#in a “did or did they not have feelings for each other?” kinda way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snoopychris · 3 days ago

Text

TA!matt discovering camgirl!reader online

warnings: masturbation, kinda sub!matt, matt's kind of an ass, cammy used in place of y/n

11:03am

“ok… professor thomas isn’t here today. you guys are stuck with me. i’m not legally… allowed to teach so just. do whatever. you can leave if you want.” matt speaks, his voice booming clearly throughout the room. the tests you had taken the week before were sitting face down in front of each seat. you’re almost scared to look at your grade. your friend, melissa, takes her seat next to you, flipping her page over instantly.

“78. how’d you do cammy?” she asks, glancing at the marks on her paper before you flip yours over. 65. “what the hell?” you whisper, looking around the room. nobody else seems to be freaking out over their scores. you make your way to matt’s temporary desk, setting your paper down. “a 65?” you mumble, glancing between matt and the paper. he sets his phone down on the desk, looking up at you. “well, yeah. your determinants were wrong and you did the wrong method. i was being generous with the grade.”

you shake your head in disbelief, glancing over matt’s features. “i didn’t… i was so confident in… is there anything you can do for me?” you whisper, biting your lip so hard that it begins to bleed. matt shakes his head, flipping through his textbook. “do the problems on page 117. give them to me on friday and ill use some of those as proof that you know what you’re doing. daddy’s money can’t pay its way through college” you scoffed at his words. sure, you had a lot of materialistic things, always having the best backpack, the best notebook, dressed in the best clothes, but was always from your own pocket. “that’s not fair.” “oh no... you actually have to work for something for once. crazy isn’t it?” matt replies, looking back down at the papers he was grading.

it feels like the walk of shame on your way back to your seat. when you sit down, melissa elbows your ribs, making you chuckle. “i mean shit, cammy, i’d give anything for him to talk to me like that. at least he’s hot though, right cammy?” “i’d never ever think that man was attractive. i would never. ever. do anything with him. matter of fact. hit me if i ever do.”

11:03 pm.

matt had been going through the worst dry spell of his life. chris and nick had been making fun of him for it nonstop. he just felt desperate. in the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing was pathetic and probably frowned upon by some people. a wednesday night isn’t typically spent looking through a camgirl website hoping that one of them is cheap enough for him to afford them walking him through an orgasm. he was twenty two years old for gods sake. he shouldn’t be doing… whatever this was. the girls on his screen were all beautiful. they all had a confidence he wishes he could have. he didn’t judge the girls on the other side. he’s been desperate for money too. it’d be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered pornography. the scrolling continued for a while, only coming to a halt when he saw a free livestream.

on the other side of the city, you were growing bored. there can’t have possibly been that many other cam girls available at this time on a wednesday night. you had been live for about an hour, talking to nobody other than yourself. your face was hidden from the camera, only your lips and lower body visible. still, with no audience, you tried your best to make it seem like you were doing anything. a bullet vibrator sat near your clit, attached to your fingers by a holster. it was off, and you weren’t doing anything other than moving it in circles. maybe this whole free thing hadn’t been the best ideas. your face brightens slightly when a user finally joins. mateo81. “hello mateo… y’got yourself a private show tonight. everybody’s too busy for me.” you pout, your voice covered by a voice changer. they were common on this app.

matt thinks it’s almost too corny. then again… you look good. just his type. and free. he would’ve paid if he had too. was it too good to be true? he should find out right? matt puts the website on full screen, typing a message out in the chat. completely free? NSA?

“completely free mateo… no strings attached.” you smile, tapping your bullet vibrator on the camera. “unless you wanna tip. i do a free stream every once in a while… you got lucky today and got it allllll for yourself. you’re gonna be such a good boy for me aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice like silk. usually matt’s not into this stuff. he’s not submissive. there’s something about you that’s making him do it all. he types another message, swallowing roughly. he doesn’t even remember getting as hard as he is right now. please. so hard rn. he pushes his boxers down, staring intently at the screen. every word you say is like a potion, drawing him further under your spell. he hopes there’s no antidote.

you chuckle as you turn your vibrator on, holding it on your clothed clit. you bite your lip, holding back a small moan as you await another message. how much for you to take it off? you giggle once more, shrugging your shoulders as you press your tits together with one hand. “just gotta ask nicely baby…” you smile, slipping the small panties—if you could even call them that— off of your figure.

matt watches with full attention as you do so, fisting his cock faster and faster. he wasn’t trying to cum so fast, but he had gone so long without any form of release that he felt like he had to. besides, it’s not like you’d see him. the precum that was coating his tip is rubbed away gently when matt rubs a thumb over his slit, biting the hem of his t-shirt as he reaches his first orgasm of the night. he doesn’t send a message regarding his cum coated hand, but opts to send one anyway. tits look nice. he hopes he doesn’t sound too pathetic or weird.

your top is quickly discarded, gently jiggling your breasts on the camera for the person watching over the screen. matt groans at the sight, his sticky hand beginning to move up and down again. you continue to rub the vibrating toy on your clit, letting out small whines and whimpers. you always made it a point to not fake moan like other cam girls. you’d rather be authentic than seem fake and money hungry like some girls on the app were.

“you’re doing such a good job… wish i could touch you right now. bet you’re dripping aren’t you? you dripping out of your dick over the fact that i’m fuckin myself with this toy for you?” matt could hardly type at this point with how covered in cum his hands were. he didn’t even remember having a second orgasm. or a third. but he knows that he did. your words were making him feel something so different than anything he’s ever felt before.

with shaky hands, he types a yes, sending it to your screen—wherever you are. you chuckle at the message , pouting your lips for your sole viewer. “such a good boy mateo. so so good… fuck i’m gonna cum… gonna cum for you okay? do it with me yeah? unless you’ve already done it… won’t judge you…” he nods even though you can’t see him, meeting his climax once more. you whine loudly as you release, your body squirming as the feeling takes over. “f-fuck.” you whisper, pressing a small lip gloss kiss to the camera. matt chuckles at the sight, using his discarded shorts to clean himself off.

his computers pointer moves to the follow button, clicking it as he begins typing a message in the chat. this was fun. do it again sometime? i’ll actually pay haha. he sighs of relief when you nod on camera, giggling quietly. “i can’t wait. i gotta go now. have to pee and all. i’ll see you next time okay, mateo?” you smile, turning your live stream off. matt feels a pang of sadness when he audibly says goodbye and gets no reply.

he glances at his clock, noticing that the minutes are just ticking by. there’s still a pile of math tests on his desk waiting to be graded. he throws his head back and groans, standing up to wash his hands before sitting back down at his work area. the first test he grades is almost a perfect score. 98%. he always tries to avoid names when grading test to avoid any unintentional bias. he chuckles to himself when he reads the name after he’s done grading it. cammy.

you whine as you shut your laptop, walking into the kitchen. you’re still in minimal clothes after putting your top back, but it’s decent enough to be seen by your roommate. he walks into the room, clapping slowly at your performance on the other side of the wall. “you did great, cammy. truly. always put on a show! you get this months rent yet?” he asks, handing you a cloth towel for you to wipe off any sweat with. you chuckle at his words, downing the water bottle in your hand. “free show tonight tucker. y’shoulda seen em! all… one of them! the art of camming is dying and i am going to bring it back. mark my words.” tucker chuckles at your words, grabbing his own water from the fridge. he pops it open, taking a long swig before ruffling your hair. “no judgement here. i support your whore career so long as you support my music career.” you can’t help but smile at his words, knowing he’s being genuine. he supports you in everything that you do. he always has. “yeah whatever. you’re such a good role model.” tucker rolls his eyes as he opens the fridge once more, grabbing some precooked pasta to heat up.

“did you ever get that math test back? i got an 85. i think that matt guy really likes me or something cause i did so much shit wrong and yet here i am” you shake your head at his question, putting on a tshirt that was thrown over the couch. “no he doesn’t like me much. in fact im probably the last person on his mind 24/7 and when i am on his mind its probably all about how he dislikes me and how bad of a linear algebra student i am.” you shrug, taking a bite of your roommates pasta. “im sure that’s not true.” “oh no. it’s definitely true. there is absolutely no way that I am on his mind right now.” matt got through the stack of papers faster than he had expected. he used your nearly perfect example as an answer key of sorts. he began getting ready for bed, properly this time, knowing that he had an early start to his day with a few morning classes, followed by his nightly internship. he needed to find more time for himself. as he nestles into bed, jellycats at his side, he stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes. his mind keeps drifting back to the camgirl from earlier. cherry. he hopes she’s okay right now. that she’s had a good meal and that she was safe, wherever she was. it was all that was on his mind. the only person on matt’s mind was you. and it had absolutely nothing to do with your mathematical abilities. in fact— he wasn’t even thinking about your test grades anymore. you were absolutely on matt's mind right now, even if neither of you knew it.

tags(reply/message to be added!): @mattsstarlet @oopsiedaisydeer @marrykisskilled @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @cykss @throatgoat4u @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @jetaimevous @muwapsturniolo @sturnsrecord @13hoax @whore4mattsturniolo @sophsturns @chrissweetheart @cl1tlover3000 @applecidersturniolo @babytrapsosa @backwardshatnick

dividers by rose @bernardsbendystraws !

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡TA!matt #⋆˙⟡matt!#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo series #matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #⋆˙⟡snoopychris writes

347 notes · View notes

hellvst · 2 days ago

Text

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 4.7k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; quinn is playing + canucks won yesterday against la? we are soo back! i kinda forgot to give simon a face claim...oops! but, i did have an idea or picture him to look similar to kevin fiala or roman josi, i just can't find a face claim for him. it's up to your imagination as well! happy reading <3

CHAPTER TWO

SYDNEY

My alarm went off multiple times within the past fifteen minutes, and kept hitting the snooze button each time it did. So much for wanting to wake up early this morning.

I fluttered my eyes open, adjusting to the natural light through the window.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the dull ache in my right leg. It wasn’t a sharp pain–more like a persistent stiffness, reminding me that no matter how much progress I made, and lots of physiotherapy sessions, I wouldn’t always feel one hundred percent.

There was no point in dwelling on it. I had a busy day ahead, and self-pity wasn’t on the agenda. Not today.

I ungracefully got out of bed–did some stretches, single-leg squats, and hopped on one foot.

Nothing some movement wouldn’t fix.

The discomfort usually disappeared once I got my body moving. Truly odd, but if it got me through the day, I was not going to complain.

I moved through my morning routine with muscle memory. A quick shower, skin care, matching black compression set, an oversized hoodie thrown on without much thought, and tied my hair into a ponytail.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the coffee machine was already doing its magic. As I waited, I flipped the TV on in the living room out of habit as I did every morning.

The post-game analysis was still running from last night’s Canucks-Oilers’ game. I wasn’t surprised that this was the first thing that popped up on the screen, considering it’s been a while since my hometown, Vancouver, had made a playoff appearance. It was a huge deal for the city.

I caught a whiff of the last few minutes after getting home late from the studio–just in time to witness the whole debacle unfold.

My brother, Simon, and his teammate.

The miscommunication. The puck hitting the post. The loss.

A blown play that cost them a ticket to conference finals.

Now, every analyst, reporter, or fan was commenting and dissecting it.

“This was a complete breakdown,” one of the reporters began. “Simon Gray and Quinn Hughes were on totally different pages the entire game. You can’t have your best forward and your top defensemen out of sync in the most important moments–”

I turned the TV off and took a sip of my coffee, already knowing how that played out. My stomach was tightening at the sight of Simon after the buzzer went off.

Before the game, I sent him a short and simple ‘good luck!’, and haven’t heard from him since. Fair enough, given the outcome of the game.

Simon was going to be miserable for days, maybe weeks, more likely the entire summer. My brother was going to be impossible to deal with after that. And if history has taught itself, he was going to blame others for his mistakes. He always did.

I looked at the time, almost choking on my coffee, “Shit.”

I was running late for my first private session of the day, and Phoebe–one of my regular clients–was going to get there before me. Again.

If someone had asked me years ago what I saw myself doing, being a Pilates instructor wouldn’t even make the list. But life has a way of throwing you in places you’d never expect.

It started after the incident, I don’t talk about it much–there was nothing left to say. It happened. It definitely changed things. And for a very long time, I felt lost in my own body, like going through motions without purpose.

Doctors and my physiotherapist gave me exercises, stretches, and a never-ending list of things to “try”. Nothing clicked. Nothing felt right.

Until, I stepped into my first Pilates class. I remembered feeling a bit skeptical at first, convinced it was another trendy workout–the one all the girls tried out. It was the first time in a long time I felt connected to myself again.

I kept going. I got better. And then I got really good. Good enough that one day, the owner of the studio I’d been training at, pulled me aside and asked if I ever thought about teaching.

I laughed at the time, but the idea lingered that it stuck. And here I was: an instructor at Lumé Wellness–the top studio branch in Vancouver–fully booked for the summer, doing what I love.

The studio wasn’t that far from my apartment, twenty minutes tops without traffic which most days I was thankful for.

By the time I made it to the studio, sure enough, Phoebe was already inside one of the private rooms, stretching on the mat.

She raised an eyebrow at me as I put my bag down. “Would it kill you to be on time for once?” Phoebe teased, pulling her dark curls into a bun.

I rolled my eyes and started stretching beside her. “It’s five minutes.”

She shrugged and wiggled her brows, “Five minutes that I spent wondering if you were late because a guy kept you up last night.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned with a smile. “Don’t start this again, Phoebe.”

All she did was grin, absolutely delighted at the sight of my suffering. Phoebe was in her late forties, a social butterfly with too much energy for the morning slot, and too much curiosity for her own good.

Plus the fact she was newly single and thriving in the chaos of her impending divorce, loved to poke at my non-existing dating life. She was a sucker for drama, and if my love life–or lack thereof–could provide her entertainment, she’d without a doubt take it.

“Oh come on, humor me, Syd. There has to be someone,” she said, settling onto the reformer. “You’re giving off the ‘I’m seeing someone new’ glow.”

I scoffed at her. “That ‘glow’ you’re referring to is just the new overhead lighting.”

She snorted then sighed dramatically as I adjusted her stance, “You know, you should really make time for some fun.”

“I have fun.” I argued.

“Pilates and binge-watching The Office at home doesn’t count.”

She got me there.

We continued on with our session. Usually with Phoebe, time flies so fast when all she did was rant about her life–pestering me about mine–but she eventually let it go once we began the harder exercises.

I barely got a moment to breathe before moving on to my bigger group session. To my luck, this group was breeze to get through as they followed my exercises on the reformer with ease. Not to mention, the music blasting through the speakers in the studio allowed them to get into that rhythm which was helpful as well.

Just when the last song ended, the group of ladies’ chests heaved, the room was filled with breaths of exhaustion, and a few went straight for their water bottles.

“Alright, ladies! Great work today! Hope to see you in our next class.”

They all left one by one, saying ‘bye’ on their way out, until I was the only one left.

Two or three classes to teach in the mornings usually had me working around lunch.

And by then, I was starving.

My routine was pretty much the same, there was not a lot to do with an hour break. But, most days consisted of grabbing a quick meal at the nearest bistro or cafe with my closest friend. As I was about to pick up my things off the floor, my phone in my pocket buzzed.

Speak of the devil herself.

“Hey, Diane,” I answered, tucking my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I packed.

“Are we still on for lunch? I’m already at the café.”

I heard the faint lively sounds of the city of Vancouver in the background. “Yeah, I’m about to leave the studio and make my way–”

“Sydney?”

Right as I was trying to make a beeline to the doors, I turned to see Grace–the owner of the studio–peeking out her office door. My stomach dropped.

“One sec, Di.” I lowered my phone, ending the call. “Everything alright, Grace?”

“Can you step into my office for a minute?”

Fuck. This cannot be good.

I followed her inside. It was a rare sight to see any of the studio employees in Grace’s office, she usually came to talk to me after my classes, never the other way around.

She never gave off vibes that ever intimidated me. I have never seen her upset with anyone, unless they truly pushed her buttons. The word ‘nervous’ wasn’t enough to express how I was feeling right then and there.

“Have a seat,” she gestured to the empty chair across from her. I gave her a smile, but beneath that was a wave of anxiety washing over me.

I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. Did someone complain? Did I mix up the schedules or bookings? Did Phoebe finally rat me out for showing up late most of the time? The idea of me getting fired was not on my list of things today.

Grace sat behind her desk, clasping her hands together. “I have some news for you.”

Oh God. This is it. I was getting fired.

“I know your lunch break just started, so I’ll just get straight to it.” Grace had always been forward when she spoke. “There’s an opportunity with the Vancouver Canucks. Their management reached out about a summer cross-training program. They wanted us to coordinate it.”

I blinked at her, “And…?”

“And I told them you’d do it.”

As if my eyes couldn’t get any wider than it was. I stared at her in complete and utter disbelief, waiting for some sort of punchline. “You’re joking.”

Grace smiled, “Nope.”

I would have never imagined she’d say those words. This might be worse than getting fired.

There had been a few occasions when I had worked with soccer clubs, and a few college football players for cross-training. But, I had never done a session with the professional leagues such as the NHL. This was way different.

“Grace, I’m flattered but–” I thought about my words carefully, “I have a full schedule this summer and–”

“I am aware of your busy schedule,” she said, waving a hand. “I already adjusted your schedule accordingly to accommodate for this.”

Of course she did..

I opened my mouth, then closed it. This conversation was already headed towards the direction I dreaded. “There are other instructors here that I think are more qualified–who have worked in this studio for much longer that are more deserving for this job.”

Grace raised a brow at me, “Do you think I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were more than qualified?”

Shit. I had that coming. I basically dug that hole myself.

I stayed silent for my own good, Grace knew she was right and she sighed.

“They want you,” she said simply.

“What? Why?”

I answered a bit too quickly, unknowingly raising my voice an octave or two. I shift in my chair, clearing my throat having just panicked in front of my boss.

“Well, given that you have a good background on hockey, I thought you were perfect for the position. Not to mention that their head coach, Rick Tocchet, had also referred to you. And if it helps, it’s not the entire team you will train with. Just two of their players.” Her lips twitched as she leaned in her seat. “One of them being your brother.”

My stomach twisted. I should have seen this from a mile away. Why didn’t I make that connection instantly right when she said ‘Vancouver Canucks’?

After all, my older brother Simon was one of the top forwards for the team.

Although, he may be my family and I would do anything for him–I wouldn’t train him or anyone on his team for that matter. Hockey was Simon’s thing, and I had my own so we stayed out of each other’s lane. And we like to keep it that way.

Plus, I wasn’t all that into men that played hockey. They weren’t my go-to type. But, I would be lying to myself if I didn't think there were some head-turners, but nothing too crazy of the sort. I have never dated a hockey guy.

I blinked, tapping out of my short trance. My brain was processing the fact that I was going to spend all summer with my brother and his teammate.

Which led me to another question for Grace.

“So, if I’m training my brother–” I said, dragging out the last word. “–who is the other?”

She took a moment before she replied, “Quinn Hughes.”

That brought me to a full stop. What?

My eyes were nothing but bloodshot, “Quinn Hughes?” There was absolutely no hiding my distraught expression, even if I tried my hardest to contain it. “That’s asking for the impossible, Grace. It would take a miracle for those two to work together.”

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling.

Simon hated Quinn Hughes. I have spent the last few years listening to him ranting about how Quinn came in a year after he was drafted and ‘ruined’ everything–climbing the ranks, breaking franchise records as a defensemen, and taking the spotlight.

I never truly understood the obsession. Simon had never acted this way growing up, especially towards another teammate. Now, he’s spent years resenting Quinn, blaming him for everything that has gone wrong in his career. I have asked multiple times specifically why he hated him so much, all I got was some half-assed answer.

And I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he seems alright.

“Your job is to make sure they don’t kill each other,” Grace continued. “I told Rick Tocchet you’d do it. And of course, you will be paid. More importantly, the Canucks’ are willing to invest in our studio. We’re growing and this would help fund more studios to expand, Sydney.”

Wow. It would be a great deal for Lumé Wellness now that I think about it. After adding the brand new Pilates reformers and more intensive sessions, our class attendances shot through the roof. The space in our studio was limited and we were growing in numbers as waitlists were piling up.

What kind of Pilates instructor would I be if I didn’t want that for the studio?

I exhaled a sigh, “What about the media? They will be a problem–”

“We will handle it,” Grace cut me off. “After what happened last night, there’s no doubt that the press will track two of their star players’ moves throughout the summer. That’s why Rick, the Canuck’s team, and I will ensure that we will keep the training sessions on the down-low to prevent the media from talking.”

That reassured me to an extent, but I was still skeptical. This was a bad idea.

It was easy to figure out why this arrangement was set in the first place. Those two, especially my brother, needed to stop acting like children and start acting like grown adults. Play like real professional hockey players.

After the loss last night, it was only a matter of time when their team did something about it. I was surprised that it took them long enough. A few years ago, I wondered why they hadn't forced them to be stranded on an island together. Maybe surviving off an island together surely would have allowed them to work together at least.

The look in Grace’s eyes were telling me that there was no way out of this. Even if I came up with more excuses or tried to find a replacement, her (and apparently Rick Tocchet) mind was already made up.

I leaned back in my chair, my head was spinning in constant circles. “Is there any way for me to get out of this?”

“No.”

Damn. A complete shut down.

“Of course not,” I mumbled.

She gave me a knowing look, “Everything will be fine, that I can assure you, Sydney. Sessions will begin in two weeks.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed. Great.

I nodded my head as Grace dismissed me out of her office, gave her a small wave. I stepped out of the studio, took a deep breath trying to process what just happened in the last few minutes. I still couldn’t believe it.

My phone went off. Four missed calls and numerous text messages from Diane.

I called her back, and the second she picked up, she was already yelling. “Where the hell are you?”

A dull throb in my temple ached. “I got held up, I’ll be there in ten.”

“What happened?”

I sighed and began walking down the sidewalk. “You’re never going to believe me if I told you.”

The café was already packed by the time I got there, the low hum of conversation blending with the clinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine.

I spotted Diane almost immediately, she sat by the window, with a half-eaten bagel and small bits of crumbs on the table. She glanced up just as I approached her and instantly raised a brow.

“You’re late,” she said, pointing at me with her bagel in hand. “Again.”

“Sorry, I got held up.” I told her as I dropped into the chair across from her.

She playfully scoffed and held up her now empty cup, “Enough that I already finished one latte.” She smirked before setting it down. “Alright, spill. What was so important that you hung up on me and left me hanging here?”

“Grace.”

Diane’s eyes widened at that. She knew how rare it was for me–or anyone in the studio– to get caught up in Grace’s hair to get sent to her office. There were only good things I have told Diane about my boss over the years. Like the time she gave all the studio employees a gift certificate to the infamous spa in the north side of the city. It was generous of her, but it was quite expensive.

I took a deep breath before explaining to my friend of my new summer plans. Having to say it all out loud made me realize how real this was. It was going to happen and I wasn’t just dreaming in that office.

“Wait. I’m sorry, what?” Diane nearly choked on her coffee.

“Yep,” I popped the ‘p’, and nodded at her. “You heard me.”

For a split second, there was silence.

Her face lit up accompanied with a squeal. Oh no. Here we go.

Diane’s expression was something between shock and excitement, “Syd, are you serious? That’s freaking nuts!” Unaware of her volume, she earned the glances of other customers in the café. We were both quick to give them apologetic nods. She leaned closer across the table, her voice quieter this time, “That’s huge, Syd!”

I scoffed, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Diane grinned, “Are you kidding? You get to train professional athletes. NHL players. Do you know how many people would kill for that opportunity?”

She was right. It’s not everyday that you get to work with athletes in the big leagues. Anyone in the studio could have easily taken this job and taken the news a lot more lightly and professionally than I did. But no, oddly enough I didn’t have any other choice or say in the decision.

I shook my head at her, slumping into my seat. “It’s not that simple.”

Diane tilted her head as if I grew another pair of eyes, “What’s not simple about that? You get to train with your brother and I don’t think that’s all too difficult, right? Shouldn’t it be easier since he is your brother?”

As much as I loved my brother, we liked keeping our lives separate from each other. He had his career, and I had mine. Not saying that I wasn’t proud of him or embarrassed that my brother was one of the hockey stars in the league. I was very proud that he achieved his dreams, why wouldn’t I be? I just liked supporting him from the sidelines.

“Me and Simon are close but–” I paused, tracing the rim of my coffee cup with my finger. “We don’t mix our careers or get involved in each other’s business. Now, I’m being thrown right into it and it just…complicates things.”

Diane watched me carefully, “Is that really a bad thing?”

I hesitated before answering her. “I’ve never really been a part of his hockey world, this was totally unexpected. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows about it. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday before the game.”

“Okay, so you’re only training your brother. Big deal. It’s not like you’re training with the whole team.” She waved a hand, acting like that was the only issue I was dealing with.

I shot her a look, I accidentally left out a big piece of information while explaining to her.

“And Quinn Hughes,” I added flatly.

Diane’s jaw dropped to the floor, “Wait–Quinn Hughes? As in, the captain of the team and the best defensemen in the league ‘Quinn Hughes’?”

As far as hockey goes for Diane, she had no interest in the sport, unless there was eye-candy on the team. When it came down to the NHL, the only names she was familiar with were the ‘good-looking’ guys, my brother, and Quinn Hughes.

I nodded, then took a quick sip of my coffee, “Apparently, my job is to make sure they don’t kill each other during the summer.”

“Wow. That’s definitely…something.”

“Exactly.” I crossed my arms. “I barely know Quinn. But, Simon? He’s been going off about the guy for years. And now I’m supposed to train them. Together? That’s a shitshow waiting to happen.”

Diane shrugged her shoulders, looking at me thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity.”

My brow raised at that, “To do what? Watch my brother have a meltdown? Yeah, no thanks.”

“But–”

I groaned, “Diane.”

She was teasing, and she never fails to get away with it. “I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. You’ll be challenged. You’ll make new connections. And–” She paused. “Who knows, this might just be the most interesting thing going for you right now since the accident–nevermind, sorry.”

Ouch. That stung.

But, Diane was right. As much as I’d like to think that my life was perfect and everything was going the right places, deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Ever since I got hurt and went through months of recovering, the course of direction my life was heading towards took a hard turn.

Now, I have ended up here. But, I wasn’t not grateful as things could have been worse, very worse. Over the years, I had to learn how to go with the flow and accept it.

I knew she didn’t mean to say that with bad intentions. Diane always wanted what was best for me, and I was glad that she felt that way since I would do the same with her. She was my longest friend for as long as I could remember.

She gave me an apologetic smile, “If anything, maybe your brother can introduce you to his teammates or–”

I playfully shook my head, then stood up with my empty cup in my hands. “I’m getting more coffee.”

She laughed, “Fine. But, I am not done talking about this.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder before heading over to the front counter. The café was even busier now, and I had to squeeze past a few people waiting for their orders. I handed my cup to the barista, tapping my fingers against the counter as I waited.

Diane’s words lingered in my head. Maybe this was a big opportunity, Maybe I was overreacting. But there was still that anxious feeling in my stomach, my subconscious telling me that I was not ready for this.

The barista handed me the the refilled cup, and I turned back towards our table–

Only to be met with a sudden, solid force.

The next thing I knew, the warmth of hot coffee spilled down the front of my hoodie. I sucked in a sharp breath as the heat seared against my skin right through the fabric. “Fuck!”

The impact rattled me, as I staggered back, barely managing to keep hold of the cup and maintaining my balance. I looked down at the damage, dark brown stains spread across the pale gray fabric.

I clenched my jaw. Just perfect.

“Shit, I–”

I glanced up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my fucking mind and–

I froze. No, it can’t be.

Quinn fucking Hughes.

Stood right in front of me, low and behold, looked just as surprised as I did.

Up close, he was taller than I expected–maybe I was just short– lean but solid, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black hoodie effortlessly. His dark hair was slightly tousled under his hat; damp at the ends like he’d just finished practice or a workout, and completely blended with the crowd of people as if he wasn’t one of the biggest NHL players in the league.

I blinked, my brain lagging for a second. I’ve seen him on TV, many times before, in clips that Simon had angrily sent me after a few bad games, but seeing him up close was different. Very different.

He had his own unique attractiveness, I won’t lie. He had the light scruffy stubble around his jaw–sharp jawline, and piercing greenish blue eyes that made him look intense, but there was a softness in the way that he blinked at me, momentarily thrown off.

What was he doing here of all places?

He didn’t seem to realize that I wasn’t saying anything and ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh–” He hesitated, looking vaguely horrified at the sight of my hoodie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down despite the feeling of coffee soaking into my hoodie. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He pulled a handful of napkins from the counter and offered them to me, “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took them from his grasp and attempted to clean the stain, knowing it wouldn’t do much but tried anyway.

“I can buy you another one,” Quinn offered, nodding towards the counter. “Or, at least a new hoodie?

I shook my head, frustrated that the napkins were making my hoodie worse. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Oh shit. My eyes widened as soon as the words slipped from my mouth.

That caught him off guard, and so had I.

Quinn’s expression lit up and brows furrowed instantly at that, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “So, you know who I am?”

“Yes, I do.” I said in a tone indicating that it wasn’t a good thing.

He studied me for a moment. Probably thinking that I was a hockey fan or whatnot.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” He paused, scrambling to rephrase what his intentions were behind that question. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.”

He sounded pretty genuine and his intentions were nothing but pure, hopefully.

I gave him a look, “I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” I looked down at the mess. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours.”

As I was about to turn my back on him, his fingers found the material of my sleeve, and swiftly pulled me back. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?”

He only nodded, which amused me.

“I think I can survive without your help, but thanks.”

Quinn’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but thought the better of it before I turned around.

I felt his eyes linger on me as soon as I made my way back to Diane. She watched the whole thing and she looked like she was about to lose her damn mind once I sat down.

I glanced over my shoulder back to where Quinn stood. I was so lost in that interaction that I hadn’t noticed two other of his Canuck buddies were standing behind him. I watched them laughing–most likely teasing him–about what they witnessed. Great, that was just great.

“What the actual fuck just happened, Syd?”

I wish I knew.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl #nhl imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #qh43

72 notes · View notes

coquitokisses · 22 hours ago

Text

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of you hands on you chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a shapeshifter case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #sam winchester #castiel

71 notes · View notes

newttxt · 11 hours ago

Note

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

#art tips #ask #THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS #PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT STORYTELLING AND ART AND COMICS #i have so much more i can say but i will not because this post is already way too dense #ive been meaning to finish/post this for so long im sorry #making comics is this fun blend of THINKING REALLY HARD AND WITH PURPOSE and doing things innately and you rly dont know why #reference #art reference #i dont remember my tutorial tag #oh. was it #tutorial #I DONT REMEMBER

54 notes · View notes

makelemonade · 1 day ago

Text

The Harbinger’s Daughter; Series; They don’t know much.

authors note; hello it’s not exactly like a series where you have to read each part it’s just all under the same name. - wanna make this into a continuous “series” with just little stories or ideas so if anyone has any ideas or stuff they wanna see my inbox is open only for that!!!

pt1

- reader is in last year of high school, female reader, it’s kinda modern but also kinda isn’t do with that what you will

basically the harbingers realizing they don’t know much abt reader and Pantalone decides to find out

The lounge room was quiet, only the sound of the crackling fireplace filling the room along with the clicking of Dottore’s pen since he was frustrated with his current work- no one was annoyed, this was usual for him. Pierro sat in his specific sofa chair, it was large enough to fit him perfectly. However he wasn’t as comfortable as he looked, no, instead his face was one of concern and annoyance.

The others were scattered around the room, Signora was flipping through a magazine, Childe was just staring up at the ceiling with Capitano- the both laying on the floor, Pantalone was flipping through a bunch of papers with complicated equations, and Dottore was looking over his science whatever notes.

“I need to ask you all something,” Pierro spoke up, folding his hands together. Everyone looked over. “What does Y/N like?”

Everyone’s eyes lit up, and yet a heavy silence settled over the room.

They realized they knew nothing.

Childe shifted uncomfortably, “Uhh, she trains with me sometimes?” he offered hesitantly.

Signora grimaced. “She borrows my perfume. She….likes perfume.”

Dottore sighed, throwing away his papers and pen. “She’s smart, likes learning new things. Dunno.”

Capitano just didn’t say anything.

Pantalone just pressed his lips together, a little disappointed in himself for not knowing.

Pierro waited for more answers, and when none came, he was also disappointed, and a little frustrated. He spoke with a scoff, “How could we raise her and know nothing about her?”

He was a lot more disappointed in himself though, he was your father- how did he know nothing?! You were almost an adult, he’s raised you since you were a baby with the rest of them.

He stood up, exhaling. “I’ll go ask her. I wanted to spend some time with her.”

He left the room, listening to his own footsteps echoing in the hall as he walked the long way around the castle, making his way to your room.

“Y/N?” He called, knocking lightly. He waited a few seconds, but there was nothing. “Y/N?” He called again.

No answer.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” He turned the doorknob, opening it slowly. His frown depended once he scanned the room, you weren’t in your bed, your bathroom door was wide open, and your purse was gone- everything that connects to you was fine.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest and he immediately turned out of the room and walked down the hall to the guards. “Where is she?” He demanded.

One of the agents stiffened. “She left a few hours ago, sir. We assumed she had your permission.”

He felt his heart quicken, turning away from the guards to rush back to the lounge room.

“She’s gone,” Pierro announced, his eyes scanning each face in the room.

Childe and Capitano say up, with Childe’s meditating expression replaced with concern. “What do you mean gone?”

“I mean she left the castle.” Pierro sighed. “Without anyone knowing. She found a way,”

A long pause followed.

Signorae ran a hand through her hair, visibly worried. “Okay, she’s obviously gonna come backs right?”

Silence followed again.

Capitano cleared his throat. “Although I find it worrisome she left without a word, I doubt she means any harm. I believe she just wanted to go out without having to tell any of us.”

Dottore chuckled. “I’m not surprised she left without saying anything; we know absolutely nothing about her.

There was no retort.

Pantalone stood up, “Hold on.” He said, before rushing out of the lounge room and down the hall to Pulcinella’s office.

He knocked 3 times, hearing a mumble of a “come in.”

Pulcinella was sat on his high chair, looking over files on his messy desk. He looked up and his annoyed feature was replaced with a smile. “Ah, Pantalone. What can I do for you?”

Pantalone gave a small, worried smile back. “Y/N is gone. She left and we don’t know where she is and she didn’t tell any of us.”

Pulcinella frowned. “Oh, well that’s not good- thé not telling you part. She’ll be back soon.”

Pantalone gave him a curious look. “What do you mean? Does she normally leave?”

Pulcinella nodded. “She asks me most of the time, since you’re all not around as much as I am.”

Pantalone knew he didn’t mean that as anything rude but it still sting him a little bit. “Do you know where she could be?”

Pulcinella gave a knowing smile, looking back down at the papers he was reading over. “She loves books. I’d start out at the library.”

The library was quiet, save for the movement of pages as you sat at a small table in a far corner, surrounded by four books. Shopping bags were piled at your feet.

Pantalone slipped into the seat across from you, his presence imposing despite his calm persona- you hadn’t even noticed he’d entered the library or was walking towards you.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh. What are you doing here?”

He rested his chin on his hand, “What are you doing here? How did you even get out of the castle?”

You hesitated for a moment, slowly putting down the book before a sly smile crept across your face. “I put on Capitano’s jacket. No one questioned me.”

Pantalone laughed. “Of course you did.” His have moved to the books aroubd you. “You like reading?”

You nodded, pulling your book closer. “I come here a lot.”

Pantalone’s sharp eyes narrowed. “How many times have you snuck out?”

“Well, it’s not exactly sneaking out it I ask Pulcinella.” You giggled, giving a cheeky grin.

His gaze shifted, this time landing on the shopping bags on the ground by your feet. “And shopping?”

You smiled proudly. “I love it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with curiosity. “I don’t recall giving you any money.”

You shrugged casually. “Oh, I paid for it myself.”

Pantalone’s brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t have a job.”

“I do.”

Now he was shocked. “Since when?”

“I work at the daycare,” you said it so casually that it just made him feel more shocked and, honestly, worst about himself. “After school, for about four hours.”

Pantalone blinked, looking at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. “…And what exactly do you do there?”

“We teach the kids sometimes. I help with karate.”

He stared at you, disbelief written across his face. “Self-Defense?”

“Mhm,” you confirmed, your voice light, beginning to feel a little awkward.

The silence that followed felt thick.

“…How do I know nothing about you?” He mumbled.

You hesitated, then reached into your pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

He took the paper, scanning the question quickly. It was a prompt for your economics class; Thé questions were about market trends and financial stability- he could do this in his sleep.

“You’re taking economics?” he asked, surprised as he looked up at you.

“Yeah, I was interested in it.”

Pantalone tapped the paper thoughtfully. “What do you want to do when you’re older? You’re in your final year aren’t you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I think I want to go into sciences. I was thinking of applying to the Academia soon.”

He smiled, brows raising. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“…Because of Dottore.” you confessed softly, grimacing.

Pantalone let out a long, sad sigh, his expression softening. “Just because Dottore had a bad past with the Academia doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to help you. In fact, he’d probably be thrilled.”

Your eyes lit up with hope. “Really?”

“Of course,” he affirmed with a small nod.

You both sat in silence for the next while. You were just thinking of what next, while he was thinking too much. He knew nothing about you, but now seeing all this, he kind of does know you.

Because you’re him. You’re the others.

Your interests in economics- Pantalone. Sciences - Dottore. Your love for shopping - Signora. Working with little kids - Arlecchino. Teaching said little kids karate - Childe. Reading - Pulcinella and Capitano. Your intelligence and curiosity - Pierro.

You were all of them combined.

After a while, he glanced at the time on his watch. It was 5pm, dinner was at 7pm. “It’s best we go now.”

You gave a small pout but still stood up, closing the book. “Let me go return these.” You piled the books together, and he made a mental note of the title of the book you were reading before he got here.

~~~

At dinner that evening, Pierro’s voice cut through the awakward silence. “I was really worried when you left today.”

You winced, guilt creeping in. “I’m sorry.” It was a little awkward, and you were glad not all the Harbingers came for dinner.

He put his utensils down, “You aren’t confined here.” He said gently. “However I do prefer you let us know when you leave. I’ve already got white hairs, don’t make it worse.”

You laughed and he smiled, and a few others giggled, the tension easing.

~~~

The next morning, you woke to find new findings on your tables. Curious, you stood up and walked over to them, only to end up shocked and heartfelt.

Dottore’s old notes from his academia days were stacked neatly, along with folders with even more. There were piles of fancy clothes and new makeup. The economics assignment you gave Pantalone was completed, and he had wrote notes to explain the questions and answers.

Right beside it, was the book you hadn’t finished the other day. There was a small sticky note on it, reading “Meet in the lounge.”

Your heart was racing with anticipation as you hurried over to the lounge room, excited for what was awaiting you. Capitano was there and gestured for you to follow him, laughing at your eagerness.

He has taken you to a room down the hall- you’d never entered this room and you honestly didn’t even know it was there.

Upon entering, you gasped.

It was a library. Shelves upon shelves of books; They were all new, shining and hardcover, waiting for you. Pierro and Pantalone stood inside, watching you closely and laughing at your reaction.

“H-how…” You trailed off, spinning to look at everything and feeling overwhelmed. “When- how-?!”

Pantalone smirked. “Pulcinella and I placed orders for books- he knew which ones you’d like. We’d sent agents out to do the pick ups, and the rest of us put up the shelves, while signora and Childe decorated. We had some agents give the finishing touches.”

You felt tears in your eyes and you immediately threw yourself into their arms. “Thank you thank you thank you!!! It’s beautiful!”

Pantalone hugged you back tight, placing a kiss to the top of your head. He let you go to give you a moment with Pierro.

Pierro patted your back gently. “I’m your father. I always want to know what’s going on in your life.”

You pulled away, shaking your head and sniffing. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Pierro’s expression softened, his voice full of warmth. “You could never bother me.”

And for the first time, you truly believed it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #childe x reader #signora x reader #capitano x reader #pantalone x reader #pierro x reader #I think that’s the main ones tbh #harbinger reader #fatui harbingers #genshin harbingers

35 notes · View notes

kpop-cakepops · 2 days ago

Text

Gold and Diamonds (KMG x AFAB!Reader)

Word Count: 1,342

He's been in my heaaaaaaaad. Get him out!!!!!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive if you REALLY squint, very mild cursing, mutual pining (seriously, mingyu is deliciously pathetic for you), insinuated fwb to lovers? Kinda?

Head over heels, and he knew you knew. Mingyu wasn't shy about the way his piercing black eyes followed your every move no matter where you were... but something had changed. He could see it in the way your eyes would occasionally meet his while you conversed with another one of your guests. He could see it when you'd sneak a peek at him over the edge of your champagne flute. He could see it in the way your feet brought you closer and closer to him subconsciously between conversations until you finally stood before him.

"Hey," you greeted with a small mischievous smile that attempted to hide the time you'd spent together that morning, tangled in your sheets.

Mingyu couldn't help the smile that brightened his face, nor could he hide the way his eyes turned to honey the moment he heard your voice. "Hey," his chest felt like it would explode. It always did when you were around.

In a bold move, you took a step closer to him, who was sitting on a stool by the bar, thighs open and welcoming. It wasn't long before you had wedged yourself between his legs, earning yourself a few curious and nosy glances from the people around the two of you. Your eyes had a slight glaze to them, and Mingyu wondered if you were drunk.

"You good?" He asked almost breathlessly as he watched your fingers play with his on his lap. You stayed silent for a few seconds before looking up at him.

"Was it necessary for you to come to my birthday party looking so good?" You questioned with a slight pout. "I can't stop looking at you."

He took a swig of the drink in his hand and smiled teasingly, "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't know, I think it's a little scary," you admit in a soft voice, bearly audible.

With a raised brow, Mingyu leans closer to you, "Why scary?"

You look up to find Mingyu's face unbearably close to yours. So close it had your heart hammering against your chest, begging to be put out of its misery. "I missed you."

"We were together all morning"

"I know... and I started missing you the moment you left my apartment." Your hands were now holding his face tenderly, sending chills down his spine.

"And why is that?" Foreheads pressed against each other. It was as if the entire party around you both had disappeared. It was just you and Mingyu sharing each other's space.

"Are you really going to make me say it? On my birthday?" Your sweet breath fanned over his needy lips in a tempting way. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to take your hand and drag you away from everyone, have you all to himself.

"Would you rather I kissed you in front of all your frie-"

You didn't allow him to finish his sentence. Your lips were far too impatient to wait for him to finish teasing you. Mingyu all too expertly pulled you in closer. His large hands guide your own over his shoulders, making it easier for your body to nestle into the familiar shape of his torso. The one you'd been printing kisses on just hours before.

"You're an asshole" you mumbled against his lips, "fuck, you're such an asshole"

Unwillingly, Mingyu pulled away from the kiss, rubbing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "You can't say that to me when you've known all along how fucking in love with you I am."

"I know," you tell him, "that's why I feel stupid... because you deserve better."

"I don't want better." He pecks your lips reassuringly, "there isn't better... so stop driving me crazy and marry me already"

You chortle at the suddenness of his proposal. You loved that about him. His impulsiveness. "Should we? I don't think Daddy dearest would like that too much."

The tips of his fingers pushed your hair out of your eyes, taking the chance to lift your chin and catch your hazy eyes in his intense ones. "Say the word, and I'll talk to your father myself... or better yet, I'll steal you away. We catch a flight to Vegas and elope in some random chapel. He can't undo what's been done, right?"

You peck his lips swiftly and shake your head, "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim, but I'm afraid it's too soon for you to be calling me your wife. Let's settle for officially calling me your girlfriend, how about that?"

His shoulders fell slightly, but his grip on your waist tightened and brought you closer once again. His warm lips finding your ear whispering secrets meant for only you to hear "Are you trying to imply that despite spending the better part of the past year tangled in my sheets, you're not my girlfriend? I'm hurt, Miss Y/L/N."

"I've always thought of myself to be more of your beloved, darling, sweetheart, and confidant... was I too forward in believing that much?" You ask him.

The soft smirk on his face lets you know he's aware that this is your way of finally admitting that he's just as much your world as you are his. After all, for a person who claimed not to care about titles, you certainly kept track of all the pretty ones he gave you.

"Too forward? I just asked you to marry me for the third time this week, Y/N"

A rush of warmth spreads through your body as you take in every detail of his face. The sincerity and honey in his eyes as he examines you right back. You take your time to drink in his face the same way you had that morning, and the morning before that, and the one before that. The truth was, you'd known it from the first time you saw him. From the first time he smiled your way, almost causing you to melt into your sleek Louboutin heels.

"I'm going to marry you, Kim Mingyu," you whispered back into his ear, causing him to tense up. "You'll get to put a ring on my finger and call me your wife someday... aren't you a lucky guy?"

You felt embarrassed at saying it so openly and to Mingyu, no less. Not embarrassed of your feelings but rather embarrassed of having hidden your own wish of being his, and yet Mingyu couldn't care less about that.

"When?" He asked, snapping you back to reality.

"When what?"

"When will you let me marry you?" The sparkle in his eyes did not go unnoticed. He meant the question, he wanted to know... but a little teasing never killed anyone. That is why you grin big at him, as you wiggle yourself free from his grip.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and find out" with a gentle and loving tap of his cheek, you start for yet another table of guests feeling that burn of Mingyu's hopeful gaze on your back. You hoped to greet as many guests as possible within the next 30 minutes.

After all, 30 minutes is as much as Mingyu's patience would allow before he inevitably finds you and drags you back home to show you how much he deserves to be the man to put the shiniest and prettiest mix of gold and diamonds on your left ring finger.

#kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu x reader #mingyu fanfic #mingyu #seventeen #seventeen au #svt #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen angst #mingyu one shot #mingyu angst #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n

34 notes · View notes

charmed-asylum · 22 hours ago

Text

And just like that snap she hook. 🫰 🫰 🫰 also idk why but song so this is love was playing in my head as I read this chapter. SUE ME OKAY I CANT HELP IT!!!! Kinda cute well let’s be realistic what the reader does is always cute. How she kinda excited but nervous about this ride ( third encounter btw) but second ride and she nervous something we all know about. But she so blunt and still innocent. I can’t like was your day good , No hehe. Buttttt the way he responded idk how I want to describe it , “ He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.” Like he kinds disaponted but also like if I ask you a question you need to answer but he aware and in this chapter you can tell how he slowly molding it to fit what he wants or make it easy to deal with . I have words but I don’t want to use them so oops 😅 on me.

Then way he calls her sweet names I mean he got bless with this one. Like the pretty girl comment talk was so 🥺 and I’m like damn we need to protect her or even the future chat like he got so lucky with her . I mean once again I wonder what he thinks like does he feel excited but again once inch closer to his girl of his dreams or disappointed that no one see what he see and reader poor thing she stuck she been so use to away that she truly doesn’t know how to deal with anything different.

Way he spoke to her huh idk what it is I think she said it best way , “ the way his voice lower made you agreed …. He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move” I can’t I would be just like her especially being he like close talking all that sweet talk like they haven’t done anything but sniff kiss talk and touch and she already dripping and sweetie I be real I am too huh I can’t. And that kiss if there was a chair I would slip out of it . If I had a wig I toss it off . Huh way he slip that in girl oh he knew he got jackpot way he made her feel huh huh huh and wow fact mom saw that when she got home and had her wash up and she was upset dang 3 time a charm I say!!! And how intimate without even more than a touch at this point at this point, they only kissed and touch and spoke to each other and even with those simple three things what it did to her and me as a reader OMG and I’m pretty sure Lee lost his damn mind.

I do ask about this comment on what he meant by it: “God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh? 🤔 like I know he a soft dark you can tell with way he speaks to her or acts or even facial expression but what does he mean by this. Also our girl is deprive sadly shit I sagged too . Also cute way how he “ hold back “ mmmm we know you Lee Le.

Dream Of A Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lee continues to pick his girl up from work

Warnings: things are heating up a little, touching, kissing, Lee being eager

18+, minors DNI, the usual

Word count: 2949

Notes: I love this story!! I really really do! Please let me know if you enjoy it too 💕

Series masterlist

Previous part

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The next day you finished work on time and looked around outside. Your eyes felt tired because you hadn't slept well. Thoughts kept running through your head, and no matter how much you tried to settle you just couldn't. You knew Sheriff Bodecker was going to pick you up today, and you were worried about what you were going to say to his questions. What you needed to ask him. Maybe you should just talk about his job. Your mother did that with your father. And then he asked her what she did that day, even if the answer was always the same. But they seemed happy together, so it was obviously working for them.

His car was waiting for you a few meters away and you Walked towards it. He opened it from the inside again and you took a seat.

He smiled at you and you awkwardly smiled back.

“You had a good day?”

“No.”

He seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. “ Oh? Anything you want to share?”

“No.”

He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.”

Back off what? You started sweating a bit, he looked…a bit annoyed? You should ask him about this day, right? That was a good start.

“Did you? Have a good day?”

He turned to look at you again, with a smile again. “I did. Nothing beats knowing you have a pretty girl waiting for you.”

Did he meet someone since yesterday? He told you he was alone then.

“That's nice,” you told him.

“I meant you,” he clarified.

You started sweating some more. “I.. I -”

He chuckled. “No one ever told you you were pretty before?”

You shook your head. No. Maybe only your parents. But that was it.

“They're so blind,” he murmured softly. “Well, their loss.”

It stayed quiet, you didn't know how to respond. Should you compliment him back?

“You want to hear about my day, sweetheart?” he finished the silence.

You shrugged. “Okay.”

And so he started taking about the crimes he prevented, the paperwork that was never ending, how he was looking to get re-elected.

“That would be easier with a wife by my side.” He glanced at you, while you kept your eyes firmly pointed straight ahead of you. “I hope I have that soon.”

You nodded. You gave up hope a long time ago, but you understood for other people it was a normal thing to do.

“You ever dream of marrying? Finding someone who give you his bite and a few pups to look after?”

“Not anymore,” you lowered your voice, too ashamed to admit.

“Why not?”

“No one wants to. With me.” You said, feeling anxiety course through you.

“Hey, hey, don't worry. I can smell your distress from here. Hold up.” He pulled over to park the car to the side and turned to you. He reached out his hand but you flinched, so it froze in the air until he lowered it by his side.

“It's okay, sweetheart, we're just talking. It's just me. You're safe, right?”

You nodded. He was the sheriff. He would protect you. But he couldn't protect you from your fears and feelings.

“So why did you get all scared, honey? Can you tell me?”

“Not scared,” you said, trembling. “Just not…I don't like talking about it.”

“But if you don't talk about it, I can't help you.”

Your eyes shifted, trying to look at something calm, something neutral. “You can't help.”

“Try it. Maybe I can." He watched you the whole time and you wished he didn't. “Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know as well. I'm not going to judge you. People tell me all sorts of things. I witnessed even more. No matter what you tell me, it won't surprise me, alright?”

You thought about it. And there was a suspicion he wasn't going to let go so easily anyway. You sighed.

“I'm not like the rest. They don't like me. They don't want me. So…I know I'm going to be alone. It's alright. I've accepted it. My parents want me, it's enough.”

“I like you.”

You looked at him quickly, surprised. “You don't know me.”

“I know you enough. I know your parents, they love you. I can tell. They're good parents. You're polite, you're smart and hard working, you never get into any trouble. And you seem very sweet.”

You felt a little warm with every word he said. It was too much. You brushed imaginary wrinkles out of your dress that didn't exist, just to be able to do something.

“You're so pretty. And your smell…” he groaned.

You felt heat shot through you. That was…it wasn't proper was it? You don't talk about smell. You.. kept it to yourself. Until you.. you mated. Why was he telling you this?

He leaned in a little. Sniffing. “You smell so good.”

His head was too near you, and you were trapped in the car, surrounded by his smell.

And it wasn't.. bad. He smelled nice even. But he shouldn't. He didn't have to be this near.

“Everytime you're near me, and I get a whiff of you, it feels right, ya know? Feels like home.”

You blinked. It did? You did?

“I just want to bring you flowers, and take you out. Maybe to the movies.”

“Too crowded, too much noise,” you piped up.

He chuckled. “Then for milkshakes, or a walk. Anything you'd like. I'll treat you so well. You'd want for nothing.”

You breathed him in. When you did, you felt less nervous. His scent making you feel something you hadn't before. You didn't understand why it did that.

“You'd like that sweetheart? Me taking you out? Showing you how good you are? You'd be making me so proud if you’d let me. Being around such a pretty girl.”

He talked like it was an honor. Like you were a price he wanted to show off. Like others would be jealous. You wanted to laugh. It would be the opposite. People would talk about him. Wonder why he'd show you interest. That he could do better.

“I don't…. I've never, I mean, you can't.”

“Why not? Are you telling me no?” His jaw tightened and he looked a little colder.

“You can do better than me. You're the sheriff. I'm not.. I'm not good.” You whispered, tears pricking in your eyes, having to confess that.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He moved nearer, almost touching you. “How could I not like you? You're always kind to everyone, I see you're great with kids, they love you, you’d make such a good momma.”

You felt warm all over. It was burning you from the inside.

“With your pretty dresses, always looking so good, so beautiful. You should see yourself when the sun shines and your hair lights up. Beautiful. I’d be so proud walking beside you, knowing I'm your man.”

His finger touched the fabric of your dress and your eyes followed it as it rubbed softly against it.

“They would all look at us, and they'd see what a great wife you would make. You’d be good for me right?”

The way his voice lowered made you want to agree. You struggled to keep it inside. His hand moved to your leg, warmth seeping through your dress and you trembled again.

“I know you'd be such a good girl. And I would be good for you too. I would spoil you. Anything you'd want. I would treat you real nice. Give you kisses whenever you wanted.” He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move.

“Fuck it.” He murmured, he put his hands on your jaw to turn you toward him and before you knew it, he pressed his lips against yours.

A thrill went through you. You wanted to struggle. You didn't like to be touched. But he was being gentle, and he smelled even better now, thick syrup, fresh lemon, spicy cinnamon…all the good things. His mouth was full and he moved it gently against yours. You didn't know what to do, but he didn't seem to mind. He let out a noise in the back of his mouth like he was in pain.

You were burning up. You felt so warm.

He pulled away shortly after, eyeing you carefully. Your eyes locked on his this time, like you couldn't even think to look away.

“Your first kiss?” He guessed. And you nodded.

“That's a real honor, sweetheart. I feel very happy to be your first.”

You looked down quickly, too overwhelmed to keep looking at him. You wanted to touch your mouth. Let your fingers touch the flesh and memorize the feeling of his lips on yours.

“You liked it?”

You hesitated, then nodded.

His scent thickened, heavy in the air, delicious.

“Good. Because I might just kiss you again.”

Oh God, you pressed your hands to your heart, it felt like it was beating out of your chest. He was going to kiss you again, maybe. And you didn't think you'd mind.

You laid awake that night, again, thinking over and over about that kiss. His scent was on you. Your mother widened her eyes when you stepped inside, but one look at you and she kept quiet, even if you thought she wanted to ask about it. Maybe she knew it was too soon. Maybe she feared you would get overwhelmed. Or perhaps she knew you wanted to keep it to yourself a little longer.

“Go freshen up before your father gets home,” she simply told you, and her hand carefully touched your shoulder briefly, like she wanted to fuss over you.

You were disappointed to remove his smell off you. But your father would want to know whose it was. And you didn't know what to say if he questioned you. The sheriff talked about dating, but he hadn't asked you out. You didn't know how serious he had been. Maybe you should ask him next time you saw him?

You could still remember what he smelled like later, in your bed, and you felt yourself heat up again thinking about it.

His mouth and his eyes. He was an attractive man. And he called you pretty!

Squeaky noises came out of your throat and you couldn't help it. It was all too much. But it was good. You hoped. You thought.

He picked you up again, and asked if you wanted to go for milkshakes, but you shook your head. You had started to get a headache. The office was especially loud that day and you felt the noise still throbbing in your head.

You pressed your hands against the side of your face, trying to squeeze out the pain until you felt him grab your wrists and remove them.

You wanted to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. He pulled you against him, ignored your struggling and shushed you.

“Hey, hey! Sweetheart. It's okay. Shh, just smell me…here, come on.”

He pushed your face into the crook of his neck, right where his gland was. As soon as your nose was pressed against it, you sagged a little. His scent enveloping you completely. A whine escaped you.

“That's it. Feels better right? you don't have to do anything, or think of anything but now. You're safe. Just relax.”

And you did, taking big whiffs of his scent, eyes closed, trying to relax.

“You're being a good girl aren't you? Letting me take care of you like this.” You heard his voice murmur in your ear, felt the rumbling in his chest. Your hands gripping his shirt, not caring if you wrinkled it. “It feels mighty fine having you trust me to help you. You're making me feel real good sweetheart.”

No one had ever spoken to you like this. Like you were worthy. Like you mattered. Like they cared. You made him feel good? You made the most pathetic noise.

“I know. It's a lot. But you're doing so well. You like my scent sweetheart?”

You nodded. You did. You liked it a lot. You could stay here forever, blocking out the rest of the world.

“I'm so pleased, sweetheart. I like yours too…will you let me scent you as well? I've been thinking about it all night. I would love to carry you with me. It will make the lonely nights better.. You can do that for me right?”

You nodded, mumbling something unintelligible, but he seemed to understand. He pushed your face up, gently, his hands holding your head up as he stared into your eyes, while you tried to focus but felt too dazed to manage, until he pushed his face into your neck.

His nose against your gland made your shiver. It was like your mind stopped functioning. You felt the most pathetic whine bubbling up your throat, but you held onto his shirt for dear life, afraid to fall if you let go.

His mouth…he moved it over your skin, something wet moved over that special spot and you spasmed.

He pulled back in surprise and watched you carefully. One you stopped trembling, and his face came into focus, he looked…you couldn't place how he looked.

“Did you just..?”

You blinked owlishly. What?

“Oh God, okay, it's okay baby. You did so good,” he quickly told you, but he sounded off. He looked tense.

Maybe you made him mad.

“Nature’s calling, honey, I'll be right back okay. You watch the car for me.”

He practically ran out of the car and went into the nearest shop. You sat there, stunned. Had you done something wrong? But what he did felt really good. It felt like you got lifted out of your body and pulled back in. Like an elastic snapping back into place.

You didn't know what happened, but he didn't seem to like it. You hung your head, hiding your face in shame. He was angry. You were sure of it. You didn't know what you were going to say when he came back.

Maybe he didn't want you to be in the car once he got back? But he had told you to watch it for him. So you stayed.

It took a while before he returned. His cheeks were rosy and he had a smile around his mouth. Maybe things were okay? Maybe he really did need to use the bathroom?

He stepped inside again and smiled at you. “There we go. Sorry. Sometimes you can't hold it, can you?”

You nodded, hesitant.

“Aaw, sweetheart, are you shy? You don't have to, I liked it.”

Liked it? You didn't know what it was, but he wasn't mad that it happened?

You gave him a glance, to see how he was looking and he seemed relaxed and good natured. He licked his lips.

“Can I get a kiss, sweetheart? I've been thinking about it all day.” He stared at you expectantly.

You pondered, but you had liked it yesterday, and you were relieved he wasn't angry, so you nodded.

“Come on then, kiss me,” he said teasingly.

Oh. You moved over to him, unsure if how to do this, but just decided to press your lips against his. Upclose he smelled very intense. His scent thicker than before, so you gasped. When you did that, his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, and his hands moved against your face holding you in place.

It was wet. And weird. But his smell was so overpowering that it wasn't the worst. His tongue tried to coax yours into moving as well but you didn't know how. You just let him move and tried to move as well.

You had expected to hate it. The kissing, the touching. But it didn't feel bad. You liked it. He felt nice, he smelled nice. He said nice things. He made your body float, like you were in the water. Weightless.

His hands stroked your cheeks, moved to your neck, and suddenly pressed on your gland. You moaned and sagged into his chest.

“God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh?”

You couldn't do much more than run your nose on his neck, so close to his gland again.

He sighed. “I’ve kept you long enough, don't want your parents to worry. I want them to like me, show them I've got good intentions. Can't do that when you're coming back all ruffled. Come on sweetheart, back in your seat you go.” He moved you carefully as you blinked at him.

“It's alright, just some space, honey, we need to both calm down a little, huh? I still need to drive, and you have to fix your hair. I might've messed it up a little. You look good though,” he smiled tenderly at you.

You touched your hair. He was right, it had come out of its pins, you tried to make it presentable again.

“I would really like to take you out in the weekend, would you like that? Maybe we could take a walk in the park, or go for ice cream.”

“I, I like ice cream,” you admitted.

He smiled happily, “Then ice cream it is.”

Next part

76 notes · View notes

nachiah · 20 hours ago

Text

Spoilers for Chapter 14 of Tokyo Debunker under the cut

Chapter 14 only made me love the Mortkranken duo even more!! I'm just gonna kinda ramble as opposed to my usual, more organized stuff with screenshots and whatnot: I really like that it focused mostly on Yuri's backstory - namely the things he would refuse to tell us otherwise. It goes to show that his bravado and somewhat self-centered nature is mostly for show. He's hiding just how bad he's been hurt by others, and keeping his guard up. As for Jiro, we get a little more of an idea of the sort of sheltered upbringing he had. It's becoming clearer and clearer that he didn't spend much time in the outside world. There are places he wanted to go, but couldn't for whatever reason. And now, it's not like he can just go anywhere. Yuri needs to be there with him - and we learn why: It's his stigma. The injection he received in the immortal patient chapter was probably something to further damage the anomaly without damaging Jiro too, too much. He has no control over his stigma, so *anything* that happens to him - including the effects of poisons and injections - happens to the one that inflicted it. My hopes for his stigma being something like that were realized. Perhaps at the point of making the pact, he wanted retribution. He wanted those that inflicted pain onto him to suffer the same fate. That, however was a bit of a double-edged sword, because now he can *only* be treated by Yuri - but we have no idea why he's unaffected. I personally think it has something to do with a certain level of trust, but that doesn't account for the coma... unless he already knew Yuri back then. Now for the ship-related stuff, and boy did we eat good this time: Yuri rips Nicholas a new one after letting the Frostheim thing slip, and gets mad when people mention that house in general... But when Jiro asks about the funding he could've had, he's met with a calm and direct answer. The way he stepped between Yuri and the Frostheim students when they tore into Yuri (and when he probably noticed Yuri couldn't handle it himself). That man was absolutely ready to throw hands. When Yuri was crying in the infirmary, Jiro said something interesting... to "wait until *we're* alone." Not "you." "We." This means, of course, that Yuri has let his guard down in front of Jiro before. More than once, I would assume with that kind of response. Then the tenderness when he asks MC to "keep him from losing his way..." I also have to note the proud smile he had when Yuri was revealing the truth of the matter to everyone. I love their dynamic so much. They clearly depend on each other, but they are independent enough to not give in to each other when there's a difference in opinion. Just a match of wits with a touch of snark. But when something does happen, they do whatever they can to help one another. Even having just struggled to awake from a small coma, Jiro uses everything he's got to relay that important tidbit of information to Yuri. Jiro *needed* to tell him about the discrepancy. I loved it all - start to finish. While MC took a bit of a back seat in this one, I feel like it was necessary to really show both Jiro and Yuri's overall dynamic and to keep the spotlight on Yuri this time.

#tokyo debunker #tdb #jiro kirisaki #yuri isami #yuri x jiro #thoughts about chapter 14 #mortkranken

27 notes · View notes

evillama666 · 3 days ago

Text

“Art class”

Logan Howlett x Reader

I’ve read a few fanfics where Logan is the history teacher, and as much as I love that, I feel like some things would trigger his ptsd. I know he mentions he’s the art teacher, like once. I think he’d find art therapeutic, and still holding onto that history teacher idea, I like to believe he teaches art history. I’m sure he’s seen lots of different art over the years (Even if he doesn't remember most of it) so he enjoys teaching it. Also he’s totally one of those chill art teachers.

Summary: Logan draws with you during class

Tags: Platonic, comfort, shy/anxious reader, soft Logan, teasing

Word count: 2551

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Logan’s art class is the best. He’s not one of those strict art teachers. His class is very chill. There’s always some sort of quiet music playing. Usually he picks the music, but if one of his students makes a request, he’ll play it. He loves being introduced to new music. He’s the kinda teacher that gives out either one-hundreds or zeros. It’s simple. If you try on your project; you pass. You don't; you fail. He’s not about to spend his nights, where he could be drinking, grading papers. Whatever project the class is working on, Logan is also partaking. Either quietly drawing at his desk, or with some kids if they ask him to join. He’s got a soft spot for his students. He’s the kinda teacher that pays attention to his kids, even if he’d never admit it. He knows a lot more about each of them than he leads on. He’ll listen in on their stories, learn who’s friends with whom, and pick up on people's crushes. He even engages in conversations with them. His laughs are heard throughout the room when he does.

None of the projects are ever hard, and he gives the kids free range for all of them. His presentions on either different art styles, techniques, time periods, or whatever are the best. If he's teaching about a time he lived through (and actually remembers) he's explaing what it's like and may even show any peices he made during those times. The class loves asking him about what it was like living through those times. He always tries to include everything he can remember. Those parts of his past, he doesn't mind talking about. He has lots of experience with art, so he's always helping students with their projects and giving them tips. If there's a speicific thing they want to learn out of class, he'll happily teach them. He's the best.

You want him to sit with you. You have for almost a week now. The thing is… you're too shy to actually ask. You know if you did, he gladly would. It’s just the idea of actually asking that you dread. Plus, he seems to have great relationships with everyone else. You don’t want to pull him away from the other students. Your table is near his desk. No one else is sitting with you, so it’s lonely. Sitting near his desk, you like to see what he’s working on. You're not sneaking glances at his art today, though. You’re sneaking glances at him, desperately wanting to ask him to come over. He’s not sitting with anyone else, so you know he’s free. You sigh when you can’t build up the courage. Guess you’ll wait and see if you can ask him tomorrow.

It’s not like he’s an intimidating teacher. Not to the good kids anyway but, if someone's goofing off in his class, blatantly disrespecting the rules, he’ll blow up on them. Luckily, there’s not really anyone like that in your class. He made his class a safe place. His class is soothing, a perfect way to wind down, and having his class at the end of the day, it’s even better.

He’s noticed all your “subtle” looks towards him. Of course he has. The man’s got heightened senses. He can practically feel the shy and nervousness radiating off you. He wanted to give you the chance to fight through that and just ask him. It’s been a week, and that hasn't happened. Seeing another one of your glances, he sighs, grabbing his supplies, and setting them down on your table. “You could’ve just asked.”

His gruff voice pulls your attention from your drawing, looking up at him as he sits. Wait, he made the move? You didn’t think he’d do that. Not knowing what to say, you look back down at your project. “Ya the anxious type? I can smell it wafting off ya.” You lift your head again. Damn his heightened senses. You didn't even think of that. How long has he been able to smell that? And... what the hell does that even smell like!? You silently nod.

Rolling his eyes, he tries saying something to coax you out of your anxiety. “Y’know, your art is one of my favourites to grade. It’s different from everyone else's.” His voice is low and soothing. (I love his voice) It definitely helps relax you. You always thought your art was more on the weirder side, so hearing that Logan likes it brings you comfort. Feeling like you kinda have to say something now, you mumble, “Thank you, Mr. Howlett.”

“Logan.” He says, looking down at his paper as he draws. He hates formality. It’s not like anyone here actually calls him that. His relationships with his students are very casual. Your eyes roam over his face. He’s pretty for such a rugged man. “Logan?” You squeak out, as confirmation. He nods once. “That ‘Mr’ shit makes me feel old.” Isn’t he old…? Anyway, feeling somewhat comfortable with him but still a bit shy, you speak quietly. “I like your last name. It’s very… werewolf-ey.”

He lifts his gaze from his drawing, raising his brows as he smirks. “It suits me perfectly, doesn't it?” You meet his eyes. He’s got such kind eyes. He’s very comforting to be around, despite everything you've heard about him as Wolverine. You silently nod. He’s got to pull you out of your anxiety a little more. His students like having conversations with him about anything, like their day, interests, or even just venting. But you're his quietest student, so you two haven't really reached that level yet. “So, you like my art.” He says, as a conversation starter. “How’d you know?” You ask.

“You watch me a lot.” He says, flatly. Wait, how obvious are you about that? “Now, I’d think you were checking me out, but your eyes are never on me. It’s always whatever I'm working on. That’s a true artist right there.” Hearing him call you that, makes you feel weirdly proud. No wonder why everyone here likes him so much. “I didn’t realize I stared so much…” You quietly admit. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” He reassures. “I know it’s out of genuine interest.”

Damn, this man is observant. He knows a lot more about you than you thought. You glance at his drawing. You’re used to looking at his work over his shoulder. Now that it’s closer, you can see it a lot more clearly. Like, all the tiny details he adds. He is a very talented artist. He catches your gaze and flips the drawing over for you to see. It’s of a tree and you can see how he drew each individual leaf and blade of grass. How does he have the patience for that? You glance at your drawing. You two have very different styles. “That’s so good! I wish I could draw like that.” He responds with a half laugh. “I’ve got like a hundred years of experience on ya, kid.” He probably has all the practice in the world.

He watches you draw for a minute. He hasn't heard your voice too many times. “Not a people person, huh?” He says, trying to get a response out of you. “No. I have bad anxiety.” That causes Logan to snort. “Well, that’s fucking obvious.” He’s not like your other teachers. He just doesn't give a damn about how he’s supposed to act. Feeling a bit more comfortable, you tease, “I thought teachers weren't supposed to swear?” Logan huffs in amusement. “Ya not gonna tell Xavier are you?” You know this man causes enough trouble for Xavier so you shake your head. “M’no.”

“Then I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want.” He sighs when you fall back to being quiet, continuing on your project. “Would ya like me to sit with ya more?” Is he really asking that? Doesn't he already know the answer to that? You quietly nod. “I could use more company.” He notices your gaze fall back on his drawing. “You just want to watch me easier, don’t you?” You force your gaze away from his drawing. “Both. I’d actually enjoy the company. I don’t really have friends.” Like that wasn’t fucking obvious? “I could tell.” He says flatly. Damn, couldn't he be a bit more gentle with it? “Thanks for the comfort, old man.” He can’t help but snicker at the name. You must be feeling more comfortable. “Watch the name calling, brat.” He teases right back with a smirk.

You laugh softly. “It’s not a name. It’s the truth.” Wow, you really just went there. “Then shouldn't you be respecting your elders?" He smirks, thinking he got the upper hand. However, you don’t miss a beat. "You don’t respect Xavier now, do you?” Damn, ok, he didn't expect you to be so quick-witted when you got comfortable. He takes a second, forming a response. “I’m older than him.” And there you go again, making a comeback without even thinking. “He remembers more than you. You’re senile.”

His smirk falters, not being able to think of another comeback. He takes another few seconds to think of something. “I see why you don’t have friends.” You feel you should be hurt by that, but you end up laughing. “Not like you have many, either.” His brows furrow a little. This generation is fucking mean. “I choose not to.” You shoot him a look that says ‘Really?’ “Is that what you tell yourself?” He can’t help but smirk. This little bitch can throw down. “I like you.”

Your face falters a moment, not expecting him to say that, but you find your smile again. “You’re aight.” Wait… that's it? That’s all he gets!? Aight!? He couldn’t even get an ‘all right’? After you just attacked his goddamn soul!? His tone is unamused. “You clearly like me more than that if you wanted me to sit with you so bad.” You pause drawing. “I guess that’s true…” He smirks again, feeling cocky. “Of course it’s true. Everyone likes me.”

You shake your head at his cocky demeanour. His eyes soften as he watches you work. You’re one of his most hard-working students. “You’re very passionate about your work.” You shrug as you keep working. “It’s all I ever do.” Logan can’t help but appreciate that. He’s looking at you… fondly? You meet his gaze. “W- um… Would you like to look through my sketchbook?” You’ve seen other students let him go through theirs. He always likes their drawings. He seems to just like all art in general. “Sure.” He shrugs.

You grab your sketchbook from your bag and hand it to him. He looks through it with a blank expression. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Maybe he doesn't like it- “These are excellent.” Oh, he does like them. You can’t help but smile shyly. “Thank you.” He’s still flipping through, admiring each page. “You could make some real money off of some of these, kid.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested in turning my hobby into a career.” He finishes looking through, setting the sketchbook on the table. “No? That’s a damn shame. I woulda bought some.” Wait, is he teasing you again? No, he seems genuine. “Wait what? Really?” He’s gotta be joking, right? He’s never said that to anyone else. All he says is, “Yeah.” with a simple shrug. Maybe that’ll bring up your confidence.

You take another minute to process, then smile. You didn’t think your art would ever mean that much to anyone else. He suddenly gets up and leaves. You sigh in disappointment. Well, that didn't last long... Logan sees your slumped shoulders when he comes back. “Damn, I was only gone for a minute. Are ya already that fuckin’ clingy?” You look up when he places some pages next to you. “Thought you’d like these.” He sits back down as you go through the pile of drawings. “Are these yours?”

“Yeah. Thought you could get some inspiration from them.” He’s already back to working on his project. You look at all of his drawings. Some of them are… dark. You love it! They’re different like your drawings. You somehow feel seen. You can see the emotions he put into each one. “I love these. They’re so detailed. I wish to be half as good as you.” There’s a small half smile on his lips as you compliment his art. Not too many people value how much time and work he actually puts into them. “Mmh, you're more than halfway there, kid. Your art is fucking phenomenal.” His compliments are the best. Each one of them is genuine. You slide your project over to him, wanting his input.

“How’s this? I feel like… it’s missing something.” He looks at it, really looks at it before giving his thoughts, that’ll match your style of drawing. “Darken the shadows to make it edgier. But use blue instead of black.” You look back at your drawing, thinking. That would… actually tie everything in nicely. You need to learn colour theory from this man. He’s so smart with the way he uses colours. “Thanks, I would never have thought of that.” You grab a dark blue pencil and get to shading. He doesn’t get why you don’t have any friends. You seem interesting enough. He quietly speaks. “You can eat here during lunch.”

You almost miss what he said. “What about lunch?” His focus has shifted mainly to his drawing. “You can eat here during lunch. It’s quiet. Not too many kids eat in here and you have full access to all the art supplies.” You can feel yourself smiling. You were always jealous of the kids that had a teacher they could eat with. You always envied that. Well, now you have it. The lunchroom is always so loud and overwhelming. A quiet room sounds nice. “I’ll take you up on that. I hate the lunchroom.” Logan assumed you did with your anxiety. He likes to offer the anxious kids his quiet room.

There’s a small smile on his lips and he looks relaxed while he draws. His relaxed mood seems to rub off on you. You sigh as you draw, glancing at him and his work occasionally. Your eyes linger over his features. It’s not fair he’s so pretty and handsome at the same time. He glances up from his drawing, meeting your eyes. A cocky smirk slides onto his lips. “Am I just that handsome?” You blink a couple times, not expecting to be called out. “I was thinking of how to draw you.” His cocky smirk turns into a small, soft, genuine smile. “I do have a nice face, huh?” (I have so much fun drawing him. His features are so nice.) You can’t help but secretly agree. Your eyes scan over his face, breaking it down into simple shapes, sketching a rough outline in your mind. He’s looking at you, letting you stare for as long as you need. His gaze is soft.

When you look away, his attention goes back to his drawing. Neither of you are speaking right now. The silence doesn’t feel like it needs to be filled. As the quiet type, you don’t mind this. He’s deeply focused on his work, so you don’t want to distract him with a conversation. As much as you’ve enjoyed talking to him, you only wanted him to sit with you, so you weren’t lonely. You pack up when class is over, sighing, finally being done with classes for the day. Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye, still working on his drawing, waiting for all the kids to leave. “See ya tomorrow, (y/n).” You glance over your shoulder as you head to the door. “Bye, Logan.” You say with a little wave, making sure to use his first name, not his last. It makes you feel closer to him than your other teachers.

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

I know it’s short. I had literally no plot

#Logan howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine fanfic #Logan howlett fanfic #Wolverine #logan howlett #X-men #X-men wolerine #fanfic

44 notes · View notes

ghostgirl-22 · 6 hours ago

Note

hear me out… remote vibrator follow up where they do it again when Tashi’s around and she doesn’t know what they’re up to right away. naturally, she picks up on it. Art puts up a little fight about doing it in front of her, but Patrick knows the idea is secretly just as thrilling to Art as it is to him

oof! This is from 100 years ago. Sorry my love!

CW: 18+, NSFW, sex in public, not quite exhibitionism but also not, not exhibitionism.

—-

One of Tashi’s favorite things is when they talk without saying anything. one doesn’t even have to complete a sentence for the other to understand it. the way they act, mirroring each other, it’s like how lovers act when they’ve known each other forever. She clocked them right away. Longing looks. Biting sighs. Her boyfriend and his best friend want to fuck each other if they haven’t already. They’re barely able to hide it anymore. and god does it turn her on.

She admits, she does get a little frustrated sometimes, it’s like trying to have a conversation with two people where everything they say is an inside joke.

Like tonight.

Only Patrick would let his best friend crash a Valentines day date. Only Tashi would put up with it. it’s like she’s dating both of them. It’s like they’re dating each other. Patrick’s just grinning at Art all through dinner, while Art glares back at him antsy and barely able to meet his gaze. “Okay what’s going on?” She finally asks, looking between them.

“Hm… nothing,” Art says quickly.

“One of us lost a bet,” Patrick smirks. “Again.”

She grins and focuses on Art. “What did you bet on?”

“Uh it doesn’t matter.” Art says quickly and he looks to Patrick, eyes glassy, cheeks coloring.

“He thought he could handle his liquor better than me but I’m the undisputed champ,” Patrick pets her thigh and then drops his phone on the table in front of her. It’s an app with what looks like a volume button labeled from 0 to 10. Right now it’s at a 1.

“What is this?” She asks.

“His punishment,” Patrick says gently.

Tashi cocks her head, looking between him and Art, a little smile on her face. “I don’t get it?”

“Well… pick a number.” Patrick says and Art shakes his head.

“Patrick don’t, come on… she’s…”

“Ten,” Tashi interrupts.

Patrick grins and Art’s mouth falls open. “You really wanna do that to him?”

“I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing, Patrick so yeah. Let’s go all the way.” Tashi says, only mildly annoyed. “He’s not gonna die is he?”

“Nah,” Patrick says,”unless you can die of embarrassment.”

art shakes his head. “No Tashi you don’t understand, It’s a restaurant… this is public we could get in trouble.” his blush is getting out of control, he’s kinda gorgeous.

“Oh come on, it’s packed,” Patrick grins. “No one’s even paying attention.” He slides the dial up slowly. Tashi’s a pretty quick study. Something inside her had a feeling they were doing something sexual. Still, watching Art squirm in his seat, skin heated, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut as he sits on his palms, gently rocking, trying not to come from whatever device Patrick is controlling… Tashi squeezes her thighs together.

Patrick chuckles and slides it back down to one. Art is still squirming, sitting on his hands. Tashi’s a little fixated on him. His chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks at her, pleading in his eyes, like she might be the only one who can save him from big mean Patrick. There’s something else in his expression too. Something dirtier. Needier. He fucking likes this.

“What do you think?” Patrick asks. His eyes are all sparkly, mischievous, Tashi can practically see through to the deceptively charming boy that he probably was as a kid.

The idea of Art losing a bet and Patrick’s first thought being to make him wear a sex toy that he can play with. The idea that Art would just…go along with it. There’s something so deeply fucked up about them. So fundamentally messy.

“What kinda toy is it?” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder, trying to act nonchalant but she’s wet. This whole thing has her feeling a little crazy.

“Vibrator,” Patrick says, pulling her ponytail back where it was, he leans in close because he’s got no concept of personal space but also so he can whisper. “Cock ring tight over the head of his dick.”

Tashi swallows and glances back at Art.

“He’s crazy…it’s his crazy idea.” Art says like he’s not complicit, like he’s not wiggling in his seat, voice all breathy. Eyes shining.

“Oh you’re both crazy,” she says softly but she reaches for Patricks phone anyway. “Maybe I should be in charge for a while.

Patrick smirks at her. “Whatever you want.”

Art looks relieved for a moment before she slides it back up to three. He can barely focus on his desert. Instead he’s just trying to hold it in, sucking on his spoon, eyes dilated. Can’t even look at the waitress who’s been flirting with him all night when she comes back with the check.

It goes like that for the rest of the night. Tashi takes a turn and then Patrick. Art getting more and more desperate. He seems to realize that Patrick is the one playing good cop. He gives Art a little break after dinner, they share a cigarette while they wait for a cab to the club, Patrick standing too close to him, fingers in his hair. Telling him he’s taking it so well. Art with his lips parted, like a little magnet, drawn to Patrick’s every lingering touch. Tashi thinks she knows what he needs.

She makes Art sit in the middle seat when they crowd into the cab and snatches the phone back from Patrick.

Their driver is so talkative. Wants to know everything about them and tell them everything about San Francisco. And Patrick’s just engaging him. “Oh we all go to Stanford,” he lies. “Straight As.”

“Tashi please,” Art whispers but she just smiles.

“Relax. I’m just checking to see if he’s texting other girls.” She pats his upper thigh and immediately she can feelthe hot, hard line of his dick resting on his thigh, the device fixed over it. He lets out a sharp intake of breath. Patrick’s watching them as their driver goes on and on about the city. Patrick’s got a silly little grin on his face as Tashi slides her palm up and down Art’s length, it has the same effect on Art as if she’d turned on the device. He’s breathless, kicking his leg forward gasping, biting back on a whispered “fuck.”

Tashi uses her free hand to turn it up and she can feel it vibrating against her palm. Eventually he’s turning into her. Breathing in her ear, hot and heavy. She wiggles in her seat. “It’s okay,” she whispers.

It’s barely five minutes before he’s moaning, lips pressed against her ear, her cheek. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. It’s… I’m gonna… I’m…I’m…” he can’t help getting a little too loud. She feels it as his dick spasms and he’s probably spurting come all inside his boxers, gasping softly into her ear.

“Everything okay?” The driver wants to know. Obliviously chatty with Patrick this whole time but his concerned gaze flickers to Tashi, to Art. “He’s not going to throw up is he? Because I can pull over.”

“Oh he’s fine,” Tashi says, her voice lighter than normal. She cups her palm around the side of Art’s face and turns down the device with her other hand. “He’s good.”

”A bit of carsickness but he’s fine,” Patrick waves it off.

“Well let me know. I can pull over.”

Patrick gives her an amused look and she pets art, letting him rest on her shoulder as he catches his breath.

They’re just outside the club waiting to get in and Patrick is playful. “You little slut, right in the backseat. You can’t control yourself, can you?” He teases, bodying Art up against the wall of the club they’re waiting to get into.

“‘m not a slut. T-Tashi… Tashi turned it up,” Art points out. Flustered for the way Patrick is using his size against him.

“Snitch,” Tashi says quietly to Art. She’s looking over other settings on the app. Pulse, vibrate, massage. She sets it to pulse and switches it back on to one. Art gasps.

“God Tashi,” Patrick leans against the wall next to Art and reaches for her, she steps closer and he pulls her by the wrist, closer still, before taking the phone back and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You like it too much.”

“No i don’t,” she says softly.

“Yeah right, you’re so fucking wet aren’t you?” he whispers. She rolls her eyes, but he knows her well enough by now. They’re basically standing directly in front of Art when he kisses her. So close, Patrick grins at Art when she pulls away. Hes such a brat.

He gets his turn inside the club. They’re downing shots. Patrick buys a bottle and they get a spot in VIP. They’re drinking way too much and dancing with strangers, with each other all night. Tashi with Patrick, Patrick with Art, Art grinding against her. That’s when Patrick turns it up, like he’s giddy to see what will happen with the vibration between the two of them.

She can feel it, pulsing hard against her wet panties as Art is basically pressed up against her. He falls onto the big square sofa seating in the center and she follows him, grinding down against his thigh and he’s immediately falling apart. Fingers in her hair, moaning into her. It’s basically simulated sex, dress riding up her thighs, panties soaked. knees dug in on either side, she’s riding the pulsation while the music sounds, TI Whatever you Like blaring too loud on the speakers. And before she realizes what’s happening she’s kissing him, gripping him, coming on his lap.

Art’s looking up at her after, breathless, like he’s in love. “Guess i took care of both of you.” Patrick says, grinning. “Two for the price of one.” He leans in to kiss Tashi and she sighs against his lips. Shivering for the gentle heat of it.

Then he sits next to Art… and teases his hair out of his eyes before pecking his lips. Art pulls him close and kisses him properly. Tashi giggles, still settled on Art’s lap while people all around their section are still screaming the song lyrics, drunkenly dancing, lifting drinks, spilling. It’s actually her favorite thing.

She snatches the phone from Patrick’s waiting hand. She doesn’t feel it anymore so he must’ve shut it off. But she thinks maybe Art has a little more in him. She opens the app and slides it back up.

(Playing fast and loose with time, technology, phones, apps, music and the challengers story/characters but… also… yay i think this vibrator could have fixed them!)

#challengers fic #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan smut #art x tashi x patrick

23 notes · View notes

spikey-fudger · 5 months ago

Text

'Cause you were never mine, never mine.

#should have been canon #in a “did or did they not have feelings for each other?” kinda way #imagine the pining and the angst #and obi-wan's regrets #im sorry #obidala #padme x obi wan #star wars #star wars au #ai generated images #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #taylor swift #august #otp

32 notes · View notes

joshuamj · 3 months ago

Text

In Time and Stars

#in stars and time #isat #siffrin #josh art tag #been wanting to practice less “literal” drawings....#like people doing a certain thing or being in a certain place or even just standing there #and instead do more like conceptual stuff?? idk how to word it #but i love doing stuff like this #and i feel like i havent done it in a while #i think last time i did was early in the year when i was still really into the Magnus Protocol #and was illustrating lines from each episode #some of which are my best performing art ever lol #i still remember my sibling telling me they had come across my art on their dash and later on their insta explore page #they had apologized since me and my sibs have an agreement to not search for or interact with each other online just for privacys sake #but i found it both funny and kinda insane #was not expecting my art to get big enough to find its way to that sib lol #uuuhhhhh anyway back on topic #ive had this idea of a siffrin illustration where either have their face or the back part of their head being a clock #and i tried a couple drafts in my sketchbook #and ended up liking this one! it had the addition of the shooting star and from then i toyed with the idea of adding the title text #i have another less literal piece for zelda that i wanna do #but i also wanna work on my isat animatic #....and i also wanna play stardew....#i need more hours in the day 😔

85 notes · View notes

ladyhre · 6 hours ago

Text

Rebecca absolutely would. There is no doubt in my mind. She holds so much pain over what happened to Rook, I don't she would be able to stop herself

Liza (A): It would depend on who they were and why they killed him, I think. Her whole mindset about her father is "i miss the possibility of who i could have been if he had lived, but I never knew the man, so it feels disingenuous to say that I miss him." She also does not love the idea of killing people unless she absolutely has to. And the idea of doing so as an act of vengeance isn't a great one. The most straightforward answer is probably not, but never say never.

Diana (N): This is a tricky one. I would lean probably. I mean, not if the person is sitting down in a chair in front of her, served up for her to kill. But if she's facing this person in a fight or any situation where she can convince herself that there wasn't another option... probably. She has her own level of rage about her father's death, not quite to the level of Rebecca, but it's there.

Callahan (M): No. She's not a fighter. Let's start with that she probably wouldn't even physically be able to if she wanted to, at least not in any sort of fair situation. But she also wouldn't want to. She doesn't want to kill people. She would want to seek justice in some other way. It's extremely unlikely that she would kill someone in that pursuit.

Theo (F): Yes. Full stop. Theo is a good guy, a great guy even. He's not violent by nature. He got into his profession to help people, not hurt them. But if you put the person who killed his father in front of him and gave him the option to kill them? He would take it. Theo doesn't hold onto anger about most things. He's never been the type to hold a grudge. But this, this is something that has been eating at him his entire life. He's ignored it most of the time and hid it when that didn't work. He wants the person who did it to pay, and if he can make them pay by his hand, all the better.

When answering this question, I really had to think about what would be an appropriate answer for each of my detectives. Theo's really surprised me. The others I kinda knew, Liza especially as she is the one I have done the most work fleshing out (she's my first and my favorite). But Theo... Theo was always a nice, sometimes goofy guy. He likes kids and parties, and in another life, he would be a chef. He and F are very similar in personality types, though i would say Theo is a more toned down version. But I was always aware that Theo had a hint of darkness in all of his light, and I was always aware that it surrounded his father's death.

twc question time!

if your detective ever had the chance to kill the person responsible for Rook's death - would they? plz elaborate in the tags, i want to know EVERYTHING. 🎀

also, bonus question: in your opinion, do you think Rebecca would if she had the chance?

#wayhaven mc #wayhaven detective #the wayhaven chronicles

31 notes · View notes

roots-symphony · 4 months ago

Text

do you think the reason agatha’s trial felt weird is because she was the only one who did not actually buy into the mythos of the road since she knew the truth? like that was why no perspective change and all the other reasons why people thought it was a fake trial

#agatha all along #aaa spoilers #txt #i really liked the idea behind how the witches road came to be #like showing her and nicky coming up with the lyrics and everything #but i felt like there was a lot of these last two episodes that felt weird or jarring #i think that’s partly the fault of it being such a short run time for the whole show in general (tbh that’s probably like most of it)#but there were just also weird choices? idk #like jen’s big declaration about protecting them in honor of Lilia or w.e and then just.. flying off to nowhere??#or the way Both billy and agatha kept switching how they felt about each other with like every sentence #I did really like her thing where she helped him get tommy a body though #and her and rios vibes were off too. like it felt like there should have been a little more build up before they fought after the road?#like when they were still talking on the road it felt like they could have done more with it #just like jen getting her powers back could have been more #or billy standing up for agatha could have been more #billy’s homecoming and attempting to banish agatha too #I liked that his parents were there but it was so quick and then he just.. leaves again?? no problem?? and I guess they’re fine with it now #like it felt like the things they did well. they did really well #while everything else felt.. idk.. kinda flat?#which honestly was the same feeling I had after watching agatha’s trial episode #honestly this show need at least another 3 or 4 episodes if not more #and I know people are going to make this all about agatha and rio but i really don’t think that’s the issue #i do think the story could have benefited more from showing more of their actual backstory or a few more interactions with them or just #like i said earlier done more with what they had. again that scene on the road before rio dips could have been used way more effectively #and I don’t mean in like having them be soft or lovey like I know a lot of people wanted (never be against that) but I don’t think it was #needed.. but Something was??#i feel like overall what everyone went through on the road didn’t actually truly effect them or change them?#like jen left. agatha and rio were like back to liek the road never happened. everyone else but billy is dead #i think the only person who was truly changed was maybe billy?#which makes the whole journey feel so unsatisfying? like things could still have ended the same while still showing them changed? idk

46 notes · View notes

bleue-flora · 7 months ago

Text

Why I think c!Dream is Autistic - Part 3

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3]

Alright, you’re gonna want to probably go read part 1 and 2 first, promise they aren’t too long.

Done? Long time no see buddy. :) Good deal. Now finally, the last reason(s) I think Dream is autistic is because of how it fits narratively.

Who better to frame as the villain than someone who is already on the outside, who is already different, weird, a little off, not like everyone else, obsessive, abrasive, and already setting off subconscious red flags of not fitting the norm. There’s a quote that most have probably heard by Andrew Smith that says, “People fear what they don't understand and hate what they can't conquer.” And does that not say it all? Talk about history repeating itself, real history. This truth is the basis of many real wars. And if communicating and thinking differently weren’t enough to garner dislike, sucess and intelligence are another foundation of hate and as I said in part 1, while not true across the board, high IQ is one way they identify people with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). So who better to frame as the villain than an autistic admin infamous for being one of the best Minecraft players.

Of course, I hear you ask - couldn’t you make the same argument for sociopaths/people with ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) are they not also different than most people to garner inherent fear? The answer is: No, not really. Contrary to popular belief, people with ASPD are not the odd balls out but are more likely to be popular and well liked as they lie and manipulate others to get what they want. In other words, there is a more calculated persona/masking in both ASD and ASPD, but while ASD is just trying to fit in, people with ASPD often have an inherent entitlement to the things they want and are trying to gain power and stand above the crowd not in it. In addition, autistic people tend to be honest, to the point of inappropriate or rude because they are straight forward. In the dsmp, Dream’s default isn’t to lie in fact he tells a lot of truth before often being forced to change his answer [clip]. Unlike people with ASPD who lie because they enjoy the power it gives them and to get what they want.

There is of course empathy to be considered when comparing ASD and ASPD as perhaps the main difference between the two and I think there is a lot of evidence that Dream does have empathy. In fact, I think his moral compass is originally one of the strongest before the dsmp slowly wore away the edges. He returns items after wars, fixes creeper holes and destroyed property, helps people mine or gather materials, fights for the side of who was wronged first, constantly gives out food to feed people… etc. He does a lot of caring things he doesn’t have too. That give him no real advantage, but often even end up putting him in a sticky situation. I mean what better example do we need to prove he has empathy than him rebuilding Tubbo’s house [post]. There was no reason or manipulation or obligation to do that, he did it because he saw that Tubbo was upset. I mean I’ve said it before that we can’t truly prove whether someone does or doesn’t has empathy, but we can look at behavior and I’d argue that his less empathetic acts come much later on his arc and are not consistent across the board like they would be if he truly were a sociopath. Leaving us with the most obvious conclusion then that his logical mind that makes him look like he’s unempathetic and his masking must be because he’s autistic instead, which again aligns well with his high intelligence and obsessive development of skill.

Finally, and perhaps most notably, while a lot of times masking is associated with ADHD it is much more notable and important for an autistic person. Because we are not masking just to cover up our stimming or hyperactivity we are putting on a different face to blend in and be accepted and loved. We are shifting the very parts of ourselves to fit in a circle shaped hole when we’re squares. Which is a skill and habit I don’t find it hard to believe that Dream would use for his villain persona, especially since our (my) masks tend to change too based on environment, whether needing to fit into the family dynamic, student culture or professional world where the social rules change. Which is exactly what we see from Dream as his mask changes depending on who he’s with whether that be Tommy, a large audience, Wilbur, his friends, The Warden, Quackity, Badboyhalo, Techno… etc.

In other words, how fitting would it be if a character with the disorder infamous for masking had a literal mask. One that he literally had to take off to discover who he was all along. What better example of the dsmp main theme of seeing things from other peoples point of view to gain understanding, than the extreme case of that. What better picture of communication issues than a disorder infamous for social struggle. Like not only does it fit so very well with Dream’s character, not only does it make sense with the symbolism of his mask, and the narrative, but it fits the overall arching dsmp story too, because by being autistic Dream is kind of like the ultimate version of the theme and for him to be a main front runner of the story just truly drives the point home in a beautiful and important manner.

#Hope it makes sense and that my points came across like I said I’ve been pretty nervous about this but I feel pretty strongly on this #not as a head canon but as object fact because in so many ways it makes sense #dreblr #c!dream #dream smp #autistic c!dream #I don’t think it’s just me projecting but something that fit the story so very well… it makes a lot of his actions and the actions of other #finally make sense while also being a beautiful example of how we need to consider not just each others pov and motivations but ways of #thinking. too often he assume we get it and we don’t and the moment we start to hear eachother out and assume others have good intentions #the better and stronger our relationships can be…#dsmp #dsmpblr #no one does it like c!dream #did someone order an essay?#you did and I hope you read and it met your expectations:) <3 #autism #dsmp headcanon #and not to being real work into it but ccdream did say in an interview that he’s probably autistic and since he was a method actor it would #make all the more sense for his c to be as well… after all how can be create a character who thinks a different way?…#And if Dream is autistic damn what kinda of picture does that paint of the rest of the server… just saying… ;)

25 notes · View notes