the missing half that you didn’t even know was missing, a peace of your heart that had always been out of sorts, now back in place. 

You were his, totally and completely.

Pulling himself from you gently, Dean disappeared only for a moment to get a washcloth, cleaning the both of you up before settling down in bed behind you, pulling your body to his, and caging you in. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and his legs tangled with your own. 

No words were said, there was no need. Just lingering kisses, and touches, until you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep,not caring what tomorrow would bring, just enjoying each other in a moment that you were sure would never top this one.

If you never made it to heaven, even in hell you could at least say you had tonight.

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

Forever tags: @deanwanddamons  @deanmonandnegansbitch@hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @waywardsistershy​ @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​

Series Tag List: 

@royal-sunflower​

@roonyxx​

@nihilismworld​

@prettysourabbie​

@rosalynshields​

@woodworthti666​

@stilltoomuchafangirl​

@theoneandonlymelol​

@lunaticgurly​

@bxbyizzy​

@deangirl93​

@ellewritesfix05​

@moron225​

@kbl1313​

@perpetualabsurdity​ 

@itmejado​

@someone-you-dontknow​

@samsgirl93​

@superflurry​ 

@backseat-of-deans-67chevy​

@jodibullock1​

@ophelialoveshandsomemen​

@everythingisoverrated​

@kaitlynxo18​

@i-have-no-life-charlie​

@starchildwild​

@juggysgirlfriend​

@mychemicalimagines​

@deans-baby-momma​

@deansmyapplepie​

@stoneyggirl​

@londoncallingbutiwontpickup

@yoooitssalexx​

@babygirlred22

@hardcoresupernatural​

@lottieellz101

@d-whinchestergirl87​

@voltage-my2dlove​

@teresa-67​

[kiwi-bitchez]

You Can Bet On It

Summary: Your roommate drags you out to the club where she beets a tall, blonde, handsome brit. You hand back at the bar and happen to meet his roommate. 

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: smutttt, a little rough, spanking and light choking, use of vibrator, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 8k (got a little carried away with this one...)

Oh god, what is that horrible squeaking sound?

You are ripped from your trance to realize that the irritating noise was coming from you. Your bad habit of scratching off beer labels when you are nervous was starting to show, as your nail had worn completely through the thin paper, and had been obnoxiously rubbing into the glass.

You had zoned out, letting your eyes land on the ground and drift out of focus, clearing your head for a moment or five. Bars weren’t your favorite place. Scratch that, this kind of bar wasn’t your favorite place. Watered down liquor, slurred speech, thumping music, and people who were drunk enough not to care that they were practically having sex in public.

One of those people being your roommate Madison. You loved her, but god you couldn’t be more different. She is wild, sparkly, loud, fun. You’re…not. Your squeaking had pulled your focus back up to the dancefloor of the club where she was swaying her body back and forth with some tall blonde stranger.

You had to give it to her, she had a way with men at bars. Barely even setting her stuff down before someone buys her a drink, uses a line, offers to dance. This was Madison’s cup of tea, or tequila rather. She loves getting dressed up and going out to the busiest clubs, finding some handsome stranger to whisk her away for a night.

You didn’t judge her, not at all. You actually found yourself jealous of her, wishing you had that kind of confidence. She had tried to help you on many occasions, being your self-proclaimed wing-woman and trying to help you pick up guys at bars, but you could never quite get the hang of the awkward small talk and rushed physical intimacy.

You did, on occasions like this, let her drag you out with her. It kept her off your back about being “antisocial” and a “hermit,” and you liked keeping an eye out for her, making sure no one was trying to take advantage. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, Madison would snap if anyone tried to pull anything, but a more sober pair of eyes never hurts.

You had managed to grab a seat at the bar, facing outward to observe the bustling crowd. People-watching could sometimes prove to be an interesting way to pass the time, and truthfully you’d rather observe than interact most of the time. A few people had started conversations with you at the bar, and you weren’t a bitch or anything, you just clearly gave off the vibe that you weren’t interested in being bought some fruity cocktail and wooed onto the dancefloor.

Madison had her back pressed against the guy she was dancing with, his hands on her hips. The song was ending, and she made eye contact with you, nodding her head not-so-subtly towards the bathroom, signaling to you that she wanted to talk. Laughing to yourself at how un-smooth, yet totally smooth she managed to be at the same time.

“What’s up girl,” you ask as she pulls you into one of the single stall bathrooms.

“Y/N,” she grabs your shoulders, “he’s BRITISH.”

“Who?” you ask before registering that she was probably talking about that boy she had been grinding on.

“His name is Harrison, and he’s BRITISH, got the accent and everything,” she pressed her back up to the wall, pretending to fan herself off.

“Damn, going international now?” you joke, twiddling with the bottle in your hand.

“So, I need you to check him out, get a vibe, and let me know what you think,” she locks eyes with you, trying to be serious, unable to keep a few giggles from slipping out.

“I saw you two dancing, he’s definitely really good looking,” you tell her. She would always do this, try to make you feel involved, ask your opinion about the guy she was flirting with. She said she always wants your truthful opinion, but she always got the hottest guy at the place no matter where she was, so there wasn’t much for you to tell.

“Ugh, I’m totally gonna fuck him. Should I? I’m going to. I HAVE to. He’s British, and I can’t pass up an opportunity like that,” she was definitely talking to herself at this point.

You turn her towards the mirror, help her fluff her hair, straighten her dress, and give her some words of encouragement.

“You are hot. You are amazing. And you are going to have amazing hot sex with British Harrison,” you chant to her in the mirror, encouraging her to say it back to herself. Not that she needed the encouragement, but these little rituals you had in club bathrooms were always funny and sweet, it was one of the reasons you didn’t mind going out with her. You appreciated that she liked having your opinion, having someone she trusted around.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you give her butt a tap as she exits the bathroom and shuffles back out onto the dancefloor, finding her man right where she had left him.

Your seat at the bar had been stolen, but you spotted an empty area over by a wall, somewhere you could comfortably stand and wait until Madison left with her suitor. Deciding to order another drink, something a little stronger than the beer you had been nursing, you make your way over to the bar.

Forearms leaning against the hard surface, you poke your head forward trying to get the bartender’s attention. She walks over, but immediately starts chatting up the guy standing next to you. Typical. If she pushed her boobs up a little bit he would probably leave a fat tip, so you couldn’t blame her.

You shift your eyes over to get a look at the guy next to you as he orders his gin and tonic, all you could see were his toned forearms and a glimpse of his profile. Not bad. You understood why the bartender was so eager to ignore you. She eventually stops fake laughing at his order, because what the fuck is funny about a gin and tonic, and looks your way.

“I’ll just have the same,” you say quickly, wanting to get out of there quickly and claim your spot by the wall.

“Are you copying me, love?” the stranger asks, leaning his bodyweight against the bar in the same position as you, “is that your move? Order the same drink to chat me up?”

“What’s your move, love” you quickly quip back, “being a dick to girls at the bar and hoping they’re into that?”

“You just didn’t strike me as a G and T type of girl, that’s all,” he puts his hands up defensively.

“Hmmm I see, be a dick and then tell me what kind of girl I seem like.”

You finally turn to him, allowing yourself to make eye contact. You hoped that he wasn’t taking your banter the wrong way, you weren’t trying to be nasty, you just found yourself in a particular mood.

He opened his mouth to say something back to you, but you cut him off before he could. In the two seconds you had made eye contact, you had realized that the stranger you were having your little back and forth with had an accent. A British accent.

“Are you here with that guy?” you gesture over to Madison on the dancefloor, “tall, blonde, striking blue eyes. English.”

“Harrison? Yeah, he’s my mate. If you’re interested in him you should probably have made your move a while ago, because he seems a bit occupied,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, occupied with my roommate,” you laugh back.

“Ah, I see,” he takes the two drinks from the bartender, handing you yours.

“Is he a good guy?” you ask, not sure why this man would tell you otherwise, “he’s not going to like, tie her up and murder her or anything like that?”

“Harrison? Nah, good guy, decent guy. He might tie her up, but he definitely won’t murder her.”

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically respond, “just looking out for my friend.”

“Why do you ask? You think they’ll go home together?” he asks.

“Oh, most definitely,” you tell him, “she dragged me into the bathroom a minute ago to gush about how she’s about to fuck a British guy.”

“Haz is a bit of a slag, so that won’t be too hard on her part.”

“Yeah, I see they are already well acquainted,” you turn to see Madison’s tongue down his throat. This night may be ending quicker than you had anticipated.

“I’m Tom,” he pulls your attention away from the public displays of affection and back to where he was seated at the bar, an empty seat opening up next to him.

“Y/N,” you stick out the hand that wasn’t holding your drink.

“It’s weird that you shake hands,” he says as he takes your clammy hand into his, his grip tighter than you had expected.

You shrug and take a gulp of your drink, abandoning hope of claiming the spot by the wall and deciding to camp out here with this strange British boy until Madison goes on her merry way.

“So how do you know him,” you nod back to where Harrison and Madison are.

“Oh, Haz is my best mate, we go way, way back,” he leans on his arm again, giving you a good view of his biceps against his black t-shirt, “we live in South London, but we’re here in the States for the summer. Work stuff.”

“Oh, so you two live together?” he nods at your question while sipping his drink, “so we can be sad and lonely at the bar while our hot roommates get it on.”

“Wow, I’ve never been told I’m lousy company before,” his humor met yours, “and I even paid for your drink you copycat.”

“You didn’t,” you give him a stern look but he shrugs back, a mischievous grin creeping across his face.

“Is this your ploy,” you smack the side of his arm, “the two of you find girls at the bar to lure back to your fancy apartment to have a freaky foursome with or something like that?”

“Now who’s being a dick and assuming things,” he says through broken laughs.

“Although,” you draw out your words, “your friend is pretty hot, maybe I’ll just go home with them.”

“Haz most certainly would not be opposed to that,” he jokes back.

You gesture to the bartender to make two more, and to put them on your tab. Tom gives you a look, but you give him one right back.

“Now I don’t owe you anything,” you explain.

“Hey, I’m not like that,” he gets defensive again, “I’m not quite as sleazy as my friend over there.”

“I’m just trying to help you out,” you narrow your eyes, “you’re the one who’s going to have to put up with the two of them all night.” You gesture over towards Madison and Haz.

“Pardon,” he coughs as he downs the rest of his drink, getting ready for the next.

“Oh, you thought they would be going back to our apartment?” you laugh sarcastically, “no, no, absolutely not.”

“Are you being serious? Or are you fucking with me? Cuz I honestly can’t tell.”

“Oh, you’re going to wish I was fucking with you. By the way she’s looking at him, I’m gonna give them, I don’t know, three, four solid rounds,” you try to make an empathetic face but can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face, “and Madison’s a screamer.”

“Too much information, thank you,” Tom covers his ears.

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you a heads up,” you cackle.

“Who’s to say he can’t convince them to go back to yours. I bet it’s closer.”

“She’s good at getting what she wants, and she “doesn’t shit where she eats”,” you make air quotes around the phrase, “in whatever twisted way that means she doesn’t like to bring guys back to our apartment. Weird personal rule, but I don’t question it cuz I always get to sleep peacefully.”

“You wanna bet?” Tom suggests, clearly not having thought this through, “My boy Haz is a smooth talker, and it seems like she really likes him. I say you’re the unfortunate roommate who’s going to have to put up with all that.”

“You’re on,” you set your drink down, extending your hand to him for the second time that night, “what do I get when they go back to your place?”

“If they go back to mine, I’ll cover your tab and leave you alone. And when they go back to yours, you’ll agree to let me take you out sometime,” he shakes your hand with a cocky grin on his face.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a bet, either way you’re buying me a drink.” He was growing on you, the accent, the floppy brown hair, the dimples. You were still wary of meeting strangers at bars, but something about him seemed genuine.

The two of you flipped around in your bar stools and faced the dancefloor. You liked that he never asked you to dance. Most girls would be dying to dance with a guy like Tom, but you liked just sitting at the bar, shooting the shit and sipping your drinks.

“Okay, okay, here they come,” you whisper and jab your elbow into his side.

Madison and Harrison stumble off the dancefloor and make their way to your place at the bar.

“Hey mate,” Harrison slings an arm around Tom’s shoulder.

You tune out their conversation as you notice Madison making a ridiculous face at you, eyes practically bugging out of her head.

“THAT’S his roommate?” she mouths to you, gesturing to Tom. You nod, trying to signal to her to be more subtle.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” she continues to mouth words silently to you.

“What???” you mouth back, trying to not let Tom and Harrison notice this awkward side conversation you were having. Luckily, they were occupied by their own.

“He’s fucking HOT,” She starts to whisper, you scrunch up your face, trying to tell her to stop making a scene about it. She gets the hint, but proceeds to point to you, point to Tom, and then do the finger going in and out of the hole gesture.

You slap her hand down as she starts to laugh, “Jesus Madison, cut it out,” you whisper, “you two are going back to his?” you change the subject.

“Yeah, obviously,” she says a little louder, “sooo, perfect opportunity for you…”

“Chill out, please,” you bring your hand to your temple, knowing she was being anything but subtle and Tom had probably noticed by this point.

“I owe you big time,” Harrison says to Tom as he starts to back away, taking Madison under his arm, “I’m serious bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe you two,” Tom swats the air towards Harrison and turns back towards the bar, burying his head into his hands.

“Ha ha,” you poke his side, “told you that was a bad bet to make.”

“Know any cheap hotels around here?” Tom asks, looking exasperated.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you look at him seriously, “he kicked you out for the whole night?”

“I offered,” Tom sighs, “he would do the same for me.”

“Damn, you’re a good friend. Certainly a better roommate than me,” you turn to him, trying to be sympathetic, “but honestly, you probably didn’t want to be present for any of that anyways.”

Tom gestures towards the bartender with his card, telling her to charge for both your bar tabs.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you say.

“Hey, a bet is a bet, and now I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

You grab his arm as he starts to get up. Something inside of you told you to help him out, to not let him leave.

“It’s no Four Seasons, but I may know a place where you could kill a few hours,” you tell him, his eyes wide with excitement that you wanted to spend more time with him.

“You sure? It’s really no trouble…”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

The two of you exit the loud club, only a few minutes behind Harrison and Madison. The stark contrast of the freezing outside air from the sweaty atmosphere of the club hits you. You take a few steps out onto the city sidewalk. Suddenly your feet buckle out underneath you and you are slipping backwards rapidly.

Tom quickly grabs you, one hand catching your shoulders and the other grabbing your hand, helping steady you. You gasp from the fall, but are grateful that you never hit the pavement.

“Hey, watch out for that patch of ice,” he jokes.

“Thank you,” you were a little flustered, both from falling and from being in his arms.

The two of you continue down the street, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You look at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

“Just making sure you don’t slip again, love,” he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You roll your eyes at him but don’t let go.

Typically, you would hate the pet names, “love,” “darling.” That stuff usually made your skin crawl. But there was something about his demeanor, maybe it was the accent, that made you not mind it at all. You actually kind of liked it.

“So where are you taking me?” he asks.

“Secret.”

It actually wasn’t anything worth keeping a secret. You worked at a small bar a few blocks away from the club you had been at. It was very different however. It was small, and never crowded other than a few regulars who would take the same booths and order the same drinks every night. It was down a side street, relatively difficult to find, hence the lack of business.

What you weren’t planning on telling Tom was that this was also the building you lived in. Your apartment was a few floors up. You picked up night and weekend shifts at the small bar to help cover rent, plus it wasn’t a bad place to spend your extra time. You never had to work too hard, and you could read or do homework behind the bar when not tending to customers. Plus, you got the pick the music.

You stomped your feet against the doormat, scraping all the collected snow off your shoes. Tom didn’t seem to be bothered that you had brought him to another bar, he seemed happy even. You watched his face intently as his cheeks grew rosy from the warmth of the indoors. You liked how the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Voila,” you gesture to the generally empty room, “the Four Seasons.”

He smiles at you and offers to take your coat. He makes his way over to the bar, choosing one of many empty seats. His eyebrows knit together as you continue walking away from him, hopping behind the bar.

“I’m not sure you’re allowed…” he starts.

“Hey Ernie,” you yell into the back office. Your boss replies with something muffled that Tom can’t quite make out, “no, not working tonight, just here with a friend,” you respond to him.

“Ah, so we’re friends now?” Tom asks as you start to make two drinks.

“Oh sorry,” you respond sarcastically, “I’m just here with the roommate of the guy who’s fucking my roommate, my bad.”

“No, no,” he brings his hands up, “we can be friends.”

He takes a sip of the drink you’ve handed him, asking you what it is.

“Moscow mule, fresh ginger, extra lime.”

“This is great, I’ve never had one of these.”

“What can I say, I’m kind of a pro,” you lean on the bar across from him, folding your arms on the countertop.

He liked your sense of humor, how you always had a comeback or something snarky to say. He also really liked your casual attitude, how you seemed unphased by everything. Little did he know you were constantly screaming inside, completely unsure of everything you said and did. Completely unsure as to how you ended up making a cocktail for one of the most attractive boys you’ve ever met. You tried to keep your cool though, and so far, it had been working.

You faced one another, sipping your drinks. At first an awkward moment of silence settled around you, exposing that the two of you truly had just met and knew virtually nothing about one another. You quickly slipped into easy conversation. You didn’t talk about the typical important things like where you worked, where you go to school, how you ended up in the city. You didn’t ask him why he was in the states, or any details about his personal life.

The stuff you talked about was far more personal than that. You exchanged theories about the ending of Lost, debated what Ben and Jerry’s flavor is best, shared the local vernacular and slang you used. These are the things that are important. You didn’t care what he did for work. But you did care what his favorite sitcom was.

“Does this place serve food at all?” he asked when your conversation had turned to what shape of pasta goes best with what sauces.

“Nah,” you gesture to the bar, “this is everything, no kitchen.”

“Damn, I could go for something to eat. Any good places around here?”

“Unfortunately, no. Everything near us either closed at midnight or will for sure give you food poisoning.”

He ate the lime out of his drink, sucking on the pulp until nothing but the skin was left.

“Really that hungry huh?” you joke, taking his lime wedge and tossing it in the garbage, “cuz I can cut up as many of those as you’d like, maybe even find you some maraschino cherries.”

“Don’t bother, maybe I’ll just drink myself into an oblivion.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you were going against your better judgment when you said this, but it just slipped out, “I can get you some food, follow me.”

You walked around from behind the bar and instructed him to follow you. You slipped through a back door into a spiraling staircase. The air was cold and musty, and the stairs were slightly rickety under your feet. This was the fastest way to get up to your apartment, and you realized now it was too late to turn back, he had joined you in the stairwell and you started making your way up.

“You were worried about your roommate getting murdered by Haz, but now I’m starting to think I should be the one worried,” his tone was joking, but you wondered if he actually thought you were crazy.

“Very funny,” you dismissed it as a joke, “I live in this building, smarty pants.”

You raced him up a few flights of stairs until you arrived at your floor. You started down the hall, not looking back to see if he was following. Your breath grew a little shaky as you searched for your key, realizing you were letting this stranger, this hot stranger into your apartment.

You were just going to make him some food, you remind yourself. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll let him crash on your couch, who knows. You kept telling yourself you had no reason to be this nervous. He’s just a person.

A person with big brown eyes and strong arms. A person who held your hand and laughed at your jokes. A person who willingly followed you to your apartment door from the sketchy bar you brought him to. Oh god, maybe you did have a reason to be nervous.

“It’s a little messy, hope you don’t mind,” you open the door for him, taking off your shoes at the door.

Your apartment was small, but cozy. You and Madison had been living there for almost two years now, and the apartment was well lived in. Funny pictures donned the walls, fuzzy blankets were strewn around the couches, leftovers filled the fridge.

“What’s on the menu?” he asks, reminding you that he’s here for food.

“Hmmm,” you open the pantry, “we have supplies for stir fry, and… stir fry.”

“I think I’ll have the stir fry,” he laughs, comfortably taking a seat at your small kitchen table.

You quickly started gathering ingredients on the counter, preheating the pan.

“Any preferences?” you yell into the next room.

“I’m not picky,” he responds, “thanks again.”

You start chopping up everything in your fridge and toss it into a pan with some leftover rice. It doesn’t take you long to whip up a decent meal, as stir fry was a recurring meal in your life. You glide into the living room, two bowls in hand. He had found your speaker system and taken it upon himself to put on some music, not that you minded.

“Fuck,” he mumbles after a few mouthfuls, “either I’m starving, or you make a mean fried rice.”

“One of my many specialties,” you were glad that he liked it, glad that he seemed so relaxed despite being in a stranger’s home.

“You’re pretty cool, do you know that?” he took you by surprise

“Umm,” you weren’t sure how to respond to the compliment.

“I just haven’t really met anyone nice since moving here. Haz is really the only other person I know,” he says through bites of food, “and meeting random girls at bars isn’t really a decent way to get to know people, not really know them anyways.”

You were flattered that he was being so honest, but part of you wondered if he was buttering you up to try and get into your pants. You had let him pay for your drinks, taken him to a secondary location, and then cooked him dinner at 2 am, he really would have no reason not to believe you wanted to sleep with him. And you did, oh god did you want to sleep with him, but you were still trying to get a read, was he a flirt like this with everyone? Were you just the girl who happened to be in the right seat at the bar at the right time?

This was why you could never follow through with casual bar hookups. Your  mind ran circles around the other person, who they were, where their motivations were coming from. You could never just focus on the fact that you thought he was hot, and you wanted his dick in your mouth.

“Thanks, I guess, you’re kind of cool too,” you avoided eye contact, “but you realize that I am a random girl you met at a bar, right?”

He laughed at your response, finishing his food and taking both of your empty plates into the kitchen. You tried to stop him, but he insisted that you had done the cooking so he would do the dishes, you chose not to argue.

“Yeah but most girls at the bar don’t make me dinner,” he retorts. He had a point, this was kind of an unusual situation you found yourself in. Would this have been easier if you had met him a different way? Rubbed up on him like Madison and Harrison and scurried off to the closest bed? Probably. They were probably already at least two rounds in by now.

“I’ve never taken someone home from the bar before,” oh god, why did you just say that. Why were you being vulnerable and honest, tell him you’re a pro, that you do this all the time.

“Really? I’m surprised,” his tone was nonchalant, so maybe your awkward outburst of truth hadn’t shaken him like you thought it would, “why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat his question to yourself, “I’m just not really good at this kind of stuff, not like you.”

“Are you kidding me?” He turns from the sink to see you leaning against the counter across from him, “You were the one who wined and dined me.”

“I hardly consider stir fry and a vodka mixer to be wining and dining,” you tried to cover up your embarrassment.

“Jeez, then I’d like to experience whatever you consider to be wining and dining, cuz I’m having a great time.”

“What’s your last name?” you ask quickly, suddenly changing the subject

“Holland,” he tells you, “why?”

“I just figured I should know your full name, Tom Holland, if I’m gonna let you sleep in my apartment. You know, in case I have to report you to the police cuz you’ve robbed me or murdered my cat or something.”

“No offense but it doesn’t really look like you have anything worth stealing, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat,” he laughs

“Both true,” you were laughing too. Still in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how to migrate somewhere else.

“You’re sure though? I don’t want to impose. I really can just go find a cheap motel, or go back to my place and crash the orgy that’s probably happening,” he didn’t want to stay if you weren’t comfortable.

“No worries,” you start moving to the living room, “you can make it up to me some other time. I promise you don’t want to be going back to whatever noises are happening in your apartment right now.”

You truly would have been content with him sleeping on the couch, slipping out the next morning, and never speaking again. Well, no. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t be content, but you’d live with it. You didn’t want to assume anything, didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

“So,” you start, obviously about to make a fool of yourself, “I can get you some blankets, and you can sleep out here. Or, if you want, we can share my bed. It’s up to you and I won’t be offended either way, I swear.”

Why did you always say things that made you feel so stupid. You winced at your own statement, not wanting to see his reaction. He took a few steps towards you, standing close, but not as close as you would have liked. You continue to look away, waiting for him to say something.

Eyes down on the carpet, you feel his hand grab your chin softly, angling your head up to meet his.

“And when we share your bed,” the breath of his words hitting your face, “are we just going to sleep, or are we...” Although his voice was cool and confident, he was genuinely asking. He had a hard time reading you, and wasn’t sure if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, or if you were just being nice.

“The second one, definitely the second one,” you reply a little too quickly before he pulls your face to his, lips finally meeting.

His face was warm, and he smiled into the kiss, loving the way your round lips felt on his. He let his hands move to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as his mouth moved against you. You pulled him closer to you by the grip you had on his t-shirt, the white fabric balled up in your nervous grip. You pulled him backwards with you, navigating your way down the hall.

Taking an intermission on the minute walk down to your bedroom, he presses you up against the wall of the hallway, shoulders angled above yours and mouth still hot against you. You reach your hands towards his, wanting to show him that he had control, that you wanted him to take control of you.

Getting your message, he takes your wrists together in one hand and pins them against the wall above you. His hips jut forward into yours as his wet kisses trail from the corner of your mouth down to your neck.

“Fuck, I-” you moan breathily as he sucks a spot below your ear, your hips rolling forward to meet his. All the while his grip remained tight on your wrists, keeping them steadily pinned above your head. You liked the feeling of letting go, having someone else control the situation. You were generally uptight and liked to take control in other aspects of your life, but this is one that you wanted to submit to.

“You what?” he responds with a steady voice, brown eyes burning holes into you. You knew your face was probably flushed red, hair a complete mess, and neck littered with splotches.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper shakily, “Please.”

Letting go of your arms and lifting you up by your thighs in one swift motion, he takes you by surprise as your face falls into his neck.

“This one yours?” he starts walking down to the end of the hall.

“Mhmm,” you mumble as you start to return the favor, licking up and down the base of his neck until you found his sweet spot. Suddenly you were falling back as he playfully tossed you onto your bed, sheets unmade, and blankets bunched up.

You land in a heap, quickly moving to take your shirt off. He moves quicker, practically tackling you down onto the mattress, causing you both to laugh a little.

“Hey,” he protests, “I wanted to do that.” He takes you hands and moves them as he had done before, and lifts your shirt off your body, you arch your back to help.

He slides his arm underneath you, causing your back to stay arched, pressing your chest into his. He slips his tongue back into your mouth, meanwhile he shimmies out of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with your abandoned shirt.

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as his other hand snakes its way into your damp underwear. Your hands lurch up into his hair, pulling his face into yours as he starts to draw slow circles up and down your lips.

He finally slips a finger into you, causing a guttural moan to stir deep in your throat. You bite your lip to hold the noises back, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pumps into you. His face comes back into focus as he steadies your head, running his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it away from your teeth.

Instinctually you wrap your lips around his finger, letting your tongue drag itself across his digit. You open your mouth up from its pucker, letting him alternate his thumb with his index and middle fingers, letting those slip into your warm mouth as well. You match the movements of his hand in your pussy with your mouth, sucking down on his fingers every time he re-entered you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, his cock throbbing in his boxer briefs, “I didn’t realize you’d be so dirty.”

You grew a little self-conscious at his comment, opening your mouth so he could remove his fingers.

“It’s so fucking sexy,” he drags the pads of his fingers down your tongue. He moves them down and drags the warm wetness from your saliva down your throat and onto your nipples that were now slipped out of the top of your bra.

You buck your hips into his hand and moan, loving the way he was above you, fucking you with his strong hand, fingers much bigger than your own. You felt his pulsing erection pressing into your lower thigh, and groaned at the thought of him filling you up.

“Tommy,” you didn’t mean to use the nickname, but it slipped out, “condoms are in the shoebox in my bedside drawer, if you want to fuck me.”

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight, grinding your hips up into his to show him how bad you wanted him. His shirt came off and joined the pile of your clothes that was slowly growing larger on your floor. You expected him to be fit based on his arms, but he was stacked, built, unreal.

He clearly liked the attention, a cocky smile creeping across his face as your mouth hung slightly open, eyes dragging across his perfect body. He tugs on the waistband of your pants, that were mostly slipped off at this point, to signal to you to remove them while he rummaged through your bedside drawer.

You maneuver your way into a comfortable position, now completely naked, head resting back on a pillow. He was taking a little longer than you expected, pushing and prodding things around.

“They should be right there, blue box? Probably unopened?” you chuckle trying to make light of the situation. The smile is wiped clean off your face as soon as you heard a faint buzzing, then it stopped, then it started again. Condom in hand, as well as your purple vibrator, he climbs back on the bed up to you.

“You are dirty,” he says, trying not to laugh, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey, you were not supposed to find that!” You try to snatch it out of his hand but he pulls away too quickly.

“You told me shoebox in the nightstand! What were you expecting me to find? You have like eight of these!”

“I do not own eight! I own five, and they are all different and special in their own ways!” you argue back, both laughing now as he jokingly pressed the vibrating wand into your side.

“You keep all kinds of fun stuff in there, huh?” he was not going to let it go. So what, you kept a few…personal items in a secret box in your nightstand, condoms included. You didn’t think he would look around and take an inventory. Your lack of finesse with strangers in bars was made up for by your wide array of battery-operated boyfriends. It wasn’t your fault that the online shop you ordered from sent free gifts when you spent over $100…like fuzzy handcuffs and cherry flavored lube.

The two of you laughed for a minute, both in nothing but your underwear. You were laughing, but the idea of him fucking you with one of your toys quickly made a crimson blush flush over your face. 

“Like I said darling,” he drags the vibrator down your stomach to meet your clothed pussy, “you’re fucking sexy.”

Your hips naturally buck up against his touch, arms snaking their way around his neck to pull his face down to yours. His strong fingers, much thicker than your own, re-entered you as he pressed the vibrator firmly against your clit. 

You couldn’t help but moan into his wet mouth as he fucked his fingers into you.

“Please,” you whimper, “fuck, Tom, please fuck me. I need you so bad.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he whispers into your ear, somehow making your pussy wetter than it already is. 

He pulls out of you, causing you to groan at the loss of contact. He tosses his boxers off, revealing his rock hard cock that springs up to his lower stomach. You mouth practically started watering at the sight. He pumps his hand a few times and then rolls the condom on.

You manage to move your shaky legs enough to slip your underwear and bra off. You didn’t have the mental capacity to be self conscious about being naked in front of him, because you were far too occupied drooling over his body. 

“How do you want me?” you ask innocently, not meaning to moan out the words as you did. 

“Flip over,” he gestures for you to get on all fours, and your knees got weak at the thought. 

You positioned your ass up in the air, open and ready for him. You let out a sharp breath as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing you before finally pushing inside. He only pushes in part way though, waiting for your reaction. 

“Fuck, Tommy,” you try to roll your hips back onto him, but he firmly grips your ass and keeps you in position. 

“You need to learn how to be patient, pretty girl,” he slowly pulls your hips back to meet his, agonizingly slow but so fucking good at the same time. 

Your eyes began to water because of how good his cock felt pushed all the way into you, you wanted him to move so bad, but he wanted to torture you, make you wait for it. 

“Please, will you please fuck me, I need it,” you sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you wanted him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Quiet moans left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair behind your ear, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

He took that as a clear green light to yank back on your hair, causing your back to arch more. He keeps fucking you relentlessly, filling the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin. The obscene noises coming from your mouth only encouraged him to fuck you harder, pull your hair harder, grip your hips harder. 

With little warning you feel him suddenly slip out of you, and before you could turn around to ask how he wanted you next, you feel his hands grab tightly to the back of your thighs, keeping you propped up exactly as you are. You feel his hot tongue enter your warm pussy from the back, quickly licking wide stripes up your folds. 

“Holy shit,” your brain could not process the pleasure you were feeling fast enough. 

He starts to feel your thighs shake under his grasp, knowing that you are close. He wanted to make you come, and hard, as a special thank you for inviting him up to your place. And that he did. 

He sucked harshly on your clit, hips tilted all the way back for him, giving him perfect access. You couldn't even articulate to him how good he was making you feel. You were moaning so loud you were worried the neighbors could hear, so you take a fistful of sheets and bury your mouth in them, muffling your sounds. You legs began to violently shake as he lapped up your juices, bringing a harsh slap down onto your ass. Your hips fell to the mattress as soon as he let go. 

He grabs your waist and helps you flip over so you lay flat on your back. He hovers over you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You feel his hard cock pressing into your core, begging for entrance. 

“You good?” he asks as your eyes finally focus, your brain coming back down to earth, “do you want to keep going?” he asks genuinely.

“I’m so fucking good,” you bring him down into a more passionate kiss, pressing your hips up into his erection, “I want nothing more than for you to fuck the shit out of me.”

“Thank god, cuz I want to feel that pretty pussy of yours come all over my cock.” 

His words sent shivers down your spine, more so as he pushed back into your sopping wet cunt, finding a quick rhythm fucking into you. He presses your thighs back with his large hands, hitting you at the perfect angle. Your mouth gapes open watching his perfect body thrust into you. How the fuck did you get so lucky? Is this a dream? Possibly. 

You notice a smirk creep onto his face, he raises his eyebrows and gives you a look. 

“You didn’t think I forgot about this, did you?” he grabs the purple vibrator from the side of the bed and flicks the switch on. 

You all but explode as he brings it down to your throbbing clit. The addition of the vibrations to his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly sent you into one of the most body-shaking orgasms of all time. If that wasn’t enough, you open your eyes to see his perfect hand wrapping around your throat, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to your neck.

You can’t say anything other than his name over and over as your walls begin to contract around him. You throw your head back as you see stars. He lets his grip on your neck go and leans down to capture you in a kiss, wanting to connect with you as you reached your peak. 

Making intense eye contact, you watch as he bites his lip, savoring the feeling of you coming undone around him. You frantically bring your hands to the back of his head, tangling them in his messy hair as you come down from possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. 

“Holy fuck baby, feel so good around me, fuck, gonna make me come soon,” he pants between thrusts. 

“Mmmm,” you were still fucked-out from your orgasm, “I want it in my mouth.”

His eyes practically fell out of his head at your comment, lips coming down to attack your breasts that had been wildly bouncing each time he pressed into you. In one swift motion he managed to flip you over. You slide down between his legs and start pumping his cock, not wanting to lose momentum.

You wrap your lips around his head, feeling his shaft twitch under your hand. Swirling your tongue around the tip while quickly jerking him off quickly pushes him over the edge, his come filling your mouth along with your saliva. 

His hips jerk up as he comes, pushing his length further into your throat, but you don’t mind, in fact you kind of like it. You watch his expression as you swallow his come, making big doe eyes at him. You lick your lips a little and crawl back up to meet his face. 

Flopping down next to him, you let your sweaty body fall into rhythm with his deep breaths.    

“I-,” he starts, turning to meet your face, “I don’t even know what to say, that was fucking incredible.”

You turn your head away from him, pretending to act shy. 

“I fucking mean it, you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks actually turn pink at this. You press your head to his chest, telling him you liked it a lot too. More than liked it. 

“I don’t know if this is weird, if I should go…” he starts to move.

“Offer still stands of course,” you grab his hand, wanting to feel his chest against your cheek again, “couch or bed is all yours.”

“Bed please,” he flops back down next to you and lets you tangle up in his arms, “as long as we can do that again in the morning. You have all those fun toys, I need to try them all out on you.” 

The two of you quickly fall asleep, naked and basking in your post sex bliss, a huge smile on your face. 

The next morning you hear keys jangling in the front door. Opening your groggy eyes, you don’t have time to fully wake up and register what is happening before you hear Madison knocking at your door. 

She barges in, wanting to tell you all about her night with Haz. 

“Holy FUCK y/n, I-” she starts before seeing the figure next to you in bed. 

You frantically grab the sheets to cover yourself up and make a wild gesture to tell her to get out. She silently breaks into a huge grin, waving her arms around and pumping her fists in the air. You keep gesturing for her to get out, but she continues to victory dance on your behalf. 

You knew you would never hear the end of this. 

[toosicktoocare]

prompt: “jaskier kinda letting it slip that he was some super low self worth? i kinda got that vibe from him. maybe he’s drunk or delirious or something and geralts kinda confused on what to do but Tries His Best. thank u in advance :p”

Wow, my heart.

There’s relief that coats Jaskier’s eyes like a rising sun that’s fought against a long night when he and Geralt step out of a dense forest to see a small village framing the edge of the woods, and Geralt finds his eyes wandering to Jaskier’s through the bard’s soft profile. A hint of a smile creeps at his lips, not even close to holding a candle to Jaskier’s wide, toothy grin, but enough for him to mirror Jaskier’s mood, if even just a fraction.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes out, whipping a beaming gaze toward the Witcher. “Do you know what this means?”

“You’ll stop complaining about how the ground isn’t meant to be slept on by such a delicate ass?”

“No, that’s-- I never said my ass was delicate!” Jaskier’s shift in tone, from glee to exaggerated annoyance, brings out a huff of a laugh from Geralt.

“You’re absurd, Geralt, you know that?”

Geralt tilts his head, eyes narrow and slightly devious, and he doesn’t miss the way Jaskier’s cheeks grow impossibly red.

“This means,” Jaskier stresses, drawing out his words as he waves his hands toward the village. “We, my friend, can partake in the finest ale this world has to offer!”

“The finest ale,” Geralt repeats slowly. He hardly thinks this small, quaint village will house ale to exceed worldly expectations, but Jaskier’s excitement has him following the bard into the tavern, stopping briefly to tie Roach to a post by the local in and ensure she’s comfortable.

The tavern is lively when he makes it in, and Jaskier already has a large mug of ice cold ale at his table. It’s half empty, and Jaskier’s strumming loudly on his lute. Geralt nods toward the bar keep, and a moment later, he has his own mug of ale. It’s bitter, cold on his lips but hot in his chest, and he can’t help but sigh deeply around the rim of the mug.

“Oi, bard, what new adventures do you have to share of the old Witcher?”

Jaskier takes a long swing of his ale, and Geralt cocks a brow his way when the bard locks wide eyes to his tired ones.

“Geralt,” Jaskier slurs out loudly, and Geralt takes brief, mental note to Jaskier’s incredibly low tolerance to alcohol.

“Geralt of Rivia! Can I tell them about the fleders? I want to tell them about the fleders!”

Geralt only grunts in response. It’s hardly an exciting story, but Jaskier will put his fib of a spin on it. He offers a curt nod, taking another swig of his ale, and Jaskier leaps from his seat.

“Fly, fleders, fly,” Jaskier sings. “Fly high, and try, but you cannot hide from the Witcher’s eye!”

Geralt thinks back to that day, and his heart beat quickens, for just a single, brief moment. There’s so much in this world that could crush the lively bard, and he doesn’t... he won’t... Sighing, he takes another sip of his ale, watching with an arched brow as the bar keep places another at Jaskier’s table.

“The sword he swings is broad and steel, designed by magic, designed to kill!”

Geralt spends longer than he would like to admit considering how “steel” and “kill” don’t particularly rhyme, and he can’t quite grasp how Jaskier can make it work, but the bard does, effortlessly, even in his apparent drunken state, and Geralt drops his chin into his palm, denying another ale in favor of keeping a clear mind as Jaskier drifts down a sea of alcohol.

For two hours, Jaskier drinks and sings, and the tavern eats him up like fresh, warm bread that’s just been pulled from a wood stove. Geralt keeps a careful eye on each, drunken civilian, and twice, he stiffens in his seat when a man and a woman get too close for comfort to the drunk bard.

“Jaskier,” he finally interrupts after a third man makes an unsettling pass at the bard. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier draws out the name, emphasizing ever consonant despite the general slur of his tone. “I’m just getting started--”

“--you’re done,” Geralt repeats, and maybe it’s malicious, but he puts an orderly sense of power behind his tone that has Jaskier nodding with a dramatic frown.

“Well,” Jaskier shouts, waving his arms about and craning his neck toward everyone as Geralt shoves him out with a hand on his back. “I bid you all a fond farewell!”

Rain has picked up when the two exit the tavern, and Jaskier takes three steps before he trips over his own feet. Geralt tries to reach him in time, but he’s a hair too slow. Jaskier lands face first into a puddle of mud, and Geralt’s at his side in an instant, chasing the flick of concern that nudges at his heart.

“Jaskier, are you...”

His words fall flat at Jaskier’s loud, drunken laughter that rings out across the quiet town.

“How clumsy of me!”

Geralt grunts, sighing deeply as he yanks Jaskier to his feet, pulling him into the inn. He pays more for a room with a tub, wishing to combat Jaskier’s poor mood that will come with morning while the bard is still too far gone on eight mugs of ale.

The inn keeper prepares the bath when Geralt slides a few extra coins her way, and soon enough he’s nudging Jaskier into their shared room for the night.

“Get in,” he tells Jaskier, and Jaskier shouts, face going impossibly red.

“Geralt of Rivia! Turn yourself around while I undress!”

Geralt has a brief thought to encourage this argument, pointing out the few times Jaskier’s seen him naked, but he only grunts, too tired to play along with Jaskier’s antics, and turns on his heel until he’s facing the window.

He watches the rain sliding down the window pane, and upon a closer look, he can faintly make out Jaskier’s reflection behind him. The bard is stumbling, struggling to free himself of his pants, and twice, he almost falls headfirst into the large tub. Geralt huffs out a quiet laugh, turning only when Jaskier finally calls out to him.

“This might be the best bath I’ve ever had,” Jaskier starts. “I think it’s the best bath in the world.”

“Are you always this generous toward the world when drunk?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier huffs out, lips pulling into a pout that Geralt stares at with narrow eyes as he takes a seat against the wall under the window, one knee drawn to his chest while the other leg is stretched out in front of him, toe close enough to brush against the wooden tub.

“You need to learn to appreciate the finer things in life!”

“I don’t need to view the world in light under a drunken haze,” Geralt grunts out, and Jaskier sighs and tilts his head back until he’s staring at the ceiling. Geralt’s eyes follow the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump against the deep sigh. He frowns, tilting his head.

“You’re probably right.” Jaskier rolls his head until he meets Geralt’s eyes. “But you have to admit, it’s fun.”

“What’s fun?”

“Pretending.”

“Pretending.” Geralt repeats, drawing out the word slowly, tone shifting up slightly in quiet question.

“Pretending that you’re better than what you are.”

Geralt’s muscles stiffen at Jaskier’s words, and his brows furrow.

“It’s fun to forget for a moment that your true worth merely amounts to songs that ring out of hyperbolic lies.”

A burst of burning pain blooms like fire across Geralt’s chest. Jaskier’s words stab like a sword pushing past his rib cage to his heart, and for just a brief moment, he imagines pulling Jaskier into his arms as if to shelter the bard from harmful thoughts, but his muscles protest the idea, too stiff against a weight of heavy shock.

“Jaskier,” he breathes out, tone reflecting the pain that coats his eyes, and Jaskier pulls his gaze back to the ceiling.

“You’re a Witcher, Geralt. You’re a legend, and I’m just... small in comparison to your stories.”

Geralt’s muscles move before his mind does, and he moves with them, allowing instinct to push forward for his mind is flitting into unfamiliar territory. He slowly crawls the small distance until he’s inches from Jaskier, and while he normally likes to smirk at Jaskier’s flushing cheeks, he ignores the glow of red this time in favor of placing a rough palm to Jaskier’s damp arm.

“You aren’t small. You tell my stories.”

“I lie.”

“You paint a picture--”

“--a picture that lies--”

“--a picture that encourages imagination,” Geralt presses, determined to win this argument. His fingers tighten slightly on Jaskier’s arm. “You have a gift, Jaskier, and you use it to bring light to an otherwise dark world.”

There are things he could say, that he could alter, that Jaskier brings light to his dark world, but Jaskier’s already tearing up, eyes welling with large tears that threaten to slip down his flushing face, and Geralt gives the bard’s arm a tight squeeze.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Geralt.”

Grunting, Geralt gets to his feet and turns sharply on his heel until he’s facing the bed. He can feel an unfamiliar creep of heat starting toward his cheeks.

“You’ve come a long way from describing my talent as a pie without filling,” Jaskier presses with a few sniffs, and Geralt risks a quick look over his shoulder.

“Yes, well, I’m going to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be up half the night with you making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.”

Jaskier scoffs, though there’s no heat behind it. “Will you allow me to join you when I finish?”

Grunting, Geralt slips his shoes off near the foot of the bed. “Only if you bring a good attitude.”

[stirringwinds]

i found this in my old drafts. it’s an alternate version of another scene i wrote, and it’s kind of rough but i like it still. so: lovino and art? is that the kind of thing i would exhaust my brain energy on? uh, yes, yes and yes please.

Resplendence

“That’s one fucking complicated commission you’ve got there.”

He tears his eyes from the soaring ceiling, adorned with a field of stars, to the youth leaning carelessly against a pillar.  

Before he’d been disturbed, he’d been mentally calculating the corrections for perspective he would have to make to ensure the curved sections of the ceiling seemed proportionate when viewed from below, the scaffolding that would have to be constructed—not to mention the very task of transferring and enlarging all of his drawings.

“You have a talent for the understatement, boy. And who are you, by the way? I don’t believe I hired any assistants.”

The young man looks amused. He looked to be eighteen or so, with a warm complexion and dark, curly hair. 

“The Pope sent me. Old fellow wanted to check how the, well, project was going.”  

“Did he really?” He shoots a sceptical glance at the younger man. Youth aside, his irreverent reference to the supreme pontiff hardly seemed the mould of a papal messenger. Dumps the sketches he had been carrying under his arm onto the makeshift table set-up for his work. “Well, I have some ideas, in any case. Feel free to have a look.”

“The Twelve Apostles, right?” The other man strolls over.  

“Goodness, no. His Holiness wanted that at first but—” He flattens the edge of a sheet out. “—I thought something far…grander would be more appropriate.”

The detailed sketch of a man with his arm outstretched emerges from the roll of paper.

“For someone who really didn’t want this job, you’re taking to it rather well.” There’s amusement in the curve of the younger man’s lips and the glint of his olive-green eyes. He thinks of the sun dappled leaves of the olive tree heavy with fruit in the courtyard. 

“Well, he badgered me non-stop and gave me no peace until I agreed, let me tell you. Not like I could exactly say no to him, to begin with. And once I get into any project, well...” He grumbles, as he spreads the second sheet out next to the first. 

A woman, in profile, with her hands clasped together, gazing up at an elderly man. “This is really supposed to be the fifth panel, next to that one.”

The nameless young man’s gaze races over the details of the drawing. He looks impressed.

“How many panels are you dividing the ceiling up into?”

“Nine, for the main, central section. ” He cranes his neck up at the ceiling. In his mind’s eye, he superimposes the grid onto the painted, starry blue sky that would soon be scraped off to make way for his work. 

There wasn’t any more space on the table, so he lays a third sheet on the marble floor. “This will be the first. See that extreme, top right section? It’ll go up there.”

The figure of a man, who was no man, with his arms outstretched. Separating light from dark.

“In the beginning, huh? It’s fitting. I like it.”

“Well, do me a favour and tell the old codger how much better this is than just making a giant panorama of the Twelve Apostles. He was awfully stuck on that idea,” he quips. Carefully, he observes if the younger man takes any offense.

He doesn’t seem to. 

“This one, especially.” His companion is instead looking at the Creation of Adam. “I remember those times back when some said we shouldn’t ever depict the Almighty. Idolatrous, sacrilegious and all.”

I remember. Strange choice of words, for someone so young. Like he’d personally been there, during the various bouts of iconoclasm that had seized various segments of Christendom. Perhaps he was thinking of those across the sea, some of whom similarly objected to such iconography. 

“Sure, I could just depict a divine hand or something, but that wouldn’t quite evoke created in His own image, would it?” he chuckles. 

“No, it wouldn’t,” the young man’s face is thoughtful. His green eyes are bright, warm in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun falling through the windows. “Just as you all have made me in your image.”

[kyberphilosopher]

Kalon

“So long as you’re with me, I know I’ll never have to do anything alone.” 

Word Count: 2091

Pronunciation: KAL-en. (n.)...  the ideal of physical and moral beauty especially as conceived by the philosophers... beauty that is more than skin deep.

Rey really wanted to pound her fist against the ship in her frustration. 

The Millennium Falcon had accomplished so much throughout its existence- it was the infamous ship that had made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs! It had outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers, of course, but the big Corellian ships. Sleek and uniquely shaped, she was fast enough for anyone. 

But Rey thought she knew better. Of course, she appreciated the ship for what it was already. Anything that someone put so much effort into working with and creating was something that she could get behind. However, the thought popped into her mind that maybe there was a way to make it better. 

Just a little rewiring! Maybe a new paint job? Nothing too extreme, of course. The girl would never want to change the entire essence of something with so much value- sentimental or otherwise. Rey preferred keeping the vessel of both her friends memories and her own the same. Safe and secure. 

But this task was proving to be a tad more difficult than anticipated. 

It spiraled quickly enough. A little bit of rewiring turned into having to replace certain bits, which turned itself into having to fix an oil leak. How the Falcon hadn’t exploded into thousands of little shards was beyond Rey, by this point. It continuously seemed that with every adjustment she made [or attempted to make] morphed into a new problem that might’ve not even been worth it. It didn’t help much that that Poe Dameron guy would make a face or a snide comment as he watched her work. He had even made offers to help Rey, which she slapped aside each time. 

You watched as the girl finally slammed her palms against the side of the thing. With grit teeth and a bit of a huff, a few strands of brown locks fell down as she took a step back. Rey always was a bit of an emotional person, and sometimes her anger and frustration got hard to ignore. 

You shift against the wall you lean on, eyes glued to her. Rey looks incredibly pretty, however flushed with irritation. She’s been at it all day, and the exertion is rising in time with the setting sun. The sky, once a brilliant, bright blue, has faded into pastel shades of tangerine and raspberry and lemon. It’s warm today, adding to the thin layer of sweat spreading across her shoulders and palms. You were curious to see how her hazel eyes would make themselves appear in the light, but she was turned away from you. 

“Girls gonna be the death of us,” Poe grumbled as he walked passed you, shaking his head and jabbing his thumb. His expression was one of a ‘can you believe her?’. 

You crane your head over your shoulder to watch the man march away and into the hangar. You’d be willing to bet that he’s going to complain to General Organa, who will say some sassy words of wisdom in response. 

When you turn your head back, Rey has her hands on the sides of her hips. She looks the Falcon up and down, her white robes billowing slightly in the summer like wind. You’re not sure what she’s going to do next, but you’ve observed her enough to know she’s not exactly a quitter. 

Your relationship with the Jedi was a bit of a strange one. It wasn’t bad by any means. You weren’t quite... “friends”, but you weren’t really acquaintances either. It was more like the outer circle of friendship, where things are soft and warm but still somewhat mysterious. Rey didn’t come to you for things like she would Finn or Leia, and you didn’t talk to her nearly as often as Poe or Tallie. But you watched her sometimes out of appreciation and security, wondering if she was aware how beautiful she looked in the light of the sun. 

It takes a lot of bravery to talk to someone you admire, whether you know them well or not. People would be jealous of all the guts it took for you to push yourself from leaning by the entrance, and starting towards the girl. 

“Need help?” you question politely. Rey jumps and turns to you, startled but not upset. “Sorry.”

Rey looks at you for only a second before turning back to the ship. Her brown eyes rake up and down, looking at the exposed wires and vents and all the bits she’d happened to destroy. “No, no. I don’t think so,” Rey decides to say with a sigh. 

“You sure?” you say, turning to look at the structure ahead of you as well. “I mean, not to brag, but I think I know a lot about YT Leight Freighters.”

This draws a flash of a smile from her. She feels the stress and annoyance of working at the ship all day sinking away slowly with the light bit of humor. She looks down at her feet before squinting her eyes in the sunlight. “Can you toss me that Hydrospanner?” she says, pointing to the ground by your feet. 

You bend down and pick it up right away from the cluster of tools, tossing it to her. As she catches it sloppily and turns it over in her palms, she scoffs in that way that people do to show a kind form of surprise. “Finn can never do that right.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. “Find a tool?”

Rey looks up at you, smiling. “You’d be surprised.”

You grin softly at each other in the light, the Falcon casting dim shadows across the place but not diminishing the warmth that you felt. The nervousness in your stomach was ever present, and you were somewhat afraid of saying something wrong with her. 

“So are you going to make any adjustments to the inside?” you ask, peeling your eyes from hers and admiring the bulk of the famous ship. You can see all the little divots and scratches embedded in the metal, each one telling a story. You can see why she would’ve wanted to keep reparations to a minimum. 

Rey strains as she goes to tighten a screw on her tip-toes. Her brow furrows and a bead of sweat appears on the right. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet, at least.” 

You nod in understanding. “Always wanted to be a pilot,” you muttered, half to yourself. 

Rey squinted over at you, detaching her tool from the bolt and watching your expression change to one of awe. Everything you guys said to each other had always been polite and small, only urgent once or twice. You knew each other, knew of each other, but not in the way that she knew others. It wasn’t quite as intimate or personal as her relationship with others, but Rey liked your presence fine enough. It shocked the pit of her tummy to hear you say something that sounded so personal. 

“Well, aren’t you?” she questioned. 

You scoffed a little dryly, and Rey knew you were about to sell yourself short. “Piloting an X-Wing isn’t much of the same as piloting a Falcon.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Rey said kindly. She watched you turn to her with the glint of joy in your eyes, dissecting her words. “Pass me that towel?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. Again, you picked a rag smeared with dirt and grime from the ground and passed it to her. “Are you going to be here all day?”

Rey rung the towel around her sweaty hands, attempting to soothe the perspiration into the skin instead of wiping it away. She had been, in all honesty. She liked working with her hands, especially when it was on something as grand and legendary as the Millennium Falcon. It reminded her of something she knew was real and tangible, no matter how many bad memories her hands tied to her old life. 

“No,” she said, even though it hurt a bit to say. 

You bit your lip for a second, giving time for her lie to sink in before speaking again. “I meant do you want me to stay all day?”

Rey looks over at you again, her head moving fast. Her big, doe eyes are looking at you like you’ve said the kindest thing in the world, trying to detect if you mean it. You do. 

“Yeah,” she says, hoarse but with smile. She nods her head vigorously, strands of hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah.”

You stayed with her for the next hour or so, standing out against the setting sun and the distant view of fern green trees. Rey payed attention to every one of your polite words, each one an offering. She offered what she could back as she weaved and fumbled. 

You got to see her hands in action, and you were surprised you hadn’t appreciated them before. To be fair, this interaction was probably the closest you’d been to her. But Rey’s fingers were slim and strong and nimble, and they twisted wires like braids. The metal panels of the ship seemed to bend to her will. You knew she was worth all the time you’d spent observing her beauty. 

“Do you think any of this will actually mean anything?” you asked at the end of the day. The sky had turned purple and orange by now, with the sun disappearing beyond the horizon. Most of the soldiers and pilots and workers outside had turned in for the night, and Rey’s palms had begun pink and rough from the work. 

You lean your head back against the ship, which is a little uncomfortable, but fatigue has somewhat dulled your senses by now. Your locks matted in the back as it pressed against the metal. You had a knot tying itself up in your lower back, while Rey had one forming in her upper. “What do you mean?” she questioned, shutting a panel for the time being. 

“Just... the Rebellion,” you admitted. Your eyes flitted around. Rey could see the reflection of the rising moon in your pupils, even from the side. “The Resistance. What if it doesn’t actually do anything.”

Rey admired your profile, appreciating the look of your skin. She could see the exact shape of your jaw, the chapped nature of your lips and the length of your lashes. Sweat had begun to form against your skin from the humidity of the system, but it didn’t look stinky or unwelcome. 

She doesn’t know much about you still, but she likes your presence now. Against the noise of the galaxy, your conversation is quiet and soft, and not nearly as abrasive and demanding as others around her. Rey closes her lips. Her eyes soften more and more, melting into the soothing aura of your presence. 

“It’ll mean something,” she says, nodding her head like a promise. 

You turn your head to look at Rey, meeting her hazel eyes. “Yeah,” you say in turn. “It’ll mean something.” Though you’re not talking about the Resistance now. 

You’re talking about Rey, who you’ve found incredibly beautiful since the moment you saw her. Strong and fierce, she had a fire that reminded you of all the things in life you loved. And maybe one day, you could tell her that. But for the moment, all you can do is exchange a genuine smile with her, the light of everything else in the world fading away until her and the Millennium Falcon are the only things that remain. 

“Would you ever want to...”

You turn back to Rey as you walk, watching her wipe her hands across her pants like its a smock. Dirt and oil smears across them, but you know she doesn’t mind. The girl has already had enough experiences to become accustomed to a little dirt. 

“Yeah?” you ask, the moon rising higher into the lavender canvas above. 

Rey feels nervous, and she’s inwardly cursing at herself for not being able to stop her voice from slipping out. “If you’d ever like to fly the Falcon with me,” she explains. “I just mean...”

You look down, then back up between the girl and the large, infamous ship. “Thank you, Rey.” 

You’d agree the next day, on the condition that it meant something. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I don’t like the sequels very much, but somebody wanted Rey and I delivered. I like writing for girl characters, to be honest. A lot of the sequel characters are a bit difficult to do because I don’t think a lot of them have to much of like... personalities? But I tried to stay true to what I think Rey might say. I’d appreciate feedback if i was alright with her character though! it’s important that I keep them in character

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @kit-jpg​ @chokemeanakin​ @anakinswhore​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ @haztory​

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 1 Part 3

She could see Viscount Grant’s house, which retained the dignity of its former days. Prillance’s heart throbbed as she approached the carriage door.

Albert, the butler of the Grant family, came up as she reached the carriage door.

“I am Albert, the Grant family's butler.”

Embarrassed by the unexpected guest’s visit, Albert looked at Marquis Weiand's carriage with a slightly bewildered look.

This was not the first time a lady made such a sudden visit.

In fact, it had become an occasional occurrence since the fall of Ver’s title to a Viscount. The ladies, who couldn't even talk to him during his days as a Marquis’ son, came without prior notification to meet Ver Grant who became lower or equal to their families.

The ladies, who visited Viscount Grant's house, wanted to meet Ver, whose title has declined but still had good looks and noble dignity. Albert severely felt the change of the family’s status.

But none of the visits had been from a Marquis’ house. Known to be the flower of social circles and rumored to marry Duke Tonz, this lady’s visit was even more surprising.

“Viscount Grant……Is he inside?”

"Yes, he is here."

Lady Weiand carefully inquired, but she was known to be fussy. They haven't had good reception treats lately, so no tea was available for her picky taste.

Albert was worried she would find fault with them.

"This won’t take long."

Prillance, who read the discomfort from Albert, quickly added. She knew her character’s reputation better than anyone else, so she could guess what Albert was thinking.

"Then please wait a moment."

After being away for a while to ask Ver, Albert returned. He finally appeared within Prillance’ sight, who was anxious to see if she had been rejected.

“I will guide you inside.”

Fortunately, words of permission came from him.

Prillance carefully came down from the carriage and walked along with Albert. Albert's guidance stopped when he reached the large gate inscribed with the Grant's signatory wolf.

Like the wolves inscribed in the pattern, the Grants lived for the sake of integrity. And Ver, who would continue to live like that, was behind that door.

The door opened. Prillance took a deep breath and took a careful step.

“Welcome, Lady.”

She heard a low voice. A handsome black-haired young man greeted her.

As a result, Prillance was frozen in place for a while. Ver's face was more handsome than she expected. Pitch-black hair, dark gray eyes - straight eyes which made him look upright.

Unlike his tired eyes, his neatly locked buttons and tidy clothes showed his character trying to be polite under any circumstances.

Ver, who she had only read in books, was in front of Prillance.

“Lady Weiand…you asked for me?”

But he was not alone in the drawing room. A visibly embarrassed lady greeted her. The same thing happened to Prillance.

"Would you like to sit over here?"

Ver was the only person who remained calm amidst the situation. As he gently pulled the chair in the parlor, only then did Prillance come to her senses and walk towards the spot. Ver, minding his manners, sat in the middle of Prillance and the other lady.

Soon a maid came in and prepared tea. At that moment, Prillance looked at Ver's face once more. He was in front of her eyes, but it still felt amazing no matter what she thought.

His short hair shook slightly as he raised his cup and drank tea with a straight back. Having taken a sip of tea with his eyes slightly lowered, his profile was manly, unlike his features.

His hands, which put down the cup, did not look soft nor beautiful because he often practiced with the sword. But the hand was manly because it looked large and rough.

“We couldn't entertain the Lady's preferred tea on such a sudden visit. Still, this one has a nice scent.”

It was meant for Prillance, who had no response even though the tea was in front of her.

"Ah…”

Only then did Prillance, who caught the eye of Ver, take a sip of tea. The fragrant tea calmed down the excitement of their sudden meeting.

"It indeed has a nice scent."

Thanks to this, Prillance found composure and replied with a smile.

"That’s good to hear."

After that it was quiet again. Occasionally she heard the sound of the tea being drunk and the cup being put down. And there was Prillance, who looked closely at Ver as if she had something to say, and the other lady, who looked at her and was as anxious as she was.

“There must have been an urgent reason why you two came to see me.”

In the end, Ver lost his patience and was the first to open his mouth. He touched his eyes as if tired. He was hoping the matter would be over quickly if they intended to laugh at him.

Prillance's gaze turned to the person opposite her. She intended to say that she wanted to be considerate and let the other lady speak first, but the other lady felt a silent pressure due to Prillance’ sharp gaze.

"That’s…Well…”

Embarrassed, the other lady stuttered. There was no way she could compete with Lady Weiand, the queen of social circles.

"Don’t tell me…”

Prillance spoke quietly, covering her mouth with her hands. It was obviously a surprised gesture.

“If you don't have anything to say, it would be best to just leave.”

Soon her eyes and voice became sharp.

“…Th, that…I'll go first.”

The other lady, who clasped her dress tightly, left the place with a bow.

Unlike her, who held back her anger with a deep breath, Ver got up and saw her off to the door.

“You look tired.”

Ver came back and sat down. His face looked worn out. It looked like he was used to this type of situation.

When she saw Ver's pain right in front of her, which she had only read in the novel, she felt like crying. It hurt her more because she knew the ending of the love he tried to keep so much. Prillance turned her head out the window to swallow the rising tears.

Perhaps he hasn't been out for days. He wouldn't sleep and just concentrate on his work. It was a way for him to endure the pain, as someone who embraced all his sorrows by himself.

“Lady…”

From Ver's point of view, he hoped Prillance would talk to him quickly and leave, but she didn't seem to intend to. As he tried to speak again, she suddenly stood up.

"Would you like to go outside?"

What caught her eye was a sunny garden. Finally, she grabbed Ver's arm lightly and led him outside.

The servants stared in amazement. Passing the servants, Ver only came to his senses when they were already in the garden.

"It’s nice to get some fresh air."

Prillance said to Ver, who looked at her bewilderedly. Then she took a deep breath. As he looked up, the sun was already shining in the sky.

Feeling unused to the light, Ver realized that he hadn’t been out for a long time.

"Sunlight is good for you."

Prillance smiled at Ver who looked more relaxed. Although this was the only thing she could do, she wanted to at least relieve a little bit of his tension.

But she realized that although she was the one who led him out, she had also only stayed inside her home for the last few days. ’ Who is doing this for whom.’  When she realized that, a small smile formed in her mouth.

When Ver looked sideways, he saw Prillance smiling. Her usual appearance during balls and social gatherings could not be found in the face which had little make-up at the moment.

The usual sharp mood and piercing eyes became gentle. Perhaps because of this, he could not have imagined she could be someone who could look so pure.

As Ver looked at Prillance's unusual mood, he met her eyes.

Soon, her pale brown eyes, which grew in amazement, caught his attention as they shone brilliantly in the sun.

Ver thought those eyes were quite lovely.

Prillance was worried that smiling by herself, she might seem like a mad woman, so she carefully turned her eyes to avoid his gaze.

“The sun's rays activate the body's cells and make them healthy. That…It’s like photosynthesis.”

"Huh?"

"Oh, nevermind."

When Ver asked back at the gibberish, Prillance waved her hand.

“…Shall we walk for a bit?”

Prillance switched topics again, and fortunately Ver didn't ask anymore. But in fact, he was right to say that he didn’t hear her properly. Her words didn’t really touch his ears because Prillance’s eyes caught his attention.

There was still no conversation between the two who walked alongside each other, but the various sounds around them filled the quietness and were not uncomfortable.

“Lady, you may speak.”

Ver recalled that she hadn't spoken so far. He thought Prillance was choosing what to say. Of course, since they had very little contact before, he did not know what to expect.

'Maybe she came here out of the blue because she thought I had tarnished the title of a Marquis.'

He thought about this and waited for her to say something. On the contrary, Prillance was in trouble. She didn't know what to say. But she wanted to tell Ver something that would help him.

'Fighting. Cheer up. This too shall pass.' only abstract, vague and unhelpful words came to her mind.

Prillance stopped thinking and looked at Ver's tired face. Now that she thought of it, Ver lost his father, became an object of attention in the country, and sent his loved one away.

"I…”

After a long time, Prillance opened her mouth. Ver's eyes naturally turned to her. Did she come to ridicule or see his different appearance? Ver wondered what Prillance was trying to say.

"I’m on the Viscount’s side."

But what she said was a completely different story he had never even imagined. So he just stared at Prillance, not even thinking about hiding his bewildered face.

“What I’m trying to say is…I believe in the former Marquis' innocence, and I believe the Viscount will rise again.”

Prillance wanted to let him know that there was someone who believed in him and his family. It was the best thing she could say.

"So please have strength."

At the end of the novel there was a different background to the truth, and the Grant family, who was cleared of the charges, regained the title of a Marquis.

Of course, as always, behind it was Prillance, the villainess. But as long as she was Prillance, she couldn't say that. She just hoped to give him some strength.

Seeing her speaking so confidently, Ver felt strange. Even while his father was alive, the two Marquises’ families had little to no interaction.

Marquis Weiand, who had been a Marquis since the establishment of the Arceo Empire, was a member of the emperor’s faction for generations. And a former knight who took part in the war, the former Marquis Grant had been a member of  parliament since he cut the head of the Red Army and led the victory during the war.

What Congress did at the time was originally to agree with the opinion of the imperial family, but the former Marquis Grant's actions were a little different.

Standing on the position of the parliamentary bloc, he both supported and opposed the opinions of the imperial family, depending on what he believed was right or wrong. Because of their politically different moves, the Weiand and Grant families were not affiliated with each other, but rather lived in acknowledgment of each other without crossing the line.

So it was very awkward that Lady Weiand suddenly asked to meet, and suddenly believed in his family's innocence.

“…Thank you."

Nevertheless, it was true that he was thankful for Prillance’s words.

He knew better than anyone that his father was innocent, but he couldn’t say so out loud. The imperial family and all the nobles would not listen to anything he had to say.

How much trouble would the lady get into for having said these words? That's why Prillance's confident words helped Ver. Even if she was a lady who didn't know politics, maybe they were words he wanted to hear the most.

“Never give up easily.”

Whether it’s his heart or life.

Swallowing the end of her words, Prillance wished him happiness.

Previous | TOC | Next

If you can, please support the author by purchasing the raws here or here.