#i love when i draw the same face four times and he looks different in each one. and by love i mean hate

[kraviolis]

[sysig]

I also made a card for him (Patreon)

[jetpackgeneratedcat]

It took literal months, but I finished it!!

Top left: linked universe logo

The jojo's lu logo is sooooo detailed. It is one of the things I love about Jojo's asethetic with linked universe. The detail she adds brings so much life and information about the world of Linked Universe. Great example is all the embroidery on the chain's clothing. Let's you know about civilization, that an item may be magical, etc. It is difficult to keep small details in watercolor, but I think I caught most of the main details in the painting.

Middle left: Soulful legend

This was the fourth of the images I did for the painting, and the first image I really started to get into the painting. I think legend is my favorite to paint because he makes composition so easy. The red tunic adds an easy focal point. I did learn from this that I do not like masking fluid and likely won't use it again. It added to many hard edges that I wasn't intending. Very happy with the sky!

Bottom left: Evening snack

In this image, I liked the idea that wind and sky don't know what Ramen is because their worlds don't have enough space to produce wheat. So sky and wind are super excited about this new food, while legend has no idea why they are so hyped for noodles. I also liked the idea that four found a green pepper in the ramen as a topping and is a hater (this is from a note that jojo left somewhere saying that the chain will eat anything but four in the Manga does not like green peppers, idk where this note is to link it though....). I didn't end up drawing the Ramen noodles as it was just getting too small of a scale for me to be comfortable drawing the thin lines for the noodles in.

Bottom right: Testudo

I am very hyped in the future when we see more collaborative fighting with the chain and them working together effectively. I absolutely love the scene in shifting shadows part 3 where lenged and hyrule work together with the beam and hookshot.

Middle: Legends storage

This is a reference to one of jojo's earliest works where the chain goes to legends storage for him to pick up some gear. I love that scene and I tried to put as many references as I could. The one thing I need to figure out is how I want twilight to look. I can't wrap my head around it. Need to sit down and just try out a bunch of different faces for him. My Pinterest inspo for twilight is all over the place. I want twilight to look different from time because when Malon was trying to guess who was the descendent, she did not consider twilight (she looked at wars and wind (so I typically draw time, wind, and wars looking similar). For my own personal headcannon, twilight and time are very similar in their manner (the way the walk, stand, etc) and personality (their stubbornness (as seen in sunset pt3)) but not necessarily in looks.

Middle right: Boat boys

The first image I did. I like how the water turned out, but I will not be using masking fluid for the same reasons I noted earlier. I did trace the boat (i think this is the reference [L240632 Hornet Class. J. Arthur Dixon Ltd. Beken and Son]). I do regret not doing anything creative with the boat, but I just wanted to get into painting and needed some confidence by working directly from a reference. I also forgot that legend might not be so keen to be on a boat again based on a comment jojo left in 2022 or something. I think she mentioned something in a discord event back then about legend not too willing to be on a boat again. But that doesn't really matter, I put that boy in a boat whether he likes it or not lol.

Top right: Winter storm

Second image I did for this painting. I did trace most of the horse because I do not care to learn horse anatomy (ref. [Winter Save By David Stoecklein]) Favorite part about this is the lighting on the rope from the lantern. I think it turn out well.

Top middle: Heavy armour

Third image I did for the painting and the one I realized I need to spend more time painting people in neutral or back lite lighting. But for my first time I think it is good. I really want to see what jojo does with the armour sets! I like the idea that war's armour is clean and pristine while wild's armour is rusted and beaten from the calamity. In this painting I played with adding pink to the golden armour and I liked it. In the middle picture of the collage (legends storage), you can see i added pink to time's armour.

That's everything! ❤️

[fyxestroll]

Calm Before the Storm

pairing: fulgrim x reader (fem.)

description: high society is relentless when it comes to rumors but baseless as they may be they still contain grains of truth. but what happens when even you are still unsure of the nature of your relationship

warnings: minor character death, bird poop (do i need to put this as a warning), reader has a last name

notes: fulgrim brain worms fulgrim... fulgrim save me.. pre-heresy btw. this is mostly self indulgent btw so sorry if its a bit messy. not my best work but I need to pine for fulgrim in a vague late 19th-century setting shoutout to @yagodnyizefir for sharing the brainrot w/ me

The rumors began with a gift, a bouquet of masterfully crafted ceremite flowers resembling those from your home planet. The whispers were neither about the craftsmanship nor your decision to display it in the drawing room, it was about the colors. The choice of the flowers alone would have already been considered odd but it was colors that truly sparked scandal.

 In the flower language, a combination of those flowers in those colors, the reds, pinks, yellows and whites roughly translated to ‘My love for you is deep and true.’. 

In other words, this is a courting gift. 

Primarch Fulgrim is courting you.

Well, that’s what people think. In reality, this is nothing more than a case of cultural differences, a common occurrence within your world as of late. There are countless worlds under the banner of ever-expanding The Imperium of Mankind and someone of his rank has no time to learn all of the norms of a single system’s high society. The Primarch Fulgrim is nothing more than a dear friend and fellow connoisseur of the arts. 

Opulent gifts from him are common and he did not intend the meaning of that bouquet, truly.

But if you said that high society will not believe you, no one will. At this point, the rumors have taken a life of their own turning you into a villain, a temptress or a poor maiden in the same week. 

However, it cannot be said that you aren’t partially at fault.

High society fed off rumors and you, in all honesty, have done nothing to quell them. You continued to accompany the Primarch at events, accept his gifts and say nothing in light of the rumors assuming that high society would move on to the latest gossip.

You had assumed wrong.

And now you are paying the price.

The Purple Ribbon: The Long-Standing Affair Between the Primarch Fulgrim & Lady Dittersdorf

You slam the data slate down onto the table and place a hand on your temple, rubbing circles on it as you feel the oncoming headache.

Of course, they wouldn’t move on. Gossip is the life-blood of aristocratic social circles and what gossip was juicier than a supposedly illicit affair between a Primarch and heiress to one of the system’s oldest noble houses? Nothing! 

The story of the affair has already spread far and wide so there’s nothing more you can do other than watch as high society tears your reputation to shreds. Like it or not you’ve become high society’s latest clown just like your brother.

The rumors may have begun with the gift but the true start of this madness was your first meeting with the Primarch…

“Is this another one of the late Lord Bertham’s works?”

“Yes, my lord.”

On your end, the silence that falls between you is uncomfortable. This is nothing new, there are only a few things deemed proper that you could talk to a lady in mourning about. Though you’ve completed the acceptable mourning period it felt wrong not to display grief in an event such as this.

“You are his sister, correct?” He asks.

You look up to nod at the guest, keen on not saying ‘Yes, my Lord’ twice. It’s also an excuse to see his face. Though, with the literal shadow cast over you, you did not need to know this guest's identity. 

“My condolences Lady Dittersdorf.” 

“Thank you,” It’s common courtesy to say those four words and at this point after two years of mourning, you’ve grown tired of hearing them. Still, you could appreciate his tone. He seemed genuine. 

Lord Fulgrim returns to appreciate the painting, bending his knees ever so slightly as he does so. While most of the paintings on display today have been adjusted to a height where the Primarch and his legionnaires could view the art comfortably this piece is one of the few exceptions due to the size of its canvas.

“This is one of Bertham’s earliest works,” you explain to the Primarch gaining the courage to speak.

“Ah, that explains it,” lord Fulgrim gazes down at you kindly, “I could not put my hand on what made it different from his other works.”

Your hand caresses the frame, “He made this when he was fourteen or so and had yet to develop his preference for giant canvases.”

“It’s amazing how even then he had already developed his unique art style at that age.”

“Yes,” you agree, observing the delicate brush strokes, “he was a prodigy but we did not know it at the time. All we knew was that he was a boy who loved to paint.”

“I see…” 

Your gloved thumb runs over a stray stroke of dark green. You had placed that single stroke there as a child wanting to do what her brother was doing too. Bertham was so mad that when he saw what you did he chased you all over the manor. You expected him to paint over what you did, to erase that ‘mistake’, turns out he didn’t.

Stars, he didn’t

“Lady Dittersdorf,”

“Yes?”

“Do you paint too?”

Surprise colors your face at the Primarch’s question, “I…do.”

“Then I’d like to see your pieces one day.”

You break eye contact, unfurling the fan in your hands and covering your face with it. “My works are of an amateur’s my Lord.”

He simply smiles and replies, “That’s fine.”

…even so, you would not have wished for it to have gone any other way. You’ve gained a companion in the Phoenician, your first true friend since you’ve cast away your mourning clothes.

Sometimes though, you start to believe it could be something else, something more…

“Stop!” You exclaim, laughing as you do, “Let go!”

“No!” He grins, tightening his hold on your waist, “You’ll fall!”

“I!” you swat at his hand, your hair whipping around everywhere having escaped the confines of your bun, “Won't!”

“Still!” 

Fulgrim had a point, you know that. The skirts you wear would act as a sail and blow you away the second he releases you but…

“Please?”

One look from you and he falters, the hand on your waist loosening its grip.

A strong gust of wind blows and for a moment you feel yourself float. 

But that moment was over before you had even realised it. The hands holding you are shaking, confused, you look down at the Primarch holding you steady on your perch. “Fulgrim?”

“I–” He chokes on his words, worry filling his eyes. The golden sun shines down on his silver locks as they get blown around by the wind.

‘Beautiful,’ you can’t help but think.

He cups your cheek. The sensation is new, odd but you don’t hate it. “I’m alright,” you say, leaning into his touch. 

The wind is cool, the bustle of the city is distant and there was no one else here but the two of you. Losing track of time you don’t know how long he held you, how long you stared at each other's eyes until your lips were on his.

…but you knew better than to hope. You’ve never talked about the kiss and you doubt you ever will. That moment will forever be a secret kept between the two of you.

You know it would be better to cut ties with the Primarch and use the excuse of him being off-system most of the time causing your friendship to wane.

But you just can’t.

Be it by stubbornness or attraction, you just can’t.

So you will carry on with your life head held high and ignoring the whispers.

Today, the sky is clear and while it was still cool out you’ve decided to spend some time in the garden to clear your mind. The flowers are as beautiful as ever but the fountain—

Plop!

A splash of white falls on your dress. It stands out against the maroon fabric and you realized its poop, bird poop to be exact. 

You can’t help but let out a smile at the absurdity of the situation. Perhaps the rumors aren’t your biggest worry currently. Taking out your handkerchief you begin to wipe away the stain before it can completely ruin the fabric

* * *

Unbeknownst to you, a figure in the bushes takes a pict.

Later that evening an article will be published within the Noosphere titled Expect the Unexpected! Lady Ditterstorf Pregnant! Alongside it is a pict of you standing in the gardens with a hand seemingly cradling your belly.

[satorusugurugurl]

Quiet

Summary: When the population declines after alien monsters that are drawn to sound plague the world, you and your boyfriend must participated in the mandated breeding program; quietly of course.

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, breeding, mandated breeding, quiet sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, cream pies,

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Kinktober day Twenty-Seven: A Quiet Place! Thinking about Suguru breathing heavily against the readers lips as they slowly and very quietly make love gives me the chills and makes me hot at the same time.

One year, twelve months, three hundred-sixty-five days, and eight-thousand-seven-hundred and six hours have passed since the monsters, the aliens invaded.

They were terribly disastrous creatures. It was using sound to hunt and exterminate anyone and anything that made a sound. So many of your friends, loved ones, and friends, and it wasn't just you. The planet faced a heavy loss of life.

Which is how the mandated breeding program came to be. All couples were encouraged to reproduce and continue human life. Something you all knew was for the best, but fuck, it was so fucking hard.

“Should we really be doing this?” you whispered as Suguru adjusted the pillows on the floor mattress. “This is a bad idea.”

Your boyfriend turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Do you not want to anymore?” his voice was so soft as he turned to face you. “We can hold off if you want.”

“N-No, I mean I’m—it’s just, I'm too loud.” You hesitantly admitted, rubbing at your neck with a sigh.

“Oh, baby.” Suguru grabbed your hand. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you quiet.”

“You promise?”

“Of course.” You sank onto the mattress with him. Grinning as he reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

You knew that was true; he would protect you no matter what. Suguru had proved that on several different occasions. What you were concerned about was the fact that he fucked you so good you were always screaming, which could be the death of you in this day and time. But the way he gently helped your face, thumb brushing over your cheeks, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that he would protect you if needed.

“Okay—let’s do it.”

Those four words had led you to this predicament you found yourself in.

You covered both your hands over your mouth, whimpering as Suguru’s cock slowly pushed inside of you. You cried out, eyes rolling back as he pushed further inside of you, pushing until his hips were flush against yours. You were shaking, covering your mouth as hard as you could, while Suguru covered his mouth with one of his hands.l, his dark brows furrowing as he stared down at your flushed face.

You whined as he began pumping slowly in and out of you. The sheets shifted under the movement. It was slow and sweet but still carried his desperation with each drag of his velvety cock inside of you. Suguru sighed into his hand, violet eyes rolling back as he gripped your hip tightly with his other hand as he found a pace.

You wanted to pull him down to kiss him, scream his name, beg for more. But you couldn't. This new world has changed the way you make love. But just because you couldn't scream or beg. That didn't mean the sex was terrible.

It was the opposite.

Having sex with Suguru while trying to stay quiet in order to stay safe gave you a certain adrenaline rush. There was a rush when he would push into you, drawing out muffled moans from you before he repeated the same action over and over again. Pushing his cock right up against your cervix before he angled it to rub over your spongy spot with each thrust.

He kept thrusting into you, and you pulled your hands away from your mouth to wrap around his shoulder as he dropped his hand to the bedding underneath you, fisting it as he slammed into your pussy with a force that would make anyone scream.

But you didn't scream.

Because Suguru panted softly against your lips, his eyes burning holes into your soul. “Shh,” he whispered as you dug your nails into his skin, leaving imprints of crescent moons in your wake. “Shh, I got you, Princess.” His breath was hot against your lips, the tone guttural and dripping with lust and need. “Shh.” His lips were so soft against yours as he kissed you.

“Mmm~” you breathe out against his lip.

“So good, such a good girl for me.” He praised as he pressed a harder kiss to your lips. “Such a good, good partner, and you're going to be a fantastic mother. His voice was so quiet you could barely hear it, but it was enough to get your heart slamming and your pussy clenching.

With that statement, he slams into you with all his strength. “Unnnf!” You moan against his lips. He’s so much stronger than you making his thrusts just as strong as he fucks you senselessly. “M-mm,”

“Are ya close?” he whispered in your ear, his cock sliding faster in and out of your throbbing pussy. As soon as you nod, he’s kissing you again, his thumb finding your clit with precise ease.

“Mm!!”

“Nngh!” he cries out softly as he pounds into you, sending you over the edge.

You wanted to scream his name, but his mouth attached to yours, swallowing your moans. Your body convulses as you arch off the bed in ecstasy, your walls clamping down on him as your orgasm slams into you. He keeps fucking you hard, milking you through your orgasm. Your body trembles through the aftershocks of the orgasm, and Suguru growling deeply in your ear, his cock swelling inside of you.

“Mmm, love you.” is the only thing Suguru says against you. Kiss swollen lips as he cums; he pushes deep inside of you, his cum filling your pussy, and he slowly thrusts, pushing it further in until he's confident his cum is all of the way inside of you. It's only when he's certain or that when he lets out a soft-throated growl, his cock twitching inside of you

The sounds of your soft panting against his lips have him grinning as he squeezes your ass since slapping it was out of the question. You don't say much as he rolls you onto your side, facing him and giving you both a much better view of his face as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, his twitching cough coming back to life inside of you.

“I love you.” Suguru sighs against your lips before pressing soft kisses against your cheek. “But would you call me needy if I told you I want you again?” His voice vibrates over your skin as he wraps his arm around your back, pressing you firmly against him.

“I love you too, " you whisper back, hooking your leg on his hip and bringing him closer to you. “And not at all, because I always need you.”

He chuckled roughly before setting a quicker pace than before, one that has you both kissing each other to stoffle your moans. Fuck you loved him so much and despite the state of the world. Where everything changed in the blink of an eye, one thing was still as clear as day, as bright as the sun. Your love for Geto Suguru was pure and true. He made a quiet place feel special.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918 @draculemon

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[chaethewriter]

You're dead to me [1]

Dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angst, fluff, barely proofread, kinda rushed, prologue type of part.

Word count: 1,9k

next chapter

previous chapter

"Daddy daddy look what I made!" When Jake Sully entered the room, he was met with a pair of sparkling eyes staring directly at him, paper in hand as you jumped up and down in excitement. He closed the door with his hands before he moved them back to the wheels, rolling himself forward carefully as he had their dinner on his lap. When you headed towards him, your tiny feet stepping towards him in small baby steps, Jake Sully already knew he had to remove anything available on his lap for the tiny human that was about to jump in his arms. He quickly put the plastic bag to his side and opened his arms to welcome his adopted daughter in his arms. "Daddy daddy!!", your squeals filled the air as you pressed yourself against his body. Jake Sully had to steady his body for the huge amount of impact a tiny human like yours could give, but once he seated you comfortably on his lap, he couldn't help but lift you up to his face, his arms around her body to hug her close as she was kneeling on his lap. "Hi babygirl, did you make something for daddy?", he brought his lips towards your chubby cheek to blow a raspberry against your skin. Tons of giggles left your lips as you nodded your head to his question, "I drew daddy and me!" You held onto his shoulder to steady yourself with one hand before you brought the drawing in front of his face. Jake Sully had to squint his eyes to get used to the closeness, the little girl, that was you, basically pressing the drawing into his face. Another pair of giggles left your lips as you waited for his reply. He turned you around on his lap and you immediately took a seat, your short legs dangling against his. Jake took his time to analyze the drawing. It was incredibly messy, as expected of a six year old. A few scribbles in different colors. Something that is supposed to look like a rainbow? But in the middle, there he was. Jake sully himself. He was sitting on something that looked like a chair and his little girl was there, right on his lap. The drawing was very abstract, but it made his heart flutter nonetheless. "And you drew this all by yourself? You did this all by yourself?" One hand is held onto the drawing while the other was wrapped around your stomach.

"Yes daddy!! I love you daddy!!"

You, (Y/N) Sully, prior (Y/N) (L/N), were confused. Where did your daddy go? You were young, age 8 when he left you on earth. You didn't understand why. Didn't he love you? But he always made sure to remind you. Kisses, quality time, cuddling. He took you in when mommy and daddy died, so why is he suddenly leaving you? He told you it was for work, something important that would give the both of you a good life. Give you a good life. But you didn't care about anything of that. Being with your daddy already made you feel like you were living your best life. Painting with daddy, eating with daddy, cuddling with daddy. But he told you to be patient and that he would return to you soon. Yet, when was soon? You grew impatient, even though you yourself knew that it wasn't kind of you to be like that. He took you in when you were an orphan and took his time to care for you, even though he was paralyzed and having a hard time himself. You completed one another, because you both needed each other the most at the same time. So you tried you best to stay optimistic. Your daddy loves you, so surely he will come soon for you, right? But days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Then he missed your eleventh birthday. The neighbors Jake Sully was close with took care of you instead during the time. They were like your auntie and uncle, but they weren't your daddy. When two years passed, you decided to call it quits. He wasn't coming back for you. You were thirteen at that time, old enough to understand the reality of the world. A teenager without any goals is what you were, the light and will left your eyes the moment your daddy left you. You hated carrying his last name, yet couldn't bring yourself to change it back to your original surname.

The decision to keep your last name was the reason they found you. They, are a resistance group going against the destruction of Pandora. Pandora. The planet your daddy went to and never came back from. Like the reckless thirteen-year-old you were and not thinking about consequences at all in this terrible world, you went with these unknown, potentially dangerous, people to their underground base. There you were answered all the questions you had and wanted to ask. It was normal that you were curious about your dad, but tried to be nonchalant about it. Him leaving you wasn't a big deal, not at all. Why would that be a big deal? But you couldn't fool anyone with that type of behavior, as the liteaunant explained further than the questions you actually asked. Much more personal information. A daughter will always miss her dad after all. You learned that your father, Jake Sully, was still alive and one of the people. A painful way to know, from someone else, since it felt like your father indirectly slapped you in the face with an 'I don't care about you'. "Alive and well", were the words she told you. Alive and well your ass. When you were asked to join the program to protect Pandora, the indigenous and its nature from the greedy governments that tried to destroy it. The same governments that already have destroyed their own planet: ignoring global warming. Proceeding to pump gas from under the ground, bringing animals in danger, and destroying the nature humanity needs to even breathe. You couldn't lie, you wanted to decline. Saving the world and all sounded good and all, but you never wanted to do anything that even indirectly involved you so-called father. When money and status were involved, it started to sound interesting in your eyes. Ironic, the same way your dad left you. Like father like daughter, one could say. Yet, this was your chance to show everyone what you could turn out to be.

So, accepting is what you did. You soon started training, but it was no usual military training. You all learned about life on Pandora, you and the others that had potential in them learned to live like the people of Pandora: the bow and arrow, spears, but also hand-to-hand combat if anything were to go wrong. The training honestly went great, you didn't regret accepting the offer one bit. You felt fit and worthy, and most importantly you found people around you that cared for you. The liteaunant that guided you from the start was like a master to you. Not in an authority kind of way, but a respectful bond between two equals. You had friends that went through this entire process with you, telling each other about their lives and how they ended up here. While they were almost like warriors following orders, every night the group would sneak away to be like teenagers again, kids having fun and playing games. For a long time, it was the same routine. Wake up, eat, and train for almost the entire day, do homework, have dinner, sneak out, and sleep. You hated that homework so much, but knew that you needed to master everything you were given. It was to learn the language of the people, Na'vi. This felt like when you had to learn languages in high school, but ten times worse as you didn't even finish high school. "Oel nati kamy?", your voice sounded unsure as you tried to say the formal way of greeting someone in Na'vi, but you earned a slap against your forehead in return from one of your friends. "No, it's Oel Ngati Kameie, skxwang!"

Years of training together ended up being so worth it, because when all of you reached the end of your teenage years, it got announced that you were finally ready. You felt so delighted to know that all of your hard work paid off in the end. You knew everyone had a hard time trying their best to teach you the language of the people, so you were so thankful for everyone around you to get you where you are right now. Everyone worked so hard for it. As a parting gift, your liteaunant gifted you a katana. "It's to protect yourself, and always think of me", she joked to you, but the both of you could feel the heavy tension in the air. The grip on your katana tightened as you dropped your bag on the floor. You finally wrapped your arms around her, forgetting about the warrior exterior, that facade falling for just a moment. She didn't hesitate to hug you in return, "thank you for everything." You had whispered into her ear and pulled yourself together, being the first one to pull away from the hug. You knew that if you didn't let go now, you would second-guess jumping on your flight to Pandora. "Come on (y/n)!" Your friends already boarded and you were the last one left on the flat grounds. "Go on, child. You deserve this. And remember what I told you!" You don't reply, but only flash her a smile as you run after your friends with the katana and a bag. You all follow your superiors' suit, putting your stuff where they tell you to. With no seconds left to spare, they immediately tell you to follow them to your tubes, you were getting put into cryosleep. You still couldn't believe it. They were going to put you to sleep for six years and you're gonna wake up looking the same, but temporarily living in a dream world you trained your entire teen years for. You lay down in your tube, ready to get put to sleep. The nerves were truly getting to you. "See you on the other side!", you jokingly said to lift up the mood, and your friends started joking around, telling one another goodbyes and what they should do if one of them doesn't wake up. You just lay there quietly, waiting to get put to sleep as your mind starts wandering. You kept thinking about your leatiunant's words. She keeps telling you that you should make up with your dad or at least hear him out. You hoped you wouldn't run into him on Pandora, but he was Jake Sully. The Toruk Makto that went from being a sky demon to being one of the people. For sure you would get in contact with him. But as long as no one revealed your name, everything could be fine. He's dead to you after all. Surely, you were only there for the money and a good time, right?

Only time could tell.

A/N: my first time writing on tumblr so no idea how some stuff works. Had this type of idea for a dad Sully plot for a while and finally started it. Legit rushed through this to finish this asap cause backstory kinda lame. I'm a college student so give me some time until the next part. I need to release a novella for college so I'm double-writing a story— isn't smart of me but🤭

[hemmingsleclerc]

I'm really loving the dad max content, your style of writting is amazing

I don't know if it's possible, but could you do something where Olivia is hanging out with Checo's kids (Chequito, Carlota, Emilio) and causing chaos in the paddock

I think it would be cute and fun

Lost in the Paddock┃MV1

Omg I love this idea I just imagined it and laugh!😭💕

summary:where max and checo lose their children in the spanish grand prix

It was a sunny morning in the paddock and the excitement for the Spanish Grand Prix was growing. Max’s daughter, Olivia, and Checo’s children, Chequito, Carlota and Emilio, were full of energy and looked at everything with curiosity. The sound of the engines echoed throughout the place, but the children were more interested in playing hide and seek.

As their parents prepared for the race, the four quickly came up with a plan to explore the paddock together. Unbeknownst to their parents, the mischievous group ventured out, carefully checking all the places.

The paddock was a maze of trailers, trucks and equipment, a perfect playground for the kids. Olivia, being the oldest, had convinced the others to follow her and explore the secret corners that she had already seen before with her father. Unbeknownst to their parents, the little ones had wandered too far and were soon lost in the maze of racing equipment.

Meanwhile, Max and Checo finished their conversation and turned around to find that their children were nowhere to be found. Panic set in as they frantically shouted their names. Max's heart almost burst out of him as he screamed his little girl's name while Checo was just as bad or worse than him.

"Olivia!''

''Chequito! Carlota! Emilio!" echoed through the paddock, but there was no response. The two parents exchanged worried glances and quickly ran out of their garage in search of their children.

Meanwhile, the children had managed to find their way to the center of the paddock, laughing and laughing as they explored the different areas of the different teams. Chequito, Carlota, Emilio and Olivia were in their own world of fun, oblivious to the chaos they were causing.

They managed to reach a place where photos of their parents were displayed on a wall. ''Look! There's my daddy!'', ''Ours too!'' Suddenly, a great idea had occurred to Olivia, what better idea than to leave a nice message for her dad and for everyone to see it, so carefully she took out of her small backpack the markers that her mother had given her on her birthday and with a huge smile, she began to draw hearts on the wall, among other things, while her other three companions saw her laughing.

Meanwhile, Max was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown himself while Checo was madly asking anyone who crossed his path if there was any sign of his children.

Charles, Daniel, Lewis and Carlos had joined the search for the little ones to cover more space and narrow down the possible places they could be.

''Via!Your favorite uncle is looking for you!'' Daniel shouted

''Carlota! Emilio! Checo jr!, Come here! We have a special surprise for you!'' Charles said

''Kids! Roscoe wants to play with you!'' Lewis' turn

Just as concern was reaching its peak, a track official informed Max and Checo that a group of children matching their descriptions had been seen near the merchandise area. With a sigh of relief, the parents rushed to the scene, their hearts pounding in their chests.

There they found the quartet, happily surrounded by team merchandise, trying on oversized caps and sunglasses while devouring different flavored ice creams. The children looked up with innocent smiles as Max and Checo approached, a mix of relief and exasperation on their faces.

Max and Checo shared a look that conveyed relief and amusement at the same time. When the chaos calmed down, the parents couldn't help but smile at the getaway their children had made. With a laugh of relief, they escorted the boys back to the Red Bull Racing garage, ready to focus on the race ahead.

Max lifted his little girl in his arms while he covered her face with kisses.

''Were where you all this time angel?, and who bought you those ice creams?''

''!Uncle lando and uncle oscar daddy!'' Olivia exclamed

''They also bought us these cool caps dad!'' Chequito said to checo

''Yeah, you're not wearing those mclaren caps on our watch kids, redbull ones are better''

As the paddock returned to its normal bustle, Max and Checo were grateful to have their children back safe and sound.And listen to all the mischievous they got up to in their absence.

[cowboy1ikereid]

the archer ~ s.r.

‘Dark side, I search for your dark side, but what if I'm all right, right, right, right here?’

Summary: When you focus so much on wanting to care for Spencer that you begin to lose yourself, and he notices.

Warnings: fem!reader x post prison!spencer, references to ptsd, reader bottles up her emotions and needs a good cry, spencer confronts her and then comforts her, a tiny bit angsty but mostly comfort, established relationship, spencer is a sweetheart who just wants you to communicate with him, reassurance, pet names (honey/sweetheart), reader is the archer coded, inspired by the archer by taylor swift

Category: Angst x Comfort

Word count: 1.3k

Author's Note: This is my first ever one shot/fic that I've ever uploaded, so please be kind and I hope you enjoy!! Feel free to leave me any advice. ily <3

It had been four months. Four months since Spencer Reid had last set foot into the BAU. Four months since he had been arrested in Mexico and sent to prison. Two months since you had seen him during the visiting hours when it was your turn.

He’d looked so worn down. Completely broken, and it broke your heart. You never imagined seeing him like that. Not the nerdy, sweet and intelligent man you’d loved so dearly. He became an entirely new person, but you didn’t treat him as such. You’d been your bubbly, cheery self as always. The happy mask slipped onto your face almost too easily considering your boyfriend was in a maximum security prison, and Spencer knew that. He knew you weren’t being genuine, but he didn’t have the energy to call you out on it. When you’d returned back to your shared apartment after the visit, you’d broken down that night, sleeping in his shirt and drinking from his favourite Doctor Who mug. He hated it when anybody else used his plates, cups or cutlery, but with you, he never seemed to mind… not when he was around, anyways. It was no different to a kiss, you’d supposed.

But that was two months ago. Now, Spencer had been free from prison for a month, and he was still adjusting to normal life. He was constantly on edge, and he couldn’t take showers by himself anymore. Not unless you were there. Whenever he ate, he wolfed his food down like he was afraid somebody would take it away - like somebody was about to tell him that lunch time was over. His life had been completely flipped around when he’d gone to prison, and you’d wanted to make sure everything was the same when he returned home. You wanted his surroundings to feel familiar. No more unnecessary change. But you were starting to think it wasn’t working.

Trying to keep so happy all of the time was taking a toll on you, but you were trying to do it for Spencer. He had enough on his plate, and the last thing he needed was to deal with your struggles, right? You thought that he was too absorbed with his own issues to notice yours, which you’d decided were much less serious in comparison, but he had noticed the darker side to yourself that you tried to keep under wraps.

You were reading a book on the sofa, glasses perched on the tip of your nose, hair thrown up into a ponytail and one of Spencer’s sweaters hanging off your frame when he approached you. 

“Honey?” He said softly, sitting down next to you on the sofa and drawing your attention from your book. You looked up to him quickly, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you hummed in response. “Can I talk to you?” He continued, placing a hand on top of yours comfortingly. Just from his tone, you could tell it would be a serious conversation. One that you weren’t sure that you were prepared to have, but you accepted anyway. If he needed you, you’d be there for him. No matter what. 

“Of course. Anything.” You nodded, unintentionally releasing a deep sigh.

"Are you okay?" He said simply, his hazel eyes showing concern. You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer. He was a profiler, after all. If you lied to him, he'd be able to tell instantaneously. But you didn't want to worry him. That was the last thing he needed right now. You didn't trust your words, and so you nodded sheepishly, not seeming too sure. You used to vent to Spencer all of the time before he went to prison, but now you were aware that he had problems of his own to deal with, and to you, your own seemed far less important in comparison, so you bottled up your feelings and acted like you were fine, even if you weren't.

Truth be told, you didn't even know why you felt so down. It had just been a tough few weeks with Spencer returning and being so different, but that wasn't his fault. Life in general was catching up to you, and it was exhausting.

"Words?" He sighed, "Look, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You know that I won't make you, but.. I'm worried about you, okay? I know that you're not okay, and I'd appreciate it if you could stop acting like you were." Spencer said, with warm eyes and a soothing tone. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say, and it always managed to surprise you even though he had an IQ of 187.

You didn't want to talk about it, not right now. You weren't ready to. But you were fully prepared to remove the mask that you'd been wearing in front of him for months. You looked to the side, and then back at him with your bottom lip trembling, not wanting to speak and instead letting your actions do the talking by shifting towards Spencer and leaning into the warmth of his body, where he opened his arms and wrapped them around you tightly, resting his head on top of yours so he could smell your sweet vanilla scented shampoo. Some things never changed. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the dampness of your tears that you were finally able to let loose.

The dam had finally burst, and you cried it out. You cried it out in Spencer's arms for a good half hour, and he let you, whispering sweet nothings and stroking your back comfortingly, not letting you go.

Eventually, when you were ready, you pulled away slightly but not fully, one of Spencer's arms still around you as he looked down at you, your eyes swollen, red and puffy. Your cheeks were tear-stained, but he was quick to wipe them with his thumb.

"Are you ready to tell me why you've been bottling up your emotions lately?" Spencer asked, although he had an inclination as to why.

You sniffled and nodded, wiping your runny nose with the sleeve of your sweater Spencer's sweater. It was probably gross, but he'd seen you at your worst, and this wasn't even close to it.

"I'm sorry, okay? I just.. I-.. you've had so much going on lately, and you don't need my problems on top of your own-" You said, but he quickly cut you off.

"Don't say that," He shook his head, "I will always be here for you to talk to. I don't care if you think I have too much going on, okay? That isn't your decision to make. We're in a relationship, sweetheart. I understand that you're trying to do what's best for me, and I love you for that, but what we have is mutual. That means we share things with each other. We communicate our feelings with each other. You don't keep them bottled up just because you think that what you're doing is right. I know that I've been through a lot in these past months, but I don't want us to change because of that." He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his words soft-spoken and gentle, like he always was with you.

You let out a teary chuckle. "You always see right through me."

"I can see through almost anyone, honey. You can't bottle up your emotions forever with a profiler as a boyfriend." He teased.

You smiled a little before your tone grew insecure and serious once more.

"...you're sure you don't mind?" You asked, wanting reassurance.

"Of course I don't," He kissed your forehead and pulled you in for another hug, resting his head on top of yours once more. "All of these problems we have... we can work through them together. One step at a time. It's us against the world."

[donut251155]

The "Yugi twins situation" is NOT incestuous

I'll just analyze stuff people used to "prove" the opposite of this, as someone with a close (PLATONIC!!!) relationship with a sibling

I'll just get straight to the point

This scene is NOT incestuous. They hadn't seen each other for DECADES, it makes sense that Tsukasa reached out to touch Amane - usually if you can't believe you're seeing someone you reach for their face, no? And he just moved his head up (+ the つ (translated as "rub" could just be his hand moving and could be a translation error. Like the "ah…" from Amane, he says "つー" (Tsu) which would've probably been him calling out for Tsukasa)

Also Amane was blushing because he WAS ABOUT TO FUCKING CRY??? IT'S NORMAL TO GET RED WHEN YOU CRY??? That's basic knowledge I fear

He'd seen his brother after AGES, AFTER HE KILLED HIM. I WOULD'VE HAVE CRIED TOO IF I WERE HIM Y'ALL HE'S CRUSHED BY GUILT, GRIEF AND IS HAPPY TO SEE HIS BROTHER AGAIN

I also think that if the scene was supposed to have some incestuous undertones, Tsukasa wouldn't have moved his thumb back.

Someone said this

I believe it doesn't have incestuous undertones for three reasons:

1. He had a dreamy and hopeful face in both cases. Usually, when characters dream of doing anything, even eating a cake or something like that, the artist adds blush to make the desire stronger. Tsukasa's desires were just having fun with his brother at a festival, something COMPLETELY PLATONIC, and knowing that his brother genuinely cares about him (another COMPLETELY PLATONIC thing driven by a sense of insecurity that he got because of how grumpy Amane was while sick. He wanted to hear his brother say "I love you" (PLATONICALLY) for the last time. It's less ambiguous in the Italian version because it's "Amane, tu mi vuoi bene?" which can only be seen as platonic (voler bene is platonic, amare romantic))

2. He looks cuter blushing. He's a child, children are supposed to be cute. He looks depressed without the blush in the first image 💀💀

See? He's cuter with the blush

3. He blushes for like 90% of the time. It makes him cuter, more childlike, he's FOUR YEARS OLD. The blush disappears when the drawing is too small for it to be added, when he's supposed to be confused, scary/creepy or serious.

This part fucking hell. Y'all do not know how four year olds think, do you?? Let me enlighten you

To the four year old Tsukasa, you either love or hate someone. No in between. He isn't talking about romantic love, he's talking about caring about someone, usually deeply. He means the platonic kind of love, it's all he knows. Nene reacted that way because she's 15, to her "love" is the romantic kind of love and she's in love with Hanako, same with Kou - they're teenagers who learnt that romantic and platonic love are different. Tsukasa doesn't know. He loves Amane in a platonic, brotherly way and thinks Nene loves his brother in the same exact way, like every other 4 year old would've assumed

(I reached the max of images :(( I meant the part where Tsukasa asks Nene if she loves Amane and says they're the same after she says she does, her mistaking it as romantic love and him taking it as platonic. Mb guys I'm new to Tumblr)

For the pose where the early manga showed us how Amane supposedly killed Tsukasa: it's not suggestive in any way. It just looks like Amane pushed Tsukasa down, stabbed him and that his knees gave out after he noticed he actually did what he did because of the wave of guilt and grief he felt (he even dropped the knife)

That's all I can think of atm :D

If you have any questions about this, ask ahead and I'll answer them!! I'm ready to answer

And sorry if I sounded a bit pissed off, but I am. I'm so sick of people misunderstanding sibling love lolol if you ship them go fuck yourself and do not talk to me, do not even breathe the same air as me I hate you and you're a disappointment to humanity

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

So uh I saw the words “human sized doll’ and my brain completely shut off. That sounds fucking delicious and I kindly ask you to elaborate. Are you able to move at all in your new body or are you just a silent thing for them to play with now? Do you have ball joints or are you not articulated beyond the basics? Does the doll look like how you used to when you were alive, or is it completely different? Do they just keep you in a pretty display case as their favorite prize, or do they leave you out so they can use you whenever they want???? My brain is on horny overdrive, I beg of you to give us more of Demon!141 and their little prize!!!!!

hello!! so here's how I think reader's life is after she's dead and get put into a doll! hope this can answer your questions and fulfill you hunger(?) :D Word Count: 1040 CW: 18+, mdni, humping, mention of double penetration, oral (m received), mention of death (not TF141), a bit of dark fic maybe? Demon!TF141 thoughts Reader becomes a demon instead

Your new body, to your surprise, isn’t that much different than your human one. You can talk, you have ball joints that allow you to move your limbs, and even you’re a doll now and you don’t think you will have mortal needs anymore, you still got genitals like humans. (You know why but you refuse to admit yet)

Usually, you aren’t confined and can move around the mansion you live in. They aren’t afraid of you escaping, the entire house is under their control, and they’re able to know where you are at any time, needless to say they have Soap who always insist on sticking around you. There rarely are visitors, sometimes Laswell or Nikolai will come to stay by, and you will sit on Price’s lap, listening to them chatting with his fingers drawing circles on your thigh, sitting quietly like a pretty thing you are.

You’ve asked Price what kind of doll they would put you in, he told you not to worry, so it was left as a secret until your afterlife. Now you get carried in Soap’s arm, who is standing in front of a mirror.

“Ye look divine, bonnie.”

Your new body looks totally the same as they first met you, from every birthmark to every mole. beautiful, flawless. That’s what you first heard when you opened your eyes in this new body.

The only difference is that now you have four men’s patterns on your wrist. The symbol of who you belong to.

You could move around by your own will, but not now, because every time you try to wriggle out of Soap’s grasp when he makes you stay in front of the mirror and look at yourself, so he makes you unable to move now by the power of agreement.

You can feel Soap trailing kisses down your neck, your eyes forced to stick on the mirror, watching yourself dressed in a sumptuous dress, strips of ribands draping down from the headband on your head, silky clothes bring out how your perfect skin shines under the dim light.

Soap’s lips touch the crook of your neck, and his diamond-blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

“Let’s get ye to bed, aye?”

He picks you up, and the bound forbidding you from moving disappears when he looks at you staying obediently in his arms.

- - - - - -

When you're still alive, you are their master, but after you die, your soul belongs to them— especially Price. You knew this since the day you were forced to create a bond between you and them.

Which means you need to be submitted to all of their commands.

That’s why you are kneeling in front of Price now, his cock stuffing your mouth full without any gap.

“You’re doing so well, love.” His hands caressing your cheeks like he always did when you were still a human.

“We’re getting you a new body... fuck...!” He sucks in a gasp during his words when you take him in, until his tip hits the back of your throat “Miss how your beautiful face stain with tears when you’re sucking my cock, doll. They will finish it in a few days, can’t wait to see her face flush when you fuck her from behind, right Kyle?”

Your hands don’t stop when the man sitting behind you shuffles closer, and Gaz presses his chest against your back, if your mouth isn’t busy sucking Price’s shaft now, you sure you will moan loudly to Gaz’s voice, who’s groaning directly into your ear while he stroking his leaking cock.

“‘f course, capt.” Gaz replies, and now he starts humping his hips against your ass. The nightgown they put on you gets ripped to pieces by him, but it’s not a big issue, there’s tons of dresses in the closet, and they could make you wear whatever they want.

Both men laugh when they see you rub your thighs together. 

“Too needy under Kyle’s voice, eh?” Price chuckles, and you immediately back off when an “off” leaves his mouth, and without any request, you spontaneously sit on Price’s lap, his tip nuzzling at your folds.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you, baby.” A pair of hands maneuver your hips higher. Gaz coos softly as his shaft prods at your other hole.

You know the night is going to be very long when they push into you simultaneously.

- - - - - -

You wake up when you feel someone’s playing with your hair. The light’s too bright for your hazy mind, so you narrow your eyes instantly.

The person holding you in their bosom shifts, and the room becomes darker.

Now you’re able to see who you’re lying on.

“Ghost.” you murmur.

The masked man lets out a hum in recognition. Ghost’s hand is still fiddling with your hair, fingers threading through them and massaging your head.

“Where's the others?”

“They went to take yer new body.” 

You look into his brown eyes, and he doesn’t avoid meeting your gaze.

You swear to God that you hear someone arguing distantly, but you don’t question Ghost, staying unmove on his body.

Ghost’s fingers now trace down to your face, caressing your chin like you’re a cat or some animal, his stares at your face, like he’s taking in any detail and engraving them in his heart.

His heart beats steadily, as if it’s a march song. Ghost’s expression is too serious, you can’t dare to interrupt him, so you count his heartbeat instead.

The quarrel outside becomes louder, and Ghost takes a glimpse at the door, then he speaks again.

“You must be tired, love, go back to sleep, yeah?”

You aren’t tired by any means, you just woke up from your slumber, but suddenly, all your energy flows out your limbs as Ghost croons with his low voice. 

You let out a big yawn, and before you fall asleep, you ask him again.

“When will they come back?”

“They’re almost done. They just need to make sure your new body’s alright.” Ghost holds you tighter, the noises outside muffled when he covers your ears with his hands. “Now sleep, good girl.”

Nodding and burying your face in Ghost's chest, you drift into a peaceful dream, unlike the tragic scream piercing through the air outside the window.

what I hc is: Doll!reader’s first body can’t cry/blush/form natural lubes(?)/bleed etc. (yeah they forgot to make her able to), so they make her a second one which is more similar to human, but the joints are still ball joints. (if there’s any bug it’s 100% because I didn’t think that far, pls tell me lol!)

[aeliuss]

warnings!: angst, mentions of self hate. hurt comfort.

on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible.

it's not that he doesn't love you--the opposite actually. sometimes he thinks the dead thing in his chest beats only for you. beats and beats and beats, pumps blood into veins he feels he is unworthy of because how then would he be able to hold you? to kiss you?

but on days like this, he is ashamed.

his knees buckle under the weight of his own existence. how could he hold you, kiss you, when he felt like a mere shell of the man he once was? how could he offer you anything when he struggled to find value in his own existence?

it's crippling. this feeling. this weight. this him.

so when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, he winces. turns away. the dark circles stretch under his eyes like black holes and he's in the same shirt he'd pulled on four days ago and the light that comes in through the crack in the door you just opened is blinding him and he's ashamed.

"what're you doin' here?" it comes out as a croak. he cringes at the sound of it.

but all that comes out of your lips is a small, "baby.."

you say it with so much love but all it does is repulse him. how could you still have love for a rotting carcass? it's the reason he's opted to stay in the dorms rather than your apartment these past few days. he's almost certain the boys had something to do with your presence here now.

"m' fine," he says, turning on the bed, away from the light, from you. he can't really tell the difference.

you close the door behind you, bathing the room in darkness once more. you take a step closer, the floor creaking beneath your weight. chan flinches, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for impact. he wants to disappear into the shadows, to fade away until he no longer exists in your world. to shield you from the festering ugliness inside of him

but when you step forward, towards him, his body reacts, legs opening so you can stand between them.

your hand hesitantly reaches out, fingers brushing against his tense shoulder. he catches it, pushing it away.

"i haven't showered," he mutters, head bowed, unable to meet your eyes.

"chris."

"you should probably leave. this happens all the time, i'm fine." he's telling you to leave but his fingers are clenching around the hem of your t-shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i'm fine."

"chris," you say softly, your voice a tender caress in the dimness of the room. "look at me, baby, please."

he doesn't. can't bare to, so you have to nudge him gently with the palm of your hand, cupping his cheek. his eyes are dark, haunted, and they flick away as soon as they meet your gaze.

"you're not okay," you say, heart aching.

"i'm trying," his voice cracks. "i'm trying to be."

your finger grazes his jaw. "i love you."

and then he's clutching your hips, drawing you close to him, and the tears come like tidal waves. his face is smushed against your stomach, and you hold him, you feel the tremors coursing through his body, the weight of his anguish pressing against you. you don't flinch, don't pull away. instead, you hold him tighter, letting him know that you're there, that you're not going anywhere.

"i love you," you whisper again, your words a soothing melody in the darkness. "i'm here, chris. i'm not ever leaving you."

he clings to you desperately, as if you're the only anchor in a stormy sea. his sobs echo in the quiet room, mingling with the hushed sounds of your reassurances.

on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible. he doesn't want you to see the ugly he knows is inside of him. but you do anyway. you see the ugly, the part of him he tries so desperatly to hide. you don't flinch. you don't turn away.

in your love, he discovers his own resilience, his capacity to rise from the depths of despair and embrace the light once more. and though the journey may be fraught with obstacles, uncertainties, and moments of darkness, he knows that as long as you're there, holding his hand, he'll never have to face it alone.

[writer-in-theory]

tying you to me — i. i dared you to kiss me

Summary: From play weddings in the suburbs of Las Vegas to lavish hotel rooms in New York City, Spencer and Reader find their way back to each other every time. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warnings: Smut in later parts (18+ only), mentions of bullying A/N: This is a rewrite of a wip series called "the way i love(d) you" that can be found here. Thank you so much @reidsaurora for beta reading!

Playlist Series Masterlist

The story starts how so many do: with a move.

Your parents moved to Las Vegas when you were barely a toddler for a job opportunity. They were nervous about your chances of meeting kids your own age—that is, until they met the Reids. The Reid family lived in the house across the street from yours, and neighborhood legend has it that they were the first to introduce themselves to your family (though Diana would often insist your mother was the welcoming one). Your parents were overjoyed to find out that they not only had a child of their own but that he was only two years younger than you. They liked the couple well-enough; your fathers able to bond over sports and your mothers talking about anything from the novels they’d read recently to all of the best spots in town to visit. 

Many kids became friends simply due to sheer proximity, and at first you and Spencer Reid were no different. When your parents spent so much time at each others’ houses, it was easy for you to befriend the boy. He was quieter, sure, and it took some work to find which activities you could enjoy together (the chess vs checkers debate went on for far too long, really), but he was the best friend you’d ever had. 

Your mothers would get used to the two of you constantly being around each other. Oftentimes, the two of you would go on what you called ‘adventures’, which really meant you’d be allowed by your parents to explore the small town together. Each day was different—some days you’d spend with Spencer in the local bookstore, and others you’d convince him to explore nature with you. No matter what, though, you spent your days together. Quietly, when you two were busy playing in the yard, your mothers would smile at each other and say, “You know, they’ll get married one day.”

Spencer was brilliant, and everyone in town knew it. Any time he was around they’d say the same thing: “He’s going to do great things someday.” You were never sure what sort of great things they meant or how they were supposed to know that so early on, but you did know that Spencer was special. He knew about things you didn’t even know existed, and could explain them to you so well you felt like an expert by the end of it. At first, your mother worried for you, scared all of the compliments given only to him would make you feel badly, but you’d enjoyed all the attention and would loudly proclaim to anyone who would listen that you had the smartest best friend in the world.

Perhaps, then, you might’ve seen this coming if you really thought about it.

The two of you sat in your secret hideout the day before school was set to start again. It was a hill in the Vegas suburbs that looked over the desert highway, found on one of your grand adventures. The first time you’d found it, it had taken nearly four hours for any of your parents to find you and Spencer. Immediately, you’d known that you’d come back if only for the feeling of freedom it brought. When you were there, it felt like you and Spencer were the only people in the entire world. 

“Can I tell you something?” Spencer asked after several minutes of quiet. He had a book open on his lap but he hadn’t turned the page in minutes. You had been drawing, but upon seeing the nervous look on his face you quickly abandoned your notebook. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, turning on the blanket to face him. Your mother would be upset you got her blanket dirty, but she just didn’t understand that you had to bring it outside or Spencer would be upset about having to sit in the dirt. 

“You know how we were in the same school last year?”

Because you were two years older, you hadn’t actually gotten to see Spencer in school until last year when he made it to the elementary building. It was exciting, because you could see him in the lunchroom or even during library time. 

“Yeah! Sammy said second and fourth grade get recess together, so we can play kickball with all my friends if you want.” Already you were thinking about how well he could fit in with your group of friends.

Strangely, that invitation didn’t seem to lift Spencer’s spirits. Instead, he almost got sadder, curling his shoulders in a little more and picking at a loose thread on the blanket.

“We don’t have to play kickball if you don’t wanna. We can read books together or play hopscotch, or whatever you wanna do,” you tried, but no matter what you said Spencer wasn’t happy.

“They put me in middle school this year. I won’t see you at all,” Spencer sighed, staring at the thread in his hand. “They said I was too smart for elementary school.”

“Well, you are,” you answered, knocking his arm with yours. “You’re the smartest person in the whole entire world.”

“That can’t be true,” Spencer said, finally laughing for the first time since coming to your hideout. “I’m only seven, and there’s so many adults who are smarter.”

“Well, I’m older than you so what I say goes,” you told him matter-of-factly. 

You knew sometimes Spencer got sad when people talked about his brain. Your dad said it was because it’s a lot of pressure being so smart. That was the trouble with being so brilliant, you supposed. He was constantly being pushed forward and told to hurry up and do all the great things the adults wanted from him. Sometimes, you wanted to kick them all the shins and tell them to leave your best friend alone. He had so much time to be great, so why couldn’t he just be your friend right now? You wanted to, but you knew your mom wouldn’t approve so you never did it.

Instead, all you could do was support Spencer through whatever the adults were having him work on.

“I just…do you think we’ll be friends still?” Spencer asked then, practically crumbling your heart into pieces then. “We won’t ever see each other.”

“We’ll have to see each other,” you told him. “Every day after school, come here. We can do our homework and you can tell me all about being a middle schooler. I’ll bring blankets and snacks, and you can help me with my math homework.”

“Deal,” Spencer said with a grin, placing a bookmark between the pages of his book he’d been pretending to read. “You’re learning long division this year.”

“I know, and I still say I won’t need any long division to be a movie star.”

“What if you decide you don’t want to be a movie star?”

“That’s silly, Spence,” you laughed, resuming your drawing in your notebook. “Of course I’ll be a movie star.”

The two of you fell into quiet then, but you didn’t mind. Sometimes you could sit like this with Spencer for hours, both of you working on separate things but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless.

“I’ll miss you this year,” Spencer said to break the silence. His face was all twisted up with an emotion you didn’t know but felt too heavy for someone so little.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you answered, your voice a little higher in pitch as you fought to hold onto the joyous feeling of being with Spencer rather than the idea of being without him all year. You didn’t want to imagine the school without him, walking the halls without seeing that mop of curls or playfully sticking your hand in front of the pages of his book at lunch to get his attention. You didn’t want to think about having to make new friends, and you definitely didn’t want to think about Spencer having to do the same. Because you were outgoing and loved talking to people, but Spencer definitely didn’t. He was shy as your dad said, and that was okay but it meant he needed you around to help make friends for the both of you. 

Just as you screamed to the world how much you loved Spencer Reid, he quietly did the same every day. Sticking so close to your side at street barbecues that his arm constantly bumped yours, holding your hand after you stood up for him in the hallway, telling you that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen when he caught you crying over something another girl had said about your hair. You wondered who would keep him company in the cafeteria now that he’d be in the middle school building, or protect him from stupid bullies in the hallways.

“What if I don’t fit in?” he asked, watching you with near tears in his eyes. “I don’t know how to be a middle schooler.”

“My cousin is twelve, and I talk to her all the time,” you announced then, determined to come up with a wonderful solution to his problem. “And you know what she said?”

“What?”

“She told me that Hannah Walkins had her first kiss in middle school and she was the coolest girl in school.”

“What does that mean?” Spencer asked, and you sighed dramatically as if it should have been obvious.

“It means, that if you get your first kiss in middle school then you’ll be cool and popular!”

“But who would I kiss? I don’t know any girls,” Spencer said.

“Um, hello? I’m a girl, Spence!” you shouted, waving your arms around at the clear skip over you. “You could kiss me!”

“But you’re my best friend!”

“Right, so you know I don’t have cooties,” you countered immediately.

“All girls have cooties,” Spencer corrected, “I asked my dad and he said so.”

“Well your dad’s wrong,” you said. “You know what? I dare you to kiss me!”

And this, the gauntlet was thrown. You knew Spencer didn’t have to accept your dare, but if he didn’t then he’d be the biggest weenie for not doing it. The last time one of you didn’t accept a dare was when you refused to pick a book from the library outside of the kids section, and he hadn’t stopped teasing you for a whole week after. It felt like an easy solution to helping Spencer calm his fears about fitting in with the middle schoolers, all he had to do was take it. 

You stayed still as Spencer worked up the courage. Your heart raced as Spencer began to lean in closer, wondering quickly if this was one of those things your mom would gossip to her book club about if she found out. The second you felt his lips on yours, you squealed and leapt from the blanket.

Immediately you could feel your cheeks heat up as you shrieked, “Oh my God, ew!” You both were laughing while you each wiped off your lips, trying to forget that any of that had just happened. 

“So gross!” Spencer whined, “I’m never kissing you again.”

“Good,” You agreed. How did people in movies ever want to do that kind of thing? It was so gross!

Once the excitement of the moment died down, the two of you ended up lying together on the blanket. The sun was beginning to set, which meant you’d have to walk back home to make it in time for dinner. But you could have a few more minutes with your best friend, hoping that you’d at least calmed some of his nerves about school.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Spencer told you. “You really are my best friend.”

“That’s what besties are for, Spence, I’ll always be there when you need me,” you said back. “As long as you promise never to kiss me again.”

Spencer laughed and held onto your hand then, squeezing it as if to say once more that you were his best friend. As the two of you walked, your hands slipped until only your pinkies were held onto each other, a constant tying you together even as you faced the new school year without him. 

“I promise.”

[thegettingbyp2]

Would you be down for a story where it's like Season Four Five and the 58 year old version of him somehow shows up in the timeline? I keep picturing that version looking at a fem reader or someone and just going "do you see that hair? He's a walking mop." We had 3 seasons of seeing haircuts but nobody took one look at Five and laughed their tail off? I doubt that very much. (No pressure, obviously. Hope you have a wonderful day!)

What Did You See

Gripping Five’s hand tightly, you let him lead you up the stairs that lead out of the subway station. The two of you had been riding the subway to different timelines for a while now and every time you stopped, you were nervous, not knowing what you were going to come face to face with.

‘I’ve got you,’ Five said, reassuring you as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze; something that had become somewhat of a ritual for you both whenever you arrived in a different timeline. You looked up at Five, a soft smile gracing your lips as you took in his appearance. While you’ve been on the subway, his hair had grown out, framing his face and sitting at a longer length than he’d ever let it get before. It was a new look for him, but you couldn’t help but find it incredibly attractive.

‘I love you,’ you replied, squeezing his hand back and earning you a bright grin from him in return before making the final step out into the new timeline.

You felt yourself be pulled behind Five instantly as you were both greeted by the barrel of a gun. The gasp that escaped your lips involuntary. ‘I know you,’ Five said, his voice inquisitive as one of his arms remained around you, holding you behind him. Peering over his shoulder, you looked at the man standing in front of you, knowing you’ve never seen him before yet, something about him was oddly familiar.

The man in front of you was easily in his late fifties but was looking at Five as if he was deeply offended by something. ‘Dear Lord, what have you done to me?’

‘Excuse me?’ Five asked, clearly taken aback by the comment, narrowing his eyes at him.

‘What? You’re going through a rebellious phase where you refuse to cut your hair?’

Confused by the whole situation, you absentmindedly tightened your grip on Five’s arm slightly, drawing his attention back to you as he looked over his shoulder, his face softening when he looked at you. ‘(Y/N), meet Number Five,’ Five said, gently coaxing you out from behind him.

‘I haven’t heard that name in a long time,’ the man in front of you said, making your head whip around to look at him.

‘You’re him?’ you asked, looking between them both and finally realising why the other man looked so familiar to you.

‘Yes,’ the older man answered as your Five reached out to take your hand in his. ‘It’s good to see you again, (Y/N). I lost you a fair few years ago in my timeline,’ he explained, sadness filling his voice and expression.

You couldn’t help but take a step closer to your Five after hearing the older mans words; you couldn’t imagine anything happening to separate you and Five, the thought absolutely terrifying you. Five’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him and holding you tightly, clearly thinking the same thing.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said quietly, looking over at the older man as you felt Fives finger trace light circles on your waist.

‘No matter what happens, just make sure you protect her, you hear me?’ the older Five said to your Five, making Five inhale a sharp breath.

‘I’m not going to let anything happen to her,’ Five said adamantly. ‘I can’t lose her, I won’t lose her. She’s my entire life.’ You couldn’t stop the soft smile from growing on your lips at his words and you let your head fall to rest on his shoulder.

‘You’re on the subways right now aren’t you?’ Older Five asked, completely changing the subject as he looked at the two of you wistfully. ‘Go back downstairs and get on the next train going Eastbound. It will get you both back to your correct timeline.’

‘But we need to,’ Five began.

‘Eastbound, believe me, I’m saving you years of this. Go home and live your lives, be happy.’

‘Thank you,’ you said gratefully to the older man before you and Five turned around to head back down the stairs into the subway.’

‘(Y/N),’ Older Five called, making you turn your head back to face him, your Fives arm still wrapped securely around your waist, holding you against him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Anything,’ you replied warmly.

‘What do you see?’

‘Pardon?’ you asked with a confused laugh.

‘In him, with that hair,’ he continued, gesturing to your Five. ‘His hair’s a mess, it’s all over his face, I’m surprised he can see anything!’

You couldn’t stop the laugh from erupting from your lips at his words, looking over at your Five and seeing the mildly insulted expression on his face. Reaching up, you threaded your fingers through his hair, relishing in the content groan that fell from his lips as your nails gently scratched against his scalp.

‘I don’t know, I kind of like it,’ you said, at the two Five’s before disappearing back down into the subway.

[hazbinshusk]

ADORE the way you write 🥰

Could I request AFAB!Reader with Husk. Reader takes their coffee/cocktails very sweet and sugary a stark contrast to Husk’s bitter tastes. LOVE the Grumpy x Sunshine trope 🙈💕

combining this one with an anon request for... prompt #18: a kiss while laughing.

“The fuck,” Husk sighs as you retake your seat beside him and slide two glasses across the tabletop. Despite his tone, he wraps a wing around you automatically. “…is that?”

“Whiskey.”

The cat gives you a well-practiced look of exasperation that makes you giggle. The sound of it teases his senses in a way that makes the jaded bartender smile affectionately, his wing tightening around you to draw you closer to his side. Even in the blaringly loud club you’d both been dragged to he was happy enough to claim a moment of intimacy between the two of you.

You’d found a table in the back corner of the bar, and while he was more than happy to see you enjoying the night each time Cherri or Angel dragged you away from him, each time you came back to him made his heart wonderfully light. And it amazingly had very little to do with the whiskey you brought with you.

“Smartass.”

“You love it,” you reply, smile widening as you feel his lips brush the corner of your jaw. You turn your head to catch his lips with yours, tasting the sweet burn of booze on his lips. “Now, what were you complaining about?”

Husk hums a gruff laugh against the side of your neck as you turn back to the table, his lips touching the side of your throat before he does the same. He waves a hand towards the table in front of you. “Your fuckin’ drink is glowin’.”

You scoff, picking up and taking a sip of your cocktail pointedly. Its pinkish color is bright under the shifting overhead lights, and its flavor bursts on your tongue. “It’s a Hurricane, Husk.”

“Christ,” he eye-rolls, smiling despite himself when you giggle again. “’s a crime against booze.”

“I’ve seen you drink what’s basically a step above paint stripper,” you point out tauntingly. “And now you’ve got standards about what gets you drunk?”

“Can you even get drunk on shit like that?” he shoots back snidely. “Looks like a fuckin’ kiddie drink.”

You shrug, still smiling teasingly. “Well, it’s got like… four different kinds of booze in it. You should try it.”

“I’ll pass.”

Your smile widens, and you slide the glass towards him. “Go on, baby. Thought you liked to gamble.”

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head despite the smirk he can’t keep from his lips. “Think you’re dangerous, don’t ya?”

“Sometimes.”

Still, he picks up the glass and, forgoing the straw, downs half of it. He grimaces immediately, a shiver wracking through him as he sticks out his tongue in disgust.

“Fuck!”

You laugh aloud, rescuing your drink from his hand. Husk groans, grabbing for his own drink. He tips it back, eager to banish the sweetness from his tastebuds, only to find it empty. Your laughter doubles, the whiskey still burning on your tongue.

“Cheeky little—” Husk curls the claws of one hand around the side of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Surprised, your laughter dies and you moan into it, your own hands coming up to grip at the fur of his chest. Husk growls at the feeling of it, leaning into you further, pushing you back against the booth.

You giggle, breaking away from his lips. Your hands ease on his fur, soothing over his chest and up over his shoulders. His wings curl around the two of you as best they can between the booth and the table. “You like it that much, huh?”

“Fuckin’ awful,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Needed somethin’ to get the taste outta my mouth.”

“Oh, really?” you say, faking offense. You make move to push him away and slide out of his reach. “Well, if that’s the case…”

You’re laughing again as Husk grabs hold of you and drags you back to him, using his grip on your arm to lead it up around his neck. His mouth meets yours, and he speaks against your lips. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, doll. ‘m not finished with you yet.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[f1version]

NEW YEAR'S DAY ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ LH44

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x girlfriend!Reader ( she/her )

summary: New years is always special when you spend it next to those you love the most. That’s why you spend it with Lewis, and Lewis spends it with you.

warnings/info: fluff, midnight kisses, mentions of alcohol, they get a bit drunk. the extra bit has angst!

word count: 951 + an extra scene of 591 (1.5k)

note: so, the end of 2023. that’s so crazy. i’m so thankful for everything really, there’s a paragraph incoming but, yeah, thank you for reading and following along this year. you made a difference <3

btw i recomend listening to the instrumental of new year’s day by taylor swift !!

snowglobe, a holiday special

One minute before midnight. One minute in which people fall anxious, the sound of heels hitting the floor and whispers reciting resolutions over and over is their favorite tune for one minute. In your minute, you see people gather around the terrace of Lewis’ penthouse, stumbling and laughing, the blinding lights of New York lighting up part of their snow-dusted faces. You knew a couple of faces, some interacting with Lewis and you before your minute hit the half-mark. 

When you’re upon seconds, you look up at the waiting sky, stars expecting to be overshadowed by something bigger, louder. You can feel the anticipation in the air, spotlights from Times Square moving faster, the echo of people’s excitement drowning the streets.

Fifteen seconds away and you look at the man holding you close. His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips, a smile that could light up the world—and already does—on his lips. I don’t do New Year’s kisses, you remember him saying last year, back when your memories together consisted of clandestine meetings in hotel rooms and longing stares, too afraid to confess.

Perhaps this year is a completely different story, but the same character has his arms wrapped around you. There are changes, so many you can barely count, you wonder if this one will be one too.

“So,” Lewis says, “what a year.”

You smile, leaving a kiss on his cheek before resting your forehead on his. “You finally got the hint,” you whisper and he laughs, bringing you closer just as the insatiable sounds of anxiety start morphing into something discernible.

Ten. Nine. 

He lets out a deep breath, “I know what I said last year. About the kisses.”

Eight, they sing as your heart picks up. Seven, and Lewis laughing nervously. 

“And I mean it,” he says, “Meant it.”

Six. Five. Four.

You smile as your side of the world lift their glasses of champagne, recording phones, or just bring their loved ones close. It’s a bubble bath of each life trapped in its own delicate bubble.

Lewis smiles back, breathing heavily, “But I want you to be my first New Year's kiss.”

Three, and you laugh, rolling your eyes. Two, “Then kiss me,”

One, and he closes the distance, the so obnoxious world goes silent, and it’s the best kiss he’s ever received. It’s immersive; Your hands play with his braids and his draw shapes on your hips, his heavy breaths fall over your soft ones, and the taste of two different bottles of champagne tempt to be bitter.

The world around you starts echoing in your head, different colors tinting the perfect kiss. People are patting Lewis’ back as he looks at you, ignoring them for a little longer, only wanting to focus on the girl who enchanted him, the one he could hear talk and talk about for hours on end, the one who changed his mind over love and relationships, the one who held his hand through his darkest times. This was all he needed, all he wanted to focus on. On the girl he loves. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you tease, daydream still in his eyes.

He smiles, “Oh, absolutely not”

Then you’re walking around, hand-in-hand wishing a happy New Year to the known and the unknown. He calls his family and you call yours, spending ten minutes together sweet-talking to a very sleepy Roscoe on Lewis’ screen. It’s absurd how fast minutes pass but how slow time moves. You see the crowd fading away, leaving the dance floor empty enough to drag Lewis’ over, dancing away the hectic city under you. It’s a new year, and you can’t warp your head around your luckiness.

By 5:44, everyone is gone. You and Lewis lay down on the couch after drowning 6 shots of Tequila, a strong scent of alcohol and sweat hanging in the air, with glitter all across the floor. You’re holding hands, eyes fixated on the ceiling, drunk and in love. What a wonderful way to start the year, you think. 

Lewis moves next to you, standing up a bit disoriented but with determination on his face. “A’right get up,” he says too enthusiastically for almost 6 am, “we have to pick all of this mess.”

You snort, ”Are you crazy?” 

“As ever,” he giggles, “Now, get up!”

This man is incredibly drunk, but so are you, so you stand up, your head spinning around each planet you can barely remember. Lewis puts his hands around your hips, holding you in place, “Lew, I feel like I'm going to fall and die. Oh my god!”

“Not true,” the Brit says, “you promised you’d die with me, and I’m not doing that today.”

You roll your eyes at that, laughing. 

Cleaning up—if you can call two drunk idiots laughing like crazy while trying to remove a stain of wine from the ceiling that—isn’t as awful. Spotify’s ‘Top Hits of 2023’ is playing in the background as you pick up the plastic cups on the floor, Lewis searching for dirty bottles around the house to then be wrapped around each other while cleaning them. The glittery floor is a lost cause, both try to recollect as much as you can with the broom but give up knowing you’ll be surrounded by it for the rest of the year. 

The house looks clean enough in your exhausted eyes by 8 am. Lewis follows you to the bedroom, briefly showering together before dropping under the cloud-like covers, dark curtains forbidding the early sun from disturbing your shortly-approaching sleep. 

You are curled up on Lewis’ chest when you hear him say: “Happy New Year, love.” 

“Happy New Year, Lew.”

EXTRA BIT!! ( 591 words )

“You know,” Lewis calls, arms wrapped around your body as you lay on his bare chest, “I’ve been thinking, well, overthinking, and I want to, like, get it out.”

He pauses, his anxiety clear in the way he speeds up the tender touches on your back. You look up at him, making a small motion of encouragement. He smiles.

“Half of the people today were strangers, friends of friends, and it reminded me that, once, you were a friend of friends. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I don’t want us to be like that ever again,” he says, stumbling on words. “I don’t want to call you a stranger; I’ve done that with enough people I’ve loved—not in the way I love you, but loved nonetheless. I’m just so sorry I was so late to this,” he whispers, and you want to interrupt, reminding him that you also played into it, but he talks first: “I know you were also scared to tell me; you don’t have to say it, but you just didn’t deserve all that waiting.”

You search for his hand, needing to hold it. He understands and wraps one of his around yours, taking a deep breath. He says your name before continuing. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, ever. I was scared because of those stupid things I used to tell myself, and you know the rumors around my last relationship. I was terrified of doing the same thing—being too greedy and distancing myself when things got bad—but I didn’t want to lose you. I do not want to lose you.” Lewis says, and you squish his hand three times, reassuring. You feel another breath being taken. “And I know we are okay; we are so wonderful, sweetheart. You’ve taught me so much, but I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. What if we have some inconceivable fight? What if the distance during next season messes with us? What if I screw up and you don’t want to see me ever again?”

“I really don’t want to lose you. I love you too much,” he concludes.

You feel tears crowding your eyes, wondering when did he started thinking about all of this. You sit up, looking down at his beautiful face in the faint darkness. His eyes are so full of emotion, so caring and afraid. You cup his face in your hands, leaning down to peck his lips.

“I love you too, so incredibly much. Thank you for opening up,” you said, knowing it was hard for him to talk about these topics. “But, Lew, trust me when I tell you that, as long as both of us are willing to fight for it, we won’t go back to being strangers. When these types of thoughts are overwhelming you again, talk to me, let me know, and we will discuss them together." He has tears in his eyes, and you are sure yours are already streaming down. “Don’t try to read the last page; whatever is written there can change, and if it doesn’t, who cares? Maybe we are set up to die together, just like I promised you, yeah? I’ll hold your hand through it.”

He brings you down to his arms, giving you the warmest hug in the freezing winter. He cries, and you do too, talking here and there, leaving kisses everywhere, drowning in each other's touches. Lewis believes this is the best start to a year he’s ever had.

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm @goldenalbon @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @panicsinvirgo . . . add yourself here

[jimsbeetroot]

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

words; 1.761

smut!

--

In all fairness, it's just a mask. A mask he allowed you to put on him before every show.

It's just a guitar, but he always played for you when you couldn't fall asleep at night.

And it’s just shoes— shoes that are normally huddled together in the hallway before you come home. It’s such a little thing that you shouldn’t be getting upset about, but it’s another thing on the list of things that you’d noticed about Jim's absence.

Things were so different in the house; it all felt so painfully empty. It was quiet, really quiet. So quiet that you sometimes felt as if you could hear the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat. You’d tried to fill the silence with music and the talking of the TV, but it didn't help to see his masked face on MTV every day.

And before you knew it, it was quiet again— quiet and empty.

An empty plate was still set at his place at the table. It went without saying; you missed him— a lot.

It was the first time in over six years that you’d been apart for this long.

Jim had gone on tour with Slipknot and for the first time - since you got together- you hadn't joined him.

It was Jim's call. The band was experiencing their ups and downs, and Jim didn't want you to be stuck with that for months. You understood.

The first couple of months, you thought you could handle it. It hadn’t felt much different then. But suddenly, it was as if anything that remotely reminded you of Jim would automatically set you off.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t called, or at least tried to call — if you somehow managed to get the times correct— it was just not the same. 

You sighed frustratedly, flinging a paintbrush at the canvas. It stroked a harsh angry black line on the creamy-white paper. You’d been trying to find inspiration for that fucking painting but it wasn’t coming along so easy.

All you could think of was that twenty-four hours was a pretty long time, and you weren’t sure if you could wait that long to see him.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up from the painting as you heard a voice emerging from downstairs.

You shook off the thought. 

Those stupid voices had been appearing in your head for over four months, and you were not about to let them fool you once more.

You tilted your head slightly to look at the canvas from another angle. 

Maybe you could draw Jim. You could draw his face or his hands. Or maybe you could draw his dick. Yeah, you could draw his dick from memory with your eyes closed, it was almost embarrassing. 

You scoffed, how desperate could you get?

“What’s this one called?”

Wow, you’re even hearing Jim talking now? 

Fuck, what a loser. 

Was it healthy to be so in love that you could hear your boyfriend's voice when he was somewhere on the other side of the world? 

Surely, it couldn’t be.

“I know. A black beacon trying to blossom against the adversity of white?” 

A familiar voice chuckled from behind you.

You frowned, not turning around. If it was your thoughts then why did it sound exactly like something Jim would say? 

Shit, I really really have it bad.

“Really, not even a giggle? I’ve had a better reaction from my band mates—”

You heard a few steps coming closer.

“—and my girlfriend refuses to acknowledge my existence”

Okay. 

You were sure that you heard a small creak from that floorboard as if someone purposely stepped on it. 

Fuck, you weren’t not expecting anyone and the only person with a spare key is— was, well Jim. You glanced behind you slowly and cautiously, but before you knew it, you were stumbling up from the floor and jumping to wrap your legs around Jim.

“Fuck, I thought I was going crazy imagining your voice,” you murmured with your mouth against Jim's neck. He’s back. Your James. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

You looked up at him, arms hooked around his neck.

He was exactly as he was when he’d left and the feeling of just being around him again overwhelmed you. You felt so completely whole again and the thought tugged at your heartstrings.

You held him tighter as your lips trembled and tears welled up in your eyes.

Jim frowned, setting you down gently on the dresser. 

“Please don’t cry. You know it breaks my heart.”

“I know, I know,” You chuckled, trying to get rid of the traitorous tears that slid down your cheek.

"I just— I missed you so much. It’s just—”

Jim smiled widely as he flattened you up against his body again, forehead level with yours.

He placed a soft kiss on your temple

“I missed you too, babe, so fucking much.” 

He raked his fingers through your hair. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? I thought about you every single day. My little love all by herself, waiting for me.”

You grinned. God, you’d missed his voice and the way he talked, so relaxed that it never failed to excite you.

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“I left early,” Jim said, shifting your hair away from your neck. He gave it a soft peck.

“Really?” You were more than over the moon that he was here, but if he’d gotten in trouble over it, you’d feel horrible. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did. Corey got sick and we cancelled the last show. I had to come back to my baby.”

Your cheeks flushed what you could only imagine had been a bright rose-tinted colour. 

"You’re too sweet,” you gushed. 

“Sweet is overrated-” Jim started, flashing that smirk.

”-Now take off those cute little shorts and panties. I need to taste that sweet cunt of yours."

You didn’t need him telling you twice before you were tugging at the clothes, the cool breeze instantly blew at your bare core causing shivers down your spine. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since he’d left and your fingers had never quite succeeded in satisfying yourself the way Jim did— does.

Jim sunk to his knees. Fuck. He ran a finger over your slit, playing with the juices and he groaned as it spilled deliciously against the wood dresser.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders.

“God Y/N, I’ve missed you.” 

Jim kissed the skin of your thigh right under where you wanted him the most. 

“You’ve always had a sweet cunt, always drenched and ready for me.”

Jim parted your lips with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he looked up at you with pure fascination.

“God Jim— I need your mouth,”

Jim smirked at the sheer desperation in your voice. He plunged a digit into your hole. 

Shit, your walls clenched around his finger. 

The moment which you’d been longing for, was finally here.

“Where baby? You have to be specific.”

“On me, fuck—” You whimpered as his fingers bent in and out of you. 

You’d craved his contact for all these months and now, you had it, and overwhelming pleasure filled your body. 

Your cheeks were hot and flustered and there was entirely too much going on. “I need your mouth on my cunt, Jim. I just need you…..please.”

Jim grunted, delving his tongue deep into you. He glanced up at you with a hum that vibrated through you. 

“I— ’m so fucking close Jim—” You breathed heavily, trying to get your bearings correct, but his fingers were moving inside you with the same vigour his cock did.

Jim released your clit with a prominent pop. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers with no particular pattern. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of your trembling thighs, sucking a blossoming bruising purple on the surface.

“Fuck—”

You couldn’t even begin to think properly as his lips trailed kisses up your body. You hadn’t come that hard in so long that your body was already weak from pleasure.

Jim smirked. 

“Look at you, baby. So fucking spent—” Your face was slippery with sweat, strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. “You missed me that much?”

“Yes—” You answer, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “I missed you so fucking much. I missed your fingers—”

Jim lined himself with your entrance.

“What else?”

“I missed your cock as well. So, so much."

Jim grinned, sinking his cock inside you slowly, only stopping when he was right at the hilt, your walls sucking him in naturally and he moaned at the sensation.

It was pure ecstasy as he began to move, pulling himself out before slamming his hips back.

“Faster—” After so long, you needed him now, rough and hard. “—Please, you need to go faster, Jim”

“Hold on, darling,” Jim growled out. “I haven’t fucked you in so long and you’re so fucking tight.”

Jim laid his rough hands on your waist, clutching you tightly.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smiled lazily, your eyes fluttering closed. “Hmm, I love you too— a lot.”

Jim bit your collarbone and increased his pace, pounding into you deep again and again.

You dug your fingers into Jim's back, chanting his name so loud that the neighbours were probably aware that he was back by now. But you didn’t care.

Jim hooked one of your legs around his waist, hitting you at another angle and you mewed at the way he hit your sweet spot.

“God I— Fuck—”

“You want to come again, baby?” Jim asked, kissing your neck.

“Yes, yes please—”

“Then come for me baby,” He growled and it didn’t take long before you were jerking against him, screaming out his name.

He captured your lips in his, kissing you heatedly, teeth and tongue smashed as he swallowed your moans. He continued to thrust, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby— I’m gonna need you to clench around me.”

“I— I can’t,” You managed to choke out, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure.

“Yes, you can baby,” Jim said as your eyes pricked red with tears. “I got you.”

You could feel the fire pooling in your abdomen as you used all of your energy to clench around his cock.

Jim let out a long, loud moan as he finally came so hard.

“God— I’ve missed you,” You said.

Jim pulled himself out of you. “Hmm. I’ve missed you too.