#i had this in my sketches for a while and had completely forgotten about it lol

[kittkattys]

"SINCE WHEN YOU ARE BI?!" maiko moment

no flag version

[writerslittlelibrary]

Were you expecting someone?

masterlist

summary: thinking it’s a day like any other, you simply busy yourself with some homework and your hobbies, until there’s suddenly a gun pointed at your head

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader, Yelena x niece reader, Melina & Alexei x granddaughter reader

warnings: a gun? 

genre: fluff

words: 1265

a/n: I thought there should be way more content about the Widow family. I love to see more of the concept of Melina and Alexei with a grandchild

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

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When you woke up this morning, you were not expecting the situation you were currently in. Because you were wearing your headphones, you had not heard anyone enter the house. Your mom told you she would be gone until late afternoon, and while you were busying yourself with some drawings, you had completely forgotten the time.

Not that it mattered, really. Usually, when your mom comes home she’d always let you know, whether she’d send you a text or simply come into your room and say hi. 

This situation however, was slightly different. One moment you were peacefully sketching some ideas you were working on, and the next moment you could feel the cold metal of a gun pressed against your temple. You slowly looked up from your sketchbook, not making any sudden movements. 

You thought the woman in the room was simply another Widow from the Red Room, sent to assassinate you. You’d been dealing with those ever since you escaped two years ago. 

When you didn’t feel the woman relax her grip on the gun, nor feeling a bullet piercing your skull, you decided to handle the situation yourself. You turned around swiftly, grabbing the gun and pulling it towards yourself, managing to yank the woman forward and knee her in the gut. You pushed her to the side, holding the gun tightly as she let it go in surprise. 

She made a move quickly, hitting you across the face. You replied by swiping her legs from under her, letting her fall to the ground as you ran out the room. 

You made a run to the stairs, moving to get down as fast as possible. When you did, you saw two other people standing in the living room. It was a man and a younger woman. She couldn’t have been older than 25. 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you made a move to run to the front door. You could hear the woman from upstairs making her way down as well. Once you reached the door however, it opened, revealing your mom standing in the doorway holding some groceries. 

She smiled at you, then frowned when she saw blood on your face. 

“We have to go,” you said quickly, grabbing her hand and trying to run away. She however, didn’t move. You turned around to see her stifling a laugh. 

“Were you expecting someone?” you asked her, letting go of her hand and looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she just told you, letting a laugh escape. 

She grabbed your arm and dragged you into the living room, setting her bags down before pushing you onto a chair, making a move to grab the first aid kit. “Natasha, Who is that?” you heard the woman from before ask in a strong Russian accent. “I should have warned you,” she said, sitting next to you and carefully cleaning up the blood from your face. 

“Yeah, you really should have,” you told, wincing slightly when she pressed the alcohol cloth onto the wound. 

“I’m not too pleased you injured her though,” Natasha told the woman. “She attacked first,” the woman replied. You frowned and looked at the woman. “You held a gun to my head!” you told her. The younger woman grinned, clearly finding the situation amusing. 

“Y/N, meet my family, guys, meet my daughter,” Natasha said, putting a band-aid on your forehead before cleaning up the things she used, stashing the first aid kit back into the cupboard it came from. 

“How?” the younger woman simply asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “Dreykov created her using my eggs after I was sterilized. I didn’t know about her until two years ago,” Natasha explained, grabbing you a glass of water to help with the headache she knew was going to form. 

You thanked her for the water and looked at the other two people standing in the room. They hadn’t made a move to sit down yet. 

“Y/N, meet Melina, Alexei and Yelena,” Natasha introduced, motioning to the person she meant when she said their name. “Yelena’s my sister-” “And now an aunt too,” Yelena interrupted, also having a heavy Russian accent. She seemed ecstatic by that fact. You smiled at her and simply drank some of your water. “Are you going to stand and glare or…” you said slowly, referring to Melina and Alexei. 

Slowly they sat down. The moment they did, Alexei smiled. “Welcome to the family!” he said excitedly, motioning his hands up a little. 

Melina now smiled too, getting up and moving towards the fridge. “We need to celebrate,” she simply said as she opened it and reached for a bottle of vodka. She opened some cupboards until she found the one holding the glasses, and grabbed some shot glasses. 

She put them on the table and filled them. There were five of them, but you decided not too say anything. Natasha would never let you drink it anyway.

Melina put a glass in front of everyone, you included. 

She lifted her glass, as if to make a little toast. “Welcome to the family,” she said as she drank the vodka. Yelena and Alexei did the same, while you just looked at Natasha and smiled awkwardly. 

She returned your smile, grabbing her own shot of vodka and drinking it. You didn’t touch yours. “You are not drinking?” Melina asked, stating the obvious. You smiled at her and shook your head. “I’m 16,” you told her, and Melina frowned. 

“So?” 

“We’re in the United States… It's illegal here. Besides, it's like three pm…” you told her, glancing at the clock. “It is always good time for a drink,” Melina simply replied, pouring herself another glass. You smiled and grabbed your water, finishing the glass. Of course you drank vodka before. You were a Russian after all, but your mother didn’t need to know that.

After Yelena swiped your glass and drank it herself, you turned to your mother. “Can I go now?” you asked, wanting to get out of the awkward family get together. 

Natasha smiled and nodded. You got up from your chair and made your way upstairs, immediately jumping onto your bed and grabbing your phone, wanting to tell Wanda everything that just happened. 

You talked with Wanda on the phone for a while, explaining how Melina had you at gunpoint and about how bad you felt you threw her on the ground. Wanda laughed at certain things you told her, feeling as though it was a situation you could both laugh about, and you didn’t actually feel bad about something. You two talked for a few hours, simply enjoying hearing the other talk. Then Wanda had to go, saying her dinner she ordered had arrived. 

A few minutes after hanging up the phone, you heard a knock on your door. When it opened Yelena walked inside. 

“So this is your room huh?” Yelena said as she looked around your room, picking up some stuff and flipping through your sketchbook. “Cool,” she said, sitting down on your desk chair. “Natasha told me to come get you because the food is here.”

“Thanks,” you told her, rolling from the middle of the bed to the side, so you could plug your phone into its charger and get up. 

“I think we’ll be good friends,” Yelena said, getting up herself and exiting your room, followed by you. You smiled. This definitely wasn’t how you expected meeting Natasha’s family, had you known about them, but you couldn’t deny you were excited to get to know them better. 

[flowerandblood]

Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[succubusonthedoorstep]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ArtTeacher! Geto x Fem Reader! ᖭི༏ᖫྀ (1.1 Word Count.)

Warnings? Gojo's sweet tooth, shy reader, vibrator use, butt plugs, edging, implied cunnilingus? jealousy, peeking down shirts, sir kink. painting is Geto's love language. +18 Only! No Minors Allowed! (Part Two.)

Author's Notes? still writing my jean and eren x reader fic, but here's something I've been sitting on for a moment!! <3 (Like, reblog, and comment please!)

ArtTeacher!Geto who enjoys instructing the acrylic painting weekend course. He’s been at it for about a year, lending his Sundays to locals and students. Most looking to sharpen their skills but some seeking a new pastime. Gojo did him a favor, pulling strings at the university to give Geto a classroom (with air conditioning!) rather than the offered room in the student center. However, it was pretty isolated, a feature he learned to love after meeting you.

ArtTeacher!Geto unlocks his door an hour before his class is due to start. Students seldom came early but he left the option open anyway. Sometimes Gojo visited, usually to hand him some small, sweet cake he couldn’t help but rave about. While cleaning the paint palettes and setting up for class, the door slams shut from behind him. 

ArtTeacher!Geto whips around, eyes landing on you. He couldn’t help but immediately notice how cute you were, holding art supplies in your arms. The faucet dripped lightly behind him, brushes now forgotten. His thin white button-down shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a feature your eyes lingered on as you started explaining.  “Sorry for the scare, I know your class doesn’t start for another half an hour…” 

ArtTeacher!Geto alleviates your worries, insisting he’d never turn away an eager student. He stops what he was doing to help you set up on the easel closest to his desk, asking why he’d never seen you in his class before. 

ArtTeacher!Geto can’t listen more intently to you speak. Your voice was melodic to him, echoing slightly from the walls when you laugh at his joke about leaving home. You just moved into the city for a job opportunity and wanted to socialize in a familiar place, the art studio. He noticed some of your paints were used and you held the brush the same way he did. You were no amateur, that was for sure.

ArtTeacher!Geto’s mood goes sour once class starts. He generally enjoyed his classes, but he only wanted to be around you today. Of course, he'll still play his role well- complimenting brush strokes, giving feedback, and staring contemplatively at completed works. The whole time he’s thinking of you on the other side of the room. The image of you, in his well-lit traditionally styled studio, made his heart jump. You’d be wearing the thinnest, finest silk as you lounge for him across a chaise sofa. 

He could torture you for hours there- a plug up your ass and a vibrator for your pussy whenever he’d get bored with his work. Geto would paint you for hours, finding joy in matching his paints to your skin tone, lips, and nipples. (Even if the silk limited his view.) 

‘Enjoying the view, Geto?’ You ask, holding your arm over the end of the sofa like he asked. ‘I’ve never seen you take so long for a sketch.’

“Patience, patience,” he cooed, taking another slick glance at your most intimate parts while you yawn. “So many details to take note of, it won’t be a worthy painting of you if I miss a single one.” His easel was positioned for you as well. You had the perfect view of him working and could lean over the other end of the couch to check his progress.

Both of you knew that was out of the question, however. The little pink toy between your legs prevented any unauthorized movement. Geto was a cruel lover- dragging you just to the edge of orgasm only to press the toy to your hole and call you greedy for needing more.

Without warning the toy came to life, buzzing lowly and drawing soft breaths from your mouth. Geto, no longer interested in painting, watched your reactions with the matching remote in one hand as he palmed his cock with the other. 

“You won’t cum,” he challenged, turning the vibrator up to a higher setting. He watched as you squirmed in ecstasy, his teasing from earlier coming back for you. Leaning back onto the arm of the couch, you spread your legs for Geto’s view and let him hear the sweet moans he loved so much.

“Missing all those d-details,” you expressed, hips lifting from the sofa in pleasure. Geto couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Is this part of your creative process?” You asked, sliding the silk robe up your legs and exposing your glistening cunt.

The stool he sat on fell over at the force he used to stand up and make his way over to the couch. Geto’s knees met the floor harshly, hands finding your thighs to push them apart and make room for his face. 

“Just need a closer look, is all…”

ArtTeacher!Geto’s fantasy is ruined at the trilling of his alarm bell. Class was over. His students were already packed and filing out of class, their goodbye’s drowned out by him searching for you.

ArtTeacher!Geto smiles when he catches your eye and waves you over. His smile falters as he watches you wave goodbye to a third-year at the university, some kid with pink hair. Geto pushes his jealousy off; he’s never in competition.

ArtTeacher!Geto has to hide a smirk when you approach his desk, clearly in high spirits.

“Thank you for class, sir. I met a lot of good people,” You gush, and Geto has to push in his chair more at the name. “I’d love to come back, when’s the next-”

“Next Sunday,” He recites it like the gospel now. The tightness in his pants only gets worse as he watches you take a sticky note from his desk and scribble your name and number on it. Geto casts a brief look down your shirt when you bend over to write, silently thankful for a memory he can use later.

ArtTeacher!Geto takes the sticky note from you with an appreciative grin, brushing his fingers with yours and melting when a flustered look crossed your face, breaking eye contact.

“See you next week, sir.”

send me prompts so i can post between fics mwah (like, comment and reblog!)

© succubusonthedoorstep2023. all rights reserved. please do not copy, repost, steal, or translate my work.

[raindropren]

Some Hermit(+rats) sketches(+Plus the rambles I'm required to write about them)!

going from the ones I like the most to the ones that look more like doodles then sketches lolsie

A Joel! I wanted to try my hand at a S!10 Joel! I've been watching him for quite abit now and He's become one of my favorite hermits(an unsurprisingly long list ngl) :3 Also I found the Animator PerryRata a bit ago and I love how skrunkly they draw everyone, especially Joel, lol. I also have a ton of Joel headcanons from back during empires! He's made of clay and he can form his own body like you would a clay sculpture :D It's my headcanon for why his physical body changes without the use of outside "mods" He's also just a funky silly guy, and I really like how I drew this. Also the tanuki headcanons really fun, to me it's more, raccoon, but it can be either at this point :P

A Jevin! I'll admit I haven't watched him much, but I really wanted to try my hand at drawing a slime character who actually,,, like,,, looks like slime,,, instead of,,, really human with slime bits, lol. I also had a certain body type in mind so ya! I have few headcanons for him but I've thought alittle about how his slime body would work in my AU, so that's fun!

A Non-Hermit! A Garbage Rat Oli! Specifically season 2 Rats tho, lol! I very clearly just wanted to try my hand at drawing a rat on two legs, Garbage's very all over the place in the sketch. The lines are messy and that was kinda on purpose(Garbage whole look and personality is messy and I wanted to kinda,,, feel that in the art and design,, lol) also I was completely going from memory at some points :p

A non-hermit! A Rat Shubble! I don't remember what her like, thing was(like the titles most rats seem to have) but I do know she's lovely and I missed her. I was at my sister house, taking a break from craving pumpkins, and thought about the fact that Oli thought she,,, turned into,, a pumpkin, so I decided to draw her lol! I was trying to keep her cuter then Oli, alittle more put together, and I think I conveyed that at least alittle bit, :3 (also her outfits are so easy, Shubble please never change your outfits from the sweater + overall combo, Complicated outfits are my downfall LOL /lh)

A Etho! This was probably one of the better Etho sketches I did while trying to figure out what the hell his design's deal was ;w; I was having a very hard time but I think the eyes saved it on this one, it looks cute compared to some others! lol! also I gave him a little braid for no reason other then "cute!" lolsie

A second Joel! Secret life specially! I just wanted to draw him in a hoodie, I like drawing hoodies :] I'll make a slightly more complicated design later, but I like how he's just, in a hoodie, that season lol

A second Jevin! Frogger time!!! :O It's Jevin in that frog costume(drawn from memory instead of actually looking so it probably looks really wrong lol) I just really wanted to draw him again :]

A Gem! I was drawing newer peeps so I drew gem as like, a easier thing to doodle :'3 Also I had forgotten her hair buns in past sketches,,, oops

A Pearl! This ones much older than the others(as in, It's on the same page as the meme's with Pearl and Tim Drake lol), I just didn't find it good enough to post sadly ;w; It's a first try at Postmaster Pearl, from memory of course xP She's very cute but I don't think I tried even slightly on this one. you can tell cause I forgot a surprising amount.

and, Lastly, two more Etho's! I think these are cute, I'm just not proud of them at all, might not even look like Etho! but I still like them more then some of the others on that page,,,, They're silly, but not very good ;w;

Welp! That's it! I've been basically collecting my mcyt doodles to post, cause I don't deem a sketch or two alone, good enough to post :'] A hand full amount of doodles is enough for me tho, lol.

I'm real glad I've been expanding the number of hermits i've drawn tho! Yippeee!!

[mqsi]

hey i love your writing and was wondering if you could do one where reader is besties with balde and he brings reader with him to training almost every time they train but reader is bored so they draw while barca train and they cant help but draw more and more portraits of pedri, analyse him and stuff (like gradually catching feelings for him - crush) and one day they leave their sketchbook somehwere and balde and pedri find it and then everything is up to you :) thank you for letting me rant

Hi love, thank you! As an artist myself I’m happy for this request💙

——————————————————————————

You were close friends with Balde so It was expected from him to go and drag you on his practice or anything that included football. You were happy to attend his games but training grounds were something else.

You met a lot of his teammates but watching them train gradually became boring yet you didn’t want to disappoint your friend by not tagging along whenever he calls. You found escape in bringing a sketchbook, at first just sketching Balde in various poses.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander on a certain brunette, analysing his form. You respected Pedri as a player and he was also nice in person. But his good looks were a nice bonus as well. You got lost in thought as you pulled the lines on the paper, sketching Pedri’s face. A slight blush crept up your cheeks.

Next time, you let yourself draw his full body. His arms exposed with sweat decorating the skin. You caught yourself analysing his features, the way his nose curved and the stubble on his chin. The way his hair flew in the wind and his eyes turned to honey in the sun.

How he rolls the shorts up and the way he smiles. How he playfully pushes Gavi or teases Ferran. From practice to practice, your sketchbook became full of Pedri in different situations. That’s when you realized that you might have developed a crush for the midfielder.

Just as you placed down the sketchbook on the bench next to you, Balde came running to you, seemingly running away from someone.

“HELP ME” he yelled, pulling you off the bench. You started laughing and played along with the tag game they started on the field. So much that you forgot about the sketchbook on the bench, leaving without it.

On his way back to the locker room, Pedri noticed your little treasure. He immidiately knew it was yours, as he noticed you always holding a pen and 9/10 times looking at him. So the drawings were no surprise when he flipped trough the pages.

Being honest, he did always find you quite cute. The way you scrunched your face in concetration while drawing and how you taught that he didn’t catch your stares.

That’s when he got an idea. Since you already left with Balde, he pulled out his phone and called him.

“We were together 15 minutes ago?”

“Yeah I am not calling for you, are you still with y/n? Can you give her the phone?”

Balde made a face but handed you the phone anyway.

“Hey?” You asked, still completely unaware that your sketchbook was forgotten, let alone in Pedri’s hands.

“Hey hermosa, don’t you think you left something?”

Your eyes widened at the realization. Suddenly, your face was hot and breathing was harder.

“Um, can you leave it where you found it, I’ll come back for it now”

“Uh oh, I’m worried that It’s already in my bag and I’m already in my car so if you want it, you can come over and I’ll give it to you” Pedri said, which was obviously a lie since he was standing in the middle of the field still.

“What?” You nervously asked.

“You heard me, and I don’t see the problem really, it seems that you enjoy looking at me”

You felt your face heat up even more and you tried to compose yourself to speak.

“Fine, I’ll ask Balde to drop me off at your place later today, is that okay?”

“More than okay”

——————————————————————————

a/n: I HAD TO USE Y/N HERE CAUSE THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY FOR HIM TO ASK AND I HATE IT

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

Midday

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone. 

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return. 

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief. 

"I'm not that pale." 

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…" 

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay. 

That's more than okay. 

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter. 

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk. 

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk. 

Wolffe. 

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief. 

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor. 

Maker alive let's just get this over with. 

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks. 

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?" 

"Looked like he was about to." 

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive. 

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself." 

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within? 

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches? 

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us." 

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry." 

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye." 

The kri-? 

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color. 

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?" 

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.) 

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…" 

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course. 

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly. 

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist. 

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers? 

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder. 

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see. 

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil. 

"Getting painful?" 

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage." 

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia." 

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe." 

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you. 

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers. 

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war. 

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done." 

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to." 

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?" 

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either." 

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation. 

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood. 

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor. 

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later. 

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell." 

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?) 

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them. 

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words. 

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line. 

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general. 

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals. 

Terrible blue flower. 

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough. 

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant." 

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!" 

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General. 

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach. 

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control. 

I will carry out your judgment. 

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers. 

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General? 

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you? 

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?" 

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.) 

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion." 

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?" 

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least. 

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?" 

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here." 

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift." 

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment. 

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have. 

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary. 

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color." 

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?" 

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit." 

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip. 

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage. 

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really. 

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing. 

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal. 

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please. 

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[FFF Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Here] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn Part 2]

[linghxr]

My late summer 2023 cdrama updates (+ movies)

This is a follow-up to a previous post I published in February. I'm thinking of doing twice-yearly updates on what I'm watching! I'm also including a few movies this time.

I'm going to try to include content warnings, BUT my memory is not perfect, so please be aware that I may have forgotten details.

Shows I've watched: Some of these were mentioned as "currently watching" in my previous post.

《消失的孩子》 The Disappearing Child As the title suggests, this show is a mystery about a child who goes missing. It also incorporates other plotlines that gradually converge—that's all I'll say to avoid spoiling it. The payoff when the plotlines finally intersect was so satisfying! Overall I really enjoyed this show and highly recommend it. Be aware that it does have references to sexual assault and corpses (I don't think anything was directly shown).

《猎罪图鉴》 Under the Skin This show is about a sketch artist, a police detective, and an old murder case that connects them. I enjoyed the first half, which mostly chronicled stand-alone cases. But I found some cases hard to follow (disclaimer: my police vocab is limited, and I took several breaks while watching). Frankly I was a bit disappointed by the ending, so I don't think I'll watch the upcoming second season. Warning: contains some depictions of sexual assault and domestic violence.

《她和她的她》 Shards of Her To avoid spoiling anything, I'll just say that this show is about a woman who, after experiencing a traumatic accident, wakes up in an alternate version of her life. This show had me constantly doubting what was real and what was fake! I really couldn't get it out of my head. BUT I ultimately wouldn't recommend it due to what I found to be pretty disturbing sexual violence. I don't think there was anything too graphic, but I had to take significant breaks between episodes due to the upsetting content.

《镇魂》 Guardian I knew virtually nothing about this show (I thought it was steampunk tbh) but had heard good things. It's hard to summarize...basically it follows a police bureau that handles supernatural cases and, with some help from a mysterious, powerful envoy, saves the world. My favorite part was the first half, when they were mostly solving stand-alone cases. I got a bit fatigued during the second half. But it was perfect for when I wanted to unwind after work. Warning: the ending left me upset, and the special effects are hilariously bad.

《模仿犯》 Copycat Killer This is probably one of the most violent and death-heavy shows I've ever seen (and that's coming from someone who has seen Criminal Minds and part of Hannibal). It's about an unconventional prosecutor and a sadistic serial killer who uses the media to cause mass panic. Without spoiling it, I'll just say you need to be prepared for murder, torture, suicide, and other violent imagery. This show is not for the faint of heart—I could barely finish it, honestly. There are no happy endings for this kind of show.

Movies I've watched:

《想见你》（电影版） Someday or One Day (Movie) This long-anticipated film adaptation was a letdown for me personally. Instead of simply condensing the show, they made A LOT of changes. I'm not against changes, but the plot of the movie was way too confusing for me to follow. I'm not even going to try summarizing it here. If you haven't seen the show, I think you'll be completely lost. If you have seen the show, you'll be wishing you were rewatching the show instead.

《消失的她》 Lost in the Stars I'll admit, I only went to see this to see 朱一龙. The premise is very Hitchcock—a man is nearly driven over the edge after his wife vanishes and a woman he has never met appears, claiming to be his wife. There are lots of twists and turns, and I did not see the ending coming at all. Personally, I wish it had less action and more elements of a psychological thriller. It was a fun summer movie, but it wasn't anything groundbreaking. But that's OK!

《关于我和鬼变成家人的那件事》 Marry My Dead Body I barely knew anything about this film before I watched it. I only knew it had 许光汉, and I saw a lot of buzz online. It's about a homophobic police officer who enters into a ghost marriage with a (male) ghost. Frankly, I didn't like it that much. I did enjoy seeing the characters' growth, but the plot was very fast-paced, so I didn't have time to process anything that happened. Please note: there is rear nudity and some limited depictions of sex.

Currently watching:

《隐秘的角落》 The Bad Kids After hearing about how great this show is for years, I'm finally checking it out. I've only seen the first episode so far, but I'm really excited to see what's to come! It's about three children who accidentally film a murder. That's really all I know at this point.

《我们与恶的距离》 The World Between Us I haven't even finished the first episode of this show yet. I started it but decided to pause because I felt like I was juggling too many shows. I plan to revisit it after I finish some other shows. I know it's about the aftermath of a mass shooting, so I'm expecting it to be very grim.

《不良执念清除师》 Oh No! Here Comes Trouble I saw a lot of praise for this show online. It's a bit odd but in an endearing way. It follows a young man who discovers he inherited a mystical power after all sorts of strange beings start coming to him for help. So far the only thing I disliked was the gore.

《你的孩子��是你的孩子》 On Children This show is kind of like Black Mirror but with the theme of troubled parent-child relationships. Each episode is practically a movie, and I have only finished one so far. If you are not on good terms with your parents, it may bring up some painful memories.

Potentially abandoning:

《理智派生活》 The Rational Life I started this drama because I was curious about the premise—a professional woman's ups and downs in the workplace. There is also a slow romance (a 姐弟 romance since the male lead is much younger). However, after finishing episode 23 out of 35, the thought of watching 12 more episodes kinda fills me with dread.

《你安全吗？》 Are You Safe? This show is about "vigilante" hackers and the antics they get up to. It's supposed to raise awareness for cybersecurity. Honestly I don't think I have made any progress on this show since my last post...! I may just abandon it because there are a lot of other shows that have more successfully caught my interest.

I can't wait to share another update on what I'm watching/have watched in 6 months or so!

[iamnot-crazy]

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

Summary: You have always itched for adventure and when an interesting vessel appears you take your chance and jump aboard. Now the Straw hat pirates present an offer you can't refuse but before you take them up on it you first need to speak to your grumpy captain.

Trafalgar Law x GN!reader

---

Law's initial assumption was that your boundless energy and lack of boundaries would be a constant annoyance, but since you have been aboard he learned how wrong his assumption was. Yes, you were a handful with your knack for finding trouble, and extricating you often became Law's personal headache. But he'd come to appreciate that side of you too. When you weren't excitedly soaking up new information or peppering the crew with questions for your ever-growing log, you were a surprisingly calm person.

For a good part of each day, you'd disappear, engrossed in recording the Heart Pirates' adventures. Your passion seeped through the pages of your beautifully illustrated log, showcasing your love and thoughtfulness for the crew.

It wasn't until he saw you gazing at the Straw Hat captain with the same unwavering determination you'd had when you first boarded the Polar Tang that Law realized what he'd taken for granted.

The Straw Hats each have their own fascinating stories and ambitious dreams and you listen in awe. You scribbled furiously in your smaller travel notebook, capturing their every word so you could later transfer it to your larger masterpiece. Your pen barely kept pace with the torrent of tales they poured out.

Law's frown deepened as your eyes glowed with a familiar spark. Sure he didn't want you on his crew at first but he'd grown attached to you, and so had the rest of the crew. From your cheerful good mornings, while whipping up breakfast to your one-on-one sessions with each crew member to write their stories, you have become an indispensable part of their lives.

But what Law appreciated most was your silent companionship. He'd often find you tucked away in a quiet corner, diligently writing and sketching while he read a medical book, the rhythmic sounds of the waves serving as a lullaby.

His heart tightened when the Straw Hat captain finally reached his boiling point. He bounded over to you, his declaration echoing across the decks, "Y/N! We go on crazy adventures every day and someday I'll be King of the Pirates! If you want to write about a legendary crew, you should join ours!"

Law's gaze darted between you and the captain, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his sword hilt.

Luffy grabbed your shoulders in a playful chokehold. "Every legend needs a chronicler! What do you say, Torao?! Can Y/N join my crew?!"

All eyes turned to Law, the air thick with anticipation. The smile that had bloomed on your face faltered. You'd been so caught up in the Straw Hats' infectious energy that you'd completely forgotten about your crew.

His jaw clenched, and his grip on his sword tightened further. "I don't control them,"

Luffy jumped up in excitement grabbing onto your shoulders and cheering for his new crew members. The others also joined in celebration making you feel welcomed and warm compared to Law's cold glare. You pulled yourself out of the straw hat's grip and bowed your head, guilt gnawing at you. "I'm so sorry, Straw Hat-ya, but… would you allow me some time to think about this?"

Luffy's infectious grin faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah, but don't keep me waiting too long!" He quickly bounced back to his usual cheer, rejoining the festivities.

You felt a pang of longing as you turned away from the vibrant scene, seeking solace with your captain. Sitting awkwardly next to him, you struggled to find the words. Law finally sighed, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. "You should join them," he muttered, surprising you.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. "But what about the Heart Pirates?"

Law pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I already reached my goal. Doflamingo was defeated. I don't know what the world has in store for us next, but I do know whatever the Straw Hats' will be doing, it will be far more interesting. Your dream is to write about the new era, and I played my part. The Straw Hat captain… he isn't done."

You were frozen, your mind racing. "But Captain…"

Law stood up, cutting you off. "Just go join them." He turned away, his voice thick with emotion. He stormed away to the Polar Tang slamming the hatch shut behind him.

Just as Law disappeared in the tang a whistle pierced the air. Turning, you saw Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo approaching, their faces etched with concern.

"He seems mad," Shachi commented, plopping down on a nearby crate.

"You aren't really going to join the Straw Hats, are you?" Bepo asked, his voice trembling.

You shook your head placing it in your hand "I don't know."

Penguin shrugged. "Maybe you should join them. You're almost finished with your book on us, and the Straw Hats are going to need someone like you to tell their stories."

Bepo scowled. "But she's a part of our crew!"

Penguin sighed. "Look, Bepo, she has a dream too. Documenting the new era, the Straw Hats are definitely going to be leaders in that. It doesn't mean she doesn't care about us."

"But what about our Captain? Or do you not think he can become King of the Pirates?" Shachi interjected, glaring at Penguin.

Penguin flinched. "No, it's just… you saw them. Besides, Captain said it himself."

"But Y/N joined our crew first, doesn't that count for something?" Bepo whined.

"I just mean Y/N has served her purpose with our crew joining the straw hats would be the best for her." Penguin countered, his voice firm.

The conversation devolved into a heated debate, leaving you feeling even more overwhelmed. You excused yourself and retreated to your favorite porthole, the one offering the best view of the open sea. As you approached you found another figure leaning against your window staring off at the sea.

You smirked slowing your approach and dancing toward your grumpy captain "Anything interesting out there?" You sang leaning into his view.

Law jumped at your appearance but relaxed when he realized it was you and leaned his back onto the wall. "Nothing new." He sighed rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry for being brash earlier."

You crossed your arms and smirked playfully, "You were?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "But I was being sincere earlier. I think you should join the Straw Hats. But…"

"But?" you urged, your heart pounding.

He looked away, his voice quieter. "But we'll miss you."

A warm smile spread across your face. "Awe, did I finally grow on you, grumpy Captain?"

He scoffed playfully turning to his side and looking back out the porthole, "You did a while ago." He admitted.

His comment took you off guard, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Law sighed, "You might have been a little much at first but I have grown to enjoy your presence and passion."

You tilted your head, studying him curiously. "Enjoy?" Your tone was laced with surprise, "The entire time I have been aboard you have been so pouty."

He scoffed, "I have not been pouty." You gave him a knowing look causing him to roll his eyes, "Fine I might have been a little pouty but that's just because I didn't know how to feel about you."

"Feel about me? Captain, do you like me?" You playfully teased.

Law's cheeks turned a faint pink. "Forget I said anything!" He pushed himself away from the wall and started to walk off.

"Wait!" you called out, reaching out to grab his arm. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to tease. Please."

He turned back, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a vulnerability you hadn't noticed before.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and husky. "When you first boarded the ship, you were full of this chaotic energy, but there was another side to you that I learned to appreciate. You care so much about the crew and documenting every adventure." He reached the wall again and sat down, "The first time I saw you here, drawing and writing your stories…"

"Our stories," You interrupted with a chuckle, joining him on the wall.

Law smiled faintly. "Yes, our stories. I didn't think you had it in you to be so focused. It was… nice to hear your pen scratching against your sketchbook as I read my medical books. I think that's when I started having conflicting feelings for you."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. You hadn't expected such a confession. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Law shrugged, a hint of frustration in his voice. "It's not like I could act on it. I'm your captain and there was so much that needed to be done. And if you don't feel the same it would backfire more on me."

Hesitantly, you admitted, "I would be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way. I never imagined you could feel the same." You pause looking softly at him, "So what now?"

Law sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Now you join the Straw Hats and complete your dream. Then, hopefully, one day our paths will cross again."

The thought of leaving Law and the Heart Pirates ached, but you understood his reasoning. "But what if I don't want to join the Straw Hats?"

Law raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I saw how you were looking at them, how you blended in with them."

You bit your lip. "They're constantly getting into trouble, and I don't think I'm strong enough for that."

"They'll protect you," Law reassured you.

"Just like you have?" you asked.

"No." Law averted his gaze, a wry smile playing on his lips. "With me, it was different. I pulled you out of trouble. With them, it'll be different. They'll pull you into trouble, they'll challenge you, push you to your limits, but they'll also have your back."

"But I like things the way they are here. With you," you confessed, a pout forming on your lips.

Law grabbed your chin pulling you to look at him before he pulled you into a kiss. You were taken by surprise at first but his soft lip calmed your nerves as he deepened the kiss.

When he pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of sadness and determination. "Y/N," he said in a voice rough with emotion, "go chase your dream, and when you do, we'll meet again."

He stood up abruptly and disappeared down the hall, leaving you staring after him in a daze.

Taking a deep breath, you knew what you had to do. You grabbed your bag and made your way to the library. There, in the quiet solitude, you began writing the final chapter of your time with the Heart Pirates.

With a heavy heart but a burning determination, you finished the entry, pouring your love and gratitude for your experience onto the pages. Closing the book, you turned to the empty one – the one that would chronicle the adventures of the Straw Hat Pirates. You place the new empty book into your bag leaving the completed version of the Heart Pirates book on the table for everyone on the crew to read.

With your bag full and a new empty book, you walked out of the polar tang. Outside the party, the two ships have started to die down and many lay asleep on the ground. Your eyes darted across the dock for your captain but he was nowhere in sight, before you could turn around in search of him you felt a rubbery hand wrap around your waist.

"Y/N! I see your bags are packed! Did you make a decision?" A bubby captain pulled you off the deck of the Tang and onto the deck of the Sunny.

Your feet wobble as you try to brace your new bearings. You scratch your head, "Yeah I think I did but I was hoping I could say goodbye to Law first."

"No need." Robin appeared at your side, holding a folded piece of paper. "He stopped by earlier and left you a note."

You took the paper, your heart pounding. Written on the paper in handwriting that could only be written by a doctor said, "We'll meet again."

"Hey, we should probably get going soon if we want to make it to the next island by tomorrow!" Nami shouted from above you cutting off your thoughts.

"Alright then, let's set sail!" Luffy declared, his voice brimming with infectious energy.

And with that, the Sunny pulled away from the dock and the Heart Pirates, charting a course towards a new adventure. You stood at the railing, the wind whipping through your hair, your notebook clutched tightly in your hands. The future stretched before you, an open book waiting to be filled with the stories of the Straw Hat Pirates, and perhaps, someday, a reunion with a certain grumpy doctor. A smile bloomed on your face – the adventure had just begun.

---

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

I can't get my emojis to work, but Joshua Whitmore and happiness?

That Familiar Smell of Fresh Paint - Joshua Whitmore/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N.

Wordcount: 2560

Summary: Happiness isn't a familiar feeling to him anymore, but it's the little things is his new life with you that makes him start to remember how it feels.

Notes: I love writing him so much that I'm already looking forward to all the new ideas that came to me as I was working on this QwQ

It was hard at first, but you both expected that after your big, dramatic return from New York. As soon as you'd boarded the plane the two of you knew that things wouldn't be the same now that he'd been found, and sure enough once word got out that you'd not only crashed his big party to steal him back but also returned to Detroit, one Ms. Jorie Chastain was back at your door to properly ask for an interview this time.

Turns out she'd been quite reprimanded by her superiors for her previous ‘interview,’ and you were more than happy to accept her apology money and then have Joshua slam the door in her face as thanks for tearing the painting that was now framed on your wall.

It'd been quite the sum to make up for nearly ruining both your lives, and you put it away to go towards that adorable little property you'd had your eye on since it'd gone on sale. You drove past it the next day with him to test the waters, see if he'd want to start over fresh with you there, just casually mentioning the for sale sign and how you should maybe check it out, get back to animosity since everyone now knew where you lived. He'd been silent, his foot propped on your dashboard and his sketchbook placed against his leg while he drew what he saw, and he'd barely paid the property any attention at all when he caught sight of an overgrown park crawling with nature and freedom.

You try again a couple weeks later when you make the drive to the art store with him to give his legs a rest; he was so used to walking everywhere he'd forgotten completely how to drive, and at first he'd gone on a very long rant about how cars were polluting the environment and how walking was better for the body and mind, although for once he tossed in a little compliment as he commended you for always walking to work even though you did own a vehicle. 

Now, many rides later, he’s relaxed and sitting in the passenger seat while feeling the breeze, completely fine with cars for the moment while you drive, and you point out the for sale sign again as you approach.

‘I see it still hasn't sold, it's a decent property, I wonder what's wrong with it?’ you joke with many glances thrown his way, and this time he did look as he hums to himself.

‘Based on the state of the yard, broken windows on the side of the house, as well as that concerning dent in the roof I'd say it's a wreck inside, owners are probably old and finally selling because they can't afford to keep it in the family anymore, that one won't be housing anyone until the whole thing needs to be gutted,’ he figures before taking his sketchbook back out to work on his park sketch, he only seemed to work on it when you drove together.

‘Oh, how'd you-?’

‘Been in a lot of places like it, I can usually tell from the outside what the inside will be like by now,’ he says without looking up, and for a moment you'd actually forgotten that he'd been on the road the past seven years, not homeless but traveling, of course he'd had to have learned about all the safe and empty places to stay, what would be a risk and what would be a temporary paradise. ‘You're quiet, you wanted that house, didn't you?’

‘What? No, of course not, I've already got a decent duplex, you're not gunna find a better bathroom for that cheap,’ you brush him off nervously, but he doesn’t buy it as he glances at you and keeps drawing. ‘By the way, I've been wanting to ask since I don't see you on my floor, but how's the job going?’

‘Working to survive but not to be happy, it's a hard question to ask, isn't it?’ he begins, and you give him a look until he chuckles. ‘It's fine, been a while since I've been around that many people, and I know the only things they know about me were found on the internet and in that woman's news segment, but I'd prefer it if I was a no one to them again, just so they'd stop staring when I come around.’ He doesn't draw as he speaks this time, his eyes staring out the window as the neighbourhood turned into downtown, the art store in sight.

‘We could always see if you could work from home, I hear that's been a big thing in the city?’ you suggest, but the thought of that makes him visibly recoil.

‘Working at a desk in the comfort of my own home? Taking the precious hours we have in a day to get up, sit in front of those machines and just work until I can't tell what's the job and what's my personal life anymore? That sounds worse than being forced to paint, don't ever say that to me again,’ he grumbles as he hunches up and places his shoes on your dash again. You chuckle softly at the sight, he always knew what he wanted and what he didn't like, and you certainly can't imagine him being able to work on anything other than his paintings while he was home.

‘Sorry, I should've known better,’ you tease, and he just continues grumbling all the way to the parking lot. The art store is more well stocked now that everyone knew he was here, the owner ordering all sorts of professional things since he knew that Joshua would be back in due time, and sure enough he always was to replenish his supplies. It was nice to not be limited to just the children's supplies now, he’s certainly very happy about it as he races for the paints and sees that they were higher quality than last time, and the new brushes he'd suggested have come in as well, the display announcing their newness to the lineup. 

He has his own money again, after the great loss to the show you'd ruined he'd ended up having to pay out of pocket for it all as compensation, but once that was settled and he was finally set free from his contract he was also free to claim the rest of what the bank had been holding for him for almost a decade now that he wasn't legally dead. 

His checking account had been pretty much cleaned, but he'd also had a secret savings account that had been highly suggested by his then girlfriend, since she did care about his future until he'd grown too numb to remember how to love her back anymore. As such, since Mr. Eldred didn't know about it and focused purely on what he had left in his checking, the interest had accumulated into a new mini fortune that he was now slowly blowing through as he spoiled himself with new paints and proper canvases and all the things a starving artist on the streets wouldn't be able to get.

It was funny how fast his views on money had changed when he was able to toss everything onto the counter and pay for it without putting you out.

Now that he has a paycheck again he mostly sticks to using that, the two of you recently having joined your accounts so you could help contribute to his savings. It was a very big step in your relationship, once you discussed many times as you helped him set up an online account so he could see where his paychecks were going without a trip to the bank, but it felt right after your big city rescue. Knowing that he can get whatever he wants, you again wait patiently as he checks out everything and repeatedly goes over his mental inventory of what he still had back home. 

You hang around the register so you won't bother him, he would likely be ignoring you anyway if he wasn't giving you a history lesson about everything he was looking at, so you prefer this option since it gets you home faster. You exchange a friendly nod with the owner, he was very familiar with the both of you now, and get comfy leaning against the counter until he’s done, his voice drifting over the aisles as he openly talks to himself since you weren't there to listen.

‘He sees like a nice guy,’ the owner observes as he also listens, and you smile fondly in his general direction when he sees something he doesn't like and starts talking a bit too loudly about how kids could never flourish with brushes that break that easily and were too cheap to actually hold the paint they were using.

‘He is,’ you reply honestly even as he approaches with an armful of said brushes and sets them down with the intention to have them be removed from the inventory, which of course they wouldn't be. ‘He's a bit insufferable at times, but… he's genuine, and honest, and passionate, and I've never met anyone like him.’ He returns with more as well as the things he actually wants to pay for before disappearing again. ‘I'm sorry about this, I'll put it all back when he goes to the canvases.’

‘It's no problem, it's pretty slow in here when the kids don't have any big art projects going on, gives me something to do,’ the man laughs, and Joshua is very pleased when he finally notices the extra large canvases that were now in stock even though you know it'll be a pain to fit them into the backseat. 

You continue your light conversation with him while Joshua finishes up, and in his excitement the final bill is a bit more than usual, but he’s happy to pay for it all as he hands over his card and punches in the pin. All three of you have to carry everything to your car once the transaction is complete, thankfully he only indulged in one giant canvas this time since he was running out of wall space in his studio, and the rest is tossed into the trunk with great excitement.

‘Thank you for getting these in, and you have my list of more appropriate supplies for the kids’ section, right?’ he asks as you get into the car, Joshua hovering around the door and refusing to let the owner go without his very important suggestions being taken into consideration.

‘I'll see how well the new stuff sells before I order more stock,’ he vows as he backs up towards the door, Joshua ready to walk back in and give him a quick lesson on why he should also really get rid of some other things so he could pay more attention to his rather lacking informational book selection when you lean across the seats, grab him by the back of the hoodie, and pull him in with you. He relents and shuts the door, now preferring to see how this stuff compares to what they provided in his month back in New York since they'd gone for price over preparation, which of course he could tell the difference between. 

You have to pass by the house again to get home, but you can only glance at it longingly this time at the thought of moving him into another rundown place; you don’t want that for him, he deserved someplace open and clean after waking up in empty houses for so long. He sees your look this time and bunches up again to draw, but this time it isn't to work on his park you discover as you pull into your driveway, it’s actually a rough blueprint of how to fix up what he saw on the outside.

‘Need to get in, see how bad it is or if I’m wrong,’ he mutters as he hands the book over after everything is brought in, and your heart pounds a little harder when you read his notes crammed beside the shapes.

‘It’s just a house, we can look together for something better,’ you tell him as you hand it back and head for your laptop, but he just shakes his head and rests his arms over your shoulders, his chin on the top of your head while you sit at the table.

‘Told you I’m good with my hands, did a lot of construction work, if we buy it fast then we could get it cleaned up before it gets worse,’ he says softly, and you realize that he was doing this because it was something you wanted for once, his final hurdle in him getting used to not only living with but also loving someone again.

‘I don’t want you to have to stay in another busted up old house,’ you reply without looking up, your hands still on the keyboard and touchpad as you hover over the real estate site you’d bookmarked weeks ago. ‘This place is fine, we don’t need anything bigger or better, it’s… you deserve better than more broken ceilings and cracked paint.’

He kisses your head then, he was still getting used to giving you affection when he felt like sharing it even though you’d already slept together and had been together for months, but just knowing that he was the one to kiss you this time is enough to make your heart soar. ‘You know I don’t mind the smell of fresh paint, that’s my entire life,’ he reminds you quietly, his lips moving against your hair and his chin digging into your scalp as he speaks, and you free yourself to turn in your chair and stare up at him.

‘So you really wanna do this? You wanna buy a house with me? I’ll have to start driving to work again,’ you gape up at him, and he doesn’t seem too happy about you driving so much, but his expression is still very soft as he leans down even more to rest his chin on your shoulder along with his arm.

‘It’s closer to the art store, we can start walking there together,’ is his reasoning, and you press your own kiss to his cheek before going to the house’s page and checking out the uploaded images together. It’s better than he expected, the damage is mostly on the outside, but he was right about the older owners wanting to sell their family home since they now had a slightly smaller place closer to their grandchildren and couldn’t afford to keep both. He points out the easy fixes, stuff he’d learned how to do years ago, and the second bedroom is the perfect size for an even bigger studio; both bedrooms lead out into the backyard, a proper backyard this time where there’s room for a garden, and a birdbath is already in place and sporting a bluebird in the photo on the screen.

You take it as a sign, you both do, and he decides to save his giant canvas for later as you call up the realtor and set up an appointment to tour the property, Joshua just watching you talk with a content smile on his face all the while.

[cinnamon-stheater]

KanaMafu - Kokoronashi

So I finally wrote my first fanfiction!✰ Sorry it took so long; inspiration took a while hehe! As you can see from the title this is a KanaMafu fic, and I'm not caught up on all the Nightcord events yet (from Kanade's Tea Time event and so on), so some events that had occurred in those events are completely ignored. Just pretend they didn't happen.

TW!!: angsty and severe themes (death basically). also really lazily proofread

Summary: Nightcord is doing their usual 3am activities when Kanade receives word from her father's hospital.

Word count: 1079

Click. Click.

"Hm... the bass shouldn't be so loud here," Kanade muttered to herself. "And this note doesn't fit in with the rest."

Click. Click.

"Kanade?" A girl's voice broke through Kanade's musing. "I've finished the sketch for the ending part. Could you take a look? I've sent it through the chat."

"Sure, Ena," Kanade nodded, switching tabs to the Nightcord chatting up, the one the group used to communicate. A new message popped up, and Ena's drawing gradually loaded onto the screen. Kanade clicked on it to enlarge it, quietly inspecting her friend's artwork.

"It looks great." Kanade smiled softly.

"Really? Thank you!" Kanade could hear Ena's beam through her headphones. "I'll get started on the lineart!"

"Wow, Ena," a louder voice spoke up, having seen the drawing as well. "This is amazing!"

"Hehe, thanks, Mizuki."

"Hey, Kanade, I'm almost done with the chorus as well!" Mizuki added excitedly. "Once Ena and I finish with the end, we'll be done!"

"That's great," Kanade said. "This song was finished quickly."

"Yeah! Good job, everyone!" Mizuki cheered.

It was such a happy mood for a gloomy day. The rain was pouring endlessly outside, pounding on the always-curtained windows in Kanade's room. She smiled. Even with all their hardships and troubles, being able to sit here and make music with her closest friends was a nice way to rest after the long day.

And the last person in their music group, the one that was living with Kanade right now.

"Mafuyu?" Kanade glanced up as said person walked up beside her. "Do you need something?"

"Your phone has been ringing," Mafuyu replied in her monotone voice, handing Kanade a vibrating phone. "For a while."

Kanade blinked, glancing at her desk. Usually she had it right next to her. Maybe she'd left it on the dining room table when she'd gone to get a drink of water - something she didn't usually do, so it made sense she had forgotten it.

"Oh - sorry, Mafuyu," Kanade said, taking the phone and standing up to leave the room. "I hope it didn't interrupt your work?"

Mafuyu shook her head. "No."

"That's good." Kanade made her way down the hall to the dining room and answered the frantically buzzing phone. "Hello?"

"Yoisaki-san! Thank goodness you answered!" A lady's voice cut through the speaker. "I've been trying to reach you for ages."

"Sorry," Kanade replied apologetically, a sheepish smile overtaking her features. "I was caught up in my work."

"At least you answered," the lady said. "I'm afraid I have terrible news." She paused.

"What is it?" Kanade's fingers tightened around the phone. Was it something about her father? She'd gone to visit him a few days ago and he'd talked about having a daughter named Kanade... the sweetest child ever, he'd said. Kanade bit her lip.

"Your father..." The lady's voice got significantly quieter, and Kanade's heart quickened its pace. "We are very sorry to say, but your father has passed away. We -"

Thud.

What?

Passed away?

No. No, that couldn't be. She had just seen him. He had been fine. Had been. Did his condition worsen that fast in that short amount of time?

Kanade gulped in air, trying to steady her swaying body. A tiny voice filtered out of her dropped phone, calling out, but she couldn't hear it. The world around her had gone silent, as if she'd been dropped into the ocean. All she could hear was her heartbeat, pounding madly in her ears.

Passed...

The lady's voice rang in her mind.

Away...

No..!

Kanade stumbled forward, her feet tripping over themselves. She broke into a run, not even caring to put her shoes on before she was out the door, her bare feet pounding painfully on the cement sidewalk. Her thin blue jacket was soaked instantly, and she trembled violently as she ran, both from the cold and desperation.

The hospital... where was the hospital? Even with the streetlights the dark was terribly suffocating. Her vision blurred, from the rain or the tears pricking at her eyes, she didn't know. She could feel her body tiring, slowing down, and her feet stung from the probable cuts that had appeared, but she had to keep going. She had to make it to the hospital and see her father. She had to make sure he was okay.

Your father has passed away.

Kanade's legs flew out from under her. Her frail body crumpled onto the ground, her hands scraping against the cement. She pushed herself up, but a knife-like pain pierced her stomach and she staggered. Right, she hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday. But she couldn't care about that now, not when her father had -

"Kanade!"

A figure approaching from behind came into her line of sight, their hand reaching out to rest on her arm. The sound of rain pattering onto an umbrella broke through Kanade's dazed senses, and she looked up at the figure.

"Ma...fuyu..?"

"Kanade," Mafuyu murmured. The same emotionless voice, expression - yet Kanade could hear the other girl's underlying worry and fear. "What -"

Kanade's shoulders quivered and her knees shook, threatening to bring her down. Like an earthquake had struck, she collapsed into Mafuyu's body, sobbing into her shoulder and clutching onto the other's sweater to keep herself from falling. It was like a dam had given way within her and all her pain came crashing through in a tidal wave of unbound misery. Every single thought, fleeting feeling, deep emotion was let loose in a rushing flood of tears and broken sobs. It hurt so much. Why did it hurt so much? And yet she deserved it, didn't she?

Her mind flashed back throughout the years: every time she went to visit her father, every time she would sit down to make music, there was a twinge of sadness, a pang of guilt. Because she was the reason he was in the hospital. She was the reason...

The rain spilled down from the stormy gray clouds, sliding down and off the sides of the umbrella. The wind howled through the air, screaming out its sorrow. The world itself had come to grieve.

It could have been moments, minutes, or even hours as Kanade wept despairingly into Mafuyu's shoulder, soaking her sweater with never-ending tears. All through that time, Mafuyu held Kanade close, a hand on her back, while she held her umbrella against the wind to shield them both from the anguished rain.

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

Thank you for reading!✰ I think most of my fanfics will be about this long, maybe a bit longer or shorter. It's named Kokoronashi because of the song's chorus (it's a KanaMafu cover). Kokoronashi as a whole actually doesn't fit this fanfic that much, but I think it fits Kanade and Mafuyu's relationship pretty well, so go listen to it if you haven't already!✰

I hope you enjoyed!✰

[flossy2003]

Storms- Oneshot

Just a warning- includes angst involving parental loss and sickness.

Wolf walked into the sitting room, and was surprised to see Scarlett, curled up on one of the sofas, sketching by the light of a candle.

“Scarlett? What are you doing in here?”

The girl jumped.

“Sorry! I’ll go back to bed!” She said, hurriedly sitting up and gathering up her drawing materials.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I just wanted to know why you’re not in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep, the storm was keeping me awake.”

“It was keeping me awake too.” Wolf replied, taking a seat next to his daughter.

“I hate them,” Scarlett spat.

She regrettably recalled one winter, when she had forgotten to bring Relica her morning tea, so the cruel woman had locked her in a leaky barn. She was only fourteen at the time.

She’d tried pleading with Relica, apologising, promising to do better, but her cries fell on unforgiving ears.

The barn held no animals, having been abandoned many years ago, so Scarlett had no one to talk to, no one to confide in.

Danielle would hear her sobbing when she went out to tend to the garden in the afternoons. She wasn’t allowed to speak to her, let alone comfort her, otherwise Relica would have her locked up too.

On the third night of her punishment, there had been a terrible storm. Part of the barn’s rotting roof had been torn off by the gusts of wind, leaving Scarlett exposed to the freezing cold temperatures and harsh rain.

She got was found in the morning, unresponsive.

Relica had reluctantly called a doctor out to check on her. She’d told him that she was her aunt, that she had adopted Scarlett and her “sister”, Danielle, after their parents died and that she’d found Scarlett wandering the gardens that morning, before she collapsed. Unfortunately, the doctor had bought the story.

Scarlett was diagnosed with influenza and was ordered complete bed rest (or rather, wooden-slab rest) and heavy doses of medication.

The doctor would sometimes be called out in the middle of the night, because Scarlett had woken up screaming from tummy pain or hot flushes.

While she did recover physically, she never recovered emotionally.

Wolf completely understood.

“Have I ever told you why I don’t like storms?” He asked.

“No?”

“It’s not a very happy story, but I think you need to know that you’re not alone, when it comes to trauma surrounding storms.”

Scarlett nodded.

“When I was a little boy, your aunt Stella and I lived with our parents in a cottage right in the middle of Harmony Glenn. One night, there was a great storm, one that nearly wiped Harmony Glenn off the map.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened.

“Your grandparents died and our home was destroyed…”

“Oh, dad! I’m sorry.”

Wolf put his arm around Scarlett and pulled her close.

“Your grandparents were amazing people, they stood up for what was right, always encouraged us to ask questions and loved everything life had to offer. I wish they could’ve met your mother and you kids…they would’ve loved you.”

Scarlett smiled.

“I wish that too. They sound wonderful.”

“You know, you’re very much like your grandmother and your great grandmother, come to that, they were creative too.”

“They were? Did they like to sew, like me?”

“Your great grandmother did, she would make a lot of mine and Stella’s clothes when we were babies. My mother preferred painting.”

“Ooo! Like Auntie Rapunzel?” Scarlett asked.

“Yes. In fact, Auntie Rapunzel and your mother were the first people outside of my family to see the little art workshop that we owned. They loved the paintings and Stella’s mosaic pieces.”

Scarlett smiled.

“So, what happened to you and Aunt Stella after the storm?”

Wolf took a bated breath before continuing.

“Many lost their homes and businesses. The orphanage was gone and those who still had their homes didn’t really care about orphans. They filled their homes and with families who still had the money to pay them.” Wolf explained, bitterly.

“Stella and I, like many other children in our position, were left on the streets, to fend for ourselves. The adults around us were always fighting and looting from one another…so much for “Harmony Glenn”, huh?”

Wolf’s dry chuckle made Scarlett frown. She knew that he was trying to make a quip to make the story a bit lighter for her sake, but it just made her feel more sorry for him.

“It was very scary. I still remember what it was like to scrounge for food and huddling under torn-up blankets to keep warm at night,” Wolf resumed, “that is why I hate storms. They took everything from Stella and I, and I’m always afraid that it’ll happen again.”

Oh. That explained a lot, Scarlett thought.

Her dad was very attentive to his family. He had special nicknames for them (“Princess” for her, “Beautiful” for her mum, “Warrior” for Edith and “Little buddy” for Harry), and he cried when he had to go away on business trips. All he wanted was to keep them as close as he could and give them all the love he didn’t have for so long. He was terrified of losing them or them losing him.

“I’m really sorry you went through all that, dad.”

Wolf kissed her head.

“I’m just thankful for what I have now.”

“Me too,” Scarlett mumbled.

“Me three.” Cassandra said, from the doorway.

Wolf and Scarlett looked up.

“How long have you been standing there, honey?” Wolf chuckled.

“Not long. I woke up to this hungry little guy,” she said, holding up Harry, “and noticed the bed was empty. I figured you’d be down here, on a night like this.”

“I can feed him, if you want?” Scarlett offered.

“That would be great,” Cassandra replied, passing Harry to her.

While Scarlett took Harry to the kitchen, Cassandra cuddled up next to Wolf.

“Cute’s not really my thing, but our kids are insanely cute,” she grinned.

“You know, you always say that cute isn’t your thing, but if it wasn’t, how come you’re so adorable?” Wolf teased, booping her on the nose.

“Ugh, you are the world’s most soppiest husband.”

“And you’re the world’s most beautiful wife.”

“I love you, Wolfie.”

“I love you too, Cassie.”

Wolf made a silent vow that nothing would ever come between him and his family again, especially not storms.

[mytchthemyth]

Monkie Kid Thoughts/Theory

Hi! So as some of you may have noticed, I have fallen down the Lego Monkie Kid rabbit hole. I finally watched all 4 seasons and specials and even checked out the season 5 trailer (so hyped!!), along with some theories made by the lovely @cherllyio and @lu-zijing, as well as the Youtuber RV Sketch. I've absorbed a lot of information and wanted to lay out my thoughts real quick on some things I hadn't seen anyone specifically address.

First off, I wanted to address MK's powers and how they relate to his creation, as I feel like some people may have forgotten some info laid out in the beginning.

As we learn in season 4, MK was created from Wukong's stone, and it was implied to have been Nuwa, the Chinese creation goddess, who did so. Master Su Bodhi also directly states to MK that he has learned his powers at an abnormally quick pace. As I believe @cherllyio pointed out in one of their theories, even Wukong had to actually work hard and train under Master Su Bodhi for a while to learn most of his powers, while his immortality and golden eyes come from several escapades he went on (eating the peaches of immortality, scribbling out his name from the Book of the Dead, burning his eyes in the trigram furnace, etc.).

MK, on the other hand, innately has these abilities. He's not just learning them at an absurd rate; I think he was created to have all of Wukong's abilities and possibly even his immortality. Looking back at the very first episode of the show, MK clearly demonstrates invincibility on a similar level to Wukong, who is only so invincible because he's immortal like 5 times over. @cherllyio has also pointed out how MK starts off with gold-vision, even though Wukong only gained that by burning his eyes in the trigram furnace. Also, when MK talks with Wukong about being unable to control his powers, Wukong volunteers to put a partial seal on them to make it easier for MK to learn to master his abilities. This is the real reason why MK "learns" his powers so quickly; he's not actually learning them, he's just figuring out how to do stuff he already could.

But if MK was created with all of Wukong's powers (and possibly immortality) being innate, why can't he control them? And why didn't he display any ability to use his powers until after picking up the golden staff? Well, because he's incomplete.

While I do think it's possible the monkey figure is just broken as a result of MK being born from it, I also believe in the theory that Youtuber RV Sketch and @cherllyio have, where something happened to Nuwa while she was creating MK that resulted in the monkey figure becoming broken.

I also learned that Nuwa apparently did not believe in having "perfect" creations and instead enjoyed the imperfections her creations had (can't find source anymore), so while she may have created MK to have all of Wukong's powers, she probably wasn't intending him to just pop out fully-formed and already equal to Wukong.

Here's what I think is the reason why Nuwa created MK:

As an important celestial being, Nuwa recognized that there was complacency/corruption within the Jade Emperor's court, with several important figures being obsessed with establishing order/complete control over the world (Azure Lion, Lady Bone Demon, and probably also Li Jing and the Underworld Traitor). However, Nuwa could not do anything about this herself, so she decided to create an Agent of Chaos to combat these corrupt figures once their plans went into motion. And who better to base her new creation off of than the most powerful chaotic being in existence, the Monkey King? (In some versions of his origins, Wukong is even born from one of the 5 colored stones Nuwa used to fix the sky, which would be even more reason for her to use Wukong's stone to create a new mystic monkey.)

And so she modeled MK off of Wukong, giving him the exact same abilities, although she probably intended for him to learn to master them over the course of his life. She may have even wanted Wukong to train MK. However, I don't think Wukong was ever intended to raise MK or knew about the birth of another being from his stone until the gang got trapped in the Scroll of Memory. I'm pretty sure every instance shown of Wukong next to the stone is meant to show him being led back to the stone as he searches for MK and him trying to figure out why. And, let's face it; Wukong would've been a terrible dad. He couldn't be a proper teacher, there's no way he would've done a good job raising a whole child.

Besides, I don't think Nuwa was intending for Wukong to know about MK at least until MK was older. If a naked, mud-covered toddler suddenly showed up at his doorstep with the exact same powers as him, Wukong would've been immediately clued in that something was up and he would've tried to figure out what (probably while forgoing proper childrearing). MK was probably meant to be more of a secret weapon against the Celestial Realm traitors, so a retired Wukong suddenly flying all over the place trying to find the person who created the child with him would have definitely tipped them off.

Personally, I think Nuwa is the one who placed baby MK in front of Pigsy's noodle shop. Nuwa successfully managed to create MK and he was born at the top of Flower Fruit Mountain, but someone disrupted Nuwa, resulting in MK's monkey figure becoming broken. In order to save baby MK, Nuwa sent him away to somewhere she knew he would be safe and hidden, to be raised by the descendants/reincarnations/whatever of the Great Companions. Otherwise, I just don't see how baby MK could have gotten all the way from Flower Fruit Mountain to Megapolis without Wukong noticing anything. I mean, there's a literal ring of volcanoes and the ocean between the city and the mountain! Plus, it's weird that the baby MK managed to find his way directly to someone directly related to the Great Companions (Pigsy) who would have already had a connection to two other people related to Great Companions by this point in his life (Sandy and Tang). Feels like divine intervention, if you ask me.

I also wanted to talk a bit about ink MK.

As stated in the show, the ink monsters in the Scroll of Memory are created by the protective curse put on the scroll to torment the prisoners trapped inside with their past. It's pretty easy for the curse to torment everyone else with their past lives/ancestors/whatever, but how does it torment MK, someone with no past and no intent to look into his past?

By forcing him to confront it.

In RV Sketch's theory video "Is Ao Lie Still Alive?" she mentions how it's weird for the Master Su Bodhi in the scroll to know anything about MK, and when MK asks how he knows about him Su Bodhi dodges the question and saying that "there's little I do not know". RV Sketch proposes that the Su Bodhi in the scroll is just the curse trying to trigger an identity crisis in MK, which I think makes sense. It's far more believable for the Su Bodhi in the scroll to know about MK because he's actually the curse trying to mess with him, while the real world Su Bodhi knows because "there's little he does not know".

So yeah, Scroll Su Bodhi gets MK started on the identity crisis train, at which point the curse transitions to ink MK. Now, MK is actually pretty smart, so I think the curse takes the Monkey MK form because MK has already mostly figured stuff out about his past (especially after talking with Master Su Bodhi), he just refuses to admit it. That's why ink MK keeps goading him into "saying it out loud" and "using his words" to say what he's clearly thinking.

But what I want to focus on is Ink MK's behavior and how similar MK acts to him while fighting Azure Lion in his Mystic Monkey form. In both instances, Monkey MK is shockingly calm and collected, refers to other people as "friend", and uses past words and actions to upset the person he's fighting and keep them off their game. As Monkey MK says, "There's nothing mindless about me."

I think while MK is dealing with Ink MK and starts glitching out, he might already be aware of the distorted personality he would have as Monkey MK. Or, the curse is simply showing MK what he will be like as Monkey MK, but that feels a bit out of scope of the curse's powers since it's supposed to torment people with their pasts, not their futures.

Monkey MK also acts very similar to Macaque during his battles with Wukong, especially in season 3. While Wukong is also known to trash talk during battles, he doesn't go after traumatic stuff. But Macaque does. This could relate back to an idea some people have had of MK actually being a mix of Wukong and Macaque, as well as the thought that MK is broken/incomplete, resulting in his personality becoming distorted when he goes Monkey Mode. There's also been the interpretation of the original Journey to the West that Macaque was born from Wukong as a sort of "shadow self", so it's also possible that we're seeing the beginnings of MK's "shadow self" being born through his Mystic Monkey form.

The show definitely wants us to know something's wrong with Monkey MK. Not just because MK becomes scarily different and that huge frightening astral monkey appears. Wukong himself shows concern over the fight after MK creates that giant pillar of light. Up to that point in the fight, Wukong wanted MK to use his monkey form and was rooting for him as he fought Azure. However, once the true depths of his power start to appear, Wukong becomes serious and clearly thinks something's up, although he never really says anything during the special.

Edit: There's a part 2 now.

Edit 2: I actually miscredited the theory that MK was innately created with all of Monkey King's powers. It wasn't Cherrlyio but RV Sketch who originally talked about the theory.

[ghcstao3]

this came to me in a dream but i saw a artist!soap/civilian!ghost post-breakup au sometime last month and it hasn’t left my head because think of the Angst!! like. imagine ghost still having paint stains on his otherwise spotless hardwood floors from where soap used to station his easel. or soap locking away his sketchbook dedicated to just ghost’s face because of his strict no photos rule. actually foaming at the mouth thinking of soap’s journal allll the time

this was good practice because Man i do not write angst often. but in any case! i adored this prompt

-

Simon had been naive to think that there wouldn’t be remnants of Johnny left behind in his home after they’d broken up.

He thinks, looking back, that maybe it had only been some sort of pathetic hope to make it less painful, that he could return home and not have to remember in any part everything Johnny that had invaded over the years. That had infected and melded with Simon until each of their lives had become unrecognizable from the other.

Of course, Simon isn't so lucky. Because in no world is Johnny so easily forgettable, especially not after years of intimacy, or vulnerability. Not after years of real, horribly profound love.

The breakup had been deemed mutual, but it hardly feels that way most days. For the best feels like a complete lie, in retrospect.

Simon forces himself to move on, though. He can’t dwell on emptied spaces and a silence far too loud. He can’t cling to memories of domesticity and the belief that it’d last forever. Simon doesn’t get to have those things. He's not sure why he ever thought that Johnny would be the exception to everything before.

It still hurts seeing the permanent marks left behind in his home, however.

He tries his best to stop thinking about Johnny, and he succeeds for the most part—until he does stupid things like wanting to rearrange the furniture in what had been Johnny’s spaces, and discovers with a bitter fondness splotches of long-since dried paint neither of them had ever thought to clean because there would be more in the future. Because there was meant to be more in the future.

And as he sits on the floor for the first time in months truly missing Johnny, contemplating whether it’d be worth mustering the courage to scrub the floor of these remains, Simon wonders if Johnny has been managing any better than he has.

Probably, Simon thinks miserably. He’s always been the better man.

- - - - -

Immediately after their breakup, Johnny keeps himself together better than anyone thought he’d be able to.

Because they all thought he and Simon were madly in love. And they were, for a while. But things always change, though, don’t they?

As time passes, however, and Johnny settles into a life without Simon for the first time in a very long time, moving on grows increasingly difficult. He’s a mess, quite honestly, as put together as he appears to everyone else.

It’s with anger that he believes Simon is doing better, after everything. Because he’d never been as weak as Johnny. Because he wouldn’t have to think twice about throwing out what isn’t his, unlike Johnny—who cannot stand the thought of looking at old sketches of Simon, but is just as reluctant to burn those final bridges and toss out every journal reminiscent of a life he’ll never live again. Who wants to rip those pieces to shreds but continue to treasure them all the same.

He finds a box. An unmarked, nondescript cardboard box. He packs away every journal he'd dedicated to Simon, tapes the box shut, and hides it in his attic among boxes almost exactly alike. He never labels it, not wanting to offer any more power to those journals—but Johnny can never fully bring himself to forget.

Its presence still gets shoved to the very back corners of his mind. Then finally, finally he can breathe. Finally he can leave those final pieces of what he had with Simon behind.

Johnny is foolish to think that, though. Because he had forgotten just how much of his life, his art had been occupied by Simon. Johnny still sees Simon in so much of what he's created, what he continues to create.

And when he stumbles across one of the first sketches he'd drawn of Simon, in a notebook not separate for the man like all the others, Johnny has to sit and wonder just where they had went wrong.

[psychokinetic-ectoplasm]

Have you thought about doing anything for doctor Detroit? Or Dan's male prostitute character from snl? If not could you consider doing a one-shot where the following scenarios could happen...

DD- teaching assistant discovers the hidden life of doctor Detroit and to take down mom character decides to help him out by posing as a stripper or one of his girls.

SNL- character calls for him specifically (maybe a childhood friend, old colleague or something along thoes lines) basically the complete opposite of the sketch. Main point he is wanted.

Thank you for this request, anon!

Since I have a Doctor Detroit fic already cooking in my head, I decided to go with Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute.

This kinda got away from me and ended up being 12 pages long 😅 Enjoy, anon!

Also here on Ao3

NSFW under the cut!

Let It Only Ever Be Me

“Yo, Fred!”

Fred looked up at Slick, who was leaning around the doorframe. “Yeah, Slick?”

“You got a call. Some lady is asking for you by name.”

Fred blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah, you!” Slick walked in and dropped a piece of paper on his desk. “Here’s the address. Nice place, too. You must have made a good impression somewhere!”

Fred picked up the paper and stared at the address. He didn't recognize it, but hey, work was work.

***

When you opened the door, you could tell that Fred wasn't expecting to see you. And honestly, you might have been expecting him, but it had been a while since you last saw him. He looked the same, with his same slicked-down hair under his hat, thick horn-rimmed glasses, and a plaid jacket. He was still handsome in Fred's dorky way. But you’d forgotten just how much you liked him. Or, perhaps, more than liked… For some reason, things never really went anywhere between you two, though you were sure there was mutual attraction.

Right now, he was staring at you, open-mouthed, obviously shocked to see you.

“Hello, Fred,” you greeted with a smile.

He stuttered out your name. “You live here?”

You grinned. “Yeah. I’ve done well since college, huh?”

“I’ll say!”

You stepped aside and motioned him in. He hesitated just for a moment before nodding his thanks and walking inside.

“I’ll admit,” Fred continued. “I wasn’t expectin’ to see you. I also wasn’t expectin’ to get asked for by name.”

“To be honest, Fred, when I heard what you were doing… Well, I was curious.”

He glanced at you, seemingly becoming a little nervous. “Is that so?”

You walked backward, further into the house, and Fred followed, his gaze flickering between you and your belongings.

“Sure. I also missed you.”

Now, Fred stopped. “You did?”

“I do.”

He held out his hands. “Well, I service the entire quad-cities area, so I suppose it wouldn’t be very likely for us to run into each other.” He took a few steps closer to you. “And, uh… I missed you, too.”

You took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

Fred smiled before taking a deep breath. “Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, why don’t we mosey on up to your bedroom so I can roger you roundly til six in the morning!”

You bit your lip to not laugh. “Now, wait a minute, Fred—”

“If you’re worried, I assure you, I’m fully qualified! And you have my personal assurance of professionalism, hygiene, and animal gratification.”

“Oh, I’m sure!” you replied, unable to hide your laughter now. You stepped up to him, resting your hands on his chest. “But that’s not why I asked for you, Fred. Not for your… services.”

His expression fell. “Oh. Well, as for my services, you get me for the whole night.”

You took his hands again, leading him toward the dining room. “I know. And I want you here the whole night. And don’t worry, you’ll still get paid. But I want your company, Fred. I meant what I said. I missed you. And I’d like to catch up.”

You didn’t miss the disappointed expression that crossed his face before he forced a smile. “I suppose I can do that. You’re right. It has been a long time.”

“Exactly! Now, won’t you join me for dinner?”

“Be happy to.”

Dinner went well, better than you expected. You both caught up with each other's lives, easily falling back into the comfortableness that you two shared years ago. He told you a little more about his work, you told him about yours. There was something still a little off about Fred, though. Something… sad. You couldn't figure out what it was, but you wanted to take that away.

After dinner, you gave him a tour of the house. Fred seemed genuinely pleased that you'd done well for yourself. You thanked him but secretly wondered what your life would have been like had you and Fred gotten together. You smiled a bit at the thought. Married, probably with a couple of kids at this point… Would Fred have wanted that?

“Bedroom?” Fred asked as you passed by the door.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You'd been avoiding that, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “But there's nothing really special about it.”

“I think one can learn a lot about a person based on their bedroom.”

His hand was on the knob, but he was looking at you, waiting for your permission. Well, you supposed it was inevitable that this evening would end up here…

You motioned to the door. “Go ahead.”

Fred walked in, nodding as he looked around. “I knew it! Suits you.”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! It's also very cozy.” He sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands, and smiled at you. You sensed the change in his demeanor. This wasn't just Fred anymore. “You sure you don't wanna change your mind? Why not give me a whirl, baby? What have you got to lose?”

“Fred…” you murmured, stepping further into the room.

“I can begin the session by striking a few seductive poses.”

“That's really not necessary…”

“Okay, no poses. Then just skedaddle into this bed, baby, and—”

“Fred, listen to me!”

That finally got his attention. He stopped moving, sitting silently and looking at you. You say next to him, taking his hands.

“I told you I didn't call you here for your services.”

He looked away, his typical unflappable demeanor slipping, the sadness from before showing again. “So, you don't want me either…”

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

Fred shrugged. “For a male prostitute, I'm not very good at closing the deal,” he admitted quietly. “I know people don't want me, that they humor me because they feel bad for me. I'm not an idiot. I can see it. But I was hopin’…” He pulled his hands from yours, turning away from you a bit, his voice so quiet now, no longer a salesman. “I was hopin’ it'd be different with you. That maybe, for once… someone would actually want me. You know, prove I'm not horrible at my job.”

“Fred…” you tried to say, but he continued.

“And then there's the trusses. Ya know, I got one for my hernia, my spleen… I know they're a turn-off, but…”

Finally, you grabbed his face, turned it toward you, and kissed him on the mouth. Fred made a surprised noise and pulled away, the look on his face shocked.

“I, uh…” he began a bit hoarsely. “I don't usually kiss clients.”

“Good thing I'm not a client,” you murmured, stroking his cheek.

Fred gazed at you, sighing softly. “No. No, you're not.” 

You softly kissed him again, and this time, he kissed you back, though hesitantly. You smiled.

“Fred… I know I said I didn't call you here for sex, which is true. I didn't know how this evening would go. But that doesn't change the fact that I do want you. It doesn't have to be tonight, but… I don't want just sex. I want to make love to you, Fred. You. Fred, the man, not Fred Garvin: male prostitute.”

He stared at you in awe. “Ya mean, you… you really want me?"

You nodded. “Yes. I do. I have since we were in college together.”

Fred's shoulders sagged in relief. “I've wanted you, too. Well, more than just want…”

He looked away, his cheeks pink.

You smiled and turned his face back to yours. “I love you, Fred. I have for a long time.”

“Oh, honey, I love you, too!” he exclaimed passionately in great relief, taking your hands in his. “But I never thought… I mean, how could you ever love someone like me?”

“Easy,” you replied with a shrug. “You're you.”

The pleased little smile on his face made the whole evening worth it. His smile, however, then turned a little sad. 

“No one's ever truly wanted me before…” he murmured.

You leaned closer, your hands on the lapels of his jacket. “Then let me prove it to you. I want you, trusses and all.”

That made him chuckle faintly. “Okay.”

He stood, and you moved further back onto the bed, watching him as he undid his belt.

“I do work with the glasses and jacket,” he said.

You gave him a look. “Fred.”

He seemed to realize what he'd said and how he'd said it. A bit sheepishly, he removed his jacket. “But I'll make an exception for you.”

You chuckled. “Gee, thanks.” You sat up and pulled him closer to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “We’ll have to break you of these habits. With me, I want you to be yourself, okay? You don't have to put on any airs or strike any seductive poses for me to want you.”

“But I can still pose?” he asked, and the hope in his voice was adorable.

You grinned and pecked his lips. “I'd be disappointed if you didn't.”

You had his shirt unbuttoned at this point, and you were just about to push it off his shoulders when he stilled your hands.

“Wait. Allow me.” 

With a great flourish, he shed his shirt. You could see the top part of one of his trusses above the waistband of his pants, but that wasn't what you were focused on right now. No, you were far too interested in his chest and the hair there. You couldn't wait to touch him…

Fred then climbed onto the bed. “Now, I'd like to begin by striking a few seductive poses to stimulate arousal.”

You bit your lip as he began striking said poses. In all honesty, you weren't entirely sure what was seductive about them, but they endeared him to you even more.

“I call this one The Snake,” he said, laying on the bed before pushing himself up onto his hands. “Are you experiencing symptoms of arousal yet?”

“Oh, I'm experiencing something alright,” you said, trying desperately to not burst out laughing. He was precious.

Fred moved to sit next to you. “I'll take it! Now, enough foreplay, let’s get crackin’!”

Before he could move, you grabbed his shoulders.

“Wait. Listen, Fred… Why don't you let me take care of you? You usually do all the work, right? Why not let someone else pamper you for a change?”

He hesitated. “Oh, I don't know… No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“Then let me. Let me love you, Fred.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright. Suppose we can give it a whirl.”

“Good.” 

You pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him. As you settled over his crotch, you frowned, looking down.

“That’s my rather elaborate network of trusses,” he explained. “Maybe we should take those off first. I will need your help with them.” You got off of him and let him stand again. He shed his pants, revealing the trusses. “I’ve got the hernia truss here. I got a spleen truss. It undoes with a coupla snaps in the back here.”

You were listening. Honest. But it was difficult to pay attention when, aside from the trusses, Fred was now in just his underwear and socks, and the underwear left little to the imagination. He was already hard, which made you impatient to remove them. But first, the trusses. 

With a hard swallow, you shifted forward to help get them off. You half expected to see something, but there was nothing, no outward sign of anything wrong.

Once the trusses were discarded, Fred laid back down. He then looked over at you, his gaze trailing over you.

“Aren't you, uh… Aren't you gonna, ya know, take your clothes off, too?”

You smiled and climbed back on top of him. “I will, but I want to kiss you some more first.”

So, you did. You kissed him passionately, intent on stealing his breath away and make him mad with want for you. And you got your wish. As your tongue tangled with his, he moaned wantonly, his hands lightly moving over you as if he wasn't sure where he wanted to touch you first. You loved hearing the sounds he made, and more so than that, you loved touching his skin. With a few lingering pecks, you ended the kiss.

“So… if you never take your jacket off, no one ever touches you like this, then, right?” you asked, rubbing his heaving chest, your fingers carding through the hair there.

Fred shook his head, breathless. “N-no. Never. Only you.”

You took a breath. “Only me… Fred…” You leaned down and let your lips just barely touch his. “Let it only ever be me.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

You kissed him with that, and Fred's hands moved to start pulling at your clothes. You let him slowly undress you. It was slow because, with each article of clothes that disappeared, Fred had to touch your skin. They were gentle caresses, occasionally accentuated by a squeeze here and there. They had you wanting him more and more with each passing second.

“Fred,” you whispered as his hands slid up your bare back.

“You're so beautiful, baby,” he whispered back as you sat up. 

His hands moved around to your breasts and gently kneaded them, his mouth falling open into a silent moan. You smiled sweetly and let him continue for a moment before leaning down to kiss his neck. Fred hummed in response. The sound thrilled you, and you wanted nothing more than to shower him with kisses and drown him in pleasure. He deserved it.

You shifted upward, pressing your covered core over his crotch. You both gasped as you rolled your hips over him.

“Please,” Fred all but whimpered.

“What do you want, sweetie?” you murmured, kissing across his shoulders and collarbone. “Tell me.”

“Touch me,” he gasped. “Please, baby, I'm dyin’ here!”

You took pity on him and freed him from his underwear. A sigh left you as you as you wrapped your hand around his cock and began to lightly stroke him. Fred moaned quietly in response, his hands gripping your thighs.

You pecked his lips. “You’re perfect.”

“N-no one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Oh, Fred,” you moaned, kissing his neck again. “You deserve to hear it every day, all day.” You then looked down at your hand moving over him, your thumb swiping up a bead of precum to smear over his tip. “God, I can’t wait to feel you inside me…”

Fred’s hips bucked, and his hands flew to the sheets to grip them. “And I wanna feel you around me.”

You breathed his name again, shifting around to remove your panties before lifting up and letting the head of his cock slide through your folds.

“Gosh,” Fred gasped, watching everything. “Even that feels so good, honey.”

“I know… Are you ready?”

He nodded frantically. “Yes!”

With that, you sank down onto him, sighing in relief upon feeling him finally filling you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasped.

Fred threw his head back against the pillow, moaning, as he bottomed out within you. You echoed his moan, taking a moment to adjust to him. And, not about to waste the opportunity, you dropped your head forward to suck marks onto his neck, shoulders, and collarbone. His responding whines were music to your ears.

As you did this, you began to slowly roll your hips, making you both gasp. 

Fred's hands moved restlessly over your thighs and hips. “Oh, you have no idea how long I've dreamed of this with you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed against his skin.

He nodded. “I wanted ya for so long. Loved ya for so long.”

You sat up and began to move a little faster on him. Fred’s hands immediately flew up to cover your breasts, his touch needy. You smiled down at him and covered his hands with yours, watching him as he looked at you. He seemed to be in awe.

“Stay with me, Fred,” you murmured. “All night, tomorrow, the next day…” You then grabbed him and rolled over, managing to keep him inside of you. “I'm yours.”

Fred groaned, planting his arms on either side of yours and picking up at the pace you left off on, but only for a few moments. He became frantic in his need, pounding into you. You moaned wantonly, clinging to him, loving the feeling of his cock hitting all of the right spots within you. If what he'd said was true, he never actually got to do this very often, which made you love the fact that he was now getting to pour his feelings into this as he'd never been able to do before. 

“And I'm yours!” he moaned. “I'm not gonna last much longer, baby!”

“Fred,” you panted as seriously as you could. “Do you want to cum inside me?”

His thrusts faltered, and he choked out a moan, nodding frantically. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, keeping him close. 

“Cum in me, Fred,” you whined. “Make me cum with you!”

He buried his face against your neck, his hot, labored breaths dampening your skin as he strove for release. He was making you feel so good that you fought to hold back in order to cum with him.

“Please,” you whimpered, one hand moving up to hold the back of his head.

That was all Fred needed. His thrusts faltered once more, and he buried himself to the hilt within you, cumming hard, choked moans tearing from his throat. You were right there with him, crying out in pleasure as your walls squeezed around him.

When you both were spent, Fred collapsed against you, both of you panting and trembling through the last vestiges of pleasure. You cuddled him close, not wanting to part from him yet.

“Thank you,” Fred breathed, his hand pushing under you to hold you, his lips softly pressing to your skin. “Thank you.”

You smiled, eased his glasses off his face, and nuzzled his cheek. “What for?”

He pressed a little closer to you, tucking his face fully against your neck now that his glasses weren’t in the way. “For givin’ me a chance.”

“Oh, Fred,” you sighed, tightening your hold on him. “I love you.”

He kissed your neck again. “I love you, too, baby.”

You so wanted to convince him that he was worth it, that he was wanted and loved. No matter how long it took, you vowed you'd be there for him.

No more wasting time, you thought, kissing his cheek as he relaxed further against you — you happily took his weight. There was time to make up for and a whole future ahead of you.

And right here, in Fred's arms, is exactly where you wanted to be.

***

The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face and snuggled closer to the warm body pressed to you. You lightly ran your fingers over Fred’s chest before lifting your head to look at his sleeping face. His glasses sat on the bedside table, so you were able to admire his face without any obstructions. And he still bore the evidence from the night before.

His usually slicked-down hair was mussed, and his neck and shoulders were covered in the hickeys you left on them… With a smile, you kissed the corner of his lips and rested your face right next to his so your nose touched his cheek.

A smile tugged at his lips as he turned his head slightly toward yours. “I’m not used to actually sleeping in someone else’s bed,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. His hand on your hip flexed, pulling you subtly closer. “Could get used to this.”

You hummed and kissed his cheek. “I would enjoy waking up to your face every day.”

Fred returned your hum and gently pushed you onto your back so he could settle on top of you. You grinned, wrapping your arms and legs around him, your hips shifting upward against his erection. Fred lowered his face to your neck, his own hips meeting the movements of yours so you ground against each other.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered.

You sighed, blissfully happy. “I love you, too, Freddie.”

You felt him grin before he lifted his head to look at you. “I missed you callin’ me that. You’re the only one that ever did.”

You pecked his lips. “I know, and I love that. I love you.”

Fred gazed at you for a moment before taking a breath. “Let me make love to ya.”

You nodded eagerly and brought him down for a proper kiss. You both moaned into the kiss as Fred reached down between you two to run the head of his cock through your folds. However, before he could push into you, there was a sudden commotion from elsewhere in the house, followed by voices.

“Who’s that?” Fred asked, startled.

“That’s my housekeeper, and—”

“I assure you, ma’am, the lady of the house knows me.”

“That’s Slick, my boss,” Fred said.

You nodded. “That’s who I spoke to on the phone.”

As the door to the bedroom opened, you and Fred scrambled into a sitting position with Fred in front of you, the sheets piled up over his lap, while you hid behind him.

“Fred!” Slick exclaimed, stepping into the room. “My man! I was worried about you! Usually, I hear from you before sunrise. I was getting worried, so I came down here myself.” He then smirked. “Well… I can see you had no problems with the trusses.”

Fred shook his head, nervously toying with the sheets, making sure they were fully covering him. “No, no problems.”

“And you, ma’am? I assume Fred here has attended to your needs?”

You nodded, half hiding your smile against Fred’s shoulder. “He sure has.” Fred sent you a sheepish smile over his shoulder, and his cheeks turned pink when you lightly kissed his neck. “He was perfect.”

Slick looked pleased. “Ah, of course, he was. He’s my Fred and butter man! I’ve got eight girls and Fred.”

Fred shook his head. “Had, Slick. You had Fred.”

Now, Slick frowned. “What do you mean?”

Fred glanced at you again and took a deep breath. “I’m done, Slick. I quit.”

Slick sighed, regarding Fred for a moment. “I’ll be sad to see you go, Fred, but… I’m actually kind of relieved. You needed someone steady, and I’m glad you found it.”

“Thanks,” Fred replied, turning to share a smile with you.

“Well, in that case,” Slick said, donning his hat, “I’ll leave you to it. But Fred, feel free to drop by from time to time to say hi. The girls and I’ll be happy to see you.”

Fred nodded. “I will, Slick.”

With that, Slick left, closing the door behind him. As soon as it closed, you wrapped your arms around Fred. He melted back into you with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He nodded. “But I did. I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re all I ever wanted.”

You then began to pepper his neck and shoulders with kisses while rubbing his chest, making him hum a bit. “And you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

You were hoping to distract him, get him worked up again, and this seemed to be working, but something was still nagging at the back of your mind.

“Fred?”

“Hm?”

Definitely distracted, you thought with a smile. “What about your trusses?”

“What about ‘em?”

“You don’t actually need them, do you?”

He was quiet. You moved a bit so you were sitting at his side, trying to get him to look at you.

“They were a way to get you out of ever actually having to sleep with anyone, weren’t they?”

He smiled weakly. “Like I said, I’m a lousy prostitute.”

“Were. Now you can be an amazing boyfriend.”

Fred nodded, his smile a little broader now. “I’d like that. Now, little lady,” he said, his voice stronger as he pushed you onto your back again. “Let ole Fred give you some animal gratification.”

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck again. “And why don’t you show me that snake pose again while you’re at it.”

Fred grinned. “My pleasure, baby.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Ivy & Stone, Chapter Nine: Lady Maribel’s Wedding

pairing: victorian au!javi gutierrez x f!oc (Florence Bell)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, love triangle angst, javi being bad for once, noncon-exhibitionism, unprotected piv, florence being a young fool in love)

wc: 3.7k

an: y’all aren’t ready for the dramaaaaaa in this one. don’t kill me pls i had to give javi a flaw 😭

series masterlist

Two months had passed since the night of Benjamin and Maribel’s engagement dinner, the bleak January rain and frost turning into a soft March drizzle, the flowers blooming in the countryside as Florence and Javi’s carriage trotted along the dirt road.

Javier sat in front of her, his eyes focused on his sketchbook as he busied himself with a portrait for the bride and bridegroom. Florence watched him rather closely, intent on taking him in while she was free of the distractions she knew waited for her at home.

To say things had gone back to their previous state would’ve been a lie. Javi struggled with loving his bride-to-be, or more accurately, with trusting her. It broke her to see him fight such a war internally, all because she chose to follow her body’s urges and allow herself to give in to her heart’s deepest desire.

She wished she could say she’d forgotten about Frankie, that she didn’t still yearn for him, but it wasn’t true. In fact, not a day passed without his image crossing her mind. She wondered how he was faring, how all of this weighed on his soul. At least she had a partner to bear it with, a person to love her in the spaces in between. Frankie was all alone, with nothing and no one to confide in besides his journal and the garden he tended to. She longed to apologize to him, to ask his forgiveness for treating him as nothing more than an affair when he couldn’t have been further from it. But she knew him far too well to think that he would accept that apology as anything more than an insult to their love. Besides, Javi had laid his terms out clearly and plainly—she wasn’t to see or speak to Frankie, unless of course she was choosing him.

She wasn’t sure she was ready for such a commitment. To lose Javi would not only mean losing a fiancé, it would mean losing her dearest friend and closest confidant. She couldn’t bear such a thought.

“How is it coming, my love?” Florence asked, pulling Javi’s eyes away from his work. He gave her that bright, boyish smile that soothed every ache in her chest and moved to sit beside her, showing her the half-completed sketch. “Oh, it’s lovely, Javi! Mari is going to adore it.”

“Thank you,” he replied, blushing as he tucked the sketchbook away. He grabbed both of her gloved hands and ran his fingers over her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers and lips parted to speak. “I…wanted to ask how you’re feeling…being back here.”

Florence sucked in a sharp breath and dropped her eyes to her lap where their hands remained clasped together. “I’m feeling…okay.”

“That wasn’t very believable,” he chuckled. “Please, I want your honesty.”

“Well,” she began with a sigh. “Honestly…I’m nervous. Very nervous. Not only because of…” She couldn’t manage the courage to say Frankie’s name but Javi understood her regardless. “But also to see my mother after everything. I worry she’s going to fawn over you every second, and I hate that. You’re not some prize for her to parade about to all her friends at court. You’re going to be my husband—you’re my prize.”

“Mi amor—” He grinned, reaching to tuck one of her chocolate ringlets behind her ear. “I assure you, I will be glued to your side the entirety of the week. Your mother will have to pry me from you to parade me about.”

Florence chuckled and nodded, attempting to calm her worries.

“And then,” he continued. “We will be off to Majorca to be wed. Then we’ll spend the next year traveling the world together, just me and you.”

“The whole world?” she chuckled, her finger tracing the curve of his bottom lip. Javi grabbed the hand that was lifted to his face and pressed a kiss onto her wrist.

“Anywhere you want to go, Florecita,” he hummed, his eyes batting shut as he breathed in her perfume. “I want to see everything in the world with you, my muse. I want to do everything in the world with you.”

“Let’s go to Paris after we’re married,” she grinned, now filled with excitement from the romantic scenes her lover had painted for her. “I want to see where you lived, what you did, what inspired you.”

“The countryside only,” he said, his face turning grave. “That’s the only part I want to revisit. Everything else—I don’t want it near you.”

“Can’t I decide that for myself?” Florence asked, her brows lacing together, that sickly sweet excitement simmering into something closer to irritation. “You got the chance to decide for yourself what you got to see and do. Why can’t I?”

“Because you’re my bride and I want better for you—“

“Because I’m your bride?” she scoffed and pulled her hand from his. “I am supposed to be your lover. Your confidant. Your equal.”

“You are—“

“No,” she shook her head and gestured at him. “We’re not even wed yet and you’re determining what parts of the world you’ll allow me to see!”

“There’s nothing for you in those parts of the world, Florecita. All I am trying to do is keep you safe—“

“Javi, you got to live a full life simply because you have a cock,” she said, turning to him with a stern, unimpressed look. “I want a full life. I want a full life beside you. But I do not want a life sheltered from the storms you decide I cannot weather. Do you understand me on this?”

“I do,” he sighed, reaching for your chin. “I love when you’re stern with me.”

“Do you?” she smirked.

“I love when you’re anyway with me,” he smiled. “But there’s something about you telling me off that sparks something inside me.”

“That’s good to know,” she grinned and kissed him.

“Frankie!” Leo called, running across the slowly thawing garden with a wide grin on his face. “Frankie, Florence is on her way!”

Frankie sighed to himself as he raked up all the soggy dead leaves from the winter season.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, dejected.

“You aren’t happy?” the child asked, tilting his head at his friend.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Leo,” he said, pausing his work to look at the boy. “Of course I’m happy, but—”

“Lord Javier,” he interjected, earning a nod. “I do not mind Javier. Of course, I’d prefer it if you were marrying Flo, but my mother has told me that’s not possible. Why isn’t it possible?”

“I’m just not as wealthy as they’d like,” he replied, shrugging. “And truth be told, I do not mind Javier either. He seems to be a good man.”

“But he’s not you.”

“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Picking up his work again, he moved further down the shrub he was manicuring and began taking a new pile. “The last time they were here together they seemed happy. She seemed…happy.”

His mind flipped back to the night in his cabin, the night she’d given herself back to him while her intended was back in London. He hadn’t gotten the image of her asleep in his arms out of his mind since then—a cruel, but welcome torment.

“I overheard my father talking about your departure,” Leo started again, watching as Frankie raked the leaves.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“How long will you be gone? And why does it have to be so far away?”

Frankie sighed again, trying to tame his frustration over the subject as he looked to the little boy.

“I will be gone as long as I’m told,” he said. “And the further away I am, the less chance your sister will have of seeing me.”

“Why can’t the two of you be allowed to see each other? Surely she’s allowed to have a friend, even in marriage.”

Frankie chuckled and shook his head.

“There is no universe, no reality that exists in which your sister and I can ever be friends. Your parents know this well.”

Leo frowned and looked down at the grass. “My parents must not see the bond between the two of you. I don’t know how they could be so cruel.”

“They’re not,” Frankie assured, reaching to pat Leo on the shoulder. “They’re only looking out for Florence’s best interest. I do not fault them for that.”

“Leo!” Lady Elizabeth called from the house. “Come inside for your bath!”

“Yes, mum!” he called back before turning to Frankie. “For what it’s worth, you will always be family to me, Mr. Frankie.”

Frankie couldn’t help but smile at that, watching the young boy as he ran off to his mother who was shooting daggers towards her gardener. Frankie looked away quickly, knowing his delicate position in this family well.

He wouldn’t have said yes to Lord Thomas’s proposition for him to move to America if Florence was still here, ready to run away with him and start a new life, away from all of this high society nonsense. But she wasn’t. She was still promised to someone else, and last he overheard, a date had been officially set. So, with nothing left to lose, he agreed to the terms. He’d leave England and Florence and move to New York to have a new life, one better than most who come from a similar background. He’d have his own home, his own land, and a job working for Florence’s uncle, James.

He had to remind himself every hour that this was a good deal, but he couldn’t help but still feel like he lost.

“Mari!” Florence chirped as she stepped out of the carriage with Javi’s hand steadying her, the sight of her soon-to-be sister in law distracting her from the looming thought of Frankie just a few miles away.

“Flo,” Maribel hummed as she hugged Florence close. “How was the ride?”

“It was lovely,” she replied, turning to look at Javi as he stood beside her. “I had good company.”

“She had great company,” he corrected with a smirk and a teasing bump of his shoulder against hers.

“Where’s Benjamin?” Florence asked.

“He’s at your family’s home,” she replied. “They should be arriving anytime. Your entire staff is already here working on the dinner.”

“The entire staff?” Florence asks, anxiety thick in her voice at the thought of coming face to face with Frankie after everything.

“I think so.”

Florence doesn’t fail to notice the way Javi’s smile is wiped away when she looks at him, his eyes locked on his shoes, his jaw clenched.

“Well,” Florence exhales and forces a smile on her face as she looks back to Maribel. “Shall we head inside?”

“Yes, you both must be so tired after riding all afternoon. Let me show you to your rooms—“ She smiled as she led the two of them up the steps to the palace, turning back to give them a smirk. “Tio insisted on separate bedrooms, primo.”

“Por supuesto,” Javi sighed, heavily ladened with the thought of interacting with his father again. Florence sensed the worry and slid her hand into his, only for him to pull his hand away and tuck it into his pocket.

Florence could feel her concern growing into irritation at the way he closed himself off from her, especially when she had yet to do anything wrong. All it took was the potential of her even thinking of Frankie for him to give her the cold shoulder. She wondered if it would be like this forever, Javi’s insecurity leaving her unable to have even the simple luxury of her own thoughts.

She hoped not.

“Aren’t you coming?” Anna asked Frankie as he stood at the carriage, helping the family as they headed out for the evening ceremony and reception.

“No,” he said simply. “I was told to remain here to look over the estate.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said, an appalled look on her face as she looked to her mother and father. “Allow Frankie to come.”

“No,” Lady Elizabeth replied, shocked at her daughter’s order.

“Well, I am not going, then,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Anna, get in the carriage,” Lord Thomas ordered, his voice demanding obedience in a way that his wife’s couldn’t. Anna sighed, knowing she had no choice but to follow the order. She turned to Frankie and frowned.

“I will bring you back some dessert,” she promised, delighting at the faint smile that grew on his face. “Perhaps they’ll have lemon tarts. I know they’re your favorite.”

“How did you know that?” he asked, but Lady Elizabeth’s bark for her daughter to get in the carriage left the question unanswered. With another smile, the seventeen year old climbed inside the carriage, Frankie closing the door behind her.

He watched as the family rode off, leaving him alone on the property for the first time in his life. There were no servants to keep him company, no tasks to complete. He was ordered into solitude, and he couldn’t have hated it more.

The ceremony was a lovely, candlelit scene. It was clear that Benjamin and Maribel were as in love as it got, but the row between Javi and Florence dampened the romance of it all for the couple who hadn’t spoken since they arrived.

Once the ceremony had concluded, Javi turned to Florence, admiring the way she sparkled in her gown and makeup, and felt unable to continue this silent treatment he’d been giving her since he saw her eyes light up with hope over the thought of Frankie being here, even when he knew fully well that the Bell men had purposely arranged for Frankie to remain at the estate.

“To the garden, then?” Florence asked in an exhale, her eyes meeting his for the first time all afternoon. He smiled and shook his head, the desire to get her all alone and claim her as his for the first time outweighing the desire to stay at the party. “No?”

“No,” he smirked as he combed a stray ringlet out of her face. “Do you trust me, Florecita?”

She tilted her head at him and let out a chuckle. “What are you planning? An apology?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching to hold her hands. “I was jealous. And insecure. But, I know you love me. I know you wouldn’t hurt me again. I know that.”

“Good, because it’s the truth.” She lifted her hand to rest on his cheek, loving the way he leaned into it.

“I‘ve been thinking about the fact that you and I have yet to…give ourselves completely to one another,” he said, nerves causing his voice to waver. “I wanted to wait—to do it right, but…I can’t wait any longer. I want you, my love. I want you right now.”

“There’s too many people here,” she blushed.

“I know a place where we can be alone,” he smirked.

“My family home?” she asked, giggling at the mischief of it all. “Are you sure we won’t be caught?”

Javi knew he was crossing a moral line by lying to her and assuring her that no one was there to find them, knowing fully well that Frankie would be on the grounds, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted Frankie to walk in. He wanted him to see that she was no longer his. He wanted to claim her in front of the only person that mattered.

“No,” he said. “There’s no one there.”

Florence bit her lip, thrilled by the plan, and nodded. “Then let’s hurry.”

The estate was quiet as Frankie sat in the greenhouse tinkering with a broken rake that was in desperate need of fixing. It wasn’t until he heard the crunch of wheels on gravel that he lifted his head up from his work, his brows furrowed in confusion. Lord Thomas made it clear that the family would be staying over at the Gutierrez palace tonight, so who could possibly be arriving?

Setting his tools down, he wiped his hands on a spare cloth before walking through the dark garden to the front of the home to get a glimpse of the carriage, noticing that it wasn’t one that belonged to the family as far as he could recall. His eyes caught a glimpse of candlelight in the window as the mysterious guest ascended the staircase to the second story, causing his heart to race as he sought out a weapon he could use to defend himself if someone was attempting a burglary. Running into his tool shed, he found an ax that he desperately hoped would only have to serve as a means for intimidation and carried it with him as he entered through the back door.

Florence and Javi were all giggles and hands as they clumsily made their way to her bedroom, Javi nearly dropping the candlestick he was carrying a few times when Florence got too handsy.

“My love,” she hummed as they stood in the middle of her childhood room, grabbing the candlestick from his hands and setting it on her nightstand before returning her hands to his face. “I want you so badly.”

“You can have me, Florecita,” he whispered, pulling her into his body to kiss her harder than he’d ever kissed her before. She moaned into his mouth at the promise and reached to unbutton his vest and dress shirt while he skillfully undid her corset without ever breaking the kiss. Florence grinned as she moved away from him to let her dress and skirts fall to the floor, leaving her in only her undergarments. Javi nearly broke at the sight, his pants tenting with the evidence of her arousal as he watched her step out of her thin slip, exposing herself to him completely now.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, reaching a hand up to cup her breast, his thumb stroking over the stiffened peak before he was hurrying to take his pants off. “I promise, mi amor, I will eat you like you’re my last meal after we’re done, but I need you now.”

“I need you too,” she replied as she watched his pants drop to unveil his cock to her for the first time ever. “You’re so big,” she hummed.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, his eyes dark with hunger as he watched her obey. When she positioned herself on all fours for him, he smirked. “That’s how you want it, mi vida?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded, looking back at him with a smile that made him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the head. Javi could barely contain his excitement as he lined himself up behind her, pumping his cock as he swiped it up and down her wetness until she was begging for him. “Javi, please.”

“Louder,” he ordered, hoping that if his plan was succeeding, there would already be someone right outside the door.

“Javi, please! I need you,” she was whining now, desperate for a taste of the forbidden fruit she adored so much.

“Tell me you love me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Tell me I’m the only one.”

“You’re the only one. I love you more than anything,” she cried, wiggling her ass at him. Javi smiled and bit his lip as he pressed inside of her slick heat, the couple moaning in unison at the tight fit. “You feel so good!”

A loud clank in the doorway made Florence gasp and freeze, the sight of Frankie standing there watching them, listening to the words only Javi was meant to hear making her heart break. Frankie held a tear in his eye as he looked at her only once before turning and rushing down the hall.

Javi was surprised to feel Florence pushing him off of her before scrambling to find her slip dress and shoes to chase after Frankie rather than stay here with him.

“Florence—“

“No!” she shouted, pointing a finger at him. “You knew. You knew he’d be here, you knew he’d come looking. You knew.”

“I just wanted to—“

“To what? To claim me? Javi,” she sighed and shook her head. “I may love you but I do not like you at all sometimes.”

“Florecita—“ His heart was breaking all because of his own jealousy and he hated himself for it. “Please…don’t chase him. Don’t…choose him.”

Florence stood there, looking more confused than she’d ever been before as she battled a war of her heart and mind. She desperately wanted to chase after Frankie, to hold him, to apologize to him, to…run away with him. But would he even let her? Could he even look at her?

“It is going to take a very long time for me to forgive you for this, you do know that?” she asked, seemingly deciding against chasing after her former lover. Javier nodded. “You ruined our first night together over jealousy. Every time we’re together like this, I am going to think of this moment. Of how you betrayed me and exposed me. Do you know that?”

“I’m so…so sorry,” he said, climbing out of bed to kneel at her feet. “I told you I wasn’t always good. Not the good that you see in me, at least. This was just another thing that I regret, achingly. I beg you for your forgiveness, but I know it will take much more than a few pitiful words to earn it. Please…let me earn it.”

Florence stared down at the man she considered a best friend, seeing the truth of his regret in his eyes. Though she still felt sick with fury and resentment, she found herself nodding, unable to stop herself from loving him like her mind told her she should.

“But we will not be getting married next month,” she said simply. “I need time to forgive you before I commit my life to you.”

“Yes, my love. Anything you ask,” he said.

“And we will go to Paris. We will visit every place you’ve been, we will meet every friend you have. And then, perhaps I’ll get to meet the real you. The hidden you I’ve met tonight.”

Javier seemed to panic at the thought of his worlds colliding, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to marry a man she didn’t know completely and entirely.

“Okay,” he finally managed.

“Okay.” And however messy and complicated, they decided to carry on, with neither of them changing a single bit.

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