#i will not be apologizing for using these colors so much in my art/videos lately

[matryosika]

Day 12 — Recording + Toys with Hyunjin

Wordcount — 4,371

Includes — Established relationship. Consensual filming and uploading of intimate videos on 18+ internet platforms. Exhibitionism kink, dirty talk, masturbation (f. receiving), use of toys (butt plug with ankle cuffs), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia.

Author's note — I'm aware Kinktober is almost over but I'll keep on updating it during november too haha! This was fun to write because lately i've been a sucker for intimacy and love in Hyunjin's drabbles, so I hope you guys like it as much as I did. Please remember that english is not my first language and this is not proof-read so I apologize for any mistakes in advance!

Not a day goes by without Hyunjin being grateful that he found you —a woman in his likeness.

You two are the perfect match; it seems like everything you lack, Hyunjin compliments it. And everything he is missing, you have it.

At first glance, you two appear to be completely different —an intuitive arts major and an observant science student, whose career paths were so far from each other that it was almost a miracle you two met, precisely at college. But in reality, although that much is true, there’s something you two bond in and share amazingly.

“Here,” the long-haired murmurs, slim fingers adjusting a strap of the harness decorating your thigh. “Too tight?”

“It’s good,” the dim lights of the motel room makes everything a thousand times more erotic, and you find yourself struggling to not discard the project and move on to the most interesting part of it. “I loved it, by the way. Burgundy is my favorite color”. 

Hyunjin smiles fondly while he makes sure everything is in place, trying to get you as comfortable as possible for what’s coming up next. 

“I know,” he replies, “It looks so pretty on you, the lingerie and the harnesses. I think they will like it”.

You bite your lower lip and smile at him, heart pounding loudly while you feel anxious to start, “I’m pretty sure the last thing they care about when looking at our videos is the clothes I am wearing”. 

“You are not wearing this for them, anyways,” he laughs wholeheartedly, his fingers fixing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are wearing this for me and they are lucky they get to see”.

The whole environment feels cozy and intimate, as if it is oblivious to what will happen next. But, in the meantime, you remain exactly the same as the environment —your heart feels warm, and fuzzy, and you are reminded of the first time you ever recorded something with Hyunjin.

It wasn’t anything serious, and it was more out of curiosity than something with an actual purpose. At the time, your boyfriend was starting to get into the visual arts —specifically photography and video making. These days, Hyunjin has new interests, but the two latter still remain.

“I brought your bag,” he tells you as he walks towards the big mirror in front of the bed, gathering his hair in a short ponytail to get it out of the way. “Said we were using toys for our next video, most people requested the usual —butt plugs and dildos”. 

“Yeah, I’m fine with the butt stuff tonight,” you murmur while you reach for the bag, your hands wandering along the products in hopes of finding something you might like. “But the dildo… feels like we've used it a lot recently. What do you think?”

Hyunjin hums in approval and you can’t help but stare at him —he is standing right in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of black pants that enhance his thighs. The amount of people who click on your videos to see him it’s overwhelming, and you really understand why.

“I want what you want,” he tells you, turning around to face you. “Pick something from the bag and let’s see what we can do with it”. 

While he waits for you to decide, he continues to set everything up in place. In little time he became an expert in the visual arts, and not precisely because he paid any particular attention to any of his courses.

“What about this?” you hold the item with curious hands in the air, attracting Hyunjin's attention. It is a heart-shaped dildo, nothing too out of the ordinary —the peculiarity, though, is that it comes with some ankle cuffs. “We haven't used it before, have we?” 

The very thought of getting to use it on you turns your boyfriend on, even more than he already was in anticipation of getting to be with you. 

“It is pretty,” is all Hyunjin manages to say. 

Convinced you aren't going to find something as interesting inside your bag, you put to the side the anal plug and anklecuffs combo along with a bottle of lube. 

“Whenever you are ready, then”. 

Your boyfriend gives you a cheeky but heart-warming smile while he finishes setting everything up in place. When he is done, he walks towards the night stand and picks up an item you have grown to know well, ever since you started to record videos with him. 

“We should buy new ones,” you tell him while he helps you put the mask on. “Think we have enough money to purchase something even fancier now”.

Truth is, you both have some savings from what you have managed to make from the videos. But, in all honesty, Hyunjin would rather not change the masks at all. 

It reminds him of the very first time you both recorded something with the intention of uploading somewhere, anywhere for people to see. Whenever he puts the mask on you, which is some sort of ritual now, Hyunjin remembers how nervous you looked back then, when you weren't used to sinning in front of a camera. 

These days, there's no fear in your gaze but complicity —it's a filthy little secret you two share. 

“Let's see where this takes us tonight, pretty”. 

He puts his mask on and starts recording while you sit on the bed with your legs spread, being the guide that is telling Hyunjin if the camera is well focused or not. He makes a couple of adjustments before getting in bed with you, and the whole time you wait for him with your cunt soaking wet. 

“What's the mood for tonight, hm?” he whispers to you while he sneaks between your body and the bed, ending up in a position you utterly adore —your back against his chest and your arse near his crotch, all while sitting on the bed with your legs open. 

“I'll let you set that one,” you purr, voices suddenly turning sweet and sensual opposite to the tones you were using during the trivial conversation prior to filming. 

It always goes like this, unplanned. There's always a general idea on what the video is going to be about, but the scenes are almost always spontaneous. 

“Want to ruin you tonight,” his lips are brushing against your cheek, and feeling his hitched breath is giving you butterflies. “Touch you gently and sweetly while I say the nastiest stuff”. 

You hum in response when he drags his big hands along your skin, stopping themselves on top of the thigh harnesses to trace them with his finger tips. “You're not in the mood to go rough tonight?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head softly, cupping your breasts while he massages them in front of the camera. 

“I have other plans in mind,” he tells you with a cheeky smile, one that sends shivers down your spine despite it being a cute gesture. 

The thing with Hyunjin is how versatile he can be in bed —he can be as sweet as he can be cruel, and that's one thing you utterly adore about him. 

Your relationship isn't too focused on power dynamics either —everything goes as whatever the two of you are feeling at that moment, and there's not really a preferred role you like to play in particular.

“What are your plans then?” you ask, offering him the main protagonist of today's video: the buttplug and anklecuffs combo. 

Hyunjin takes his time prepping the toy with some lube, switching his position to be able to put it all on you. The camera welcomes his toned and slim body maneuvering the ankle cuffs on you, leaving a trail of kisses on your legs and ankles whenever he has the time to do so —what a fucking view! 

He makes sure to not obstruct the camera when his fingers press the anal plug directly against your tightest hole, welcoming the cold item with an awkward stretch. 

“Oh,” you breathe, eyes fixed on the way he pushes the buttplug further inside you. Then, you turn to face him. “It feels nice”. 

Hyunjin gives you a smile before returning to his initial position behind you. 

“It does?” 

“Not as good as your cock does”. 

Dirty talk. A major turn on for you, Hyunjin and the audience. 

The dialogues aren't forced, nor mandatory —you talk when you feel like it, and say stuff you normally would between you. 

Although having a camera in front of you isn't as natural as being on your own, you have learned to pay less attention to it —whenever you are recording, it's frequent you forget you're even doing so. Everything is still so intimate and it flows beautifully, that you can assure everyone neither you nor Hyunjin are playing a character in those videos. 

They really show who you are. 

“You wish it was my cock?” Hyunjin purrs and you are reminded, yet again, of the power his voice has on you. “Deep inside that tight hole of yours?” 

You focus your eyes on his plump lips and nod, not even caring to glance into the camera every once in a while. 

“You better end up fucking me if you are going to keep on teasing me,” his hands are all over your body, caressing it and giving you goosebumps. “You know, it's been so long since I've had your cock inside my ass”. 

You're a sucker for dirty talk in general, but Hyunjin is a sucker for that kind of vulgarities —the ones that you can't even say outside bed. 

When you are inside his arms, you transform into something completely different, into the real you. The one that doesn't care about rules, or standards, or the fulfillment of expectations. When you are with Hyunjin, you get to be yourself, the most human and carnal part of you, the one that craves love in every possible and rough way. 

“Easy,” he laughs softly, helping you get in the most comfortable position.

Although comfortable is just a synonym of bearable right now —there’s no way you can feel comfortable while having your ankles cuffed to the anal plug inside you.

Still, you and Hyunjin manage to find the perfect position, one that allows the camera to have a full view of both your holes spread. 

“What should I do to you tonight, hm?” He plants a kiss on your forehead while you look up to him with admiration, eyes shining brightly albeit the dim lights in the hotel room. “Should I be good to you?”

You nod sweetly, sticking your tongue out just slightly as an invitation for him to kiss you. He teases you before doing so, making you chase his lips. It’s all so seductive, and intimate, that you really couldn’t care less about the camera in front of you.

“Please”.

You both know there’s no rush, that you should take your time with the foreplay to get a good amount of video content, but your bodies don’t —your cunt is clenching around thin air repeatedly, feeling as if something’s missing, and Hyunjin’s cock is leaking inside his black pants begging for its release inside you.

Patience is a virtue, but completely nonexistent when your boyfriend is around.

“You look cute like this,” he tells you, running his hands through your body, touching your belly and inner thighs while spreading your legs further, as much as the ankle cuffs allow them to. “Chained up, with your ass full”. 

“Cute enough for you to fuck me?” you taunt him and he smiles defeately. It’s the second time you ask him that, and he is really struggling with his self-control right now —if you were to ask him again, he would most definitely forget about the recording session and make you his right then and there.

“If you keep your mouth shut about it, maybe,” he murmurs, caressing your inner thighs while he makes sure you’re wet enough to take his fingers inside your cunt. “But for now, this will have to do, right?”

He guides his fingers to your mouth and, with a single gaze, asks you to get them wet for him. You do so, this time staring at the camera, and Hyunjin groans in response. 

Up and down, you bob your head as if it is his cock you’re sucking, earning a couple of quiet whimpers and groans from him; you make sure to do it as lewd as possible, as lewd as the people who will get to see it like it.

“Hungry?” he teases you with a smile, one that shows off a silhouette of his dimples. 

He takes his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting them to your lips, and sucks on them right after you. It is not as sensual as you did, and it happens way too fast for you to process such an attractive and nasty scene, but he is just making sure his fingers are completely lubricated to make it easier for you to take them in.

“Yes,” you hum through gritted teeth, finding the way his tongue swirls around his digits pleasantly hot. “Very”. 

“Let me take care of that, then,” it’s only after these words that he touches you deliberately; his wet fingers trace your slit and you unconsciously buck your hips against his palm. “Too eager?”

Hyunjin loves how responsive you are to his touch —you are never as sensitive as you are when you’re with him. Every time he touches you, it feels insanely intense. It makes your body react instinctively, like a little electric shock.

“Weren't you going to be good to me?” you whine, feeling excruciating impatient by his teasing touch. “You’re making me lose my mind”.

“Then we are even”. 

Truth is, you make him lose his mind. Ever since the day he met you, you’ve done nothing but to mess with him and his thoughts —not a day goes by without him spending a good amount of time thinking about you. From your voice, body and smell, to how insanely smart you are, Hyunjin still can’t wrap his mind around how he got to be with you.

If he is making you lose your mind just because he isn’t touching you when you need him to, then he better start doing this often —he wants you to be as obsessed with him as he is with you. 

He doesn’t’ tease you for long, though, knowing that the faster you finish filming content, the faster he gets to have you all for himself —no cameras, no plans, not the overwhelming sensation of knowing you have to get something done. So he applies more pressure to his fingers against your slit, returning them back to your clit.

“Happy?” he asks condescendingly, but it is exactly that condescension that gets you going. “Or do you need more than just this?”

You want to ask him to fuck you, to ask for his cock in any hole of yours. But Hyunjin knows that a pair of his fingers is enough to get you to come, that’s why he asks that question with such an ego that you don’t know if you like it or you hate it.

Truth is, he has made you come with just his thigh without even touching you. So no, your boyfriend knows you don’t need more than just that. 

“Want them inside of me,” you tell him, cunt visibly throbbing for the camera. The muscle contractions paired with the pink, heart-shaped dildo makes it even more appealing, and you’re certainly happy you chose that item for this video.

“So greedy,” Hyunjin huffs, but he gives you exactly what you want. “You’re acting so fucking needy, the people watching might even think I don’t fuck you properly”. 

You laugh softly, but the sound is quickly drowned in a moan when he thrusts his middle and ring finger inside you, bottoming out to the point of making you gasp. He is also wearing a couple of rings on them, and the coldness of the material against your entrance makes you tremble.

“Fuck, yes,” you finally sigh with relief, now that the teasing has diminished. “Like that”.

Hyunjin kisses your cheek sensually, lips peppering wet pecks on your temple, cheek and part of your forehead. 

It’s as filthy as it is intimate and romantic.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs with his lips attached to your skin. “I’m sure you wish it was my cock and not my fingers”.

You moan in response, hips grinding slightly against his touch. Slightly, as much as the ankle cuffs allow you to. 

“I don’t know,” it’s an answer you don’t even believe in, but it is always fun to tease him in front of the camera, “I’m not always thinking about your cock, you know?”.

He lets out a hoarse, quiet chuckle, one that sends shivers down your spine.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he tells you, curling his fingers inside your throbbing cunt. “Not a day goes by without you begging for it”.

The comment is embarrassing, but that’s exactly what you need right now.

To be honest, you and Hyunjin never plan anything regarding the videos. Yes, maybe you do talk about which practices you would like to perform, or which toys you would like to show off to the camera, but there’s never really a script or something to follow.

Right now, that you are laying on your back with your legs spread, somewhat chained and with a butt plug deep inside your ass, you’re definitely looking for some humiliation from his words. 

“And what about it?” you query in a whimper, turning your face to the side so that you can make eye contact with him. 

“What about it?” his voice is turning deeper and raspier, and you can feel his hard bulge pressing against your lower back.  “You’re always so fucking needy, doing everything you possibly can for my attention”.

That much is true, but it is not like Hyunjin doesn’t enjoy it. 

Matter of fact, he loves it. He loves how desperate and aroused you always are, how you try to provoke him at all times, indirectly begging for him.

“And you always give it to me,” you arch your back when Hyunjin’s fingers curl against a particular sensitive spot, and the words come out more as broken whimpers than something coherent. “So we are even”.

“Seems like we're perfect for each other, then,” he purrs, the end of his palm pressing against your clit while he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. “You're always aroused and I'm always down to satisfy you”. 

You moan at his words, grinding your hips even harder against his touch —there’s a really harsh movement restriction provided by the ankle cuffs, but you can still move freely a bit. 

“You always make me feel so good,” your pussy is clenching around his fingers just fine, hugging them tightly while your ass is pulsating with the plug inside of it, “so full”.

Hyunjin smiles fondly at your words, his left hand playing with your breasts while his right one focuses on getting you closer to your orgasm. 

“You’re only missing something in your mouth tonight,” he tells you, feeling you getting wetter and wetter as the seconds pass by. “Should I kiss you?”

You nod almost desperately, turning to the side yet again to find his sweet breath. The lace eye mask only allows you to see much from his face, but with his gaze is more than enough —it tells you everything you need to know. 

“Please,” you cry out, lifting your face to reach for his lips. “Please, Hyunjin”. 

He smiles cockily yet again before leaning for a kiss, using his tongue fully even from the first seconds. That’s how Hyunjin’s kisses are, intense and passionate.

His tongue brushes against you delicately, tasting you and allowing you to taste him. It dances gracefully inside your mouth, making you tremble under his touch.

“I truly can’t wait to fuck you tonight,” he murmurs in between kisses, voice so quiet you know it won’t be picked by the microphone. “You’re driving me insane, can’t spend another second without being buried deep inside your pussy”. 

You clench around his fingers again and Hyunjin gets even more desperate, imagining how it is going to feel your pussy around his cock tonight. He has had you a thousand times, but he still can’t get enough of the feeling.

“You really want that?” 

There’s a moment of silence in which Hyunjin allows the audience to hear the way his fingers get lost inside your pussy, your own wetness creating the perfect friction for the lewd sounds. It’s as humiliating as it is appealing.

“I want more than just that,” it’s all beautifully rhythmical —your bodies move together in sync, grinding against each other while you put on a show for the camera. “I want to mark you, let everybody know I’m the one you belong to”. 

You cry against his lips, feeling the tension building up inside of you. Judged by how often you clench around his fingers, and how sloppily your hips are moving against his palm, Hyunjin knows you are just a few seconds away from your orgasm.

“Mh, want to come already?” you have always been a sucker for dirty talk —it is really not a secret. But ever since you two have implemented such dialogues in your videos, you've received positive feedback about it. You two do it for each other, but also because you know the people watching like it too. “It hasn’t even been more than five minutes”.

You nod with your head kicked back against his chest, eyes closed and teeth nibbling your lower lip. It’s pathetic, how much he knows your body and how fast he can get you to come, but you really can’t complain.

“There,” you moan, “right there baby, right there”. 

Hyunjin’s nose brushes against your cheek as he increases the pace of his fingers inside you, his heavy breathing and quiet groans resonating near your ear and sending chills throughout your body. 

You are both so immersed and lost in each other that you no longer care about anything else but your pleasure. 

“Please come for me,” he begs, hugging you tightly in place with his left arm while your body spasms underneath his hold. “Come for me, show me how much you like me”. 

It doesn’t take you long to fulfill his plea, hips grinding uncontrollably against his hand just as if you were riding his cock, eyebrows furrowed while you moan in both pleasure and pain. He continues fucking you with his fingers even after you’ve reached the highest point of your arousal, even when your wrists wrapped around his in hopes of stopping the overstimulation, but he doesn’t stop.

He is still touching you eagerly, spreading your fluids all along your slit and holding you right in place, an appealing image for those who will watch.

Your body resists it, tries to get away from him while you do anything you can to bear the overwhelming stimulation, but there’s not much to do —you can’t close your legs. 

“Hyune!” you gasp, tears running down your cheeks while your body trembles. “Fuck!”

He buries his nose in your neck, inhaling the remains of your lotion while his fingers continue his motions. Your hands clasp from anything you can get them on: the satin bed sheets, his arms, his biceps and even the fabric of his pants. Your body jolts aggressively, wanting to get away from the overstimulation, but Hyunjin’s strength is ten times more than yours.

“One more,” he groans, still with the sweetness and love he has always shown you. “Come one more time, please”. 

You know it is going to happen, that you are truly not that far from coming again. But this time, the overstimulation is making it a tad painful, and that only makes your heart beat faster.

“Fuck!” a guttural groan escapes your lips, “More, more!”

The more you beg, the more your eyes get clouded with tears. Is it wrong for Hyunjin to get aroused from it? He doesn’t know, but seeing you cry gets him harder than ever. 

“Come,” he groans, curling his fingers against your g-spot. “Make a mess, let them know how good I can make you feel”. 

Part of the reason why you enjoy filming videos is that it feeds your preference for exhibitionism. You and Hyunjin are not that bold to perform such activities out in public spaces, but you still enjoy the idea of being caught or seen during the act —knowing that people will get to watch and even jerk off to the things you are doing with your boyfriend right now it’s what pushes you to your second orgasm of the night. 

“Come on, doll,” a couple of more thrusts and you are already coming around his fingers, wailing in pleasure. “Just like that, let them see how cute you look while coming”. 

Your body hasn’t stopped shaking ever since your first orgasm, but the second one makes it even more obvious —your thighs tremble while you are being forced by the plug to keep them open and Hyunjin’s arm tenses around you tighter, preventing you from getting away from him.

“Stay here with me,” he tells you, decreasing the movement of his fingers inside you. “That’s it, relax for me”.

He makes sure to soothe you after such a scene, peppering kisses on your head, while he massages your swollen clit, being extremely careful not to cause you any pain this time.

You have a hard time stabilizing your breathing and heartbeats but, after a couple of minutes of just laying down with him, your body manages to come back to normal. 

“That was…” you want to say something, but you’re at a loss of words. Really. “Think it came out fairly well”. 

Hyunjin laughs. “Want to watch it?” 

You smile and bite your lower lip. 

“Only if you let me suck you off while the video is playing on the screen”. 

[razzek]

how does your blindness impact your art? I would have thought that it would be impossible for a blind person to work in a purely visual medium like you do, but clearly that's not the case. do you use adaptive tech or specific styles/techniques?

(I apologize if this question is ableist. I would like to know more about your experiences, but I don't have a great grasp of what's appropriate to ask and what isn't. I am not trying to be rude.)

Oooh thank you for asking! :) For the record, I’m pretty chill, I know there aren’t exactly a ton of us blindies out there, so feel free to ask questions with the language you have. :)

Haha oh man, my blindness has impacted my art from the very first thing I drew at age 4. I have a small amount of vision in my left eye; no depth perception, no peripheral vision, no distance, pretty good colors though. Life to me is basically a smear of nonsense colors that I put meaning to through context and location. The closest thing to seeing anything clearly I’ve ever gotten was watching cartoons, which I did obsessively as a kid. So first and foremost, I don’t and can’t draw from life, it makes no sense to me. The bold, simple actions of animation and the heavy stylization has taught me a ton.

Over the years my style has become very much about being high contrast, high visibility. But it also tangles with my love of doing pretty intricate detail work (it’s soothing, what can I say XD). In the past I was strictly a traditional media artist and I drew with what I had on hand. Growing up in poverty, what I had was the pens I used to write with in school and the paper I scrounged out of recycling bins. I basically mashed my face on the paper and worked in light angled over my shoulder that wasn’t too bright. I clipped paper to clip boards so I’d always have something lightweight enough to hold in one hand while I drew with the other. I’d sketch in pencil and ink using my very beefy prescription reading glasses, and everything I do had to be self taught. Life drawing class just doesn’t do anything for the dude who can’t see the model. :D

In 2019 a botched cataract surgery cost me most of my functional vision. I can no longer read print for any length of time, I don’t watch tv, and increasingly I just forget to look at most things with my eyes. But! I have an iPad. :D It took a few years and finding a pair of beefy store bought readers so I can focus enough to draw, but using Procrate and zooming down to the pixel as well as sketching on a black background makes the art still possile. I still draw mostly the same way I did with traditional media. I know brushes could probably be used to make some things easier, but I don’t have the spoons or visual stamina to figure out how to use them except for making quick backgrounds (pro tip: never have your character or object floating in a white void, even a single line to ground them will make your work better).

Color of late has been an interesting thing because I literally do not understand how light and shadow really works. I’ve read up on it but there’s only so much anyone can do when they just can’t see the thing. I like to ink the best and color is just an experiment I’m trying every time I do it heh. I make up little rules of style for myself and do a lot of guesswork based on the full shape I think a thing or character has, if that makes sense. I don’t know how a lot of things work visually so I will make stuff up, guess, or you’ll see some funky style things that happen because I read a medical paper once and just like drawing the holes in an iris (that’s what the lines in characters’ eyes are heh).

I’ll have to make a video sometime. Some of this stuff probably makes more sense in action.

Tl,dr: I mash my face onto an iPad and use 35-ish years of drawing experience to guess at what leoks right. :D I don’t think I would have become an artist if I wasn’t blind, I would have had more to look at to distract me. XD

[dayyofsun]

Love delivery to your door! -`ღ´- puentalay fic

Puen is a night-shift pizza delivery-guy, and Talay always orders pizza at night.

01 ୨♡୧

Talay always works until late night, and tonight wasn't an exception. His boss treats him well, but since he is the last person to join the colorist team, he makes things for all his seniors. Some nights he is with some coworkers who have a ton of workload to do too, but other times he is by himself on his computer, editing beautiful colors to videos and films. Even with all of that, he loves his job. He simply loves colors. Colors are his one true love.

He also loves pizza

Since he is trapped in an office from ten to ten, he can't eat delicious food as just when he wants. Or eat his mum delicious cooking, because at the end of the day he arrives home late at night. So he chooses to eat pizza. He loves pizza anyway. Sometimes he shares with his coworkers, other times he eats a small one alone, but the taste and smell of that piece of art just makes his night a glory.

Tonight wasn't a special night. But was the night he lost a lot of time of work. And also the night he brought the pizza home.

Things were going a bit different as common. His pizza was not arriving. And his stomach was aching of hunger. He was starting to get a bit mad, not real madness, just hunger irritation.

He finally listened to the bell sound, and received a call informing that his pizza has arrived. Just as everything before, even the voice from the delivery was different. Talay was used to the old uncle who always bought his pizzas, but this time wasn't him.

Talay ran to the door, his whole mind was just thinking in how hungry he was. He opened the door and saw a young man in front of him. He knew it wasn't the uncle by his voice, but he didn't expect to see such a handsome delivery guy. Their eyes met the moment Talay opened the door, he felt a coldness go through his spine. Not a bad coldness. It was a coldness who made his heart stop for a second and then start beating like he was running a marathon. He was probably just very hungry and quite cold outside compared to his office.

—You are Mr. Rawi, right?- the delivery guy said. —Here is your pepperoni pizza.

Talay went back to his senses after listening the guy talk about food.

—Pepperoni…?— said the colorist very confused, —I ordered bacon.

—Oh, I apologize. Let me check in my bag.

Talay sighed in relief when he saw the guy take another pizza from his bag.

—I'm sorry for the inconvenience, here is your bacon pizza, Mr. Rawi.

—It's fine. Thank you so much—. Talay couldn't help his curiosity, but ask the guy about the other delivery guy. They always had the same delivery guy for the night shift. —May I ask you if you know something about the uncle who used to deliver during the night shift?

—Ah, yeah, it's fine. He now has a day shift, his partner is expecting a baby, so now I'm the night delivery-guy—. He said, holding his helmet on his side, smiling. —My name is Puen by the way.

—Nice to meet you, Puen.

—Enjoy your pizza. Good night—, Puen turned on his back and put his helmet on, ready to leave.

—Good night—, Talay answered, looking how he was about to leave. —My nickname is Talay…

Talay don't know why he said that.

Puen pulled his visor from the helmet up and smiled at him.

—Nice to meet you, Talay.

The colorist saw how the handsome repartidor left. He closed the door and exhaled.

What the fuck just happened.

[raspberryhell]

[ID: Four sets of drawings of various NPCs from Rusty Quill Gaming all done in shades of light orange and pink. The first image includes Wilde, Barnes, Carter, and Einstein. The second image is of the kobolds, including Skraak, Meerk, Driaak, Draal, Tadyka, Natun, and Sassraa. The third image is of the Vengeance crew, including Earhart, Kiko, Friedrich, and Siggif. The last image is of Sumutnyrel, Augusta, Lovelace, and Tesla standing around a console containing the brain of Babbage. End ID]

(More detailed ID plus images with the names labeled included under the cut)

Day 14 of RQGinktober is Favorite NPC… but do I really have to pick just one??🥺🥺🥺 Clean up of the art from the end of my People That Love You animatic!  

[ID: A digital drawing of Wilde, Barnes, Carter, and Einstein. Wilde stands to the side, closest to the camera. He is a human man with shoulder-length hair. He is wearing a suit, ascot, and cape. He is pointing a finger up with a sparkle, flipping his hair and winking. Behind him are Barnes and Carter, both human men. Carter has short hair and a moustache and is wearing a vest over a short sleeved shirt and fingerless gloves. Barnes has long curly hair and is wearing a bandana on his neck and a deep V shirt. Carter has playfully thrown an arm around Barnes, who looks up with a small smile. Behind them is Einstein, jumping and waving a hand. He is a human man with wild hair, a moustache, and is wearing long wizard robes. End ID]

[ID: A digital drawing of the crew of kobolds. They are all small dragon-y creatures with varying fangs, claws, horns, and tails. Standing closest to the camera and to the side is Skraak. He has bent-back horns and is wearing a hooded jacket and stands with his arms crossed, glaring forward. Behind him is Driaak and Tadyka. Tadyka has short forward-pointing horns and is wearing a shirt and a bandana. They are standing with their hands together, smiling and looking back at Sassraa. Sassraa has twisted ram-like horns and is wearing a lab coat and goggles that obscure their eyes. She is smiling and waving. Driaak has two sets of small horns and is wearing a turtleneck with a long coat, looking startled as Meerk jumps out behind him. Meerk has short horns and is wearing a long shirt. He is jumping up, waving an arm and smiling widely. Behind him is Draal, the tallest kobold, with large forward-pointing horns. He wears a long coat and stands smiling down at the others. Next to him is Natun, who has tall thin horns and wears a coat with a bandana. End ID]

[ID: A digital drawing of the Vengeance crew, Earhart, Kiko, Friedrich, and Siggif. In the middle, on a small platform with a ship’s wheel attached, is Earhart. Earhart is a short gnome woman with short hair. She is wearing a feathered hat, a large coat, boots, and smiles confidently while holding the steering wheel. To the left is Friedrich, a short dwarf man with a beard and unnaturally long arms wearing overalls, and Siggif, an older human man with short messy hair and a messy beard wearing a long shirt and a vest. Freidrich playfully elbows at Siggif, who seems to be giving a reluctant sigh. To the right is Kiko, a tall human woman with long hair tied back in a ponytail and several ear piercings. She is wearing a sleeveless shirt, a bandana, a belt and tall pants. She stands with a hand on her hip as she gives a small smile and a playful wink. End ID]

[ID: A digital drawing of Sumutnyrel, Augusta Leigh, Ada Lovelace, and Nikola Tesla standing around a console containing the brain of Babbage. To the front left is Sumutnyerl, an older druid woman with short hair wearing a headscarf and a large, thick, fur-lined coat. She stands with a hand cautiously in front of her, looking around warily. To the front right is Augusta, an older human woman with short curly hair wearing a jacket, a turtleneck, a large belt and pants. She is smiling widely, winking and giving a playful salute. In the back left is Ada, a human woman with curly hair wearing a dress with large shoulders and a headset. Her body is facing the console, arms out as if typing, with her head turned back over her shoulder, giving a worried look. Beside her is Tesla, an old human man with white hair, glasses and a cane. He sits on a stool and gives a sad look off to the side. Behind them all is a large console with a tower in the center with an opening showing a glass orb filled with liquid in which a single brain floats, with wires coming out of the top and bottom of the brain connecting it to the console. End ID] 

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 9 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter 

Summary: Are you... finally having a date?

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hey y’all! Again, I apologize for the delay but uni didn’t allow for me to have some free time to write. I’ll try to upload something earlier next week and hope you enjoy the new chapter until then! xxx

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“Wish I could've seen your beautiful face on my screen tonight, sweetheart.“ You stare at your phone. Is she… flirting? By now it’s too late, so you can’t ask Alex for help since she is already sound asleep on her side of the world. You ruffle your hair and let your head fall to the back to look at the ceiling. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and consider your options. Tonight, it’s only you, your phone and Kathryn. 

Unsure of what to do, you opt for the safer way and start a conversation rather than flirt with her right away, because honestly, you don’t even know what to do. “You know, we all actually hoped you guys would be able to see us, too.“

You are not sure if you blew it with that, but then again it’s not like you and Kathryn haven’t talked about things the fans think before, not that you are not one of them, but that’s a different story. She takes a while to respond and you throw your phone on the bed before lying down on your back.

Looking up at the stars on your ceiling, you reflect on what happened within the last week until your phone lights up again. You lie there for a short while waiting for Kathryn to respond and think about what plans you have for the rest of the week. You train of thought gets stopped when your phone lights up. You turn to your side to look at it and realize it lit up, yes, but this time there is no new message. Instead, additionally to lighting up, your phone starts to vibrate as hold it in your hand - a familiar face looking right at you. Yours. She is calling you. KATHRYN. On Facetime. 

Shocked as you are, you throw your phone across the room and as you try to catch it you hit it again, which only makes it fly further away. You immediately jump after it and fall from your bed in the process, taking a tumble before rolling off on the floor. Typical you and you would roll your eyes at yourself right now, if only you weren’t so busy reaching out for your phone.

For a moment, you think about how you could’ve hit your head pretty hard just a second ago, but somehow your body went into god mode and you managed to roll off pretty quickly. Phone in hand you are lying on the floor, all sprawled out as the time runs out to pick up the call. Gladly, you remember you should and take it as you still lie on the floor.

“Kathryn?“, you try to catch your breath. “Sweetheart, HEY!“, you catch a glimpse of her as you’re getting up to sit on your chair and hear her laugh. “What exactly are you doing, Y/N? You look… You are a mess, honey! WHAT HAPPENED?“

You immediately stop in your motion and look at her while running a hand through your hair trying to look more presentable. “I…“, you stutter. “I… I.. My phone… Floor. I had to… It’s…“

“Sweetheart you gotta take a breath for me now.“, she looks at you concerned.

“Yes, thank you Kathryn, yes. Hello there! I’m sorry. I might’ve hit my head actually. I’m not sure.“ She smiles once again while she is looking at you with her warm, blue eyes, as she gives you another minute to calm down after you ramble. “Well, I’m glad I get to see you now. I hate those one sided video things, especially since I’ve missed your face.“ She winks.

“You saw me like… 5 days ago. You’ll live.“ You can’t help but laugh at her antics once again and the both of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment until she breaks it. “Anyway, I am calling because I wanted to know if you will come and spend some time in my garden again this weekend.“ The words leave her mouth and you hear her but your brain seems unable to comprehend what is being said. How can this be your life right now?

While you are caught up in your thoughts Kathryn continues talking. “I promise this time we’ll stay at my place. No surprise gigs or anything to attend. Just the gals hanging out.“ You want to ask her if this is a date, you really do, but you can’t get yourself to be bold like that. Instead you just shoot her a wide smile as she waits for your answer and nod. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean… We never got to finish that bottle of wine we opened, so…“

Now it’s her turn to nod and you both fall silent again. Even though you are fully comfortable sitting in silence and just spending time with her in real life, it feels different on Facetime. Kathryn seems to notice rather quickly and breaks the silence again.

“Well, Sweetheart. I’ll let you go because I’m sure you’ve got other things to do. I will send you details for the weekend as soon as I know what my schedule looks like and then I’ll have Peter pick you up again?“

“That sounds amazing!…“ And you should've stopped there but at the same time you feel  a little adventurous, so you throw a common phrase in there that Alex uses any chance she gets. Realizing you could always say you don’t mean it that way makes it even easier - after all Kathryn doesn’t know you actually do. “It’s a date!“

Her smile turns into a wide grin. “It’s a date. I’ll see you on Saturday then.“

“Not if I see you first.“

—

You don’t see her first. Kathryn would never admit it, but she is in fact very nervous and paces up and down the house waiting for you. She fully cleaned all of it last night already, knowing that you would come over today. 

When she hears Peter and you arrive with the car, she walks up to the front door immediately and opens it right as you exit the car. You're wearing a flow-y summer dress again and your hair falls your shoulders in beautiful curls. A pair of sunglasses is propped up on top of your head and she can see you squinting your eyes against the sun.

Kathryn is leaning against the door frame as Peter sees you off and the two of you laugh about a dad joke he makes. She likes how you get along with everyone around her so well and her heart skips a beat as you turn around and your eyes meet. She is beautiful. A dark green pantsuit, that Kathryn combined with a white shirt (including the rolled up sleeves, of course), is hanging loosely off her shoulder. Her hair is in its usual curly mess and slowly moves in the wind as a fresh breeze hits her face.

Faster than anticipated you make your way up to her and wrap her up into a hug that, according to your consideration, is a little bit longer than a usual hug. She holds onto you just as tight and her hand wanders up to the back of your neck. When you finally let go of earth other you forget to put distance between your bodies again, so you find yourself just a couple inches away from her face once again.

“You look… stunning.“ She says as her hand softly pushes back a strand of hair behind your right ear.

“THANK YOU!“, you say in a high pitched voice as your eyes widen because of how embarrassing that voice raise was. “You look beautiful as always yourself, Kathryn.“

The smile on her face tells you that the compliment is sitting very well with her and you decide to keep a bit of the mystery, so you brush against her as you walk inside the house and make your way to the door thats leading to the garden.

Stunned, Kathryn stays in the doorframe for a moment before following you out onto the patio. She reaches you before you can reach the seating area because you purposefully strolled a little and appreciated the beauty of her backyard.

“I love your dress! That color and fit is just… you look beautiful, Y/N.“ You blush and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her as she has just caught up to you. The two of you have reached the couch and she offers you to sit first and makes sure you have a drink and everything you need before she makes herself comfortable. Just like last time, she sits down across from you first, keeping the mystery and all. 

The Kathryn you get to meet now is not that much different from the Kathryn you met within the last two weeks. She is funny and open and, if anything has changed, then it is the fact that she is much more relaxed without all the other people around.

As she tells you about her latest interview fails and gives you inside on her life, you can’t help but fall for her a little more, especially whenever she throws her head back as she laughs wholeheartedly. 

When it’s your turn to tell stories, you tell her about your childhood hobbies and how does might effect your future. She is very interested in arts and you immediately agree to meet up again to create something together. Talking about how you spend your free time, you finally mention Alex and talk about how fast she became your best friend. Just as always, she makes you feel like you are the most important person on the planet as you talk and somehow you feel like Alex becomes important to her as well, the moment you talk about how important she is to you.

With every glass she pours, Kathryn scooches a little closer to you until your knees nearly touch. Whenever you laugh about a joke, she reaches out to put her right hand on your leg and as you finish the first bottle of wine and she decides to order pizza as the sun starts to set, she plops down right next to you after getting the menu off the kitchen table.

Being fully comfortable with her now, you let yourself sink into her shoulder as the two of you browse the pizza names to see what you want to order. Luckily, you make a decision rather quickly while Kathryn needs some time, so you can enjoy the moment of closeness for a little while longer.

For the very first time, you realize how good her hair smells and how calming her aura is. You close your eyes to take it all in and smile to yourself about the sheer happiness that you are feeling in this very moment. 

Kathryn notices how calm you have gotten and leans back as her left arm sneakily finds its way across your shoulder to hold you close to her. Leaning back into the couch, she pulls you with her and the both of you sit in silence as you listen to her heartbeat. 

After a while, you hear a deep growl and Kathryn gets startled out of her meditational state. “Oh I’m sorry! I must be hungrier than I thought I am.“

She takes out her arm from behind you again and reaches for the menu and her phone to call the delivery service. When the pizza arrives and she comes back from the front door, she sits down on the other side of the couch once again and you immediately miss being by her side.

The pizza is nice, maybe even the best pizza you’ve had from any delivery service before, and by the time you finished eating, the sun has fully set. Not sure how she is going to react, you fiddle with your fingers for a moment before making a proposal.

“I.. actually arranged something. I looked up Peter’s agency and asked for his number and asked him if he could take us somewhere tonight. I mean.. If you’d wanna go?“

Once again speechless, Kathryn looks at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows as her face is beaming from excitement. “Absolutely! Do we… need anything or are we good to go right away?“ It’s nice that she wants to help, but she doesn’t have to. Alex and you have planned for this very moment all week and talked it all through several times, so that Peter and you could arrange the surprise for Kathryn.

You help her up from the couch and lead her back into the house, where a filled basket, that has magically appeared, is waiting at the front door. Peter is already waiting in the car ready to take you to the stars.

It’s a rather short drive as he takes you to a little meadow on a hill where you can look over Los Angeles in between rocks and trees and actually see the stars as well. Naturally, he stays in the car and ready a book as the two of you walk up to the corner of the hill, where a small spot suggests that lots of couples have spent some time there. 

“This is perfect, Y/N. I….“ She looks at you before looking up at the night sky and stops talking as she feels your eyes on her. Your fingers on the blanket are close enough to hers that you can feel her warmth and you slowly move them closer. Neither of you breaks eye contact as your hands touch and a tingles move through all of your body.

You bite the inside of your lower lip in anticipation as you cup her hand with yours completely. Giving it one last squeeze, you let go and cup her face instead. Slowly, you move closer until you can feel her breath on your lips. Looking into her eyes for one last time, you overcome the remaining inches and capture her lips in a longing kiss as your hands find their way into her long hair.

Leaning into the kiss with a little too much force, combined with the fact that she is so focused on the way you make her feel, makes her lose balance and she falls backwards onto the blanket. Before you can do anything about it, you find yourself on top of Kathryn who is grinning and goes in for yet another kiss. Now she is the one who is holding onto you and her hands glide all over your body as she takes no measures to get you off of her.

You make out with her in that position for a short moment, before she stops in her tracks. “We can’t. Not like that. Not out here. I’m sorry, Sweetheart.“

“Oh no, don’t be sorry. You are absolutely right.“ You smile and kiss her shortly for one last time before getting off of her. “Let’s go back home? It’s getting rather cold anyway.“

“Home? Are you… Staying over tonight?“ She looks at you, unsure of what to expect.

For a moment you consider if you should play it save, but thinking about everything that happened tonight, you decide to go into full offense and shoot your shot while you wink at her. “Well, Ms. Hahn. Seems like you are asking me to stay, so I might as well.“

She looks at you and you can tell she is biting her lip before she looks back at the lights in front of her as she grabs your hand. “Please stay, Y/N. I would love that.“

[waitimcomingtoo]

heeeey, in love with you, your writing and your blog 💖 Tbh I have read everything you have and I really in love with your writing. And I know that your request are close, but if you want could you write a Tom x reader where they have a fight and Tom has to leave a few days to promote his new movie and when he's back he sees like some of the reader's stuff are missing and thinks she left but in reality she's in another room couse she's awfully sick and doesn't want to get Tom sick too

Thank you so much anon!

Give Me a Minute to Hold My Girl

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom can’t find you after a bad fight

Masterlist

Tom was away a lot.

You knew traveling was a big part of his job, so you never did complain. That being said, it wasn’t easy having a boyfriend who was never around. All the missed birthdays, events, and art shows weighed on you after a while. You were more than proud of him, but you were growing lonely. He had a saying, something he said every time before he left you:

“Wherever I am, and wherever you are, we’re always looking at the same moon.”

And it used to assuage you. You’d go outside on nights he was away and stare at the moon, wishing he was looking at it where’ve he was. You knew it was never true though. He was rarely in the same time zone as you and was definitely not spending his precious time staring at the moon.

You couldn’t help it. You were miserable. 

On a night where Tom came home three hours later than he said he would after being away for a week. He sent a short text alerting you that he’d be home late, therefore missing the art show he promised he’d be at after missing the last three. Upon reading the text just mere moments before your show, you decided your quota was filled. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights anymore. If he didn’t start shaping up, you were gonna have to start considering looking elsewhere for love. You loved Tom, but you had to love yourself more.

“Hi, babygirl.” Tom came behind you that night and wrapped his arms around your waist as you rinsed your brushes. He smelled like he had been using a new cologne, one you didn’t recognize. You stiffened a little in his embrace as you wiped off a brush.

“I thought you were gonna be home at 2.” You said quietly.

“Plans changed. Sorry I didn’t call.” He kissed the back of your neck with strangers lips.

“Do you remember what today was?” You asked for your own amusement.

“Oh uh…” Tom scratched the back of his head as he raked his brain. “Not your birthday.”

“No.” You confirmed with half hearted humor.

“Not our anniversary.” He continued.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Um…” he trailed off until his eyes landing on your paint brushes next to you. “Your art show. I totally forgot.” He rubbed his eyes. “It was today?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, never meeting his eyes.

“I knew it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Tom took your hands and looked at you apologetically. “I got pulled into a meeting about Spider-Man 3 and it just slipped my mind.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t place or anything.” You shrugged, not wanting a fight. “You can come to the next one.”

“This was the one where you paint on the spot right? Can you paint me a new one while I get changed?” Tom suggested as he brushed some hair out of your face.

“Sure. Anything specific?” You asked, warming up to him now that he was showing an interest in you again. The fire you felt for him was burning once again.

“Paint how you feel. I’ll be back soon.” Tom kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

You put a blank canvas on your easel and squirt some dark paint on your palette. As you painted, you heard Tom shouting and cheering from the other room. You decided it wasn’t worth it to get angry at him for playing a video game, after all he did have a long day. You kept the painting simple and void of color so you could get back to spending time with your boyfriend. When you finished and felt happy with your work, you called him back.

“I’m done, Tom.” You called out to him.

“Just a second. I’m in the middle of a game.” He called back. After ten minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t come into the room, you decided to add another small detail to the background of the painting. Tom walked in shortly after with a different outfit and freshly showered. You gave him a small smile.

“I can clean up and we can grab some dinner.” You said as you collected the used brushes.

“I actually gotta go soon, honey. I have meeting in Manchester tonight.” Tom told you timidly. You stopped collecting your brushes and looked at him.

“But you just got home.” You said, not bothering to hide your disappointment.

“I thought I’d come back for an hour to see you.” He said as if was no big deal.

“And then you spent that hour playing video games with Tuwaine.” You pointed out in anger. You felt the fire fizzle out.

“He’s never on, I didn’t want to miss him.” Tom said light heartedly in an attempt to cheer you up. “He’s the best at 2K.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really he was the best at 2k.” You said sarcastically. “How stupid of me to try to pull my boyfriend away from making virtual half court shots after I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“I haven’t seen him either.” Tom reminded you, only fueling your anger.

“But you gave your only free hour to him. When am I gonna get to see you, Tom? When you’re dead?” You questioned.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He held out his arms.

“Until your car pulls up.” You shot a look at his phone which you knew would be buzzing any minute.

“What do you want me to say?” Tom asked. “I work. I’m a working actor. People need me.”

��I need you.” You threw a sheet over your canvas and finished collecting your brushes, not wanting to look at him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, darling. I’m sorry. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He apologized. You shook your head before turning to face him.

“You spent last week in Mexico, Berlin, and Scotland. You’ve been to LA, Germany, and Vancouver this week. And now you’re off to Manchester? Do you mean you can’t be everywhere at once, or do you mean you can’t be anywhere I am?” You accused.

“I don’t pick where I go. If I have a meeting, I go. If I have a premier, I go. If I have to film, I go. It’s part of the job.” Tom defended himself.

“Chris wasn’t at the London premier.” You said quietly. You weren’t going to bring it up, but it felt warranted.

“What?” Tom asked at the random claim.

“Chris Pratt. He wasn’t at the London premier for Onward.” You told him.

“Okay?” Tom said in confusion.

“Do you know why?” You tested him.

“No.” Tom said after a minute of thinking.

“He was home with his family. He said his son started crying as he was leaving for his flight so he stayed. It was all over the news.” You told him. “Traveling is part of his job too, and yet he knows how to be there for his family. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Harry and Sam were there.” Tom pointed out.

“I don’t care about Harry and Sam!” You raised your voice. “I care about how the only time I get to see my boyfriend is when I’m scrolling through Instagram. Girls all over the world get to see you but the girl you swore you loved is lying at home in an empty bed. You can make time for millions of strangers but you can’t make time for me? Do you know how it feels every time you don’t answer my FaceTime calls but then you go on Instagram live? Do you have any idea how unhappy I’ve been?” You asked desperately.

“I have to tend to my fans, it’s a part-“ Tom began.

“Of the job, I know.” You cut him off as you stormed out of the room.

“What do you want me to do? Quit?” He laughed bitterly as he followed you into the living room.

“Would you?” You spun around.

“What?” Tom faltered.

“Would you give it all up for me?” You repeated lowly. “If I asked, and I wouldn’t, but it I did? Would you give up the money and stardom and power for me?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Tom sighed.

“Because I think I know the answer.” You said tearfully. You and Tom stared at each other for a long time. He could see how hurt you were and prepared to make amends.

“I love you.” He said meekly.

“Don’t give me that.” You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling.

“I do.” He said firmly but you didn’t answer. “What do you want me to give you, then?”

“A reason to stay, maybe?” You shrugged sadly as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’m seeing nothing but a lifetime of loneliness ahead of me because of your beloved job.”

“We love each other. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” Tom stepped closer to you but you backed away. His face fell at your indifference.

“I always thought it would be but…” you shrugged and pulled your sweater tighter around you.

“You wouldn’t leave.” Tom said starkly.

“I would if I had nothing to come back to.” You looked him in the eye. His eyes were red now too.

“I’m here. I’m what you have to come back to.” His voice wavered as he got to the point of tears.

“Tom, when are you ever here?” You laughed at the absurdity of his statement. “When have I ever had you to come back to you?”

“You think I like the traveling anymore than you do? I hate leaving you. I miss you like crazy when I’m away. It kills me to be apart.” He defended himself as he raised his voice.

“Oh, is that why you don’t answer my texts? Because being away from me killed you?” You asked sarcastically. “That makes total sense now. Although, I never really got the feeling you “missed me like crazy” when you were dodging my calls.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Tom apologized, knowing this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. “I’ll start coming home more, I promise.”

“Like you promised you’d come to my show?” You shot back, not yet ready to let him off easy.

“I just forgot! Am I not allowed to forget things?” Tom shouted.

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?” You yelled. Tom quoted down when he realized you were right.

“Darling, I cannot deal with this right now.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Can we please talk about this tomorr-” he cut himself off with a sigh.

“What?” You asked bitterly.

“I won’t be here tomorrow. I have press in New York. I have a flight out of Manchester after the meeting tonight.” He told you with dad eyes. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you.”

“How convenient.” Your voice cracked. It was at the point where you were plenty used to the goodbyes, but this one felt final.

“I was gonna tell you, I swear. It just slipped my mind.” Tom apologized.

“That’s been happening a lot, hasn’t it?” You snapped.

“You know this is part of the job.” He said weakly, hating himself for having to give you such a lame excuse.

“I do know that.” You nodded. “What I didn’t know is that I was gonna live my life freezing to death in the shadow of your career!” You shouted.

“Then get a new life!” He shouted back, eyes immediately displaying regret. You tilted your head as tears streamed down your face.

“Do you mean that?” You asked quietly.

“Maybe I do.” Tom shrugged as he stared you coldly in the eye. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. “I have to go.”

“Good. Go.” You snapped. He went to the door but stopped and looked at you.

“You’re gonna be here when I get back, right?” He asked timidly.

“Would you even notice if I wasn’t?” You responded as you went to retreat into the bedroom.

“Darling, wait-“ Tom began to follow you but you stopped in your tracks.

“I don’t have anything left here to wait for.” You told him and you watched his heart break.

Tom opened his mouth to speak but his phone buzzed again. He looked at it and sighed as you wiped a tear.

“Go. Your car is waiting.” You said.

“I can’t leave you like this.” He mumbled as he typed something into his phone.

“Just leave. You know how.” You said bitterly. Tom looked up at you at your words. He was in a bad way. His nose was running and his eyes were bloodshot.

“I can cancel on the press. I can stay home-“ he said desperately.

“This is not a home! This is a prison!” You yelled. “I am chained to this one man cult we call a relationship. Please, just go! You have people waiting on you, people you clearly find more important than me. You need to leave, because I will never kick you out. Go on your press tour. Go to New York. Go do your precious “job” and meet your fans. Go stare at the fucking moon. I don’t care. Just leave.” You yelled until your voice was ragged.

“You’ll never find someone like me.” Tom warned, saying anything he could to get you to stay.

“I hope to God that’s true!” You screamed.

Tom took a step towards you, but his phone buzzed again. He wiped a tear off his cheek and nodded.

“I’ll be back in a week.” He swallowed.

“Good for you.” You said dismissively as you walked into the bedroom and slammed the door. He stared at the door for a long time, about to knock when he got yet another text telling him his car was there. He swallowed thickly, pressed a kiss to the outside of the door, and left without another word.

“I’m home.” Tom called into his home a week later.

He immediately felt the chill of your fight hitting him. When he didn’t hear a response from you, he shivered in his jacket, suddenly feeling like he was wearing somebody else’s clothes. He set his bag down timidly in the ground and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the lack of dishes in the sink. You weren’t one for cleaning up after yourself and Tom had grown accustomed to coming home to a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. You’d usually wash and dry them together before settling down on the couch to watch a movie. Tom felt fear prickle the back of his neck at the empty sink. There was no way you’d actually left, Tom told himself. You wouldn’t just up and go without a note or a call or a text. Not that Tom was very good at answering your calls and texts. Tom took another step into the house and glanced around the living room. Your favorite blanket was missing and the room looked like it hadn’t been touched since Tom left a week ago. Your pile of movies was no longer next to the TV and Tom began to feel sick.

“Y/n? I’m home.” He called out again. His voice bounced off the walls but didn’t get a reply. His palms began to sweat as he walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. All of your coffee mugs were gone. There was an empty space in the middle of the cabinet where they used to be.

“Princess? Are you here?” Tom called out, desperately this time. When he was met with silence, he rushed into the bathroom. Tom washed his face with cold water and noticed your toothbrush was missing from the holder. He started at the vacant spot for a long tome before rushing into your shared bedroom. Upon entrance, he noticed your pillow missing. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in all week, and Tom feared it hadn’t. He flung open your closet doors and noticed a large gap in your clothing. All your favorite T-shirts were gone. After rummaging through the drawers, Tom found that your leggings, bras, underwear and socks were all missing too. Tom sat on the bed and out a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

You’d done it. You’d left him.

While he spent the week with friends and fans, you spent the week packing up your life. Tom snapped his head up when he heard the doorbell ring.

“Babygirl?” He asked as he rushed to the front door. He swung it open, only to find his next door neighbor.

“Oh, hey Tom. Glad to see you’re back.” His elderly neighbor smiled at him.

“Hi Shane.” Tom said weakly.

“I wanted to see how Y/n was doing. She left kinda late Thursday’s night and I haven’t seen her since. Been about a week I think.” Shane informed Tom. He perked up at the mention of you.

“You saw her leaving?” Tom asked. “When was this again?”

“Thursday. Sped off in such a hurry, you’d think she was in a race.“ Shane laughed. Tom looked past Shane and noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway.

“Did she say where she was going?” Tom inquired.

“Oh, no. My wife and I only saw her leave. We were visiting our son all weekend and got worried when we got back and saw her car was still missing. I rang the doorbell a few times this week but there was never an answer.” Shane said and Tom felt like crying all over again. “When I saw that you had come back if figured I’d ask you. Is she okay?”

“I’m sorry Shane, I don’t know.” Tom answered honestly.

“She’s not home?” Shane asked.

“Uh, no.” Tom looked back in the house and then back at Shane. “Shes not home.”

“Do you think it’s serious? Has she ever done this before?” Shane wondered.

“No. Never.” Tom shook his head.

“Have you tried calling her? You two are always so cute, I thought for sure you’d know where she was.” Shane said worriedly. Tom bit his tongue to keep from crying.

“We had a fight before I left last week.” He admitted, feeling like he needed to tell anyone who would listen.

“Oh, did you?” Shane said sympathetically.

“A really bad one.” Tom continued as his voice weighed heavy with guilt.

“That’s okay. Every couple fights. My wife and I have been fighting for 52 years.” Shane tried to cheer him up.

“Shane,” Tom sniffled as he gathered his thoughts, “I don’t think Y/n is coming home anytime soon.”

“No?” Shane asked sadly.

“I think she might’ve left.” Tom said with a shaking voice. “Left me.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Shane nodded in understanding. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“I’m so sorry, will you excuse me?” Tom closed the door quickly before his neighbor could see his tears. He leaned against the door and slid down it as tears poured from his eyes. He sobbed into his hands for a moment until he noticed something. Your easel was standing in the middle of the living room with a sheet covering it. Tom got to his feet and carefully approached the easel. He soon reached it and pulled the sheet off. The canvas was a mirage of gray and white with a portrait of a woman crying. She was holding half of her own broken heart and cradling it to her chest. In the background, a faint silhouette of a man walking away with the other half of her broken heart trailing on a string behind him.

Toms words echoed in his mind from that night: “Paint how you feel.”

That’s how you felt. Heartbroken, abandoned, and tethered, all because of Tom. Tom ran his fingertips over the painting as if were a piece of you. He tilted his head and smiled at it fondly, always blown away at how talented you were, even when painting your lament.

He noticed another canvas leaning against the back wall, also covered in a sheet. He walked briskly to it and ripped the sheet off.

Underneath the off white sheet was a portrait of Tom himself sitting on the world. He had a crown on his head and a bright smile on his face. There were tiny, detailed fans and billboards with his name on either side of him. He was in a suit and had his hand clamped firmly around a the sun. You had painted with bright colors, colors of the sunset and the sky. Your words from the fight came back to him:

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?”

On the other side of the globe sat a girl. Tom turned the portrait around and saw you. You were sitting alone, literally on the other aide of the world. Tom felt his heart break when he noticed you were staring off mournfully at the moon. On the top corner of the painting was a blue “first prize” ribbon. Tom distinctly remembered you telling him you didn’t place, despite you winning the entire competition.

That was enough for Tom. The tingling sensation started in his nose and he found himself able to see less and less of your painting as tears well up in his eyes. Body shaking sobs ripped through him as it finally sunk in that you had left him. He cried into his hands until he heard something coming from the guest bedroom.

A cough.

Tom almost thought he imagined it until he heard it again. Someone was coughing in the house. Tom scrambled to his feet and pressed an ear against the door. He heard silence for a while, then a sniffle. His heart pounded in his ears as he twisted the doorknob.

Tom opened the door slowly and heard a clanking from the floor. He looked down and saw a pile of your favorite coffee mugs, a few plates, and some bowls on the ground. He pushed them aside and fully stepped into the room. Sitting in the guest bed was a very pink-nosed and red-eyed you. You were lazily scrolling through your phone as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue. There was a bottle of bills and a bottle of cough medicine on the nightstand, as well as a sea of mugs. There was a garbage can next tot he bed with a mountain of tissues coming out as well as surrounding it. Tom felt like he was seeing a ghost and suddenly felt like a stranger in his own home. He looked around the room and saw all your missing clothes strewn around. You were wrapped in your favorite blanket and your pile of movies was next to a tub of ice cream by the TV. Tom blinked a few times in shock.

“Oh, you’re home.” You spoke and Tom snapped out of his daze. You didn’t sound angry, just congested.

“Y/n?” Tom whispered as if he spoke to loudly, you might disappear.

“Hi, Tommy.” You said sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Did you just get home?”

Tom watched your every movement as you scratched your head and reached for the cup of water next to the bed. He quickly got it before you did and handed it to you, taking a careful seat next to you on the bed. You gave him a grateful smile before downing the glass. You licked your dry lips a few times and sighed.

“Yeah. I just got in.” He said, never taking his eyes off you.

“I didn’t hear it. I’m on this medication that completely knocks me out. Oh, I’m sick, if you haven’t noticed.” You laughed sleepily. “I got the flu from one of my friends.”

“You’re sick? That’s why you’re in here?” Tom asked as hope burbled in his chest.

“I didn’t want to contaminate all your stuff.” You told him. “Can’t have you getting sick before Uncharted starts filming.” His heart warmed at the thought of you looking out for him even after the fight you had.

“Thank you, princess. I appreciate you looking out for me.” He told you sincerely.

“Uh oh.” You looked at him with a half smile. “You only call me “princess” when you’re really upset. What’s going on?”

Toms lip began to tremble at your words and you looked worried.

“Your toothbrush isn’t in the bathroom.” Was all he could find the strength to say.

“Yeah, because it was disgusting. I had to throw it out this morning.” You assured him.

“All your stuff is missing. Your clothes, movies, mugs.” Tom continued.

“Look around you.” You laughed again, gesturing to all your previously “missing” stuff.

“Shane is worried about you. He said you left Thursday and never came back.” Tom told you.

“Aw, is he? I drove to the hospital Thursday night because my fever was so high and the doctor made me stay overnight. I took an Uber back on Friday because I got sick in my car. Its at the shop getting cleaned until tomorrow. Would you tell him I’m okay?” You asked.

“Of course.” Tom nodded, feeling himself relax a little.

“Thank you.” You said. The room fell into an awkward silence. Tom toyed with what he needed to say in his head.

“I saw your paintings.” Tom spoke up.

“Oh.” You said causally, knowing the content of the paintings.

“You didn’t tell me you got first place.” He said softly.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad for missing it.” You admitted.

“Princess” ,Tom laughed sadly, “I feel terrible. I feel terrible about every thing. Every word I said to you, I regret it. I thought about you and our fight the entire time I was gone. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was miserable without you. And when I came home today and all your stuff was gone…” Tom trailed off as he got emotional again. You pulled him to you chest and let him cry it out. “I thought you left. I thought you left me.”

“I would never leave you.” You promised.

“But our fight.” He cried.

“All couples fight. The ill-timing and stress didn’t help. But I’m not someone who just walks away. Especially not from something like this.” You assured him as you stroked his hair.

“I hurt you. I missed your show, I didn’t talk to you when I was home.” Tom listed off his mistakes. “I abandoned you.”

“It’s the job.” You laughed sadly.

“No. I’m not gonna let that be an excuse anymore.” Tom pulled his head off your chest and you wiped his eyes. “You deserve better. So, so much better. I’m sorry it took you almost leaving for me to realize how much I need you to stay.”

“I’m sorry about the fight.” You told him weakly. “I said some things I didn’t mean.”

“What didn’t you mean?” Tom asked as he gathered your hands in his and kissed them.

“I know I said there wasn’t nothing here for me to wait for, but there is. Of course you’re worth waiting for. You’re away a lot, and it sucks, but nothing compares to when you’re here. A few days with you is better than a lifetime with somebody else, I know it. It’s just hard to remember the good times when I’m sleeping alone every night.” You finally told him your feelings in a much calmer manner.

“Princess, I’m so sorry. This ends today. If someone needs a meeting with me, they can come to Kingston. I’m not gonna fly all over the globe to talk about movies for an a hour anymore when I could be at home with my beautiful girlfriend. You are so much more important than any job.” Tom promised you. “I didn’t answer you that night, and I honestly didn’t even know the answer, but now I do. I’d give it all up in a heartbeat for you, love. All the money and fame is nothing to me if I don’t have you.”

“Do you really mean that?” You asked him.

“I do. And I’m gonna prove it.” He swore. “I want you to come with me when I shoot Uncharted. And I want you there for the rest of my press tour. You can bring your easel and your brushes and paint all over the world.”

“Really?” You asked happily.

“Yes. People are gonna stop coming to see me and start coming to see you because you’re gonna be the most famous painter in the world.” Tom painted you a picture. “You have more talent than people could even dream of achieving. The world needs to see your work.”

“I’d love to come with you.” You told him with a smile.

“Then do it. We don’t ever have to be apart again. I can’t sleep if it’s not next to you anyway. We won’t have to look at the same moon anymore. I can just roll over and see you instead.” Tom cupped your face. “We’re gonna go to Berlin and Italy and Mexico, all the places you’ve wanted to see. You’re gonna see the prettiest sights and eat the greatest food and live the most wonderful life by my side. And we can go anywhere else you want to go too. Fuck it, baby, we’re going to the moon. Or mars. Wherever. It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. That’s all I need.”

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear.” You told him as a happy tear rolled down your cheek. “I don’t want someone like you. I just want you.”

“I just want you, too.” He grinned as happy tears welled in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologized for the fight.

“I’m sorry too.” Tom nodded tearfully as he reached forward to kiss you.

“I’m sick.” You reminded him as you pulled away slightly to dodge his kiss.

“I don’t care.” Tom shook his head as he pressed his lips to yours before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m never leaving you again. Just give me a minute to hold my girl.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning g @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts  @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human  @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

[purpleflrs]

Hello! Do you use markers for your traditional art? If so, could you possibly tell me what kind you use/how you manage to color skin tone to look so smooth? Or maybe what kind of paper you draw on? I’ve tried both prismacolors and copics and haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet.

Hello!! I apologize if this message is super late, life is kinda wild but it's starting to simmer down a bit :'D i do use markers in my traditional work! I use mostly prismacolor markers but do have a few copic and touch markers I mix in together.

As for smoothness, there's a technique I learned from a teacher, which basically is the reason people tend to think I use watercolor. It requires blending markers when it's still wet on the paper, which isn't really some secret technique but it's something I recommend you do if you want to blend and smooth the transition of your markers! Sometimes people get nervous about how much ink they are adding (which is understandable, markers are expensive:'D) But the more aplication the wetter it is which will in turn make blending easier!! I also have a base, a shader and then a marker that's in-between to blend them all together. It's sort of hard to explain, but I hope that was a bit helpful!!

As for paper, I use mix media paper, specifically canson sketchbooks but any mix media will do!

I should maybe think about showing how I do it in a video one day, when I stop spending my time playing video games and draw LOL. I hope that was all a bit helpful! Good luck on your marker journey, you can do it!! ♡

[hikarimiyanaga]

I'll Always Be Yours (Part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Third Song : Sa Ngalan ng Pag-Ibig (In the name of love)

A/N : I didn’t realize that the end of the song was literally just the chorus twice despite listening to it for years now. Damn.

A little bit late but updating again which is more than I can say about some things that I'm writing.

Eh.

Also, forgot to add that the Italicized words are the lyrics that are translated. From google. Because my mind doesn't like translating when it doesn't need to.

Warning : Angst

How long will I wait as if no one will replace you

Wherever you are, my heart cries out for you even now

-

You’re sitting on a bench with Silvia and she hums as you sketch the pond in front of you.

“So did you find her?” Silvia asks and you drop your pencil as you flinch. You hum in confirmation and she takes your pencil before it drops to the ground. “Really? Where is she then?” Silvia twirls your pencil in her hand.

“Probably with her boyfriend.” Silvia stops and you take your pencil from her and begin sketching.

“God… did she-?”

“Silvia.” You say sharply and Silvia nods. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay.” You hum.

-

You smile as you see videos of her saving people. The Battle of New York really did wonders for them. One video catches your eye… it was about you and her.

It was by a fan of yours who saw the similarities between the redheads in your paintings and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself.

“It seems that Master Y/N knew miss Romanoff.” You scoff. Knew is a big understatement. You didn’t just know her. You loved her. Every single fiber of your being is buzzing when you see her. When she cries or has a nightmare, you were there for her. “Because the redhead portraits are so popular in Russia. She always donates these portraits despite news that people offered her ridiculous prices for it.” You sigh. It is true. The biggest offer was 20 million dollars and you didn’t even flinch when you said no. After all, you meant it what you told that curator. People shouldn’t monopolize the woman who is the love of your life… That’s why you don’t want to either. “People have theorized that they’re maybe ex-lovers? Childhood friends? No one knows but the Master herself. She always rejects interviews and appearances. She always said to let her art speak for itself.” You smile. “And so you can’t argue with me. When you can feel the love from the strokes.” You gulp. Wow, was this kid good. “The way that the master uses colors to portrait Miss Romanoff is nothing but extraordinary so there. Would you do that for a friend?” You shake your head. “Which is why I believe that Y/N is either a big fan of the Black Widow or they were lovers before.”

“Big fan is an understatement.” You mumble.

“Unrequited love is also on the table.” Then it hit you. Oh. Right. Damn. You clench your fist as the video shows Natasha’s portrait inside Louvre.

“It definitely is kid.” You cry. “It definitely is.”

-

If only you had seen the sadness in your smile, one morning you would did not come back

Wake up and when you see the sweetness of yesterday's moment will not return

-

Natasha scoffs at Steve who has his arms crossed. Clint rolls his eyes at them.

They’ve been at it for two days straight. Ever since the mission started, Natasha has been grumpy and is fighting Steve to let her go back.

“What is so important back there, anyway!?” Natasha and Clint glare at Steve.

“Cap, just because you lost Peggy doesn’t mean most of us don’t have anyone anymore.” Steve pales and he stumbles as he tries to apologize. Natasha looks away on the window and imagines you.

-

Natasha hums as she showers. She should call you… but she didn’t have your number. She didn’t know you anymore.

When she first left, she wanted to come back immediately. To remain and to keep loving you.

But you didn’t want her to. When she told you about defecting, you had a sad smile but you approved of it. You didn’t want the red room to control her life anymore and you knew that SHIELD, despite their secrecy and all that, is on the right side of things… Because you’ve met Peggy Carter yourself. The woman herself was friends with your mother and would visit sometimes while you were growing up. She didn’t openly talk about SHIELD but you figured how to listen while no one notices… Yeah, you were a nosy kid. SHIELD is a much better environment for Natalia. No brainwashing, just missions.

-

“Do it.” It floored Natalia how fast you told her to go. Did you not want her anymore? “Natalia, I know them. I’ve met Peggy and she… she was brilliant. Kind. Badass. You know? Just like you.” That made Natalia smile. You kiss her knuckles and smirk. “You should go there instead of here.”

“You don’t like Russia?” You laugh and sit on the bed, your bare chest for Natalia to see.

“No.” You bite her finger lightly. “Not when they hurt the love of my life.”

“I’m the love of your life?” Natalia says, teasing you and you chuckle. You smile at her.

“Right from the start, Nat.” Natalia’s heartbeat faster as you get closer to her. “You’ve got my heart and you never lost it.”

“I love you.” She says softly and you kiss her palm.

“I love you too. Nat. Always.”

-

Natasha wakes up from her memory of you and she sighs. All she wants now is to hold you in her arms.

-

Until the end of our eternity

Until the heart feels nothing

Even after forever

I will wait in the name of love

-

You sigh as you sketch her again. It’s been a month since you said those words to Steve. You’ve followed all of the fan accounts for her and you smile every single time there is a new video of her. You skim through the pages of your pad that’s specially for her and you groan as you realize that there are only a few blank pages left.

“Something wrong?” Silvia asks and you look up to her.

“Nah, just. I’m running out of pages.”

“Isn’t that one reserved for her?” Silvia doesn’t like to mention Natalia’s name anymore so she always just uses her pronouns.

“Yeah.”

“And you already filled it?? The last one was just three weeks ago.” You shrug at her and she gives you your tea.

“Thanks.” You mumble and sip.

“Wanna get one then?” You nod.

“Yeah.”

-

“Will you move on then?” Silvia asks as you paint a landscape.

“Move on from what?”

“From her?” You slowly stop painting and turn to Silvia.

“I don’t think so.” “What? Why?”

“She still makes my heart beat faster, Silvia. You know, like Miyuki does for you?”

“But you’ve already waited 10 years… and she has a boyfriend already.”

“I meant it when I said always to her, Silvia. I’ll wait for her forever.”

“But why?” You grin.

“In the name of love.”

-

Natasha grumbles as Clint drags her away from the apartment that they were living in. The mission has been going on for a month and they were going nowhere except for a few bits.

“Come on. Let’s go and you can tell me all about her.”

“Who?” Clint rolls his eyes as they enter a diner. They sit on a booth by the window.

“Don’t be daft. I know about her. I was there when you left her.” Natasha groans as she hits her head on their table.

“Do you think Tony can find where she is for me?”

“Yeah? If not, we can always blackmail him.”

“Oh. Yeah. Nice.”

“Now, come on. Tell me.”

-

How much longer will I endure, drowning in thought

You were the last one in my dream

You since then, you until now

-

You pant as you hover over her. She smirks as she runs her hand through your bare chest.

“Want to go again?” She asks and you laugh.

“You insatiable minx.” She laughs as you dip to kiss her neck.

“Only for you, Y/N. Only for you.” You smirk at her neck and bite her there. She moans and you begin making love to her again.

-

You gasp as you wake up. It was another memory of Natalia. Ever since you’ve seen her in that mall. All of your memories are attacking you…

“Jesus Christ.” You mumble as you run a hand through your hair. “Damn it.” You look out your window. You sigh as you get off your bed. You get yourself a bottle of water from the kitchen. You were drinking from it when your phone pings. It was another video of Natasha. You smile as you that it was her with a bunch of kids and she was laughing with them. Your phone rings and you see that it’s Silvia.

“What’s up?”

“You sure you wanna hire Miyuki?” You scrunch up your face.

“You don’t want to be with your girlfriend?” “WHAT!? Of course I do!”

“Then why do you keep asking me?” Silvia sighs.

“Never mind. When are we flying out of here?”

“Tomorrow.” You hear her hum. “So get some sleep.”

“Roger, boss.” You toss your phone on your bed and sigh. You get your new sketchpad and begin drawing her again.

-

“Nat. You okay?”

“Yeah… Clint?” Clint hums as they go to the living room of the compound.

“What’s up?”

“Since when does everyone call me Nat?”

“Since from the start… Do you not like it?”

“No. It just reminds me of her.” Clint smiles then drags her to Tony’s lab.

“Then let’s get Stark to find her.”

[drabbles-mc]

My Plus-One (Part 1)

EZ Reyes x Reader

Request by the lovely @ly--canthrope​:  The reader has a large ball/award ceremony/something fancy to attend. Her and Ez have been in each other's lives for years and they make a promise that each year, if there is an event to go to, they would go together. Its been a few years since this tradition has played out, and it is brought up in conversation (maybe talking about their plans for that week, what they are doing and busy with etc) and Ez goes, “I am busy, I am going with you to your event” and he is a pure gentlemen (You can decide thing like; are they bordering that blurred line where they are really affectionate with one another and time frame like, he could be at uni still and travels to go see her just for this event because its special to her)

Warnings: none. just some good old pining 🥺🥺

Word Count: 3.4k 

A/N: I loved writing this so much wtf. I switched up the timing of it a little bit but I think it worked out well! I got a little carried away with it (hence the 3.4k lmao) but I just love EZ and I’m a sucker for friendships with feelings. Please enjoy! (requests are always open)

EZ Tag: @noz4a2​ (if you wanna be added just shoot me a message!)

(Part 2)

You wandered around your small studio apartment, phone held loosely in your hand while you video-chatted with EZ. Both of you had long since given up on making sure that you held the camera at flattering angles. Besides, you were trying to make dinner and not even EZ could stop you from getting food.

“So glad I get to have this conversation with half of your face,” he laughed, shaking his head.

You held the phone up so you could get a better look at him—he was sitting at the table in his trailer, phone propped up as he typed away on his laptop. “This better?” you laughed as you tried to set it up on your counter so he could see more of your face.

“Much,” he smiled, “I miss you.”

You glanced over at him as you turned the stove on, “Miss you too, EZ.”

“So,” you could hear the clicking of his keyboard in the background, “what’re your plans for the week?”

“Meh, not a whole lot going on. I do, though, have a gala for work this Saturday.”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows, “Sounds fancy.”

You chuckled, nodding as you waited for your water to boil, “Yea, kinda. I was thinking,” you looked at him through the lens of your phone, “If you aren’t busy, and if you really miss me, you could maybe come and be my date. It’s all paid for and everything already. All you’d have to do is show up and be my arm-candy,” you batted your eyelashes.

“Ah, like the good old days.”

“C’mon, it’s been a while since one of us had to drag the other to an event that was way above our paygrade.”

“What’re you talking about? You just drove out to visit me last year for an event.”

You rolled your eyes, “Your patch-in party is not the same as a fundraising gala, Ezekiel. Although,” you laughed, “it was undoubtedly more fun than this is going to be.”

“Giving me the hard sell, Y/N,” he laughed and shook his head.

“If you’re too busy with club shit, I get it. I know I didn’t really give you much of a heads-up.”

“Well…” he dragged out the word, milking every letter for all it was worth, “I am gonna be busy.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, “I get it, I do. Sorry I always protcrastin—”

“Let me finish,” he smiled, “I’m gonna be busy with you, so I’ll let the guys know that my weekend is booked.”

You laughed, clapping your hands excitedly, “Yay! Oh, I can’t wait to see you. I feel like it’s been forever.”

“Because it has,” he waited for you to look back to your phone, “When was the last time you came back home to SanPa?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “God, like, six months maybe? Maybe a little more? Work has just been nuts, you know?”

“You think they’re gonna relocate you back closer to home any time soon?”

You shrugged, “Not sure. I hope so, though. I miss bugging you all the time in person not just by blowing up your phone.”

“Well, you’ll get to bug me in person all weekend. Text me your address and anything else I should know. I can probably come out Friday night if that works for you?”

You nodded, “Yea, that’s fine by me. You can crash here if you want but I gotta warn you, my place is wicked small.”

“I’m currently living in a trailer, Y/N,” he chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” your heart felt so much lighter knowing that he was going to be able to go with you—you hated going to these kinds of things by yourself, “I’ll text you all the details and stuff later this week.”

“Sounds good. Go back to making your gourmet ramen over there,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, EZ,” you waved goodbye before hanging up the call. You let out a sigh of relief as you tucked your phone back into your pocket.

The week seemed to fly by. Any time that you felt yourself getting stressed, or overwhelmed, or homesick, you remembered that you were going to be able to spend the whole weekend with your best friend. It made the rest of your problems seem so insignificant. Every night you’d come home and you’d see your dress hanging against the door of your closet, begging to be worn. You’d smile and run your fingers along the fabric whenever you’d walk by it. Back when you were in high school and college, the two of you went to everything together. Each prom, award ceremony, induction ceremony, friends’ weddings, you name it, it was the two of you showing up together no matter what. You had your own unspoken language, knowing when the other was ready to tap out and call it a night. Sometimes to keep things interesting you’d try to sneak out unseen, other times one of you would come up with any excuse you could so that you could leave early without anyone giving you a hard time about it. It’d been a few years since either of you had an excuse to get dressed up together.

You were finishing cleaning up your apartment when you felt your phone going off in your pocket. You glanced down and smiled at the sigh of EZ’s name on the screen, “Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yea. I think,” he chuckled, “I think I’m outside the right building? Everything looks the same here.”

You laughed as you walked over and peeked out your window. Sure enough, you saw him sitting, leaning against his bike, “I see you. I’ll be right down,” you hung up and made sure to close your closet door before heading downstairs to greet him.

You came barreling out the front door of your apartment building, tackling him in a hug. He laughed, sweeping you up off of your feet and swinging you around as he held you tight to him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to hold you for a few moments. It had been way too long since you last saw him in person.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumbled against his neck.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You finally let go, dropping your feet back to the ground. You helped EZ get his two bags and had him follow you up the stairs to your apartment. You kept apologizing in advance for the fact that all you had was a studio, so there wasn’t going to be a lot of room, and there was no grand tour to give him. He smiled and shook his head, constantly telling you that he didn’t care.

You opened the door, dropping one of his bags next to the couch, “This is,” you chuckled, “my beautiful kingdom.”

EZ smiled as he looked around your apartment. It was a studio, so there wasn’t a whole lot of space, but it was all modern and renovated. He was impressed by how much you had managed to utilize the space. He also liked being able to see how you chose to decorate a space that was completely your own. The last time he got to visit you, you had been sharing an apartment with a roommate and the two of you had completely opposite tastes in décor. He liked the vibe you had created—a lot of bright, happy colors. He recognized some of the art on the walls as things you had commissioned your friends to make for you because you liked having things that were one-of-a-kind.

“This is a pretty great spot, Y/N.”

You smiled, “Thanks. It’s home for now,” you sighed, “I have no guest room to offer you, but the couch does pull out so you won’t be too crammed for the next couple nights.”

He chuckled, nodding, “I appreciate it.”

“You eat before you left?”

He nodded, “Yea I’m all set. Didn’t want to be taking any of your ramen from you.”

You gave him a playful slap to the arm, “So considerate.”

The two of you spent the night sitting on the couch together catching up, a show on the television just for background noise. It crept late into the night before the exhaustion started to show on EZ’s face. He had had a long day but he was enjoying the fact that he was actually face-to-face with you for the first time in months.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” you smiled as you stood up off the couch, “If you’re up for it in the morning there’s a really good coffee spot a few blocks from here.”

He smiled, nodding, “Sounds good.”

“Bathroom is right through there if you wanna change. I’ll see you in the morning,” you leaned in and gave him a hug that you dragged out to last a little longer than you usually would, “Goodnight.”

The morning and afternoon flew right by, and before you knew it the two of you were getting ready for the gala. You chastised EZ for leaving his dress clothes in his bags for so long. All these years and he still hadn’t figured out that they needed to hang to cut down on wrinkles. You ironed out his slacks and shirt, impressed by the fact that he had also brought a suit jacket. It was an all-black ensemble that you knew would make your coworkers drool over him, and you were going to soak up every second of that.

You left the bathroom open for him to get changed as you retreated to the semi-privacy of the space that passed for your bedroom. You shimmied into your dress, pulling the straps up onto your shoulders. You zipped it up as much as you could without risking ripping any of the stitching, thankful that you had EZ to help you with it the rest of the way. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, still loving the dress as much as you had the day you tried it on in the store.

You had settled on a deep burgundy dress. It was a little low-cut, but not so much that you felt overly exposed. It was floor length, and had a slit up to just below your hip that you could only see once you started walking. You had picked up some simple jewelry—a few gold bangles and a long necklace that draped down your chest. Deciding to pull the whole look together with your favorite pair of black heels. A little height boost when you were walking with EZ never hurt.

“Hey, EZ? Can you come finish zipping me up?”

You heard the sounds of his dress shoes on the hardwood. He poked his head around the half-wall that separated your bed from the rest of your apartment. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you. He cleared his throat, trying to get his thoughts in order as he remembered the actual reason you had called him over.

You pulled your hair off to the side and turned so your back was to him, thankful that it gave the added benefit of hiding the giant grin on your face. He tried to be as gentle as possible, the rough pads of his fingers grazing lightly against your back as he pulled the zipper up the last of the way.

“You look amazing, Y/N,” he smiled at you.

“Yea, we clean up alright, don’t we?” you patted his chest, practically salivating over the sight of him in dress clothes for the first time in years. You reached and undid the top button of his shirt, allowing a little bit of his collarbone to be exposed.

“Feeling a little risqué tonight?” he chuckled.

“Who knows when we’re going to get to do this again?” you smiled, “Might as well make the most of it.”

“I was gonna offer to take you on the bike,” he laughed as he looked you up and down for the hundredth time in two minutes, “But I don’t think that dress would make it.”

You nodded, “You’re right. We’ll take my car,” you walked over and grabbed the small clutch that you had picked up just for this occasion, pulling your keys out of it, “You ready?”

“I think so,” he patted his pockets down to make sure that he still had his phone and wallet, “You gonna give me the dirt on all your coworkers on the ride over?”

“Of course,” you smiled as you ushered him out the door, locking it behind the two of you.

You parked the car at the venue and EZ all but leapt out of the car to come and open your door for you. You chuckled as he held his hand out to help you step out onto the pavement. He hadn’t even wanted you to be the one to drive there, but you insisted since he knew nothing about the area.

He gently wrapped his arm around your waist as the two of you walked into the venue. You knew that your coworkers weren’t expecting you to show up with a plus-one. You had been quite clear about the fact that you weren’t dating anyone, and that no one at your job interested you enough to break your, “I don’t date coworkers” rule. There were quite a few lax jaws as the two of you strolled into the event room. Anyone else might have been nervous, but EZ saw how much you loved it and he was eating up every second of it.

You brought him around and introduced him to everyone, reveling in the fact that his arm never left your waist. After a handful of introductions, you dragged him across the room to introduce you to your boss.

“Cynthia,” you smiled wide, “This is my friend Ezekiel. Ezekiel, this is my boss Cynthia.”

“Please, call me Cindy,” she held out her hand, eyes slowly raking over the man you had put in front of her, not that you could blame her, “It’s nice to meet you, Ezekiel. I have to admit, Y/N here is a bit of an enigma around the office,” she turned her attention to you, “You look amazing, by the way.”

You smiled, “Thank you, so do you. A little more than business casual, huh?”

She laughed, nodding, “That’s for sure,” she paused, “Also, don’t forget, it’s open bar. So help yourselves.”

You tapped your fingers together mischievously, “Ah, don’t mind if I do.”

“I’ll make sure to catch up with you two later,” she smiled at EZ, “It was nice to meet you, Ezekiel.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he nodded politely before she walked away, swept up in a sea of other conversations.

“Remind me to keep a close eye on you around her,” you laughed, “Don’t want her snatching you up.”

The night wore on, and you were impressed with how easily EZ blended into the crowd with everyone from work. He made his way through a lot of small talk, a lot of, “So how do you know Y/N?” and other questions of the sort. The whole night he couldn’t help but to keep looking over at you, making sure that he had physical contact with you in one way or another. You couldn’t pretend that you minded it.

By your fourth glass of wine EZ had managed to get your keys from you, promising that he would drive the both of you back to your apartment safely and responsibly. His largest obstacle of the evening was hiding your bidding number sign from you so you didn’t spend money that you didn’t have.

“You’re the one who told me,” he said quietly in your ear, trying to suppress a laugh, “that your financial contribution was the, and I quote, buttload of money you paid for our tickets here.”

You huffed, trying and failing to give him a displeased expression, “But I wanna feel like a fancy rich person, EZ.”

He smiled at you, resting his hand on your thigh, “You’re certainly dressed like one, Y/N, so for tonight that’ll have to be enough. And besides, I’m your personal chauffer, so it doesn’t get more fancy rich person than that.”

You smirked over at him, placing your hand on top of his and interlocking your fingers, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly, “Yea, me too.”

The evening was beginning to wind down, and EZ could see it on your face that if he didn’t get you out soon, you were going to start causing trouble. It was fine when the two of you were out among people you didn’t know, but he didn’t think that he’d be a very good friend if he let you start drunkenly stirring the pot with your coworkers. He convinced you to start saying your goodbyes, his hand placed on the small of your back as the two of you maneuvered through the small crowds of people in the event space.

You were walking through the parking garage, your hand entwined with his as you swung your arms back and forth, “What a night!”

EZ chuckled, spinning you carefully so you didn’t fall over, but still got to enjoy the flow of your dress when you spun and moved, “I’m honored I got the invite.”

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

He laughed, nodding, “I’m sure. Not like you could take over for me anyway.”

He helped you into the passenger seat before going around and getting in, sliding the seat back so he could actually fit. He chuckled as he saw you out of the corner of his eye, peeling your shoes off before you even left the parking garage. The whole drive home you went on and on about how much your coworkers loved him, you could just tell. He smiled and nodded, letting one hand stray and come to rest on your thigh.

He parked outside your apartment building and you looked over at him with your biggest puppy-dog eyes, “Ezekiel, I don’t wanna put my shoes back on. Will you carry me upstairs?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yes, but only because tonight you’re a fancy rich lady.”

“You’re so good to me. I love you,” you smiled over at him.

He felt his heart beating harder inside his chest, “I love you too.”

He carried you bridal style up the stairs with such ease. You loved every moment of it. He held onto you as you unlocked the door, still wrapped up in his arms. You giggled into his neck as he kicked the door shut behind you and turned the deadbolt. He carried you to your bed, setting you down gently. You smiled up at him from your mattress, reaching out and taking his hand in your own.

“I’ve missed you so much, EZ.”

He traced his thumb over your knuckles, “Yea, I’ve missed you too.”

Before he could walk out to collapse on the couch you asked him, “Can you help me with my dress?”

He swallowed hard, nodding, “Yea, of course, whatever you need.”

You pulled your hair off to the side again so he could pull the zipper down. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that there was a slight trembling to his hands as he fumbled with the zipper, pulling it down slowly. He took a deep breath as he gently pushed the straps down off your shoulders. You hummed in approval as you leaned back against him, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. There were a few beats of silence before you felt him lightly press his lips against the bare skin of your shoulder, gently kissing the soft skin there.

Your breath caught in your throat and it took you a second to get the words out, “You could, um,” you were thankful that you weren’t facing him so he couldn’t see the nervousness on your face, “you could stay in my bed tonight…if you wanted. It’s probably…you know…more comfortable than the couch.”

His lips were still pressed against your shoulder and you could feel his laughter vibrate against your skin, “Yea? You sure?”

You turned around so you were facing him. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. He was holding you close enough that you were certain that he could feel your heart palpitating, “Yea. I’m not ready to give up your company yet.”

He kissed your forehead, “Let’s get to bed then.”

[shrylia]

Hi! I just found your acc today but I have spent over an hour pouring thru it lol. I love love loooove your work and the fact that you have various different styles!! I was so surprised when I found out your are only 18/19!! That’s crazy!! I’m literally 16 and you’re on another level of amazing!!! I was wondering, though, if you have any tips for a (pretty decent) traditional artist transitioning to or trying out digital?

Hello! I just want to apologize for answering this ask so, so late... but I hope that it's still better than never and that this can help a little bit!

I think the hardest thing for me at first was getting used to the disconnect and lack of control that comes with a screen compared to drawing on paper. I think the only way I got over this was practicing nonstop -- once you get past the learning curve digital art is so much better, so I would try to set a daily/weekly goal (e.g. 30 mins of practice per day). I would also recommend watching speedpaint videos from a few different artists who work in the software you're planning to use, so you get an idea of their workflows and how they incorporate layers/adjustments/digital tools. Discovering Color Balance, Curves, lasso and transformation tools, and Liquify were huge game-changers for me.

But otherwise, I think having a traditional art background is actually a great asset to digital art! I still look to oil painting techniques when I make more painterly works, for example. I would personally try at first to avoid brushes that are very specifically digital, such as hair brushes, and actually try to find brushes with a more traditional and textured feel -- it's totally up to you but for me I find that it helps bridge my traditional/digital work a little more.

Also -- try not to shade with black!

[xamassed]

When it was finally his turn to perch himself on Santa’s knee, the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t a wish but a bashful apology. From the corner of his eye, he saw them — the thoughtful human that had suggested the trip in the first place — giving him a smile and an encouraging wave. ‘ Go on, ’ the gesture said, ‘ it’ll be okay! You can do it! ’

Luke sucked in a deep breath and looked towards the man with his fake beard and cotton-stuffed stomach. The little angel was well aware that no one man, not even an elf blessed with holiday magic, could be in multiple places at once. This Santa was merely a messenger, but that made Luke no less nervous.

“H—Hello.” Polite, soft and giddy — he claimed he wasn’t a child, yet here he sat, stammering and fidgeting. “My name is Luke. I, uhm.  .  . I have a lot of things to ask for, so I’m sorry if I take a little while. I promise none of it is for me! May I start?”

From the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a tightly folded note. Someone in the line groaned, but he had a feeling that his human friend would deal with the rudeness in their own way.

The paper was unfolded with trembling hands, his cheeks growing a brighter shade of red before he began.

“Okay, first — Lucifer.”

“L—Lucifer? Is that your friend’s nickname?”

Luke blinked once, mind stalling for a moment before he shook his head. His nerves still had a hold on him, all logical thought tossed out of the window because of it. It may have been best to use nicknames, but it was too late now.

“No, that’s his name. I know Lucifer really likes music, but I noticed the last time I was at the House of Lamentation that the record player in the music room was getting a little worn down. I don’t want him to get a brand new one, just one that’s still vintage and nice but works without scratching up his vinyl. He collects them, and it would be a shame if they were ruined.”

“A—Alright.  .  .”

“Next is Mammon. He’s really greedy, but he can sort of be nice sometimes. I remember him talking about a popular brand of shoes, but he said they were super expensive. I know he won’t wear them, probably, but I think he’d look cool in them. I forget the name, but I’m sure Santa knows.”

“A record player and shoes. Right.”

Luke, falling into a rhythm, ceased his shaking and continued down the list he had hastily scribbled. “Leviathan plays video games a lot, and I’m worried about his back when he sits for so long. He already has a gaming chair, but there was this nice one I saw, and it was even in his colors! If it’ll help make him more comfortable, I want him to have it.”

“These names.  .  .”

“Then there’s Satan!”

“Satan?!”

“He likes to read and has a room full of books, but I know that’s not all he likes! I’ve heard him talk about art too, so a trip to that one pyramid-shaped museum would be wonderful! H—He can take them along if he wants to, even if it means I have less time to spend with them. But his brothers aren’t allowed to go! Especially Mammon. He’ll want to sell everything there.”

“Kid, are you——?”

“Asmodeus is brilliant with fashion and make-up, so I think it would be lovely for him to go someplace where there’s a lot of both. I looked it up before, and I read that New York is very fashionable! I want him to go to a fashion show, or——! Oh, no! I want him to be in one! Or run one!”

“I don’t think——!”

“Beelzebub is a little harder to think of nice gifts for because he eats a lot, but he is the nicest to me out of all the brothers. I know he doesn’t only like food, so I try to listen just in case he mentions something else. I think he mentioned once that there was a limited edition Devilcat plush he saw once, but he never had the chance to grab one. If there are any left, I think he’d be happy to have it.”

There was no interruption this time. The mall Santa had gone pale under his whiskers, and he had learned by now to expect the worst possible names to leave this sweet, innocent boy.

“Belphegor is hard too because he sleeps so much. Oh, but I know he likes stars! I saw a pretty lamp that makes star-shaped lights on the wall, and it plays soft music. He doesn’t need help falling asleep, but maybe the music will help him have pleasant dreams. Beelzebub’s told me that his brother has nightmares sometimes, and I don’t want him to keep having them.”

“Is that all? You have quite a few friends, kiddo.”

“I do, but there’s more! There’s Diavolo, Barbatos, Simon and Solomon too!” Luke noticed the collective groan from the others in line, his face turning a bashful shade of red. “Oh.  .  . I’m sorry, did I take too long?”

Santa forced a chuckle and shook his head. “You’re alright, kid. But what about your friend over there?” He nodded towards the human that waited patiently, Luke’s eyes following. The already deep red in his cheeks doubled, and he was quick to look away.

“I want, uhm.  .  . I know this will be harder, but I want their gift to be that they always feel loved and wanted. I want them to know that, even if we’re all far apart and can’t visit each other, that we think about them a lot! We love them so much, and I don’t want them to forget that.”

“I don’t think that’ll be hard at all. You’re very thoughtful, you know that? But are you sure you don’t want to ask for anything for yourself?”

Luke shook his head adamantly. “No, I’m fine! I just want all of them to be happy. If the brothers and my friends smile, that’ll be my present.”

Feeling accomplished, he hopped off Santa’s lap. “Thank you for listening to me! I’m gonna go now. Bye! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!” With a skip down the stairs, he waved towards the man sitting on his large, red throne. Santa waved in return before he let out a low, well-meaning laugh.

“What a strange kid.  .  .”

[thesaltyoceanwaves]

Adrien’s Room and Memorabilia: A Sequel Post

Well, I hinted at a similar arc for Adrien in this post, so let’s brainstorm.

CW: mentions of harassment

The major difference between Adrien and Marinette in this instance is that Mari’s room is about her working through her social anxieties and developing meaningful relationships. Adrien’s focus is on his lonely nature, as well as discovering and cultivating hobbies that he really enjoys, and aren’t just forced upon him by his father.

His room starts off with very few photos of his loved ones, namely his parents, Chloe and Felix. These photos are professional in nature, clean, crisp and very much lacking in color. Even Chloe and Felix are behaving for the sake of the photos. Notably, their photos show them when they are much younger, to indicate that Adrien hasn’t spent time with them lately.

There’s a large emphasis placed on the amount of stuff that Adrien has in his room. The video games, the TV, the climbing wall, etc. Everything is completely clean and dust free, because he spends a lot of time in his room, but he doesn’t have anything he’s particularly drawn toward, so whenever he’s done with something, he puts it away and grabs something else. His room is also likely clean due to his strict father demanding he keep up appearances.

The only exception to this are video games, but they are very specific ones: simulators. Particularly, ones that focus on dating and romance. Life simulators, farming simulators, RPGs that offer a romance subplot, etc. Even if the sim only offers the option to make friends, Adrien is fine with that. Stuff like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons (the ones made by Marvelous), The Sims, Undertale and so forth are right up his valley. And again, lots of dating sims.

Following his mother’s “passing,” and at the start of the show, Adrien keeps a corner of his room dedicated to her. As more time goes by and Adrien gets closer to his new friends, this will shrink down to a photo of the two of them, and most of her memorabilia will be stored away. This will show that he’s open to the possibility of his father dating someone else, as was shown in “Felix”. 

He will often turn to photos of his mother when he wants deeper, more worrying thoughts that he wants to voice and get off his chest, or if he needs advice about something and he doesn’t know who to turn to. S1 would focus more on friendship advice, because in this version, he would need to put in more time and care to make friends (Nino and him would still stay buds, Mari is still crushing on him but is hesitant to approach, and Alya is kind but cautious, with the rest of the class being wary because of his friendship with Chloe). Later on, he’s more likely to ask about plot-relevant stuff, his feelings for Ladybug and Kagami (and romance in general), his growing resentment towards his father, his meet-ups with his friends, and his discomfort with Chloe and Lila’s touchiness. Coupled with Felix’s harassment in “Felix,” this causes Adrien to realize his boundaries are being violated, and to also wonder if he has adopted similar behaviors. He goes to speak with either Sabine, Tomoe or Nino’s mom about the matter (maybe all three to get a variety of perspectives), and then with Ladybug. I would set this conversation sometime after “Frozer,” with him mentioning how he acted there, and apologizing for leaving her in the middle of battle (if the episode isn’t rewritten to include that there).

Overtime, he would start to depend less on talking to Emilie’s photo, and instead talk to whoever he asked for advice. Instead, he would talk to her prior to a larger battle or facing a bigger threat and had something he wanted to get off his chest.  

At the beginning of their superhero career, Adrien is into collecting Ladybug merch - he’s likely to even have one of those “Do it for her” boards set up. He has some Chat Noir stuff as well, but it’s not as prominent. When other heroes arrive on the scene, he’ll have stuff of them too. He would even go so far as to recreate the heroes in his games (mostly in what Sims knock-off this universe would have), and roleplay scenarios with Ladybug. He doesn’t fully get rid of his merch over time, but he does likely downsize as he spends more time getting to know Ladybug and the team.

There’s also the obligatory Ladrien scene that I hinted at in Marinette’s post. To recap, Chat Noir, during an emotional moment with Marinette, mentions that he has Ladybug memorabilia in his room, and that he ought to downsize. Sometime later, Ladybug comes to check up on Adrien for plot-related reasons, and discovers that he “too” collects Ladybug merch. Adrien is notably embarrassed by this, but Ladybug replies by saying that she’s a fan of his as well. This will allow two sides of the ship to feel closer to each other and open up about certain things.

Similar to Marinette, Adrien will start picking up little things as mementos from previous episodes to decorate his room with (a class photo from “Reflekta,” a copy of the movie from “Horrificator,” his autographed Jagged Stone CD from “Guitar Villain,” etc).  I also imagine him holding onto clothing items such as Nino’s hat or Kagami’s jacket, that get left behind after hanging out. Over time, he is eventually gifted a mannequin to display these items.

I remember seeing a post that called into question whether Adrien’s activities were something he genuinely enjoyed or if they were just foisted upon him by his father. I like the idea of a laid out arc that explores what Adrien might like to do in the future, by having him go through various hobbies (sort of like Daphne in “Be Cool, Scooby Doo”). 

One hobby I’d give him from the start is tricking. (For those not familiar, tricking combines moves from martial arts and gymnastics, usually flips and kicks, and can be used to create super cool combos, yes I am biased about this). We often see him showing off stunts in battle and would fit Chat’s tendencies to be flashy. I could also see this becoming a hobby he shares with Nino and Kagami later on, maybe with the three of them sneaking out to meet other trickers at gatherings.

(For those who need visual reference.)

However, I also want to give Adrien a more traditionally feminine hobby. There’s a couple of ideas I had for this, including, again ones that he cycles through as he explores himself a bit more. After meeting Luka and noticing that he paints his nails, Adrien might tiptoe in nail art. I could also see Adrien getting really into writing romance, starting off as a fanfic writer and eventually writing his own novel or comic. Alternatively, he becomes a poet. Maybe he spends an episode learning to sew with Marinette so he can make his own cosplays. Or he starts a cottagecore aesthetic blog, and additionally starts taking care of some plants to give his room some needed greenery.

I think for the sake of irony, it would be interesting to see Adrien eventually take up baking as a hobby. I know there’s a couple of AUs involving this concept already (I forget who it was, though I’m tempted to say @lenoreofraven​ ​ but correct me if I’m wrong), but I like this idea because it would give him something extra he and Marinette could bond over in the future, especially since he doesn’t want to do modelling long-term. It would also give him a good excuse to visit the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and grow closer to Sabine and Tom. Perhaps they take him up as an apprentice, or give him a delivery boy job alongside Luka (giving that relationship a chance to grow as well, as well as a Delivery Boy shenanigans episode).

When he’s either in between hobbies, in a tumultuous state, or growing distant from his father, his room will appear far messier. In the latter case, it may be an attempt to rebel against Gabriel, saying “it’s my room, I can do what I want!” If he’s not comfortable immediately speaking out against his father, he may rebel in more passive aggressive ways. I could also see him roleplaying scenarios in which he tells his father off or planning escape routes for hero patrol or tricking gatherings. I think he would also have padded mats stored somewhere in he case he can’t leave, and wants to practice, or have his own tricking gathering in the house.

As he collects more mementos, they start filling up the empty spaces in his room, so when his father prevents him from leaving the house, he doesn’t feel as lonely. He starts finding ways where, from the comfort of his room, he can hang out with friends (like in “Anansi” where he uses the facecam to see what everyone is up to). More friendly, casual photos give the room some life. These mementos may also cause him to start downsizing on the Ladybug and Friends merch.

He will only attempt to remove them altogether if his identity is revealed to Marinette, and she doesn’t seem to process it well (at least at first). Anything pertaining to her, as Ladybug or Marinette, he may attempt to remove, until he realizes just how present she is in his life. He would then consult his mother’s photo about what to do. 

And similarly to Marinette at the end, when they start dating, he would start to incorporate couple’s photos. I think both of them would have those photo booth strips, but I could also see Adrien commissioning posters of his OTP, LadyNoir, and bringing back some of his merch (in a teasing, well-meaning way). 

[vanchlo]

Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

*

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 

In the closet. 

In a nook in a drawer. 

Under the chair. 

On the backside of one of his books. 

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 

*

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 

*

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 

*

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 

*

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 

*

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 

That can’t hurt, can it? 

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 

How did I not figure this out sooner? 

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 

“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.” 

[bookofmirth]

Hi! I’m the anon that asked you to elaborate on an earlier point you made and I appreciate your reply! It definitely helped me to better understand what you meant.

I wanted to hop back in your asks because there is still a little disconnect in my brain that I wanted to hear your reply for. It is no secret that POC in real life have been vilified for their actions, speech and thoughts for the past few hundreds years in American history (not to mention throughout the rest of the world).

Because of this, I’m wondering how it is possible for an author to write a POC character that is morally grey or even a villain without somehow drawing connection to a real life historically racist occurrences. If SJM writes that elain is uncomfortable around lucien and he happens to be a POC and disabled, and in doing so, that is calling back to the racist history you mentioned (even if that’s not the actual reason elain is uncomfortable), then how is any POC character able to be written without facing the same fate? Since POC have been historically criticized for pretty much every single thing, even breathing it seems like.

I love to see authors writing about diverse characters and in my opinion it’s boring when characters are “perfect”. I like to see morally grey or villainous characters but if authors are going to be criticized for writing POC characters who are controversial, I don’t know how anyone is going to be able to write without facing backlash.

I hope this makes, I apologize if it’s a bit all over the place. I’m hoping you can help provide some clarity again. Thank you!

Hello! Sorry for taking a couple of days on this one, I knew it would be complex.

The tl;dr is yes - it is possible to write a character of color who is morally grey. It just has to be done thoughtfully.

I think that you are right, it is really tricky for people to write POC or for example disabled people, or sometimes queer people, who are villains. But the issue isn't so much that they can't be written as being morally grey, it's more about whether their characterization falls into common, harmful tropes.

One of my absolute favorite booktubers talks a lot about the portrayal of people with disfigurement in media, and I think that watching her could be helpful! She made this video recently (I haven't watched it yet) and she also had an Instagram post go viral a while back because of the movie The Witches. Here is the post, and she was asked to write about it, so here is an article. The point is that it isn't the one occurrence, but the repeated trends that people have of portraying people (with disfigurements, in this case) as evil, as less than human, as wrong, as Others.

Each marginalized group has their history of having really harmful tropes or stereotypes thrust on them. The idea that trans women or gay men are predators, that bisexual women are sluts, the single Black mother is a "welfare queen", etc. Those are the stories that authors should avoid repeating. It's not just "POC can't be villains or you're racist," but does that villain play into stereotypes about that particular race or ethnicity, stereotypes that have been used to marginalize them or harm them in the past.

It's a lot to take in, I know. It's a constant process of reconciling with our history (by "our" I mean American, I am sure that these take different forms elsewhere) and seeing if and how that is portrayed in current media, and pushing back against those representations.

I agree that authors, even if straight and white etc. etc. should be able to write about characters who are not like them. The thing I don't like about some of this criticism, especially in places like book Twitter, is that people try to "purify" everything so that if you aren't queer, you can't write a queer story, as one example (see: the harassment Becky Albertalli has faced that forced her to come out). This is all fiction, and if we can't write about anything outside of what we, personally, have experienced, then what's the point??

The easiest way for writers to avoid this is to do their homework, especially if they are writing about something they don't experience personally. I have seen people say that a good distinction to make is that writers can have a character whose identity they don't share, but they should not write about what it is to be that identity. So in other words, it's okay for a straight author to have queer characters, but a bit icky if they write a story about what it's like to be queer. I think that I agree with this take. I would personally rather read a story about what it's like to be queer from someone who is, but I think anyone could write a story with queer characters.

This is also why sensitivity readers are used more often lately. I don't think it's possible to know every single harmful stereotype that exists, the only reason I know a lot is because I spend a lot of my professional development time on these issues and read nonfiction about them. So getting help from elsewhere is a good idea. I don't think it's possible to please everyone or avoid every faux pas.

I think that on the flip side, a lot of people will argue "well it's just a book" and yes, but that book doesn't exist in a vacuum. If it's perpetuating harmful stereotypes, wouldn't we want it to... not?

I am still on my soapbox haha but I also think that books are art and art does not have to moralize or teach us something or accurately represent anything. However, it's not exempt from criticism. That's why I usually defer to my own judgement on these things, trying to balance how a book or movie or whatever fits into the broader context of marginalization and social justice, with the purpose of art. That works for me because I am aware of what I am consuming, while also just plain enjoying myself.

I hope this helps! It's super tricky because I think we all want and expect different things of the media we consume, and some of us are aware of more painful or troublesome aspects of history and how those impact media, and some of us aren't aware, and some of us care a lot, and some of us don't care at all... I prefer being well-informed and aware, personally.

[mickeymouse-moshpit]

street lights, people

A/N: Hello, kind readers of this fic that I have taken entirely too long to update. I’m so sorry for the wait! And I also have to apologize because there is a whole first part of this that is stored on my computer, which is currently in the mail for repairs. I will post that part as well once it’s back, just please hold on and know that 1) there’s definitely context to being on Fennec’s bike in it and 2) there will be spicy things in the next part. Anyway, uh, if there’s typos I’m very sorry, and enjoy!

Description: Fennec and peds!Reader go on a date

Warnings: Some brief verbal harassment, brief description of dissociating, a little angst if you squint hard enough, Fennec and peds!Reader doing their thing 

Rating: T

Word count: 2.7K

January 24th 

Read part one here

You followed her out and down the lined path, hands sitting in the pockets of your jacket to keep warm. She threaded her arm through yours, and led you down the street to a book shop of all places.

“I remembered you telling me about that new series you wanted to read, something about gay witches? And you’re always talking about how much you want to go to the bookstore but you never do. So, go browse. I want to see what your process looks like.”

“Th—that’s really thoughtful. I don’t know that I really have a true process, but yeah let’s go look!” You opened the door for her, a light going on inside you as you got your first waft of bookstore smell: the paper, the ink. You got the first wave of the noise: the low music playing in the background, the people there talking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out any conversations happening, could barely hear that there were lyrics in the music. You stopped for a moment, scanning the layout of the room. Your eyes landed first on the display of bookmarks and postcards, making a mental note to get one or two of each to remember this little town so you could find it one day. But then your train of thought halted: could you come here alone?

Best not to dwell.

Your eyes resumed their scanning, noting the different sections. You wandered to the right, letting your gaze drift over the painting beside the door. It was line art of two bodies intertwined, splashed with color to resemble a galaxy where they met. The notecard below it gave the title and artist’s name. And a price. You were struck by how nice it would look on your art wall. But that was for another day.

You started your first pass through the stacks, letting your eyes skate over the spines of the books, pausing to read the note cards when they gave a recommendation from one of the workers. Your fingers started to take on a mind of their own, catching on books here and there, bringing them out for you to investigate. Every couple of them, you would open to the first page, let the author’s words try to entice you. You put most of them back, but a green paperback one with a bent cover stayed behind. You held it close as you continued on, pacing with no purpose at all. If someone didn’t know you, they would think you had a system, but really you were just letting yourself be on autopilot. That is, until you got to the section that housed the series you had read about and wanted.

“This is it!” You hoped your whisper would convey your excitement to Fennec. You had been watching book recommendation videos and this series had come up, promising both a love story and adventure. “I hope th—they do! They’ve got both!”

You plucked both the paperback and hardcover from the shelves, adding them to your little stash. Your small smile would not leave your face.

Fennec watched as you dragged yourself away from the section, mentally patting herself on the back for this idea. You looked so happy, at peace. If she was a part of that? She would consider herself both clever and immensely lucky. As she followed you back to one of the sections you had drifted through, she watched your perusing turn into a hunt. You furrowed your brow as you sank down to kneel and scan for what she wasn’t quite sure. She pulled two more books from the shelf.

“Have you read this one?” She held up a copy of a book called Circe.

“No, but someone at work was talking about it the other day.” She hoped you wouldn’t be disappointed, and wasn’t disappointed when you slid the book back into its place with a mischievous look. Fennec’s mind went straight into the gutter for a moment, imagining you in a very different situation but with the same look.

“Good, you’ll borrow my copy.” There was no arguing, it was a fact. She would.

You stood up again, still holding onto the other book. You were off again, and while she thought you clutching four books to your chest was possibly the cutest thing she had ever seen, you were going to drop one if you kept getting distracted. When you stopped again, she held her hands out.

“Here, let me carry them. You use your hands to browse.”

You nodded once and sank down again, grabbing one of the recommended titles and popping up again. You paused, before setting it on the pile Fennec was holding, warmth building in your face as she gave you one of her smiles.

You set off with one more stop in mind. The waiting room library at your office was lacking in chapter books as of late. You let your feet carry you to the children’s section.

“What are we doing here? I didn’t take you for the Warrior Cats type. “

“The selection of chapter books in my waiting room is looking a little sparse here lately. I want to see what the kids are into so I can update the wishlist.”

Fennec looked at you like you had suddenly turned purple with polka dots and sprouted antennae.

“I have a bookshelf in the waiting room, and I always make it clear to kids and parents that the books on it are meant to be read, cherished, read again, both while waiting and when they go home, with no expectation of return. The Little Golden Books usually do come back, just like most of the other books meant for the teeny-tinies. The chapter books get sparse and don’t tend to come back, but I like it that way. It means I’ve got another reader who gets to learn about the magic of words.”

“But where do the books come from?”

“Well, at first it was just me. There were some parents who made it very clear when I mentioned the shelf that they were perfectly capable of providing their kids with books and how dare I assume otherwise. There were others that you could tell were extremely grateful. There were also a few that had a problem with it but not for any good reason but I’m sure you know what kind of parents I’m getting at.”

She did.

“Then one day I was in the little shop in town and one of the little ones who had started on chapter books saw me and ran up, telling me all about how she had saved her allowance and she was able to get the sequel to the book she had gotten from me. The owner of the shop heard it, and when I went to buy the book I had picked out along with some chapter books for the waiting room, he told me he would let me start a wishlist and he would put it by the register for people to see and maybe buy one or two.”

“Do you usually get what you ask for?”

“It depends on the time of year. During the holidays people get more generous so it’s time to update the list. Hence the reading castle.” You gestured to the structure before you, an alcove that had a castle facade and was filled with still more books. “And the wall of chapter books.”

Before she could formulate a response, you had pulled out your phone and started making a list. Fennec watched you with an emotion she wasn’t sure how to name. The earnest way you took on your task had her pulling out her own phone while you weren’t watching to send a message to the garage group chat. When you had finished, you brushed a hand over her shoulder as you walked by.

You wandered to your last stop: the display at the front. You picked out a pack of bookmarks that were little magnetic trees before turning your attention to the display of postcards. You chose one that was a picture of the gazebo in the middle of town at night, surrounded by twinkle lights with “wish you were here” in small text at the bottom.

You walked up to the register and Fennec plopped your pile of finds on the counter.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The older salesperson behind the register had half a smirk on his face as he queried you. “I haven’t seen someone quite as methodical as you, even covered the section for children.”

You weren’t sure if the sarcastic tone was real or meant as a lighthearted joke, but either way you felt your cheeks warm again, and not in a good way. You wondered for a moment if the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You felt Fennec’s arm wrap its way around your torso again as the salesperson started ringing up the books.

“Being thorough is one of the best things about her. And this is just me, but I think it would be kind of nice if my kid’s pediatrician knew enough about what their media looked like to be able to talk to them at their level about things other than their health.”

“Oh so she’s a big kid is what you’re saying? What, does she play with dolls, or are toys more for the bedroom?” That definitely wasn’t meant in a kind way.

Fennec’s arm tightened around you before you got the chance to just slip away and out the door, as if she knew that was something you might do.

“I would stop talking about them if I were you.” Her voice was low, had taken on a dangerous edge that matched what others saw in her leather jacket.

He got the hint, hurrying up with the transaction. When the final total came up, you reached into your pocket, not really feeling anything for that moment or registering the number that flashed in your general direction. Before you could get your card liberated, Fennec was already sliding hers into the chip reader. You wanted to protest, wanted to tell her it was too much, but the interaction was a sea witch that had stolen your voice and you could only look on as the books and other small items were wrapped and put into a bag and Fennec was turning you in a circle to get you out of the shop.

You weren’t even aware that your feet had moved until you were in front of her bike and she had distributed the books into the two saddle bags. She faced you and put her hands on your shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

You looked at her, answering her question with the question mark that had seemingly etched itself on your face.

“Hello? Earth to Doc? Are you in there?” She gave your shoulders a little shake, before she wrapped you in her arms. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath again as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, letting the pressure she was providing ground you again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the collar of her sweater.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He should be sorry. If he hadn’t stopped talking, I would have made him sorry.”

“I wanted to stop you from paying, it was too much.”

“No. I wanted to do that, it was the plan from the beginning.”

“Really?” You pulled back slightly, peeking at her, searching her face but not having much luck in the low light.

“Yes really. Now, I had something else planned, do you want to know what it is so you can decide if you still want to do it?”

You considered it, but the phantom hollow in your chest and the way your arms and legs still didn’t feel like they belonged to you gave you your answer.

“I want to know, but not yet. Keep it secret, show me next time. I’ve got my own idea though. Will you take me home? I want to show you the Books.”

***

You didn’t want to let go of her, but you needed to if you were going to go inside where it was warm. So you did. When she had taken the books out and put them back in their bag, you headed for the three steps that led up to the door of your half of the duplex. You unlocked the door, nearly dropping the keys because your hands were so cold. You caught them before Fennec could tease you about it.

You clicked on the light in the entryway, lighting the way as she took a few steps inside again. You took the bag from her, and nodded to your left. Behind the stairs to the loft, there was a doorway. You walked through it and to the right, knowing the room in the darkness. You stepped on the clicker for the floor lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. You walked over to the electric fireplace that added some extra heat to the room, switching it on.

You went back to where she was standing in the doorway, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. You took them in yours and brought her in.

Her eyes widened as she took in the space.

The room screamed comfort. All four walls were covered by bookshelves that reached the ceiling, with two interruptions. The first was around the fireplace, if you could even call it that. There was a painting in front of it, but her eyes were too busy wandering to take it in just yet. Her gaze drifted to the window, where either you or the previous owners had built a seat large and plush enough to recline in. While that should have been the star of the room, it wasn’t.

In front of the fireplace was a massive sectional sofa. She was sure it had to have a pull out option you were taking advantage of because it looked more like a bed-sofa hybrid with the way the middle was seemingly filled to the brim with throw pillows and faux-fur blankets.

You stood watching her take it in, as she eventually started looking at the books lining the shelves, punctuated by the odd piece of memorabilia. There was such a variety, all alphabetized, with the only delineation by genre she could see being poetry and prose. As she browsed, you placed your books on the window seat, and from under it produced two stamps: one to mark the books as yours, and one to put a place for people who borrowed them to sign. Others always asked if it was to make sure they came back, but you always replied with no, it was to make sure people could see if they had borrowed them before. You put the books onto the rolling cart that already had a small pile to be put away. Some of them were new, some you had reread and needed to return.

Task complete, you perched on the back of the couch to watch her.

“I should start referring to you as a dragon. You’ve got quite the hoard, baby.” Her words were quiet, wrapped with kindness. “It’s impressive. Thank you for showing me this part of you.”

“I just really like them.” Your smile was growing as she got closer to you. You stood and wrapped yourself around her again. “Does that make you the maiden in need of rescue?”

“Oh, no, you can keep me here as long as you want. Besides, don’t you know the dragon needs saving too sometimes?”

“In that case…” You paused, stealing yourself. “Would you stay a while? I can make tea, we can read, if you’re okay with you could do that pressure thing again?”

“You mean will I hold you close, let you hide your face in my neck for a minute again? Let you whisper things you don’t think I’ll hear but I will anyway?”

You nodded once.

“In that case, I’ll do ‘that pressure thing’ for as long as you need me to. But you have to let me try out this couch nest thing because it looks amazing.”

“Of course, but the first rule of the dragon’s lair is this: no jackets.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More author’s notes: if you’re curious about what series peds!Reader was looking for, it’s These Witches Don’t Burn and its sequel by Isabel Sterling. She wants Fennec to read Circe by Madeline Miller, and she bought The Song of Achilles, also by Madeline Miller

Tagging: @phoenixhalliwell @promiscuoussatan @maybege @jangofctts