#last thought. since it's on my mind. i will try and post my own art here more often someday. ..maybe .w.' been so busy hhh

[sketchydesign78]

✨ A wild Stickmintober 2024 list appeared! ✨

Not sure if anyone here was thinking of doing Stickmintober this year, but just in case any of you were looking for a list here's one ^^

[pixelguzzler]

If you’re fine with it, do you mind showing us your oldest hybrid pixel art?

Absolutely! I thought for a bit that it was my first post here—"you said you'd be here thirty minutes ago"—but it's actually this one. This one was a lot more experimental for me, I actually didn't post it as widely as I do most of my art now. There's a lot that's certainly different about it than how I go about art now, I've made a lot of progress and changes in the last three months since I made this. I settled in on a design for my sona, which included anatomy closer to my own (and more realistic), my eyebrow scar, my glasses, hair etc. Honestly I'm kind of shy about any art that's more than, like, two weeks old. I'm always trying to make art that's better than what I made last, always trying to learn new techniques and stuff, so two weeks from now what I'm making now will seem dated to me. Plus at this point I hadn't really settled on a style—not just like, pixel or mixed media art, but style of anatomy, expressions, hairstyles etc. My first sona piece was much more cartoonish. My second was more anime inspired. My current feels more "me". Closer to home.

[ramp-it-up]

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

Read Peach VII

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: thank you so much for all of the love and support for fourteen entire parts of this story ! hugs and kisses, xoxo <<prev >>next

Nervously biting your lip, you waited for the phone to answer your call. The wrinkled napkin was even more wrinkled and you hoped that the slightly smudged numbers were accurate to the ones that you have digitally imputed.

A man picks up the phone, asking who this person is calling him for.

"Hi. Can I speak to John?" you say, trying to rid your voice of any type of nervousness.

"This is he. Wait.. I know this voice... Let me think, don't say it. I will get it right....Y/N? Right?" he says.

You chuckle and confirm. He asks you how you've been. Fall is starting soon and your schedule was clear enough to give him a phone call.

"So, I'm really glad that you called. I really think I should introduce you to somebody that you will go crazy for." he explains.

"Mhm." you say as he then continues after he hears your acknowledgment.

"I think you both will go crazy for each other actually. Both of your minds seem to be a lot alike. I showed him your work and he found the other work that you have posted, he like went crazy." he says and chuckles as you join in.

"So. Have you been to New York before?" he asks.

"Never." you say almost in shock. That was the very place you would love to go. Art seemed endless there.

"All I need is for you to tell me you would like to visit and a ticket will be in your email inbox before the leaves touch the ground." he says and you take a moment to think.

Paul wasn't there at the moment, making his rounds with Sam.

"Yes, I would love to but-"

"Good! I'll uh.. keep in touch and I'll see you soon." he says, his voice being much lighter since you somewhat accepted such an offer. He saw so much potential and wanted to introduce you into a deeper world.

The line goes dead as you rack your brain of how this conversation could go.

As the fork clinked against the plate, Paul chuckled to himself as he swallowed his food. He finally takes his eyes that were on his plate and directs them to your pupils.

"You must have to either tell me something or you want something."

You playfully roll your eyes, "If I want something, you know what I would do." you tell him. He gives you a look that makes you blush but you quickly recoup yourself before things go too far off track.

"Don't freak out please." you tell him carefully as your held your own fork.

He glanced at the dish that you served him, it was one of his favorites. You barely cooked it because you expressed how tedious it was. He thought you found the lost time.

"I wont freak out if its bad." he decides.

Knowing you're not going to get the promise you wanted, you nod as you just let the words roll off of your tongue.

"I'm going to New York soon."

"When?" he says immediately back.

"Soon, before the fall."

Smiling a bit but no intent of humor, he is a bit taken aback.

"That's... very close." he says.

"I just found out today while you were gone." you say defensively.

He doesn't say much as he furrows his eyebrows and looks back down at his plate. He's thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" you softly ask as you place a touch on his hand.

"Nothing."

"Liar." you say in a hushed tone.

"How long are you going to be gone?" he asks.

You slowly shrug, feeling a bit shameful for not knowing the definite answer. You felt it was a bit childish.

"And you accepted- wait. Who is in New York again?" he then asks.

"The guy who bought my painting." you explain.

"Oh." he drags out as he scrapes the last remainder of food that was on his plate, bringing it to his mouth, saying it as if he pieced the final piece to a puzzle.

"Do you think Sam will let you go?" you ask as you fold a napkin, over creasing it.

"Sure he would. If hell froze over." he answers.

"Plus, you don't know how long you're going to be gone." he says with his hands out.

Looking down, "I don't know, I thought you would think this is a good opportunity for me." you voice out.

"Y/N, it is. There's just no way in hell he's going to let me go miles and miles away from La Push for god knows how long." he says, if you didn't pay attention, you would’ve missed that there was a hint of somberness in his voice.

Getting up from your seat, his head is now in your arms as you hold it against your stomach. "I really wish you could come."

He doesn't say anything for some time but his arm fits snug around your waist. Once you are about to let him go, he surprises you with, "You're going far. I know I can't go. Can you at least ask someone to go with you?"

You intake a breath for a response but he adds in, "I would feel better knowing someone is going with you at least."

"I can see but..." you say giving him a knowing look. Sam admitted to checking up on Emily while doing errands. It was comical to think they would be able to handle being without each other for long.

He laughs a little, "I know."

"The idea of someone being with me doesn't sound bad, you know. You have to promise me to come with me the next time I go back." you tell him.

He leans up as you lean down, "Deal." he agrees. Instead of shaking on it, you both touch lips on it.

Another day came around as you woke up in bed alone. Covers were tucked tight with you, Paul didn't want you to be cold due to your lack of clothing. The weather was starting to show signs of change. The summer wave is blending into an end. You really had to wear a jacket for temperature purposes and not by fashionable choice.

Sliding it on, you closed the front door as you made you way to return the rest of your checked out books to the local library. You brought the almost finished Wuthering Heights, texting Bella since it was a public place.

"I'm at the library. I wanted to give you something."

You weren't a heartless person. It kind of made you feel bad as you read previous missed texts from Bella, asking you if you can talk on the phone or if you were free.

You tried your best to give Paul the stress free mentality of not dealing with her. Knowing the danger that she was constantly around, you were a bit scared of it rubbing off on you.

She immediately texts back. Not hearing from you in a long time, made her not want to miss an interaction with you.

"Okay. I'm omw"

You waited as you looked around. She didn't take long before she pushes open the clear entry door and have her chocolate eyes searching for yours.

What surprised you was the hug that she gave you. She pulls back with a nervous chuckle, "I'm sorry. I haven't heard from you in a while, that's all."

"Yeah." you say bringing a nervous chuckle of your own. You extend the book in her direction as she softly smiles.

Her smile fades as she notices that you haven't finished it. She echoes her observation.

"You haven't finished it."

"I know. I'm going out of town and I don't want to lose it or anything." you explain.

She vocalizes two tisks as she looks back at the returned book, "Y/N, give it back to me when you’ve actually read the entire thing."

"I don't even know when I'm coming back." you say, bringing your shoulders up a bit.

Her eyebrows furrow a bit, "Did you change your mind? Are you leaving for college?"

You shake your head, "The power of art."

She smiles again, "That's good. I'm happy for you."

"At least keep it until I get back." you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

"No way. You might need it for the trip going there. Wait, where are you going?"

You hesitated as you thought of her immortal boyfriend finding out.

"Y/N?" she asks again when she doesn't get an answer, but cautiously.

She didn't have to know the exact city or place. Just the state.

Her eyes grow big, "Wow. That's awesome. I've never been."

"Really?" you ask her as you both walk out of the library.

As much as her mother moved around, you were surprised.

"Yeah." she says as a lock of hair moved with her fingers to rest behind her ear.

As you walk her to her truck, she then says, "I'm sure Paul is going to miss you like crazy."

"Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

You hear her sigh as you watch her open a cab door.

"What's wrong?' you ask.

She takes a moment, before continuing, "Do you think.. Never mind." she says.

"What? What is it?" you press on.

"I mean.. It would be nice if I got to get away like you. I really don't want to spend my birthday here. Then, you’re leaving." she says with gloom as she looks around.

"But, you get to spend it with Edward. Besides, I'm sure it's going to be all work with no fun anyhow." you say, trying to shrug it off.

She doesn't say anything but you could easily tell she wanted to.

She instead decides to sit in her driver seat.

"I can drop you back off if you want me to." she says, noticing you don't have car keys.

"The air feels good today."

"Y/N, get in." she says.

Your heart thuds almost out of your chest at the thought of her finding out where you and Paul lived. Afraid of the information she would tell Edward, you decide to play with flipping the script.

"What were you up to? I don't really feel like going home. Paul is out right now." you say as you close the passenger door.

"Doing chores. Fun, huh." she says with dry humor but her eyes still light up.

"Very." you say and both share a series of chuckles.

"Do you want to come over?" she offers. There was hope in her voice. Bella hasn't really made a genuine friend, let alone a human friend, enough to ever ask this question. It felt good to willingly ask this question to someone.

You nod. It was way better than explaining to Paul on why Bella Swan knows where you both live.

Driving on the highway, you both soak in the comfortable silence. For some reason, you felt like you had to get inside of this chick's head.

Sitting crisscrossed on her soft bed, your eyes wander around her bedroom.

You caught sight of the pictures that hung up, kids that definitely went to her school. A picture of her and her father. "Cool mustache" , you thought to yourself. Bella being hugged tightly by Renee as you could feel her carefree nature just by one glance at the picture. A long haired boy next to her was muddy as blush was painted on Bella's cheeks with the boy's arm slung around her shoulder. Taking an extra glance, you notice that she was muddy in the picture as well. A picture that stuck out like a sore thumb out of all of them, was the one with the Cullen boy. If you hadn't seen him in person with her, you would've thought she cut him out of a magazine and glued him next to her.

"So, that's why you were in Seattle." she says as realization hit as you tell her the full story of how this opportunity came about.

You nod your head as she chuckles, "Edward was trying to take me to something fancy, I convinced him to let me eat there."

"Wow." you say.

You then change the subject, “What was your first impression of Edward?”

“Perfect.” she says with a blush.

“You both met a school?” you ask. She nods.

“What about you?” she ask as she jerks her head a bit.

You shrug as you shyly smile, “I thought he was out of my league to be honest.”

A small laugh comes out of her throat as she says, “No, same. I still wonder how Edward finds me interesting.”

“Come on, it’s easy. You’re a pretty girl with a…Pretty guy to match. I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo.” You say to not let herself feel low standard.

She gives you a look, “He’s my first boyfriend. Plus, guys didn’t look my way. In places like Arizona and California, I’m just another girl.” she explains.

You raise your eyebrows a bit at this. Understanding the rush, “Paul’s mine as well. I guess we’re experiencing relationships for the first time…together.”

A small smile doesn’t leave her face, “Okay, I’m shocked at you. You’re so easy to get along with.”

You shrug.

"I still haven't forgot that you told me you were going to let me peak into your sketchbook."

"I didn't forget." you say you say sweetly and a muffled knock appears at the door.

"I'll be back." she says as she gets up. Not thinking anything of it, you stretch your legs out in her spot until she gets back. Except, she doesn't come back right away.

You move closer to the cracked bedroom door as you hear voices beneath you. Almost being a pro at eavesdropping, you don't let your footsteps touch the ground hard under you as you sit close.

"They're dangerous, Bella." you hear a male voice, almost sounding like bells chiming.

"Well, Y/N's not. She's human. Like me."

"Who's dating someone dangerous, Bella. Who loses their temper faster than we do." the voice says, in that same bell like voice.

It was entrapping, it made you want to hear him speak a long speech, knowing you would never get bored. It was unnatural.

"Edward, that’s not fair. Plus, you won’t even explain why."

"What wouldn't be fair is if something were to happen to you." he says and silence fills the air.

You brace yourself to move, thinking he must've figured out that you're listening in, but luckily, he continues, "I know you're a selfless person, but Alice has been dying to spend more time with you."

Hearing her frustrated and impatient sigh, "Edward, I like spending time with people who have the same interests as me. Being Barbie Bella is tiring." she says.

"I know. You can just talk to her." he says.

"I have. I seriously don't believe for a second that you think she listens."

Silence then trickles into the air again as you give up, not even letting your position be known. It seemed like as soon as you sat on the bed, Bella came back in.

"Who was that?" you ask her.

"Just Edward. Are you hungry? I went shopping this week." she says as if nothing happened.

Wanting to know if your curiosity serves you right, you nod. Following her down the wooden steps, the perfect male is sitting stiffly in the kitchen chair.

Glancing at Bella, she opens her mouth, "Y/N. Edward. Edward, this is Y/N."

It was as if he tried to figure something out, as you kept your eyes on him. You didn't say anything. It reminded you of the look of concentration that he displayed when you saw him and Bella in Seattle.

"Hello." he says politely, but something in his actions felt like he wanted to say more.

"Goodbye." you say and you turn to Bella, "I should get going."

"You just got here. Please." she says, her eyes screaming for you not to go. Her hand even takes the extra length to be placed on your arm as you try to turn on your heels.

Sighing, you hated being in uncomfortable situations. You definitely didn't sign up to be a third wheel.

"I'll just be in the living room." you tell her. She's pleased with this.

"Cool. I can um.. Start dinner for Charlie then." she says with a small smile.

Giving her a tight smile you drop it as your back is faced towards her. Flopping on the couch, you press the buttons on the remote. Not knowing what to put on, you just let Animal Planet run its course. You didn't have to think.

The narrator finishes up the showing of the son of a lion being kicked out of the pride. The melodramatic music begins as the son has no choice but to leave and wander along the edges of established territories.

"They do it. If there's potential competition." the melodic voice speaks out, you jump a bit as you didn't hear him come in the living room. Out of you peripheral vision, you catch a glimpse of him as he sits stiffly on the other end of the couch.

You could still hear Bella tinkering about in the kitchen.

"I would say cool but.." you say as you impatiently wait for the commercial break to end.

"All it is, is nature." he says back.

You take a quick look at him. You wished you didn't. The amber eyes stared back at you with so much focus, it was uncanny.

You look away. You weren't afraid. It was just unnerving. His gaze was both pierce and intense. You weren’t used to something like this since the first time that you met Paul.

“Your eyes.” you just say as you watch the screen advertise paper towels, in a volume that you know only he could hear. You said it with such obvious clarity. The last commercial smoothly transitioned into the next animal’s day in a life.

“What about them.” he says slowly but steadily.

“They’re a bit..” you say and then smirk but shake your head.

“They’re a bit, what?” he pressed on but still coated with detectable persuasion.

“Unusual.” you say square at him and watch as his lips purse a bit at this. His eyebrows wrinkle a bit.

You then take your eyes back to the television screen. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything with Bella right in the kitchen.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks with great curiosity as the animal’s day on the screen is paced slow.

“It’s an unusual thing.” you say as your eyes follow the vibrant colors of the safari scenery but to your surprise he chuckles a bit as he coolly says, “Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

You go silent as you just shrug him off. He then rises as Bella meets him halfway as she entered the room, her face filled with happiness to see him as she forgets her surroundings.

“Never again.” you sigh internally in your head as you rest your knuckle on your cheek as your arm rests on arm of the sofa. It almost felt more intrusive than Sam and Emily.

“I will leave you both be. Your friend is getting bored.” he says with humor but it was also as if he couldn’t wait to have something pinned on you. The smug smile that he tried to hide wasn’t unnoticeable to you. Bella just looked up to him with longing, but Edward held her close with such delicacy. It looked like a hint of a renaissance painting.

You didn’t expect the look of Edward’s face as he caught your eyes, the smugness slowly died down. It was as if he was reading or watching something in your eyes but you feel very unsettled, casting your glance to just Bella.

Bella then catches your eye and has a sign of remembrance as she then takes a shy hold of your hand as she walks you in the direction of the kitchen.

You felt safe in Bella’s grip but Edward’s eyes burned your skin. He literally watched you the entire way.

“Thank you.” you tell Bella as you politely take a baked treat of hers. She wanted you to try her dinner, but your stomach just couldn’t handle the heaviness of the food due to the lasting effects of Edward. A small desert was passable. It would let you buy time to think of responses if needed be.

She passed your welcomes and you both sit confortably at her table.

“He’s gone and I miss him already.” She says as she chuckles and nervously run a hand through her hair, “Is it like that with you and Paul?”

The fact that she acknowledged Edward’s absence, your tense shoulders dropped as you nod. It was true, you did miss him even at that moment.

Thinking of him, shuddered a wave of confidence through you. You were tired of tiptoeing.

“Do you both have a supernatural connection?” you ask.

She blinks as she looks at you with a wave of shock.

“Bella. It’s okay. I know Edward is not really human.” you carefully say as she still try to peddle through the river of denial.

She stutters out, “How? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are so not leaving me here by myself in this world.” you say to her and it shuts her up.

Her face goes even as she then looks down and then around. She shakes her head a bit as she lets out a small breath, “So, is Paul..?”

You didn’t want to deep dive into his abilities with someone who was dating his opposition.

“Something of that sort. But promise me something please.” you say.

She nods.

“Don’t tell Edward that…I know.” you say.

She nods again but speaks, “He can’t read my mind anyway.”

You make a gesture of not knowing what she’s talking about. She makes it crystal clear. You then wondered, what did he see in your mind? It shouldn’t have been too much since you spoke out to him directly, but you just didn’t know for sure yet.

“Lucky you.” you say as she lightens her mood, feeling relaxed and at ease again.

“I feel like it’s good that we’ve met. I mean it’s nice to know someone who’s like me, a human, who just knows what it’s like to keep secrets. Especially, about stuff like this.” she says with great relief.

You give her a smile as she has her feel of gratefulness.

Her hand stayed on the steering wheel as she looked over to you. Not only did common interests overlap with one another, she liked having you around a lot. You felt bad about the idea of completely cutting her off.

“Text me.” she says as you push open her truck door.

“Okay.” you say back as your feet touched the pavement of the beach parking lot.

Sitting on the rocks, your mind wandered free as dusk began to settle in. You call Paul but there’s no answer. He’s still not home by the time you walk back.

You felt a sense of lonesome, the shower that you took didn’t soothe you. Stealing Paul’s pillow, you clutch it close to you as his faint smell of him dance in your nostrils.

It was very dark but there a luminary light that pushed your footsteps forward. Walking towards it, you felt a strong hand try to pull you back but one hand started to multiply. Soon, hands were trying their best to keep you from going into the light that you were walking in.

You woke up with such urgency, you almost didn’t notice Paul smushed into you. Sighing in relief and tracing your hand on his cheek, he stirs in his sleep. As you let your mind play a supercut of your dream, Paul’s eyes slowly but tiredly blinks open as he catches a glimpse of your unsettled demeanor.

Reaching to kiss your jawline, he makes sure that you’re okay.

You nit pick at the breakfast in front of you. Paul watched your movements without saying anything.

“I think I’m going to stay back.” you say to the silent air.

“What?” he says, as if you were crazy. You don’t say anything as you watch your breakfast instead of eating it.

“Look, you don’t have to take someone with you I was just-“ he starts, but you didn't like the way that his eyes showed how he blamed himself, you cut him off.

“It’s not about that. I don’t know. I just feel like….” you say but sigh out as your shoulders hunch a bit.

“What is it?”

“I really want you to be the one to come with me.” you just quietly say.

He takes your hand. “Believe me, I feel the same.” he says.

Your mind goes to thinking again. You really want to tell Paul that Edward has an ability. It scratches at your brain. You wondered if this was something that he knew. But, the millions of questions would come and he’s been trusting you more. If he found out that you were around Edward to know, things would go back to square one.

“I'm so fucking tired.” he comments. You look up and see that he’s telling the truth. The bags under his eyes show proof of his claim.

The hand that he still had in his, rose to up and your lips place a kiss on the back of his.

"Can we trade places?" you say to make him feel a bit better.

"No way. Let your passion be the only thing that stresses you out." he says seriously. He rises as he announces his departure. Crushing you close to him, you gladly drink him in to the point where he had to be the one to unwillingly pull away.

Sitting at the kitchen table, you doodled in your pad to blow off the thoughts in your head. Barely paying attention to the direction of your strokes. It wasn't until you reached for your eraser, is when you look at the small picture that you drew.

The eyes were very familiar and striking. You tear out the page as you crumble it tight and toss it in the trash. All it did was bring out the memories of what those eyes held. A certain face floated in your head so you tried your best to distract yourself.

Calling Emily, you find out that she’s home. You smile at this. Your smile fades when she then drops, "Kim is here."

Retracting your interest, "Okay, well, I guess I will talk to you later."

Hanging up with her, you figure fresh, cool air should help you take your mind off of things.

You walk outside, the wind blowing as you take your time with your steps. Headphones were snug on your ears as you listened closely to the lyrics. The song, you and Paul’s song, came on and soothed you. You both came a long way since then. Your mind travels as you sit on the cliffs.

As you let the piece of charcoal glide in your small booklet, a quote stuck out to you.

“Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

Whatever that means. But what did it mean? Was it just a get back for your comment? The color was unusual. But most of all, you felt frustrated that all you wanted to do was clear your head but your mind kept going back to your interaction with Edward Cullen.

You scribbled frustratedly on the page, cursing for him taking up the space in your mind. It started to slowly turn into bitterness. Even his smug demeanor that he displayed the previous day was even on loop. As badly as you wanted to shake him off, you just couldn’t.

Sliding your headphones off while they were leaking with music, you let out a deep sigh. You definitely weren’t going to stay here and miss out on leaving town.

“Can you please at least come for dinner? I haven’t seen you in so long :) “

You read Emily’s text as you made your way down the cliffs. You were there for a while. Not responding, you just walk to her home.

Opening the door, the aroma of the supper that she cooked, smacked right into you.

Her body soon followed as she hugged you tight. “It’s been so long!” she gushes, happy to see you. Hugging her back, you squeeze her to let her know that you missed her as well.

Sam says hello to you as you touch his shoulder in passing. Moving into the living room, you find Paul sitting on the same sofa as Jared.

Wrapping yourself up with Paul, Jared jokes how a hello to him would be nice.

“Sorry.” you replied with nervous laughter. You didn’t get a chance to talk much after, Paul’s finger guides your face to his as he gets a taste of you.

“The bedroom is that way.” you hear an unpleasant voice suddenly say.

Ignoring it, you didn't even notice Jared telling her silently to stop.

You rise as you take Paul’s hand with you to sit at the eating table next to you.

Thank goodness the conversation was light but you were still silent, besides laughing at Paul’s humorous remarks that he would throw out.

You stood at the sink as laughter was floating out of the living room. Taking the dish out of the soapy water, you began to scrub with a sponge as the headphones softly sang songs in your ears.

With the dishes done, you go into the living room to join everyone.

Your phone drops out of your pocket as you move to sit next to Paul.

Kim moves to pick it up, she steals a discreet look at the notification that came across your screen. This action goes unnoticed as she stretched her phone out to you.

As much as didn’t want to, you mutter out a thanks. Paul moves your body to plop you onto his lap.

“Congratulations, by the way. Paul told us about your upcoming trip.” Jared tells you with a supportive smile. You gladly tell him thanks.

“What trip?” Kim asks. You say nothing as Sam just says, “She’s been a graced a wonderful opportunity.”

“How come no one’s told me?” she questions but the looks that went her way let her know that she couldn’t have been serious.

“Because we didn’t.” Paul impatiently says to get to her to be quiet so he can focus back on the television.

She scoffs a bit as she says, “I’m sure she told Bella Swan all about it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jared asks her. You felt a bit bad that he was feeling irritated. Noticing the slight change in his normal vibrant self, he seemed defeated and had no ounce of optimism left.

“I am. She drops me for some vampire lover. I’m offended.” she explains.

“Kim, if you’re not going to control yourself, you have to go. We’re choosing peace tonight.” Sam tells her.

Kim sits back with her arms folded like an immature child as the only thing that was left to be heard in the room was the action on the television.

You volunteer to fill the popcorn bowl to escape the tension. You missed being over here a lot and you tried your best to not let a certain someone ruin it for you.

You check your notifications and it was a proposition from Bella.

“My birthday is in a few days and was wondering if it could be just us if you’re still here. I don’t want to do anything over the top.”

You type back, seeing indeed that the month of September had arrived.

“I honestly would have to let you know.”

The microwave beeped as you pulled the hot bag out and carefully rip it open. You shuffle out the contents into the bowl and hold it as you make your way back into the living room.

You hand Emily the bowl as you let yourself fall gracefully onto Paul’s lap.

Paul’s hand had a mind of their own as the darkness hid him circling your belly. Leaning back further on him, you thought nothing of it.

His hips did one smooth shift as your body rolled with him, an electrifying feeling, shot through you.

It was a bold move as his hand never leave the spot he had it placed but you sit up a bit, still feeling him beneath you.

You catch a peak at his face when he stares back at you with audaciously.

“I think we’re going to head out. Paul could barely keep his eyes open.” you say as you watch his face slowly turns into a smirk.

“Aw? Already?” Emily asks crestfallen.

You “help” him up with your hand as he rises from his spot.

“You know the time for tomorrow, right?” Sam asks Paul.

Paul stretches his limbs out as he nods.

It was your turn to stretch the limbs of your arms. Your hands were filled with the wrinkled sheets that were tight under your grip.

Paul’s hands caressed the skin of your back as your body rocked back and forth on his sleek stiffness. It scraped deliciously in your insides as your breathe out as name. His grunts were heavy as he then whispered out, “Shittt.”

He pulls back and emptied himself on the sheets as his hand couldn’t catch all of himself.

As you fit a clean sheet on the bed, you speak out with mellowness, “We shouldn’t do it raw anymore.”

He takes a glance at you as he speaks back, “Why? You don’t like how it feels?”

A heated feeling in your cheeks scorched as you smooth out the side that you tucked, “N-no. I mean, I do.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he chuckles a bit as he tosses a pillow onto the bed.

“You almost came in me.” you tell him in a small voice, you both have been intimate many times but talking about sex with him still brought shy, fluttery feelings.

“I always pull out in time.” he says with confidence.

“It only takes one time. And you didn’t …One time.” you say as you remembered the time when you woke up to both of you still intertwined. You’ve never felt so amalgamated with him. As vice as it seemed, it felt so good.

“I can smell when you’re ovulating.” he says casually and lays back on his side of the bed, looking to you to join him.

“I just don’t.. Want any mistakes.” you tell him cautiously as you cover yourself with the large cover.

“Do you want any mistakes, someday?” He asks as he pulls you to snuggle against his warmth.

“I don’t know. At least, not now.” you tell him with gentle shrug. You then look to him to watch his face, which was full of contentment. “What about you?” you ask him.

“To be honest, yeah.” he says and you feel trapped in his gaze as the honest truth shone through. He then reached over to turn the lamp off.

Early the next morning, you decided to take it easy by staying in. It was raining hard and the wet leaves stuck to the sidewalk and the streets.

It’s been a while since you’ve used your good paint and just went to work on a wooden canvas that you forgot you had. Halfway through making the inchoate, rainy, autumn scenery, you’ve decided to give this as a gift to Bella.

After you spread clear varnish onto your work, you decided to check your email.

A subject message stops you dead in your tracks.

The name alone stopped you in your tracks.

ALICE CULLEN

SURPRISE PARTY INVITE !

Not even clicking on it, you scroll. There was just no way you were going that deep.

Clicking on another inbox message, John had sent your ticket. You check the dates and see that you’re going to be gone for an entire week. You’ve also seen that you were leaving two days after Bella’s birthday. Sitting back with your arms crossed, you look at her gift.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Just saw your post about graphic novels that intrigued you and it intrigued me too. Would you mind sharing which graphic novels have you read that you'd recommend or that affected you in interesting ways? Thank you!

When it comes to graphic novels, I tend to prefer the slightly idiosyncratic, and definitely adult. While I did like The Night Eaters, and Something Is Killing the Children (my first experience really dipping my toe in...) I learned very quickly that (a) I can't do anything with even a whiff of YA, and (b) series are not my forte. But that's okay, because this space also has a lot of artists writing and illustrating for adults, really putting the "novel" in "graphic novel."

I've talked before about Junji Ito and Alison Bechdel, so I won't repeat myself---though I do still love Bechdel's work with the unspoken, prickly edges of things; I think very fondly of that weekend I spent reading badly-translated jpegs of Ito's work, the sense of destabilization and disorientation it left me with.

A list of some other works that stand out, in no particular order:

The Third Person, by Emma Grove, which delves into the experience of someone with multiple identities, each with its own relationship to gender. Especially if you're about to read Catriona Ward's The Last House on Needless Street for book club, I think this should be a required pairing.

If you're looking for something that captures the mundane struggle of making a life (similar to Will McPhail’s In.) there are lots of options! I'd recommend Roaming, by Jillian and Mariko Tamaki, or maybe It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth, by Zoe Thorogood. I think Roaming might be stronger as a narrative, but It's Lonely is an imaginal and imaginative chronicle of that struggle to make a life, make art---though it didn't work for me as a narrative, the visuals stand out to me as beautiful, surreal in exactly the way I like.

I liked The Underwater Welder, by Jeff Lemire, for very similar reasons---the bits about a son trying to grapple with the legacy his alcoholic, semi-neglectful father didn't land, but when the narrator dives deep into the bay and encounters an abandoned ghost town where his own used to be? That was haunting.

If you enjoy Bechdel and Grove's work, then Julia Wertz's Impossible People is similarly a delight, and grapples thoughtfully with the narrator's alcoholism; it just didn't quite land for me in the way I wanted it to.

(Is this where I admit that I did like Blink, by Christopher Sebela et al? It's very old school scifi and almost cinematic in its approach, makes very few apologies for it, but the art is so, so divine.)

One of the most idiosyncratic was Paying for It by Chester Brown; an illustrated manifesto about the values of paying for sex, and the lives of the sex workers the narrator encounters. Honestly the most interesting part of this one was the fact that Brown has clearly thought about this subject a lot, and talked to everyone in his life about it. Some of the afterwords aren't from him---they're from his friends, who watched this from the outside, and share their perspective on how Brown has chosen or defends his approach to sex.

The even better news is that there are lots of DIY artists in this space as well! I have my own favorites close to home, plus I bought multiple copies of the Kentucky Route Zero fanzine, and I was lucky enough to snag some of the work offered as part of the Shortbox Comics Fair.

In particular I loved Stevie B.'s Dr. Limos Plays God (I'm a sucker for a clone identity crisis!), Otava Heikkila's Home by the Rotting Sea (which has some very fun Octavia Butler echoes), Narsid's Last Crane (lovely, and quite sad), and also Ver's Sacred Bodies, which has the dubious distinction of making me think "this better not awaken anything in me" for the first time since Crimes of the Future.

All this to say...graphic novels are neat, I enjoy them, but it's a bit like watching a movie with subtitles. I mostly understand what's going on, but I think I'm missing some of the finer shades and nuances that would take my experience to the next level.

[wachtelspinat]

do you have any advice, resources or practices you recommend for making your art more expressive? I adore how you push expressions and body language, and the way it keeps its weight is phenomenal! I wanna learn how to do that, too!

hey thank you so much <3

one of the most important things that i've learned on my way and that i've kept in my mind ever since is what makani states in [this post] sometimes i go into a drawing and just try to construct it bit by bit, only to realize that the eyes don't fit the mouth etc... then i remember to treat it all as ONE expression and (second very important lesson incoming) i erase everything and start anew (i know it feels bad to just delete a sketch of a head (you don't have to delete it right away, you can always just take another layer) but believe me it not only saves you tons of time, you also learn more when you just start over from scratch. the thing i do is as follows, i keep the bad sketch open and try to figure out what i don't like about it, and put extra focus in those areas in the new sketch. like i think the eyes were too dull in the first try? the solution is to draw them open even wider, turn up that expression a nodge, try to "bend" it). i know this sounds exhausting, you might think isn't it easier to just try to fix the first sketch? i thought so too for many years, but believe me, if you don't like it, start a new one. you will always be amazed on how good it can turn out (and, as said before, the benefit of analyzing your own art and trying to figure out what went wrong and fixing it in a new attempt is HUGE.)

third thought on this is "don't be afraid to push the boundaries". like i grew up being a huge ren & stimpy fan as a kid, i love classic cartoons, i love exagerated expressions so much, eyes popping out, sweat drops flying around, over the top visualisation of feelings. that's my shit (pizza tower i'm looking at you). then on the other hand i also love things feeling palpable and real, hence the weird mix of my style i guess... what i want to say is: don't be afraid to push your expressions a bit. not only is it fun, with the right balance it really adds to it all (in regards of body language and facial expressions likewise).

and last but not least, so important: use references. i often take photos of myself doing weird gestures just to see how the mouth or the eyes would look like for a specific expression, how the nose wrinkles, how the shoulder come up when trying to visualize that someone is tense etc etc. use ref, please, not only photos but also drawings, try to figure out how other artists translate certain gestures in their art, how can you stylize this (everything ofc without copying directly from them... like for personal practice everything is cool and chill, but respect the rules of the artist community)

it is hard to pinpoint down how everything we do in our art lives comes down to what we draw at the end of the day, like everything i post, how it looks, is the result of almost 2 decades of drawing with a purpose, but i hope this helps a bit.

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part eight

art by @piaart !!!

author’s note: 18+! mdni! it's been months!! it's scary posting this ahhh!! hope you guys enjoy it, tho ;) part one/two/three/four/five/six/seven. ao3 link.

The floorboard creaks beneath your feet, shifting your weight as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Worn candles are lit along the floor, guiding you to the basement. You’re in Terzo’s foyer but have no memory of driving here, of even entering his house. Something carries you forward, floating to the door that creaks further open the closer you get. Is he down there? Does he need help with something? You try to think, to remember any kind of detail but there’s nothing you can grasp. The door swings open wide now, a red fog beginning to roll across the foyer’s carpet.

Something’s wrong.

A crash comes from down the stairs, discordant piano cords ringing in your ears. You want to run, torn between away and down to see if he was okay. But all you can do is take measured steps, your hand gripping the rail to keep you steady as you descend. There’s a dim red glow in the center of the room, unable to make it out from the ever thickening fog. A jaunty tune fills the room as if to guide you along. It’s becoming clear that Terzo isn’t here — he would have made his half-dressed self known by now. You walk toward the light, your body only allowing calm steps while your heart thunders in your chest.

The tip of your foot hits something and the whole room clears of fog, leaving you in front of a piano. Your heart clenches, a chill traveling up your spine as you take in it’s appearance: painted bright red with intricate wood carved decorations in black. The same as the rotary phone. You reach for it, fingertips drifting along the smooth wood. It’s warm to the touch. You try to will yourself away but you’re stuck, your feet glued to the floor and your eyes unable to look at anything else.

Your breath catches as your fingers drift down to the keyboard cover, an overwhelming urge to press the keys taking hold. Just has you reach it, it snaps open on it’s own, a claw wrenching from beneath it and catching you by the wrist. A scream rips from your throat, your body finally responding to the danger, lurching back but you’re caught. The tips of the claws are golden, the rest of it scaly and black, burning your skin. It tears into your wrist, blood spilling from the wound as it nearly rips your hand clean off.

“PAPA!” You scream as you wake, lunging forward in your bed. Sheets and blankets are twisted around your limbs, trembling and breathing heavily as you realize where you are.

It was a dream.

The day is a blur. You find yourself unable to focus on one thing for very long until your mind wanders. To him. To your time together. How he touched you. Then your nightmare. How the claw that grabbed you resembled his gloves, the ones he wore when he forced you to drink, when he kissed you so hard that you saw stars. More often than not you find yourself with your head in your hands, wondering how you let yourself get into this mess. You hooked up with your obviously unwell boss.

But you liked him.

You’re really in it now, aren’t you?

“You know, you could have let him know you aren’t interested anymore,” Catherine says pointedly. Your gaze falls to her, eyes wide and your eyebrows raised. Oh, that’s right. You’re out to dinner.

“I… I’m sorry, I really am… I’ll shoot him a text.” You murmur and take out your phone, only to see a message from Terzo. “The last few days have been a blur…” Voice trails off as you open the message.

You've plagued my thoughts since yesterday... I can still taste you on my tongue. Come to me soon, ‘fetta. I need you again.

Your phone drops from your shaky hand.

“Dude, what is going on with you? You’ve looked like a ghost this entire time,” Erica snaps, frustration in her voice but the concern in her eyes is real. Your head falls into your hands, shaking it slowly. No, no — you shouldn’t tell them, should you? Lifting your head, you see the concern in both of their eyes and know you can’t keep it from them.

“I… hooked up with my boss.”

Silence falls over the table. A fry falls out of Catherine’s mouth. It’s unbearable. You feel embarrassed, you want to curl up and disappear into thin air and leave them to have a normal dinner without you.

“Well, are you going to tell us what it was like or are you just going to sit there looking crazy?” Erica finally asks, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. Catherine mirrors her position, both of them waiting with bated breath for you to spill the details. You feel your face heat up but you are actually able to smile.

“He kissed me… on Thursday before the date,” you pause after Catherine gasps, “he thought I was dressed nicely for him. It was… awkward to tell him I was going on a date. There’s been tension this whole time, I think. But the kiss was good. Not to be weird about your brother, but he uh… he’s not a very good kisser.”

“Gross,” Catherine grimaces.

“Sorry. He wasn’t really what I thought he was.”

“I could have told you back. So was… Terzo, right? Was he upset about the date?”

You drum your fingers on the table, thinking on how to answer. There are some things you shouldn’t go into details on. “He wasn’t happy, that’s for sure. Gave me the cold shoulder for most of Friday but… then we made out. And Saturday morning, we…”

Erica looks like she’s going to jump out of her seat, like this is the most exciting thing she’s ever heard. “Oh my god. Is he packing? He was in a band, right? Usually that means… you know.”

“I… I mean… Okay, this doesn’t leave this table.” Your voice drops and the both of them lean in to be able to hear. “We haven’t had sex yet but he fingered me and I thought I was going to lose my mind from how crazy it felt.”

They’re squealing now and you laugh, feeling at ease and normal. Just a chat amongst gals. This is what people do, right? The back of your mind buzzes despite the anxiety that bubbles just below the surface. You’ve made it this far in this new world but tomorrow you were due back to his house for work.

Dinner ends with warm hugs and words of encouragement from your friends — along with playful threats about what they'll do to Terzo if he hurts you. A weak smile spread across your face. Deep down, you know he’s capable of things you don't fully understand.

You drive home in silence. Both hands on your steering wheel, eyes ahead and focused while your mind wanders. Seeing your friends was good for you. A reminder that there’s more to life than just him despite how all encompassing he feels, even when he’s not around.

*****

You let your bag drop to the ground, slinging it from your shoulders as you enter his foyer. Sunlight spills through the stained glass windows, illuminating the room. There’s no fog, no candles burnt all the way down to the floor and no piano music. Nothing like the nightmare you had. You clear your throat and lean over to your bag, unzipping it to pull out your laptop.

Twinkling sounds floats through the floorboards causing you to freeze.

Piano.

The color drains from your face as you drop your bag, your laptop with it. Terzp doesn’t have a piano. The thought repeats in your mind over and over again. You nearly trip over your feet as you make your way to the basement door, open just a smidge. It swings open with ease just as the playing picks up again, light and dainty. Hesitating for a moment at the top of the stairs you recognize the song - Your Mother Should Know. It’s been years since you’ve even thought of it but it’s unmistakable. You half expect to find Terzo in all-white and a tailcoat.

It’s a pleasant thought but you’re expecting the worst. Your nightmare. Is there a creature in the basement? One with scaly, sharp claws? Did it get Terzo?

Your steps quicken, nearly running down the stairs. He has to be here, nothing could ever happen to him, right? Your vision is blurring from how shaken you are, your legs like jelly as you force yourself down until you reach the bottom of the stairs. Your heart nearly stops. The piano that wasn't there before but appeared in your dream, is in the center of the room. Black and red. Shiny. Just like that phone—manifesting out of nowhere, as if conjured. Did you dream of it’s arrival? Are you the one that brought it here?

You must be losing your damn mind.

“‘Fetta?”

Your eyes dart to him, startled by his voice to find him seated at the piano bench. Your breath catches at the sight of him. He slowly stands and he’s in an immaculate white suit adorned with delicate golden details with a matching vest completing the ensemble. He Is. You’ve watched the music video (more than once) but seeing him wear it is a whole new feeling. All he’s missing is the tailcoat. The pristine white fabric seems to make his face paint and mismatched eyes sharper. With a serious look, he moves swiftly toward you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against him in an embrace.

"I was worried you wouldn't come back," he gasps against your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“What?” You manage a chuckle, finally feeling like you can breathe again. “We’ve been flirting through text all weekend.” The piano has already faded from the forefront of your mind, swept up in him and only him.

Terzo’s arms squeeze around you, and he lets out a sigh against your neck. "I thought maybe you'd change your mind," he confesses softly. "That maybe the weekend gave you time to think better of it." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression vulnerable.

You're speechless. All your earlier fears dissolve as you realize he'd been wrestling with the same doubts. Before you can respond, his lips find yours in a tender kiss that quickly deepens with need. His hands slide up to cradle your face as he kisses you like he's been starving for it, like those two nights apart were an eternity. You melt against him, your knees going weak as he steals the air from your lungs. The world narrows until there's nothing but the press of his lips, the warmth of his hands on your face, and the thundering of your heart in your chest. Your eyes slowly open, the piano catching your gaze again.

“Where did this come from?” You whisper against his lips. Terzo leans back but his large, gloved hands stay on your cheeks, thumbs stroking the delicate skin beneath your tired eyes. Both of you shift your gaze to the grand piano.

“It’s a gift… eh, from a former bandmate.” Not exactly a lie. The truth is it appeared in the basement with a thunderous explosion of keys after he avoided the hell phone for a full night. “I like to noodle, you know.” He’s slipped into his charismatic self, lips curled into an easy smile as he presses his forehead to yours.

Concerns about the piano fade and to be honest, it’s impossible to focus on anything other than him when he’s like this. Terzo’s nose brushes against yours, his gaze expectant and intense. You find yourself kissing him this time, your fingers drifting up the golden details of his jacket. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him with a soft rumble that makes you shiver.

You break away reluctantly, breathing hard. "The contractor's coming any minute," you whisper against his lips.

Terzo groans, throwing his head back in dismay. "What are they doing todaaay? Don’t they know that… ehhh, that I’ve spent two lonely evenings without you?” He whines as his lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. You slip free of his grasp and start for the stairs.

"They’re working on the porch, Terzo. Don’t you want a nice swinging bench to lounge on?" You stop midway to let him catch up with you.

"Only if you're there with me," he purrs, stalking behind you. He nearly grabs you again but you manage to wriggle just out of reach. A knock at the door makes you both jump apart, and Terzo lets out another dramatic groan.

"I'm making coffee," he grumbles before hurrying you up the stairs with a playful pat to your backside. Reaching the top, you watch him disappear into the kitchen as you run your trembling fingers through your hair with an unsteady sigh. He’s gotten you a tad worked up. A quiet, more urgent knock jobs your memory of the contractor. You put on your most friendly face despite your rosy cheeks and greet them.

Terzo pushes the button to start the drip as he listens for you. As soon as he hears the front door creak shut he is slinking to the foyer. Your faint voice mingles with the contractor’s, bright and friendly. He holds his breath, taking careful steps until he’s at the stained glass window beside the door. Your figure is blurred through the glass but he still cannot look away, transfixed on you and the way you interact. The last two nights were torture — yes, the both of you texted but he yearned to hear, feel and see you again.

He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, not for a moment.

His hip bumps the entryway table as he tries to get a good view, knocking a few things off of it. Growling, he leans down to clean up only to come face to face with his severed head. Anger sears through him as he snatches up the magazine, his tight grip crinkling the pages. His other hand traces the jagged scar along his neck as bile rises in his throat. The photoshoot had been out of sight out of mind for a while now, his focus solely on you, but just seeing his father and the Cardinals taunting him again sets something alight inside.

“What are you doing?”

Terzo spins around quickly, shoving the magazine back onto the table with a barely contained rage that turns into something else at the sight of you. Your cheeks are rosy just from the look he gave you, your eyes wide and eyebrows raised in surprise. He was caught, so why not confess.

“I like to watch you, mio toppolino,” he purrs, slinking closer to you. “Shouldn’t be much of a surprise at this point, eh?” The suspicion in your expression tickles him. You truly are the cat to his mouse - willing to play the part and continue the game.

You shake your head, trying to focus on work instead of his flirting. "The contractor needs to discuss some details with you about the porch. Something about wood types?" But Terzo is already moving closer, his gloved hands finding your waist.

"Mmm, very important business indeed." He nuzzles against your neck, making you squirm. "But first..." His lips brush your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You manage to wiggle free of him again, convinced that he likes it as much as having you in his arms. "Work first! Then we can... discuss other things."

The rest of the afternoon passes in a pleasant haze. Terzo hovers near you as you work, finding excuses to touch you - a hand on your lower back as he peers at your laptop screen, fingers brushing yours as he hands you coffee. The contractor comes and goes, and you make decent progress on mocking up the renovations you’ll pitch for the guest room.

But every time the piano's melody drifts through your thoughts, unease settles in your stomach. His old bandmate? You've never heard him mention anyone from his music days, not once. The piano seems just as aware of your presence as you are of its. You catch Terzo watching you sometimes, his expression unreadable behind that charming smile. There's something he's not telling you. But as his arms wrap around you from behind and he presses a kiss to your temple, you push the doubts aside. For now.

“Let me play you something, ‘fetta,” he murmurs, “anything you want to hear.”

"Play me something from your past," you say softly, curiosity getting the better of you. "Something you wrote, maybe.” Terzo goes stiff behind you, slowly drawing his lips away from the side of your head. He gives a low hum and starts to walk toward the piano, his shoulders slumped.

“I wasn't much of a writer," he admits, lingering in front of it before gently pressing some keys. "I only wrote one song during my time in the band and even that’s difficult to find. Perhaps for good reason, must not be very good.” Terzo’s eyes flicker to you, the hurt and sadness in them evident. You swallow thickly. This has been a topic of his life that he has avoided speaking to you about. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to not answer questions, diverting your attention to something else.

Terzo sits at the bench, fingers suddenly dance across the keys with practiced confidence, playing a haunting melody that fills the basement. You listen to it carefully, unable to place it after a few moments — even though you’ve listened to his offerings on repeat since viewing the acoustic performance.

“It’s nice, though,” you hum, crossing your arms as you near him. Terzo’s face breaks into a smile, dimpled cheeks and bright eyes looking back at you. It’s impossible not to smile back, not to bask in the light of his attention. You shuffle over to him, practically skipping, and end up hovering by him at the piano. “Did you ever play on stage?”

His lips twitch, eyes darting away from you to focus on the keys in front of him. “Ah, no… no, I did not. My job was to frolic and sing, you know this, mio toppolino,” he says, shifting on the bench as he starts another song: Absolution. You watch his fingers dance across the keys with practiced ease. Terzo’s earlier hesitation seems forgotten as he loses himself in the music, those mismatched eyes half-closed in concentration. The song builds, and you find yourself swaying slightly, entranced by both the music and the man playing it.

His eyes snap open and there's something wild and magnetic in his gaze, filled with such raw desire that it makes your head spin. “I think I would… quite like you kneeling between my legs while I play, ‘fetta.” Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at the suggestion. His fingers continue to dance across the keys as he watches you with dark, hungry eyes. The melody shifts to something slower, more seductive. You recognize it: Cirice.

Knowing how much you enjoy this game, he parts his legs to make space for you as you sink to your knees. Your hands slide up his thighs as you settle between them, his fingers never missing a note. The haunting melody continues to fill the basement as you look up at him through thick lashes. His mismatched eyes are fixed on you as he plays flawlessly from memory.

"Go on… you know what I want," Terzo purrs, his voice barely audible over the piano. Your fingers work at his belt buckle, tugging it free with deliberate slowness, careful with his fancy outfit. His growing arousal is evident beneath his tailored pants, straining against the fabric. You palm him through the material, his fingers stumble on the keys, the melody faltering for just a moment.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve fantasized about this.”

"I've wanted this since my second day working here," you confess between heavy breaths.

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, a delighted grin spreading across his painted face.

"Mhm. I mean, most days you would wander around in a robe which didn’t leave much to the imagination..." You trail off, blushing.

"So was that what made you want to get on your knees for me, ‘fetta?" His tone is playful but his eyes betray genuine curiosity. "My sculpted body? Or was it my devilishly handsome face? My charming personality?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You can't help but laugh at his antics even as heat rises to your cheeks. He’s being ridiculous but it’s this that draws you to him most.

"All of it," you admit with a soft smile. "The way you make me laugh, how dramatic you can be, your confidence... even if half of it is just for show. I like every part of you."

“Does this really appear to be for show?” Terzo’s voice drops dangerously low, his eyes flickering down at his lap.

You glance down pointedly at the obvious bulge straining against his pristine white pants. "No, that definitely seems quite real to me," you say with a teasing smile. His fingertips move to brush along your chin before pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

"Perhaps I should stop talking and let you get back to work, yes?" The way his thumb presses against your lip makes your pulse quicken, and you can't help but dart your tongue out to taste the fabric of his glove. His sharp intake of breath at the action, only fueling your desire to please him. Your hands run over his thighs as you inch closer, settling on his zipper. Unzipping them, he springs free with a rumbling groan. Even his cock is beautiful - thick and elegant like the rest of him.

His breath hitches as you take him into your mouth, the piano melody growing more erratic as you work. Your tongue swirls around his length while your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers. The music stops completely when you take him deeper, replaced by a deep moan. His gloved hand tangles in your hair, guiding your movements as you bob along his length. His other one grips the edge of the piano bench, the wood creaking beneath his fingertips.

You press your tongue to the underside each time you reach the head, then swipe it along the tip, savoring his taste. Your grip on his thighs tightens as you feel him twitch in your mouth. The sounds he makes only fuel your enthusiasm - you're enjoying this as much as he is, thighs pressing tightly together. His gloved fingers tighten in your hair as his hips start to thrust shallowly, unable to control himself any longer. "Dio mio, tesoro..." he pants, his voice strained and desperate. The sound of his pleasure echoes off the basement walls, making you moan around him in response.

His hips buck up sharply, forcing himself deeper into your throat. You gag around him but don't pull back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you take his full length. The sound of your choking only seems to drive him closer to the edge, his moans growing more hoarse. With a final thrust, he spills down your throat with a strangled cry of your name, his body trembling beneath your hands.

You slump forward, resting your forehead against his thigh as you catch your breath. His gloved hand gentles in your hair, stroking soothingly as you both come down from your high. After a moment, he tilts your chin up to look at him, his painted face soft with affection.

A deafening crash behind you makes you yelp, jumping straight into Terzo's arms. The piano keys slam discordantly as something heavy falls against them. Before either of you can react, the basement is plunged into total darkness as the power cuts out with an ominous hum.

"Merda," Terzo hisses, his arms tightening protectively around you.

"What was that?" you whisper against his chest, heart pounding.

"The piano, it's, eh, it’s... very old. Sometimes the pedals stick, the hammers fall." His voice is strained as he speaks, one arm still wrapped around you while the other fumbles in his pocket. "Let's go upstairs, tesoro. No reason to stay down here in the dark."

Before you can protest, he's scooping you up into his arms. You catch a glimpse of his face in the dim light from his phone screen - his jaw is tight, eyes darting around the darkness behind you. You want to ask more questions, to point out that falling hammers don't explain the power outage, but something in his expression makes you hold your tongue. His secrets. He would always have them, wouldn’t he?

There’s been something off about Terzo from the start and you ignored it. You continue to ignore it.

He carries you swiftly up the basement stairs, kicking the door shut behind him with perhaps more force than necessary. You drop from his arms with ease, feet finding the ground to steady yourself. Terzo's hands roam your form possessively, fingers digging into your hips.

"You couldn't possibly leave now, tesoro. I would be all alone in the dark." His voice is playful but there's an edge of desperation beneath it.

A sudden whoosh makes you both jump as the fireplace roars to life, flames leaping high and hot. You stare at it in shock, but Terzo merely glances at the fire before turning back to you, acting as if nothing unusual just happened. The questions bubble up in your throat - about the rotary phone in the guest room, the piano, all the strange occurrences in this house. But would asking push him away? Make him shut down completely?

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil. "I'll figure out dinner, eh? And fix us some drinks." Terzo voice is forced, an underlying unease that he can’t quite hide. There's fear in his eyes. You see it for the first time - raw and unguarded, a flash of genuine terror before he masks it with his usual charm. It makes your stomach twist.

He gives your hips one final squeeze before releasing you.

You feel dizzy. Sinking to your knees on the plush rug, you watch the inexplicably lit flames dance in the fireplace. The heat washes over you but does nothing to warm the chill that's settled in your bones.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Even more thoughts, for you to post if you so choose!

I do love the idea of Shen Yuan having a fancy hair piece with a pin that doubles as a weapon! Just because demon crows don’t have access to spiritual swords doesn’t mean he can’t stab the hell out of you.

For his main weapon, I’m thinking crow demons that can take human form tend to use bows, with the feathers shed by their clan as fletching. (Perhaps demon feathers also grant abilities of some sort to the arrows?)

Looking at the iridescence of crow feathers reminds me of the Chinese tradition of making jewelry with kingfisher feathers. Now I think it would be lovely if the crow demons also had a tradition of fashioning similar jewelry with their own feathers, perhaps treated with solutions and lacquered in a way that brings out even more of their color.

Speaking of colors, while crows aren’t among those birds able to see significant ultraviolet, they are tetrachromats, and thus are able to distinguish colors to a far greater extent than humans. I’m sure his sudden ability to see way more colors than he could in his last life is very perplexing to poor Shen Yuan!

The regular crows acting as an alarm system by cursing and saying spooky nonsense at all unknown visitors is an absolute delight!

I vote that Shen Yuan intentionally never gives them whatever signal that would mark Airplane as a friend, just so they continue to harass the guy every time he comes to visit. 😂

(I’m thinking poor Airplane is trying to set up trade routes for demons, and struggling with the general hostility different types of demons have for one another. Killing interlopers and/or raiding other demons for their stuff is not conductive to trade! It’s no wonder demons lack the arts. Nobody shares anything with anyone, except when giving demon nobles tribute. 😭)

You know, with all the feathers and bird-folks about, the transmigrators probably figure out quill pens. Not sure how big of an improvement they’d be compared to brushes, but they’re at least more like what the transmigrators are used to.

It’d also be funny if all the demon crows and villagers were learning to write simplified Chinese from Shen Yuan, instead of traditional, leading visitors to wonder what the hell is up with this one location’s weird writing system, where half the characters are inexplicably different.

(He probably teaches them traditional too, if only for the sake of reading imported books and things, but simplified is probably faster for personal notes and bookkeeping or the like).

I've always loved when people have weapons in discreet places, so it seemed necessary to dump that onto Shen Yuan because he's the most iconic character ever. Especially CrowYuan as well, it seems like something he'd do just to be safe when it comes to these things - after everything he's read, it's hard not to always be prepared. (Also, a more cheeky reason if I may, imagine Shen Yuan in a sticky situation and he pulls the hair pin out of his hair, now holding a weapon and looking AWESOME as he does it) Also, main weapon as a bow IS MAKING ME LOOOSE MY MIND. Ever since I was little, I've been obsessed with people who use bows (Legolas, Robin Hood, Hawkeye, Kate Bishop, various book characters) and the idea of giving Shen Yuan a bow?? I am dropping to my knees and shaking my fists at the sky. HUZZAAAHH!!! Feathers as fletching is a great idea, almost like a calling card of sorts, as well as a warning. Demon feathers giving certain abilities to arrows is a brilliant idea, such as resilience, poison, increased speeds (useful for high pressure situations where someone has to die before they can be alerted). I'd find it interesting if different demon feathers grant different abilities, and it's almost a norm for these demons to trade feathers! The jewellery idea is absolutely gorgeous and adorable! I was thinking that it could mainly be a crow demon thing, and to have one made for you if you aren't a crow demon is a sign of great trust within the community, a decision that has to be agreed to by at least half of the community! Also, itty bitty angst idea, this jewellery could also be highly sought out because it's gorgeous and its making is entirely a clan secret that is only taught to those within it - so, it's often seen as a spoil of war, a way to brag about a crow demon's death is to wear the jewellery "won" from "battle". Shen Yuan would most definitely be thrown off guard by this wider arrange of colours, often found in the wildest areas of the forest and just staring at everything. At first, he wonders if it's because he's a demon now, but more research (aka, bullying a demon chicken Airplane for answers) shows that it is fact not because he's a demon, but instead because he's a crow. He is both excited that he can see all these colours and fiercely delighted that Airplane can't, because he's a spiteful little shit and I love him. If Airplane comes to visit, he's grown adept to immediately submitting to the harassment of the crows because they soon grow bored of him if they don't get any reaction other than pitiful screaming. (He would highly suffer from trying to set up trade routes as well, lmaooo) OH MY GOD, if Mobei Jun ever comes to visit Bing-ge, he would also be immediately attacked by crows and that is funnier than anything else right now in my mind. His stern face immediately becomes one of absolute outrage, but it quickly becomes confusion when Bing-ge says he can't attack them back because "Shen Yuan would never forgive me" On the idea of feathers as quill pens, that would end up being incredibly useful for them! Perhaps the use of certain demon feathers would be better than others if we go by different demon feathers holding different abilities - for instance, let's say crow feathers hold increased speed, that would be helpful for writing because one would merely need to guide the quill and let it do the rest. However, a demon feather that created a poison effect, let's say chicken feathers, would not be the best for writing, which makes certain feathers more valuable than others for different things! Shen Yuan would be a great teacher, because he knows the traditional Chinese - which is useful for things you previously mentioned - but then he would be able to introduce a whole new writing system that makes it easier to write. This would be especially useful for those who may struggle with the traditional Chinese, because then they would still be able to access writing!! {part seven! part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, and part six!}

[opiopal]

(I found this old draft from like, early December! I remember it was a practice at writing dialogue and a bit of angst? I just remember sitting in an art class and typing it out lol, But I decided to clean it up a bit and post! Since I haven’t been posting often and I have about 60 drafts lined up, lowkey I can’t tell if it’s any good or not, since idk if my skills have grown since my wattpad days. I would’ve fully rewritten it, but I knew it would’ve been a pain so I just spell checked and replaced a few sentences.)

•

•

(First scene takes place before lesson 16, second scene is during lesson 16. Also this is just a thing I thought of a while ago)

•CW: description of blood and dead body at the end.•

Mc has been staring at him for a while, hugging onto one of their pillows tightly, completely lost in thought. Mammon had brought them an extra cup of noddles, they had both just gotten back from RAD a while ago so they were reasonably hungry, and he apparently made two “by mistake” and just didn’t wanna waste it.(Mc thought it was a dumb excuse, but didn’t want to mention it and just accepted the food.) Though Mc had finished theirs a while ago, mammon was taking his sweet time, awkwardly staring down at the floor and occasionally flicking his eyes over at the human sitting no less then four feet away from him. It doesn’t cross their mind that he may be acting so awkward due to the fact that they have just been staring at him for the last ten minutes, but how could they really tell? Ever since they had made a pact with him, he’d been so awkward that it made levi look like an extrovert. As the seconds go by he wonders if he should question them, maybe there’s something wrong with them?? Why else would they be staring?? Or maybe there’s something on his face? Is his hair a mess? Is his shirt wrinkled? Why in the three realms won’t they just look away???

“do you like me?”

as they finally break the silence mammon chokes a bit, he coughs as his cheeks almost immediately get red,

“H-wh- I- What?!” “do you like me?” They asked it so casually, as if they were asking him if it were going to rain soon.

“O-of course I don’t!”

“then why do you hang around me?”

“because I HAVE to!”

“even at home?”

“yes!”

“how come?” They set their pillow to the side as they stare at him, he stammers

“I- well- because.. it’s… dangerous for you to be alone!”

Mc tilts their head slightly and furrows their brows, ”do you think your brothers would be a danger to me? Am I not safe here?”

“NO! I mean- uhm- obviously you’re safe here, I just.. you know I need to watch you!”

“but if I’m safe.. then why would you need to?”

“well-“ he pauses, his face somehow gets redder,

Mc smiles and scoots closer to him,

“you wanna know what I think?”

he side eyes them as they slowly start to smile,

“I think we’re friends,”

“PFFTT WHAAAT! NO! No. No we aren’t.”

“I think we are!”

“No” ”yes,” ”no-“ ”yes!” ”no!”

“Then I’ll ask again, How come you hang out with me?”

“I-“ as he pauses again to try and think of an excuse that wouldn’t cause anxiety or worry, he doesn’t want them to believe his brothers would hurt them- but he doesn’t want them to know the painfully obvious truth!!!! mc grins and wraps their arms around one of his,

“we’re frriendss~” they say in a sing songy voice, pressing their cheek against his shoulder. at this point he was so flushed you’d assume someone had came in and slathered red paint all other his face.

a bit of frustration creeps in as he yanks his arm from their grasp, and pulls them in for a tight hug as he avoids eye contact with them. If he can’t deny it, he might as well own it.. right??

“Well. I guess you WOULD want to be friends with the great mammon! It’s only natural!!”

a little surprised, mc giggles and wraps their arms around his torso in return,

“oh yeah, that’s totally it.”

“A- hey! Don’t be gettin all sarcastic!”

They turn their head to look up at him, at this point nearly laying in his lap. They stop giggling for a moment to smile at his face red face, they didn’t really mean to tease him, but he didn’t seem to be taking it to harshly. though still they apologize,

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Though you are a pretty good friend.”

“… really?”

his response surprises the both of them for a second, honestly he didn’t mean to say it, that was just an inside thought that managed to sneak out. He adjusts his arm to support the back of their head as he stares down at them.

“yeah, of course, I think you’re amazing mammon… and you’re doing a fantastic job… keeping me safe, that is.”

• •

That moment almost immediately enters his mind as he stares down at them, pulling their body closer into his chest as their blood slowly begins to soak his arms and lap.

he wasn’t doing a fantastic job. He didn’t. He hasn’t. Why would he let this happen? HOW could he let this happen? He’s holding his human, his mc, as his youngest brother laughs.

He can’t look away, his mind re-memorizing their face, their eyes looked straight ahead with no sign of life, unblinking. He cups their face, shaking them gently, wanting them to do something, anything. To laugh at him being so worried, to make a comment about all the commotion, to mumble something about Lucifer, to blink, to BREATHE, To do ANYTHING. he could feel their warmth fading away, they were so cold. They didn’t deserve to be cold.

His brain was so clouded that he hardly took notice of the door being opened and his brothers arguing coming to a stop, his head finally jerking up when someone spoke their name.

[gotham-daydreams]

Hi hi! It's good to see you back :D

Alternative idea. Artist reader, except more in a traditional sense. I.e. painter, digital artist, etc.

Like imagine a reader who adored making art of people specifically -- they've painted and sketched hundreds of people, except their sketchbooks are only filled with friends and strangers, no family.

And yeah, maybe there's an old sketch of some of the family members before things soured completely, but it's crumpled and torn, and the features are barely recognizable. And when the reader's kidnapped, they're just not having it. They absolutely fucking refuse to pick up a pencil to sketch or paint any of them. Over their dead body. They refuse to associate any of them with art, which is something so personal and important to them. The family don't deserve to be portrayed so intimately after everything they've put the reader through.

And they're petty, too. Like if Damian critiqued one of their pieces they've been working on, they completely ditch it because it's been soured in their eyes now.

Except (and playing off that last post), everyone's growing more and more frustrated, and the reader's not giving even an inch. And suddenly, people start questioning... well, if the reader won't share their art with the family, then what good is it to any of them? You don't wanna paint any of them? Alright, that's fine. They'll just break your arm! It's not like you were using it for anything important anyway. Maybe if you hadn't been so fucking stubborn, none of this would have happened. You brought this upon yourself. This is your fault.

And the reader's just crushed because that's their livelihood gone. I mean, they live to create art, it's the only thing that's kept them sane whilst kidnapped, and now they can't even hold their medium properly.

I can imagine some of the more delusional members of the family convincing themself that it's the user's art that's somehow driving a wedge into their relationship, and thus by removing their ability to create, they're getting rid of the obstacle in their relationship. And some of them are just bitter. Like you won't share this precious key part of your life with them? Fine. Then they'll just take that part away from you so neither of you can have it.

You guys have to stop reading my mind sometimes I swear to god... I didn’t even have Artist!Reader written in my notes yet.. what is this? LMAO

But all jokes aside, I have thought of an Artist!Reader and mixed in with a few other elements since my brains is so weird with ideas that are too similar, and believe me when I say that while it is a similar-ish conflict at the start, it does derail into its own thing- and I'll just say that, well, hurt people, hurt people.

Regardless! Before I spoil and give away too many of my own ideas and what I already have planned for such an idea, I can see that in a way!

Though, don't get me wrong, the family does collectively have a very strong resolve, and as good as they work individually - when they come together, it is truly a sight to behold. The reader will have to be as unwavering as them, and it'll take more than just the reader being unwilling to paint for them specifically for them to even consider physically harming the reader over it - even for the more impulsive members of the family.

However, if such a thing were to happen- depending on who it is... yeah, they'd definitely point the finger at anything but themselves over it. Though, I will also say that some will absolutely own it, and this goes for any reader and just hurting them too.

Like, yeah. They hurt you, but because you weren't listening. You weren't being yourself. You were going to hurt yourself- and they're just stopping you from doing that. They will do it again if you don't stop. So, get with the program, and no one will get hurt, okay?

Because you get what you give, right?

(Good luck trying to break or even sprain any of their arms to throw their point back in their face, its not happening - they've dealt with people twice their size, with powers, and more- and they not only have beat them, but the bat has plans to take care of them should anything happen, even if that is thanks to his paranoia. You'll be lucky enough to even get a lucky shot in no matyer your combat experience prior. It's not happening... not easily, anyway. Not as easily as they can break yours.)

Even then, I think they'd try to just 'temporarily' fracture or break your wrist at most over that, and even then the family member would have to be really pissed off and impulsive - especially to a point where they just won't leave the room to cool off.

I'm not about to say that it'd be 'deserved', but it'd take a lot for the family to even try to do something that they know will take away the reader's ability to do something they love so much. In an Artist!Reader scenario that you described, they'll definitely just try to get what they can - even if they can't get anything for themselves.

Really, I think something that'd make any of them sort of 'snap' like that is if the reader kept doing pieces of other people, and the family member's own jealousy got the best of them in that moment. Be it just the situation and reader's overall attitude n just little things building up, or a small thing the reader said that was just the straw that broke the camels back.

Would they feel bad? Absolutely, but depending on the person, would they lowkey view it as punishment for the reader being so stubborn and adament about not doing even a sketch for them? Most likely, if only a little, and even so they'll keep it to themselves, unless they've got a big mouth or are just that pissed off.

Honestly, I don't know what would push them to do a whole arm - but probably something similar to the OG limb removal post — just them being pushed to an extreme edge after such a long time.

I don't think they'd be that cruel, and if so then only in a fit of anger as that does tend to happen, but genuinely? No. Absolutely not. Maybe jealous because your attention is elsewhere, but to deem it unimportant because the reader isn't doing something on them? I don’t really think so, but maybe that's because I don't really see the Batfam being those kind of people, even on an off day.

They do enjoy whatever the reader is into as they can see it makes the reader happy, and even if some definitely feel like they should be the reader's biggest source of happiness, comfort, and all of those good things, they will ultimately let it be. If anything, they might find themselves enjoying the things the reader is into for one reason or another.. unless its dangerous or drives them crazy, which.. well, it depends on how you look at things if its easy to do that or not. They're selfish, yes, but I wouldn't say they're so overly sensitive? I'm not totally sure how to word it, but maybe what I mean will show more in the future, haha!

Especially since... well, Chapter 4 isn't going to help, but I'll be real and say that I don't really consider the Not [ ] Series to be my best work, even if I do enjoy it quite a bit. I could definitely do better, but I consider it more of an introduction into what I write, how I write, and things like that so... hopefully that shows in my other projects when i get to them as I finish up this short series!

[bwat5-blog]

No Matter How The World Tries To Break You: Revisiting Vi's Loss

** Spoilers for all of Arcane**

"Vi is such a crap sister"

"Vi let Jinx die"

"All she had to do was move, she refused to listen to Jinx even after everything she did!""

"Jinx is gone because Vi couldn't let Vander go"

**This is sort of a return to one I've already done but with some updated thoughts and more of a complete picture, so if you read my stuff you have probably heard most of this**

In the weeks since the show ended everyone has been sharing their reactions, fan-art and fiction, trading theories and asking questions. It has been truly wonderful to be a part of. And my understanding and appreciation of these characters and their story has only grown thanks to this community.

However, certain things have also persisted. Things that I simply cannot wrap my head around. One of which, is the amount of people suggesting that in that last moment between the sisters and what used to be their father Vi failed. She faltered, "letting her trademark refusal to let go of the past cost her sister her life" (hypothetically)....

They dismiss or disdain her heart and refuse to consider it in their judgement. But to dismiss Vi's heart is, first of all to dismiss a massive part of her story, but it also to dismiss her humanity. And it is the humanity of Arcane that makes this story what it is. And so as I have in bits and pieces across other posts, we are going to take another very quick look at what she has been through, and keeping that in mind, discuss that tragic moment between the former family and why she can't move off of that platform.

A Barebones List of Vi's Suffering: No discussion of blame or right or wrong just what happened.

Age 9-

Witnesses the death of her birth parents and several of their people at the hands of Enforcers

Age 15-

Has spent years living in harsh and dangerous Undercity (think back to the fight with Deckard if you need reminding.. "wanna see how that ends")

Witnesses violent deaths of Mylo, Claggor, and Vander. All after coming so close to saving them and fighting off armed thugs all on her own.

Parted from Powder in way that leaves massive amount of guilt and fear for her little sister's well being

Kidnapped and thrown into prison with out cause

Age 15 to Age 22-

Seven years in Stillwater prison. Abused, assaulted, completely deprived of love and kindness and hope.

Age 22-

Stabbed and beaten by Sevika after being told her sister was Silcos daughter

Narrowly escapes Silco's ambush in her old child hood home, having to bring it down to get away

Reunited with sister to find she is unstable and dangerous, taken from her after barely any time together when Vi is knocked out

Almost killed by sister on same bridge where their parents died. Surrounded by victims of her sisters bombs

See's Zaunite boy killed during she and Jayce's raid on shimmer plant

Almost killed by Sevika again during fight, knocked out and abducted by Jinx after she wins

Her long lost beloved sister who has clearly become someone very different, offers to be who Vi wants her to be if Vi will just murder the innocent woman she has come to have feelings for. Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting at Jinx trying desperately to keep them both safe, sees Caitlyn violently knocked out, is then almost killed by Silco before Jinx saves her, but kills Caitlyn's mother.

She is willing to hunt Jinx down, but Caitlyn asks her to wear the uniform of the people who killed her parents

Survives the memorial attack in which Caitlyn was almost killed as well.

Agrees to become an Enforcer: Compromises her principles, doing violence in the streets of her home. Readies herself to kill her sister.

Realizes after giving up on and almost killing her sister that she IS still in there.

The woman she loves, who she put on the uniform for, tells her she is no different than her sister, hits her, and leaves her.

Age 23-

Spends several months totally alone in self-destructive spiral in which she has given up

Gets Vander back but he is in mutated form

Loses Vander in extremely violent fashion only a short time later

Loses Isha violently

Almost killed by explosion saving Jinx's life

Left behind by Jinx after going to free her

Fights in terrible battle in which for just one example of the death she saw Lorris riddled with arrows

Okay. that brings us back to the incident in question. Now, I don't know about all of you. But I read that list, and then look at the twenty-three year old woman trying to hard to protect the people she loves, and my heart breaks for her. That amount of trauma and loss is staggering. So when Violet stands over the prone body of what was once her father, she doesn't respond to jinx calling about the platform failing. She doesn't speak... she doesn't respond.... her whole world is centered around Vander's prone form, and when she falls to her knees we see what she is seeing.

Her father, the man who raised them when Felicia and Connal were killed. She sees the night he died in her arms the first time. When she was only fifteen... It has come be my belief, that Vi was experiencing what is sometimes called a "Dissociative Flashback" related to PTSD born of the horrific life she has lived.

** DISCLAIMER: I AM IN NO WAY A MEDICAL HEALTH PROFFESIONAL. THESE ARE THE OBSERVATIONS OF A FAN BASED ON RESEARCH AND BELIEF ONLY***

At the very basic layman's level, (because that's all I understand anyway) all of this trauma has culminated in a flashback where Vi is not able to process what's going around her, because her mind is locked in that terrible night all those years ago where she lost her entire family. She can't see the platform crumbling, she can't hear her sisters desperate calls. And it's not until what used to be her father tries to kill her, that her mind is ripped back into the present moment. And it's not the Vi we know... it's the Vi we knew. She blocks his first hit, but then.. she doesn't fight. She crawls back confused and afraid, and when she calls his name she sounds for all the world like a young girl who doesn't understand why her father is hurting her. This is a terrible, tragic moment in which we are seeing this incredibly resilient young woman just finally have enough. It's heartbreaking, and it is in that moment when she is more vulnerable than she has ever been, that the little sister she found her way back to saves her life.

As I said it my discussion on Caitlyn earlier tonight, this is not about favorite characters. This is not about liking or disliking Vi's arc either. This is about empathy and understanding. It is about seeing the humanity in this twenty-three year old woman who has been so strong for others her whole life, laid low and needing someone to stand for her. And so to those of you who feel targeted by this post, I am not questioning you for not liking Vi. That is your right. But perhaps if you cannot see the heartbreaking humanity in this moment, you should begin to ask yourself some questions.

Keep standing up for the stories that matter, because that my friends, is how they endure. Thank you for reading, see you all next time.

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: III

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

This is a follow up to Part II

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted. 

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.” 

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night. 

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his. 

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to… 

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned. 

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.” 

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed. 

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire? 

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones. 

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up. 

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?” 

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there. 

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head. 

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning. 

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

[starsofarda]

Ok, since @starshadeemilyart has inspired me, here's a spinoff, or several, of my post about the Finweans + Thingol in the Shire in the Third Age. Also PLS CHECK HER ART, IT'S FEFE FIGHTING LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS!!!!!

Anyway, here's what I have to offer.

It's VERY long, so I am putting this under cut

MAGLOR'S HOBBIT EXTREME MAKEOVER

Well, as seen in my OG post, Maglor gets picked up on the way to Hobbiton. He is wearing shabby black robes and has seaweed in his hair, bc by now he IS the beach cryptid everyone talk about. At least, Hobbits know of him and treat him like we treat fairies.

It is a bit of a surprise for the Hobbits to know that he is technically a prince and lord and whatnot, and they take a good look at him and then at his brothers/father/cousins/uncle/whoever is Thingol and decide that the local cryptid needs a makeover. The Hobbit Way.

So Maglor gets gently bullied into following the Hobbit ladies, who insist that "This is for your own good, Mr. Cryptid, no gentleHobbit wears seaweed in their hair, also what is the last time you had a proper bath?"

They have to find the biggest bathtub ever known to Hobbit, which they do.

It takes the Hobbit ladies a good 5 hours, interlaced with Maglor trying to say "but my ladies, I have male body parts, you surely would be ashamed!" and "you really do not need to extend your kindness to me", to which he gets a "we have seen it all" because they are elderly grandmas who think the Cryptid is their child or something and have had countless kids and grandkids, and also "once again, it is for your own good!".

Well. Maglor comes back all cleaned up and dressed head to toe in Hobbit fashion: white shirt, red vest, navy coat and black trousers, hair neatly tied in a low ponytail (the grandmas had been waiting this moment since the first time they saw Maglor Being a Cryptid).

Feanor has to commend the grandmas, he offers to repair and rebuild everything they need, but he gets shushed with a "it's nothing, we were planning that for years and also you gave the nasty Sackville-Bagginses a run for their money and that's more than enough".

They also polished Maglor's harp properly.

The contrast with the Elvish robes the others are wearing is a bit jarring, but they all agree that it's an upgrade from "Seaweed Elf". They also commend the use of red, which is actually the family color (the Hobbits did not know that, they just thought it would fit him).

Later on Maglor will keep the Hobbit fashion, albeit slightly more adapted to himself and to Elvish customs.

RUSSINGON WEDDING

Yes, I mentioned Russingon Shire wedding and @starshadeemilyart made a brilliant piece on that, pls check it!

Anyway.

Fingon is called "The Valiant" for many reasons, but I am 1000% sure that in this context he is The Valiant for proposing:

Publicly at the Green Dragon

In front of all Elves and Hobbits

In front of his own father Fingolfin

Most importantly in front of Feanor himself.

Yes, Mae said yes. Of course he did, there was a lot of hugging and kissing and crying.

Yes, both Fefe and Golfin wanted to go kinslayer mode on their own offspring, but the assorted cheers from the Hobbits, consequent flower throwing and cousins/siblings joining in shenanigans stopped them.

Well, now the wedding is on. The family starts arguing over EVERYTHING.

From the robes to wear, to the circlets, to the jewelry, to the wedding rings, to the venue, to the food and drinks.

IDK if you have in mind the Reddit posts about the most inane arguments over a wedding. Yep, that's the Finweans.

Russingon NEARLY regret saying anything, plans to just elope are being drawn. That until the happy couple is dragged away from the drama by the Cottons and surrounded by Hobbits who have also dragged Bilbo out of his Hobbit hole for his (granted, very limited) knowledge about Elvish customs.

Mae and Fingon kindly fill in what they remember of their own parents' weddings and indeed the groom&groom's families have to participate somehow.

F&F get threatened on letting THINGOL organize the wedding and they would rather face Morgoth again than let him do ANYTHING for the wedding of their own offspring.

The Hobbits will supply food and drinks and venue, they are adamant about that. And ofc the suits/wedding rings for Russingon. Things are going great.

Curufin gets to build the altar and the decorations together with Feanor, Caranthir is in charge of the budget, Argon, Amras & Amrod are the ones spreading word and invites around the Shire. And ofc EVERYONE is going to show up, it's an (C)EventTM.

Celegorm helps hunting/gathering the beasts for the banquet, Maglor is in charge of the music - he has to be reminded that it is a JOYOUS event tho.

Fingolfin gets dragged away by Thingol and the Gaffer to take care of the flowers. No way they are letting any micromanaging maniac near the happy couple.

I have no idea of what Turgon does, but it's definitely in the "organizing the invitees list and the guestbook" area.

Gandalf supplies the fireworks.

The wedding is a blast, Fefe and Golfin get to bring their sons to the altar. Paladin Took, the Thane, to officiate the wedding.

It's a beautiful spring wedding, at the end of which Russingon get to ride off to their honeymoon into the sunset.

They come back and find a fully built house for them - Curufinwe and Junior had a lot of free time. It's a mix between an Elvish palace and a Hobbit hole. Russingon loves that to bits.

THINGOL AND THE GAFFER

Well. Thingol, amidst the Finwean shenanigans feels a little left out, until he spots the Gaffer tending to his garden. And he gets sad, because he is missing Doriath, he is missing his wife and he is missing everything.

So much loss over a rock.

Well, not even the spite bet done when Feanor fought Lobelia went well. But he knows gardening quite a lot, his wife was a Maia dammit! And the Gaffer is struggling with some sort of invasive species of weed that's killing his roses.

And he's like "my wife was the best, I know a thing or two, may I help?" and the Gaffer is like "yeah sure, I tried everything, the bloody weed keeps appearing, I am out of my wits."

And Thingol manages to draw out whatever power/knowledge he has left and the weed disappears in a couple of weeks. He and the Gaffer bond over gardening and Thingol becomes a lot more chill, but not chill enough to say sorry about the Silmarils.

Thingol loves pipeweed. The gardens in the Shire bloom beautifully and it almost looks like Doriath is there again. He does have to tone it down a few notches to not attract Sauron's servants tho.

Even the Finweans love and appreciate what happened with the gardens. Ofc they would love for him to say sorry about the Silmaril, but that's never gonna happen.

Thingol becomes the (second) best gardener. He lays down his crown for the farmer's hat. Somehow the Gamgees are blessed with everything needed to let nature grow and the strength and resilience needed to last an eternity.

CELEDHEL WEDDING

And well. If the Russingon wedding was not enough to send Feanor and Fingolfin's blood pressures to ungodly levels, now Aredhel and Celegorm arrive in front of them saying that they are getting married.

They both are about to say something when Turgon stands up in all his height and proclaims: "THESE TWO DO NOT NEED YOUR BLESSINGS BECAUSE THEY ALREADY HAVE MINE. i WOULD RATHER HAVE CELEGORM AS IN-LAW, THAN THE WRETCHED ELF WHO DEFILED MY SISTER."

He also adds that maybe having Celegorm as father figure will help Maeglin be less depressed when he gets re-embodied.

The only complaint Celegorm has is that Huan will not be there. When questioned about Huan, he responds that it was the name of his dear dog.

At the word "dog" Old Maggots gets summoned. He is bringing a puppy with him, ofc of the age when puppies can be on their own. He presents the puppy to the Elf. "It ain't magic, or trained yet, but if I lost me dogs I'd be called Mad Maggots! Hope your ladywife loves dogs too!"

And Celegorm looks at the puppy, looks at Old Maggots, picks up the puppy and presents it to Aredhel with teary eyes. "LOOK WE HAVE THE RINGBEARER! I AM ALREADY IN LOVE WITH THIS VERY GOOD BOY!"

And Aredhel looks at them both and sas "aw of course! He's going to be the best boy and ringbearer!"

And they both think it will end there.

Oh how wrong they are. The dog is being named Huan II and Celegorm spends time with him And Aredhel to train him properly, whilst they wait for the second wedding drama to unfold.

Tasks are distributed more or less in the same way as the Russingon wedding, this time however Fingon distracts Maedhros from micromanaging EVERYTHING.

Ofc groom and bride are dressed in Hobbit fashion.

Paladin Took is there to officiate once again.

The banquet however is a RIOT. There is a lot of drinking and dancing, if watching Celegorm and Aredhel stomping happily on the ground can be defined dancing.

It is there that finally Fefe and Golfin find it in their heart to get along. Like, properly get along, no more fighting unless it's petty small stuff and no more insulting each other.

Right before the wedding Namo decides to make Maeglin being re-embodied, he gets picked up by Gandalf, taken to Hobbiton, cue family reunion and being filled with anything happening. At least Maeglin is happy that his mother is actually marrying because she wants to and she is happy.

---

That's what I have so far. I have something cooking for Curufin and Celebrimbor, but I still have to elaborate on that.

[louisoffline]

FINALLY FINISHED THE REF SHEET PLUS OTHER DRAWINGS YAAYYY okay so i had the ref sheet done basically two days ago BUT i wanted to draw some more because my ref sheets look so......just stand there kinda scary so MORE ART !!! also skip if you are seeing this when i say our mcs twin bro......we are so mind connected with the skeleton sweaters my lord when i logged on and saw that both step 2 designs had them..........my goodness..i think we might just be the same person....

I want to try and flesh out relationships and dynamics more i think thats something i kind of struggle with with ocs so..that is what the rest of this post will be backstory, character traits, etc etc if you chose to read i will love you forever

Step 1: Gosh...I love making characters really reeaaallllyyy awkward and that's exactly what Lenae is. Her awkwardness is really just stemming from anxiety or nervousness. Qiu and her's dynamic is so sweet to me I love characters being to nervous to say things and then another saysit for them omg im weak yeah thats so them. Lenae and Tam on the other hand....it's not like Lenae doesn't liker her she knows she means well and is extremely sweet but Lenae just can't understand why she is so loud and energetic all the time, she finds it hard to keep up. She IS the sweetest kid you would ever come across though, she will do anything to see you smile. Her earmuffs are a constant, everyone else may think it's just a comfort thing but it is in fact a noise thing we just don't know that yet guys(undiagnosed autism is craayyy)

Step 2: Still being that same shy, sweet kid while looking emo AND TRANSGENDER?? not for the weak. Still shy and reserved maybe even more so but no one really expects anything else. I think meek is a very good descriptor, they get freaked so so easily like has never had a peaceful day in their life. However, Halloween IS their favorite time of the year, it's an aesthetics thing i guess. If you pass by Lenae in the halls you would probably think that they were on their last few threads of patience by the sour look on their face but no, they could be having the best day of their life with that face on. They found it tiring to keep that placid smile on their face all the time when it wasn't always real. In this stage Lenae has definitely started expierimenting with different art mediums like dabbling in painting, poetry, music, you name it. Qiu and Lenae are still the bestest friends ever(bestest crushes ever???) and it's actually kind of nice to have someone by your side who knows what you're going through with your gender identity struggle and everything. Lenae for sure feels bad for how they treated Tam just because they thought she was a little much, I mean it was kind of hypocritical, so they've been trying to make it up to her by being kind of everyly nice?? oh boy oh boy

Step 3: I really don't know a lot of what I could write for step 3 since like nothing of it is out in the actual game SO were just gonna go like personality kind of wise y'know? I think they've definitely mellowed out AT LEAST A LITTLE...like omg guys they can sometimes order for themselves at restaurants!! They're very opinionated and has a strong stance on what they believe but like not in a mean way they just don't understand why others would think differently. Building on their creative abilities, they probably have plans to go to a college for art or fashion. Or maybe they'll start their own business who knows! It's okay to not have everything planned out anymore, some spontaneity is welcome in their life. Now that they've finally been able to be more open, mainly around friends, they'll say something a little too...unsettling or freaky??? to be normal, it's a little weird to get used to oopsies

AND THATS ALL if you read all of this i appreciate you becasue this has been drafted up on my computer screen for multiple days I just did not know what to say siigghhh yeah i love this kid and I hope you guys do too teehee

[theoraclenextdoor]

pac: your future spouse’s spiritual gifts and abilities

all images from pinterest and google. dividers from @/roseschoices

what spiritual gifts and abilities does your fs possess? take a deep breath, clear your mind if only for a moment, and ask yourself that question. your pile is the one that lights you up inside. please take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. and above all, be kind to yourself and each other.

🚪 p.s. i love feedback and i’m somewhat new to love readings. please pop in my inbox, leave tags or comments with your thoughts!

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O N E (cosmo & wanda)

pile one, your future spouse possesses a clear sense of spiritual and moral right and wrong. their first dealings in this were most likely from their family’s financial background, which was rooted in scarcity and fear of lack. your fs has since shed that belief through hard work and dedication to uncover the universal truth that abundance is free flowing. as universal law is something that resonates within them so deeply, they’re likely an avid reader of various belief systems like confucianism and taoism that insist on a way of life. your future spouse is not someone who interested in organized religion, law, or politics. instead they favour understanding the world as a whole and natural laws that govern it. their clear understanding of right and wrong and their own morals and beliefs will help you uncover what is hidden within you as well. however, your future spouse tends to forget to consider the emotional weight their words may carry, favoring honesty over kindness. in you, they may find that you can be both genuine and honest while being kind at the same time. what a match.

vibes: aquarian moon or aquarius dominant, fire venus, post-modernism, love of the arts and drama, 12h water sign, twin flame energy— you’ll both have to learn something to successfully be together

(five of coins; six of rods; six of blades; justice)

T W O (mulan & shang)

pile two, your future spouse is a master manifester. they are blessed with a charismatic and divine presence that makes other flock to them. they’ve found that what they desire seems to come to them effortlessly, in a stroke of luck or series of “coincidences”. and more than once, they’ve found themselves the centre of attention. they have a strong sense of self, a clear vision of their desires, and express genuine gratitude . this is someone who would likely resonate with the teachings of abraham hicks. your fs spends a lot of time daydreaming and is not attached to material things, instead desiring a comfortable home life and/or dreaming of settling down with “the one”. however, they tend to lose focus as they try to share their gifts in efforts to please everyone. this is because they have that strong sense of family and a desire for harmony within their home life mentioned previously. you are more than aware to the fact that pleasing everyone is not possible and only leads to burn out in the end. perhaps your presence in their life can help them mitigate their desire to give so much of themselves as you teach them that pleasing everyone is not sustainable. how beautiful.

vibes: debilitated ketu, mixologist (mocktails & cocktails), old soul energy, avatar the last airbender specifically the air nomads, dreamer energy, yellow and pink energy

(nine of elixirs; ten of rods; ten of elixirs; judgment)

T H R E E (suki & sokka)

pile three, i get the sense that some of you here are coming from pile two or were leaning towards choosing that one. the cards show that your future spouse’s spiritual gifts lie in their intuition and clairaudience. there’s a dreamlike quality to this pile which strongly hints that they often receive intuitive messages through prophetic dreams or dreams with obvious meaning. because your future spouse does not come from a spiritual background, these dreams and heard messages were often dismissed as a “child’s fantasy” or a vivid imagination. their gift is something most likely passed down from their paternal side, though your future spouse’s home life has not always been easy. despite a difficult childhood, your fs is in touch with their inner child and has since healed their own wounds. as indicated by the king and page of elixirs appearing together in this reading, your future spouse is someone connected to the depths of their inner power, and yet remains sensitive and loving. however, their vivid dreams come with a flip side. your fs is prone to nightmares when they are not in alignment with what they are truly meant for. that is to say, when they are stressed, their vivid dreams reflect that and become vivid nightmares. perhaps encouraging them to keep a private dream journal would help them better feel their way through both through their dreamworld and their waking one. you will find peace in one another.

vibes: prioritizes smelling good, tends to lean towards aquatic scents, “i had a feeling that..”, “this reminds me of a dream i had..”, deja vu, loves naps, mentor/teacher energy

(king of elixirs; the high priestess; page of elixirs; nine of blades rx -> six of elixirs)

F O U R (flynn rider & rapunzel)

pile four, your future spouse isn’t someone who is inherently spiritual. at most, they have a vague, underlying belief in karma. they understand and resonate with phrases like “you reap what you sow” and “what goes around comes around”. but, it feels like they’re still “asleep” to spiritual world as a whole. while its unclear what spiritual gift your future spouse possesses, they are someone of genuine kindness and insane generosity. this is someone who always seems to be in good fortune and is likely reaping the rewards of good work done in a past life. the universe is a close friend of theirs in this lifetime. somehow, your fs is also someone who is not inclined to do something that is not asked of them. whether obliviousness or laziness, this conflicts with their generous nature. as a result, they’re going through a rude awakening right now as the universe is showing them a little tough love to get them back on track. it’s likely that you’ll meet them while they are still in the throes of feeling sorry for themselves. your future spouse is someone you get to educate about your esoteric interests (ex. astrology, tarot, etc) should that be something you’re willing to do. have faith and they’ll find theirs too. how fun!

vibes: liar, liar (1997), being oblivious to signs from universe, a very quiet mind

(six of coins; page of coins; eight of rods; the tower -> eight of elixirs)

F I V E (esmerelda & phoebus)

pile five, your future spouse’s gifts is their intellect, both spiritual and mental, and their own energy. your fs’ inner world is rich and within them are balanced energies of the divine masculine and divine feminine. because of this, they have the tools and resources to solve their own problems and pave their own paths. your fs is patient enough to see a plan through and is guided by inspired action on what steps to take. this is someone who tends to follow their mind over their emotions. they rely on their own validation and are not easily swayed by others’ opinions. however, while shuffling and even interpreting the cards, a sort of ‘scatterbrained’ energy was heavily felt. often, your future spouse lacks focus and struggles with taking the first steps necessary. they have an ingrained aversion to risk, though they have become accustomed to brushing this off as procrastination. this is likely the result of doubt due to a past “failure” and is a lesson they are meant to overcome in this lifetime. perhaps you can impart wisdom from your own experiences on them. there is no such thing as failures, only learning opportunities. what is meant for us will not pass us by. you two make a valiant couple.

vibes: aaron burr, wait for it (hamilton the musical), nick miller, north node in sagittarius, north node in aries, “there is freedom waiting for you, on the breezes of the sky, and you ask "what if i fall?" oh but my darling, what if you fly?” (erin hanson)

(two of rods; strength rx; the fool rx -> three of blades; king of blades)

S I X (wade & ember)

pile six, most of you reading this are empaths and healers. your future spouse was gifted with a spiritual awakening early on in their life. they have a vast understanding of the forces at work in the universe and because of this, their relationship to life and the divine is truly beautiful. they are very attentive to their own inner world. they understand themselves and are at peace with all parts of them, even the parts they can’t understand. this is someone who is very accountable for their own thoughts, beliefs, feelings and actions. and they want to connect with a partner who wants to explore themselves and the world in this way. while this is a gift, it comes with a flip side. your future spouse is prone to overthinking and sometimes gets so caught up in their own desire to understand the universe that they become victims to a sort of “analysis paralysis”. they work try to understand the how and why behind a situation that they often end up missing out on genuine opportunities that are meant to carry them forward. perhaps you can teach them to slow down and trust that what is meant will always find them. you two are the definition lovingkindness.

vibes: red roses, glasses, “last night i realised something”, synchronicities, the friend you always come to advice for, fomo, spider-man comics, leo placements, mtv hoodie, air rising

(the wheel of fortune; queen of coins; the magician rx; queen of elixirs rx)

[eemamminy-art]

I know I'm always complaining about this so just feel free to keep scrolling if you want, but it gets on my nerves so much how people use the tags on art to just say the first thing that comes to mind even if it has nothing to do with the art

Whether it's like "I know this game sucks and has its issues but the characters are so great" Wow, it's almost like I enjoy the game if I drew fanart of it?? But sure. It sucks. Nice art though. Or "I'm so glad X is dead but he was such an interesting character" again, I'm drawing him because I like him. You're happy he's dead and I haven't enjoyed the game as much since he died, cool, thanks for reminding me.

There's also a fun one where people will shit on one half of a ship. "This is cute but he's MINE" is one I've gotten a lot of times over the years, or there's two ships that I like where without fail when I draw them people will talk about wishing harm on one partner. Can't draw cute Leveilleur family art without at least a handful of comments wishing death on Fourchenault or talking about wanting to cuck him or whatever.

There was another time where someone recreated my art exactly in a gpose but replaced one character so that it was their wolship instead. I know there's going to be some degree of projection when people look at art sometimes but it's so disheartening. Tell me why I got more comments on my Jullus/Zenos art of people wishing it was them or their wol instead of Jullus, than comments about the ship or the art itself. Or why I get comments like "I should write this" or "it's just like a scene in my fic" beneath art that is.. quite literally scenes from my fic. There's a few people I can without fail count on making it about their own ship in the replies. On posts where I've shared my headcanons along with art, people have just ignored the art and started talking about their own headcanons. It's tiring.

And like I know that no one is gonna look at an art I drew and magically know all the context or all the thoughts in my head that went into it. I'm not expecting that! It just sucks that people don't think first when they put down tags and just want to complain or talk about something unrelated, or make it about their own ships or whatever else.

The last thing I want to do is discourage people from reblogging, because it's disheartening enough when I can regularly have posts where the note count is like 200+ notes and then I check what those notes are and the reblogs are in single digits. I don't want to scare people away from reblogging. It's so important. Just, please try to keep it on topic oh my god.

If my art reminds you of your own thing, maybe make your own post. Even send me an ask with it?? Idk, like "hey I really liked your hc for X in your art of him, I have Y and Z hcs for him, what do you think?" or "I really like seeing your oc/canon art, I also ship with the same character and here's a little about the dynamic I've made for them" THOSE WOULD BE SO AWESOME TO RECEIVE, I'M SO SERIOUS!! But having it appear under my art in tags, usually with nothing to say about what I've made, doesn't feel good. Like at all.

And bleh just yeah. I woke up to another comment like this, specifically someone being like "I should write more about my oc with this character" underneath an illustration of a scene that's literally from my fic, with no commentary about the art itself, and it just. Really disheartened me because I've been getting this so much lately.