#little notepad finger sketches*

[asherasgayagenda]

falls into ur inbox and splats onto the floor. hi !

noo catches you ! puts you down safely. hi there nept how are you doing? is tthis you

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

me casually thinking about miguel o'hara discovering reader's notebook accidentally left on her desk filled with cutesy drawings of him (hearts and all) and personal entries of what they think of him

perhaps there's a playful confrontation?

hii!! omg this is so cute!! I did change a couple small things, hope that’s okay. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

doodles

Miguel O’hara x fem!reader

wc || 1005

warnings || none, just fluff

part 2 -> doodles

masterlist

Sometimes during meetings at HQ, you were so bored listening to Miguel drone on and on that you'd often draw as a way to kill time. You'd have your mini notepad hidden behind your arm as you doodled onto the page, drawing and sketching whatever was around you. More often than not, Miguel would be a victim of your boredom. You'd doodle angry sketches of him as he stood there talking to the other spiders, scolding them or telling them off for things they've done wrong.

So like any other day, you had your doodle pad on the table hidden behind your bent elbow, drawing little sketches of everyone. Finishing up on Hobie's drawing, you glance over to Peter B, noticing Mayday's cute expression as she mimicked Miguel. 

You quickly sketched her, drawing her hat with locks of curly hair and a toothy grin hidden behind, finishing it by adding little mini hearts around her. You turn to Miguel next to her and doodle a softer sketch of him than you typically would. A little drawing where he is subtly smiling into the fist of his hand as he watches Mayday, a moment where he looks somewhat happy. You scribble away with his sketch, pencil to paper as you capture the unfamiliar expression on his face. You finish the doodle by adding small notes beside his face, little thoughts and entries of your undeclared feelings towards him.

You excuse yourself to the restroom, placing your notepad on your chair, discreetly hiding it as you stand from your seat. You make your way over to the door, mouthing to Miguel, "pee break," with a smile as you walk passed the other spiders. 

Miguel wasn't oblivious to your doodles. He often pays attention to you when you don't even realise it, watching you scribble away in your notepad, clearly disengaged in the meetings as he speaks with you and the other spiders. If anyone, anyone acted as uninterested as you during conversations, he would've lost his temper, but not with you. When you did it, he found it sweet, endearing almost.

You thought you were being discreet with your doodles, believing that you've played Miguel, but like always, he was a few steps ahead. So, as soon as you leave the room, he stalks over to your chair, snatching the book and hiding it under his arm before excusing himself from the room.

He was pacing outside the seminar room, fingers tapping on the cover of your notebook as if he was battling with himself; either sneak a look and betray your trust or leave it be. He knew he couldn't ruin what he had with you, so he decided on the latter.

"What are you doing with that?" you ask, your eyes squint in focus as you walk towards him.

"What is it?" he asks, waving the book at you, his gaze following you as you get closer.

"Give it back,"

"You didn't answer my question," he wryly smiles, his head cocking to the side.

"You didn't answer mine," you say playfully, hiding a smirk.

He stifles a snicker, averting from your gaze. "Can I see?" he asks, his tone genuine as he nods to your pad.

"No,"

"Why?" he grins, extending his arm so it was out of your reach.

"Oh, that's not fair," you jokingly frown, tugging his arm.

"Why can't you show me?"

"They're just crappy doodles," you shrug, partially lying. "Please- it's embarrassing, give it back," 

"Okay," he nods, lowering his arm, raising it again as if to play you. "Why can't I see? Am I in there?" smirking.

Your eyes bug, and you feel the heat rush to your hands, feeling nothing but embarrassment under his attention. He must've sensed your unease because he hands you the book with no objection, avoiding your gaze.

"Thanks," you sheepishly smile, hiding the book under your arm. "They're just sketches of Mayday and Pav and stuff," you say, trying to ease the slight tension. Even though you didn't want him to see, you still felt a little guilty about it. He was only showing his interest, that's all. He wasn't being mean or critical. He just seemed genuinely curious about your drawings.

"I'm sure they're good," he smiles small, nodding towards the door as if it was time to join the rest of the group again. "You don't have to show me. If they're private, I get it," he comforts, dropping the question as he extends a hand.

"You can't be mean about them," you say quietly, pulling out your notepad. "If I show you... you can't be mean about them,"

A smile slowly creeps on his face, his eyes softening at the idea. "Promise," he grins, ushering you to the nearby bench. "I wouldn't dream of it,"

You sit down, and Miguel joins you seconds later, sitting close to you, inches apart. You hand him your work and look away, feeling too embarrassed. 

He's quiet, far too quiet, and it's making you anxious. 

"I told you they're bad," you awkwardly laugh. 

He doesn't say anything. He just smiles, looking over your mini sketches. 

"What uh- what'd you think?" you ask, glancing between him and the page.

"You did these?" he questions, his eyes focused on the paper.  

"Yeah," you coyly smile, chuckling.

"They're amazing. This one- is it meant to be me?" he grins, looking up to find your gaze. He softly laughs, pointing to a sketch in the corner. "Why do I look so angry?" 

"That's how you always look, Miguel," you laugh, playfully nudging his side. 

"Is that why I have... squiggly lines coming from my head?" he grins earnestly, watching the smile widen on your face. "And the frown lines?"

"You were being mean that day," you justify, snickering.

"Oh, really? Huh?"

You were thankful he stopped flicking pages when he did, as there were drawings and notes a few pages over with some thoughts and feelings you weren't yet ready to share, notations of your personal feelings towards Miguel.

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: vincent sees a masterpiece in you.

WARNINGS: None!! :D

COMMENTS: GAHHH SHUT UP OKAY SHUT UP. HE'S SO KIND. i havent played hsi route yet but i am brainrotting a little. also i was inspired by myself because i realized how animated i am and i was immediately like "omg an artists muse" bc WOW all my facial expressions and body language could give an artist a career I MOVE TOO MUCH!!!!

anyway yes he's sweet but i don't really know a lot about him. do vincent kissers even exist!??!?!?!

An artist at heart, he’s accustomed to noticing the beauty of everything around him. From the way your eyes widen when you’re surprised to the way they crinkle when you’re happy, from the way your lips stretch across your face when you smile at him to the way they purse when you pout, from the way you drag your hands down your arms when you’re cold and trail them down your legs when you’re stretching, to the way your fingers position themselves around a pen when you’re scribbling out annotations in a cookbook.

Or maybe, he’s just become accustomed to noticing your beauty.

“Vincent.” you call, “You’re staring.”

He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment and flashes you an awkward smile. His eyes fall to the notepad in front of him, and he ignores the way his cheeks flush a tender pink. It’s a lovely feeling, the pitter-patter of his heart in his chest and the shaky breaths that come with knowing you.

He’s in awe of the artist that sketched you out and brought you to life. He's envious of the paints that colored you in. Vincent wishes there was a part of you for him in your masterpiece, a blank space that only he could fill. He would fill you with blues and yellows and browns, he would paint the night sky in your eyes and sunflowers along your legs. Each petal would be delicately sketched out along the flesh of your thigh, and his paintbrush would travel down your calves as he sculpted the stems. He would worship you like you deserve, treat you with reverence, and treasure you like nobody else could.

“Sunflower.” you whisper, right next to his ear, “Are you alright?”

Vincent snaps out of his trance once again, an easy smile falling across his lips. His chair groans against the floor as he pushes away from the table, staring up at you as you stand in front of him.

“Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.” he says softly, looking up at you through his lashes, “Did you say something?”

“Nothing important.” you smile, like you know exactly what he’s been thinking.

You probably do. Vincent blushes, ducking his head to the side so you can’t see his face.

“Can you come to my room later? After you’re done here?” he asks, reaching out to touch you.

His hands rest on your hips, and you let him pull you closer. Your eyes are full of intrigue, and he knows you'll say yes, but he needs to hear the words from your lips.

“Of course.” you hum, leaning down to his level, “I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”

You kiss his forehead, and his heart stumbles in his chest. Right there, he sees it. He sees you. You’re made up of so many shades of color that belong to everyone you’ve ever met and loved, but right there, on your lips, are swirls of gold and blue.

And as you pull away, he sees sunflowers in your heart.

[skriblee-ksk]

“I checked the drinks… Princes’ outfits are up to code… Grimmy’s with Ryoko right now… I didn’t forget anything, did I?”

“Okay. Ready as I’ll ever be…! Let’s make this ball a success!”

Set to Home Screen: Are you ready? I’ll wait for you, if you need me to.

Home Transition:

1: Woah… The chandeliers are so bright and sparkly… 12 arms from the bottom bowl, which are four more than the one in the Mirror Chamber, but the top… Ah, sorry!

2: Deuce called me Lady Kiyuu earlier, which really made me happy. I would have worn a pretty dress, but these clothes are a lot warmer and comfier. I think I managed to make myself look feminine either way!

3: Kalim’s really enjoying talking to the attendees. He seems to be getting friendly with everyone, including people from RSA! Must be because he’s familiar with hosting parties.

4: So many attractive people are here… I wonder if I’d be bothering them if I said I wanted to take a picture of them…?

Home, after Login: This ball is really fun! If I lean back on this wall and squint, it just looks like a blur of blue, white, and gold. I think it’s nice that there’s a time these schools can merge like this.

Tap Home:

1: I’m excited to vote for the Belle of the Ball! Huh? Oh, no, I never had any intent to participate. I just enjoy seeing pretty people.

2: Ah, what? Oh, I’m just reviewing my notepad to make sure I’m not forgetting any etiquette. I’m doing perfectly well, so far! I reviewed it before I entered too, but just in case, you know?

3: Oh, no, wait, Grim’s gonna devour the entire table of finger foods at this rate. I’ll be right back!

4: I know I’m supposed to be helping the princes out, but I’m not sure if I’m doing a proper job here… Hm? You think I’m doing pretty well? Mm… Hehe, thanks!

5: It’s a little bit harder than usual to catch the attention of the attendees here since there’s so many people… Well, I guess I just have to find better ways to make my presence known!

Glimmering Soirée is a twst fan event hosted by: @starry-night-rose!!

Groovy Lines: Unlocked

Notes and stuff under cut!!

Groovy art coming soon!! maybe. hopefully. i have the sketch done so hopefully i can finish lol. I slightly tried imitating the twst shading style, but idk.

I searched up men’s victorian era clothing and ended w making this design. few obvious design changes in the end (color) result, mostly the gloves.

Here’s the pic without the SR thing! And the sneak peak for the groovy (which i rlly tryharded on so maybe i should’ve listed it as an ssr but whatevs i’ll leave that to my friend + ryoko because ryoko deserves that ssr title)

And tag list for my friend who rlly wanted to be tagged in Kiyuu stuff (if you wanted be added, just tell me!!): @kathxrat-01

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

HIHIHIIHI!!! i luv luv LUVVVV your writing!! you're one of my favorite writers on this app fidhuhgseuhsdfsifj ><

may i request some fluff (or smut; whichever you prefer!) with leon wherein the reader is an artist, and she has this lil notebook filled to the brim with sketches (whether that be normal sketches or... spicy ones) of leon but she hasn't shown leon the notebook BUT he ends up finding it and teasing her??

AND (if you DO write it as smut) WHAT IF READER DREW SOME SKETCHES OF SEX POSITIONS AND LEON USES THOSE POSITIONS WHE THEY HAVE SEX!?!??!?!?!? I'M GOING CRAZY OVER THIS THOUGHT RN DJFHSIDFUHIU

keep up the good work with all the writing you do!! you're an amazing writer, and i hope you have a great day :>

Hello my angels!! Thank you guys again for 400 followers im forever grateful for you guys. i was so fond of this little plot i HAD to write but it’s def not my best. Happy monday <3

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

AFAB Artistic reader x Pre Re4 Leon

Warnings: Leon’s a little tease. Mentions of ripping clothing, couch sex, Leon’s pretty soft in this :)

Word count: 3,050

Meeting Leon was just a lucky coincidence, almost four years ago now. The worst job you swore you’d ever had, but that changed once you met Leon. Instead of typing the files in the computer, your foot tapped against the marble flooring.

“That’s really good.. Do you draw often?”

You slammed your notebook shut, scared your boss had caught you again. Your eyes glanced up to the man peering over the desk, a tight gray t-shirt on and a pair of cargo pants.

“So sorry, sir. Are you here for training?”

Your fingers pressed against the keys of your desktop as you stared up at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like his ego had been beaten down when you didn’t reply to him, nodding his head at you.

“Yeah, um, Kennedy, Leon.”

You wrote his name down on the paper, handing him the small slip with a grin.

———-

She was new, I think. Her hair was pulled into that pretty bun, dazed as ever. Pretty pencil skirt and an off-white long sleeve. Beautiful handwriting, too, Leon’s thumb brushing over the slip in his hand, pulling out his wallet to shove the slip inside.

The next day he hoped you’d be sitting there, looking bored out of your mind. His arm pushed against the heavy glass door; he couldn’t help but smile seeing you at your desk. Why is he smiling?

“Busy day?”

Leon couldn't help but smile as you jumped in your seat, slamming the notebook shut- again. Your little smile tugged at your glossed lips as you held at the pen, scribbling his name.

“Goodbye, Leon.”

Your teasing voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He grabbed the red slip in your hand, dragging the bag off your desk as he walked down the hall again.

——————

For days, even weeks after. Leon would always ensure he showed up early, fascinated by your presence and the way you scribbled his name on the notepad on your desk when he would say something to make you blush.

“Hey, so… remember that sushi restaurant I told you about?”

Leon’s first words as he walks up to the desk, placing his bag on your file as you roll your eyes, nodding up at him as you type something into the computer.

“What about it?”

You ask as you push your rolling chair back, waiting by the printer as it turns on. Your head leans back as you look at him. He looked handsome as ever today. His training was working, that’s for sure, his shoulders being so much broader and his arms becoming so defined with muscle.

“Well, today is my last day of training. Did you want to go out with me as a celebration?”

It wasn’t for celebration; Leon just finally had an excuse to ask you out. Spending almost three months talking to you and getting to know you, yet he has never asked you to dinner. Your face lit up as you rolled back to the computer, stapling the papers together and using it as an excuse to cover the bright red that invaded your cheeks.

“Sure- what time?”

You asked up to him, clearing your throat as your hand rubbed your cheek to make it seem like you weren’t blushing. Cute, Leon thought as his tongue brushed over his bottom lip.

“Seven? I can pick you up.”

Even offering to pick you up? Your heart was in your throat as you nodded shyly, smiling as you wrote your address on a sticky note and handed it to him.

“I’ll be ready.”

You handed him his pass along with the sticky note of your address, his eyes reading over the number over and over before he smiled at you, tapping your desk a few times and walking down the hall as he does every single day.

———-

Why so shaky? The knocking on your door echoed through your living room, your hands brushing through your hair again as you did a small circle in your mirror.

You thanked god you wore heels, quickly glancing through the peephole to see Leon. He made your heart jump just by standing there. You swore he looked you up and down when you opened the door- but this was one-sided. You were so in love with him. Your coworkers make fun of you when you’re on your break, eyes following him from the expansive open training rooms.

Obsession was a strong word- but even you could admit it was getting to the point of obsession. You hoped after he left the facility, you wouldn’t have to see him again, especially since it was his last day, but he just had to ask you to dinner, didn’t he?

“Are you ready?”

Leon asked as he looked around your apartment, scanning all the books on your shelf. You wanted to say yes, but your hand reached up, your eyebrows frowning as you noticed you weren’t wearing the necklace your brother had gotten you.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back.”

He couldn’t help but watch you walk down your hallway, fingers tapping at your sides like at work. Snoopy, maybe. His eyes darted down to the notebook on your coffee table. It’s the one you always have on your desk. Light purple with random stickers all over the front and back. His fingers traced over where your name was carved before he looked down to the hall to check if he was clear to look through it. The first few pages are drawings of the statues at work, the plants, yourself, and your glossy lips. His eyebrows frowned at the empty pages, going on for almost five before he finally saw it. His name was written in your pretty cursive; below was the soft sketch of his face, his handsome smile, and the small indent in his chin. Sketch after sketch of him leaning over your desk with the cheekiest smile.

The next page sketches his lips, his tongue darting out slightly through the corner in one and pressed together in another. Sketches of the way his eyes sparkle next to them.

His slender fingers traced the page looking at the sketches of his arms, some with his knife in his hand, some just holding a water bottle. He peeped his head down the corner of the hallway again, hearing the echo of your voice on the phone. His fingers moved before his eyes as he flipped the page, his cheeks flushing a deep red at the sketches of his hands rubbing up your waist. Now he was paying attention, graphics of his fingers in your mouth, your legs thrown over his shoulders, his head thrown back, and his Adam’s apple more than prominent.

“Leon?”

You stuttered, your heart pounding against your chest. Your breath feels so caught in your throat, your eyes staring at his hands holding the spine of your notebook. You blink into reality, snatching the notebook from him as you firmly have it against your chest.

“Why.. would you go through my things..”

You laughed, embarrassed, as Leon stared at you. His presence was now super overwhelming. He just.. stared at you. Great, now he hates me? He thinks I’m so weird…

“Why’d you just leave it out?”

What? Jesus fucking Christ, what?

“It’s my apartment; what do you mean..”

You laugh bitterly as you push the notebook onto your shelf, your hands slightly shaking.

“I didn’t draw any of that. I left it at work for a few days, so maybe it was stolen or something.”

There we go. Perfect excuse. Leon’s feet shuffled till he was standing beside you, pulling the notebook off the shelf next to you.

“Alright, that’s understandable. If they aren’t yours, you wouldn’t mind me looking through them again.”

Your face flooded with embarrassment. Your back turned to him as your eyes squeezed shut at the sound of him flipping through the pages.

Leon felt his pants grow tighter at the sketch of your pretty folds wrapped around his cock, then the illustrations of just your pussy made his cock grow painfully harder, your eyes shifting between the notebook and the bookshelf. There were pages after pages of just Leon and you, sometimes just Leon, small notes here and there. The last page is a sketch of the two of you hugging and a small note

“Seven, Leon’s sushi place”

Leon, yet again, closed the notebook, laying it on the shelf as you held your arms, sighing at his silence. His hand rubbed your arm softly, taking your hand in his. He rocked behind you, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

“Cmon’ let’s go eat.”

———-

The drive back to your apartment was so silent. Your head spun as you looked out the window, admiring the pretty night sky. Leon’s handheld at your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on your smooth skin. Biting at your nails nervously, your head turns to Leon. Why did he have to be so handsome? Hand gripping the steering wheel, hair perfectly rested against his cheek. The white button-down he wore fit him so perfectly. He believed you, right? You felt guilt in your heart, thinking about how you sat at your desk, legs crossed so close together at the thought of Leon fucking you stupid. It’s not everyday you meet a man like him. You craved him, but you would never tell him that. Leon’s car stopped, your daydreaming stopping as he pulled his keys and shoved them in his pocket. What a gentleman, he opens your door for you, holding his hand out. Your hand grabbed at his as you stepped out, holding your purse to your side as you whispered a small thank you to him as you reached for your keys.

The two of you stopped in front of your door, your heart starting to ache at the thought of never seeing him at work again, all the conversations you guys have had. The silence was uncomfortable now; you looked up at Leon with a slight frown before you reached up and brought him in for a tight hug, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as he hugged you back.

“I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”

You laugh into his shoulder. He laughs back in response as he pulls away from the hug, your hand reaching to unlock your door as he watches you. You step inside your dark apartment, looking at him from the door with a gentle smile still on your face.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

Leon speaks as he watches you stand against the door frame.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Leon.”

The door slams. Why are you going to cry? Is it because he thought you were a massive creep? You held onto the wall as you kicked off your heels, sighing in frustration as you threw your purse to the ground. Your body jumped at the pounding at the door. Though you were taught better, you swung it open. Leon stood his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

“Le-“

Leon pushed his way into your apartment, his perfect hands cradling your face as he smashed his lips into yours. Your feet struggled to keep up with him moving you back into your living room. Where did this come from? His hands hungrily gripped at your hips, your thighs hitting the arm of your couch. Leon's head dipped down your neck, pressing his tongue to the softness of your skin.

“Leon, wait..”

Your eyes flutter open as you reach down, grabbing his face. Leon stared up at you, his breathing labored.

“What happened?”

Your thumb rubbed across his cheek as he stood, pulling you in closer to him.

“You think I don’t want you? Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over this couch after flipping through that notebook?”

He grumbled as he turned you around, pressing his palm up your back as he bent you against the arm of your sofa. Your back arched in response as you looked back at him with red cheeks.

“Every word I've ever said to you makes you blush like that, you know.”

He’s right. But it’s hard not to blush when he compliments your every detail. Leon’s fingers dragged the zipper down your back, his lips following. So much softer than you had imagined. He stood again, tugging at your sleeves, smiling at your bare back. You gasped as you heard a slight tearing, your head flying back to see Leon had ripped your dress. Leon chuckled as the fabric of your dress dropped to the ground, his hands brushing over your hips.

“I’ve always loved watching you grab papers, your hips swaying.”

Leon smirks against your shoulder, his lips pressing against your neck again, your breathing shaky as he sucks at your skin. His pretty lips leave red patches all over your skin that will later be small purple markings that’ll be so prominent. Leon lifts himself, grabbing you to lie on your sofa, smiling down at you as his fingers work at unbuttoning his shirt.

It all felt like a dream, Leon’s shirt dropping to your floor as he tugged his dress pants down his legs. Hypnotized by him, the way his arms flex when he comes to hover over you, his hands holding at your thighs as he drags you further down the couch, his lips pressing against yours again. Leon’s lips ghosted over your skin as he stared at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes roll slightly when his fingers press over your clothed clit, rubbing small circles into you as he licks over your chest, leaving his marks on you there too. Your hips buck into his hand, a laugh coming from his lips as he pulls back, staring down at you as he pushes your panties aside, his fingers slipping into you with ease. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you stare at him.

“So wet.. all for me?”

Leon’s voice was so husky, so different than it usually was; you couldn’t help but let out a moan as his fingers dragged over your walls, your body lifting onto your shoulder as you looked down, your hips tilting up slightly to watch his fingers push in and out of you. The feeling was intoxicating, your head throwing back as he used his other hand to rub at your clit.

“You like watching? Watching how greedy this little pussy is..”

Leon couldn’t help but moan himself as you tightened around his fingers, his eyes staring down at you, sucking in his fingers. He groans as he tugs his boxers down, a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of his fingers no longer filling you. His hands grab at the back of your knees, holding them with one of his larger hands as his other hand grabs ahold of his cock, which was painfully hard. His lips parted slightly as he pressed himself into you, his grip around your leg tightening at the feeling of you squeezing him. He was so thick, so much bigger than what you could handle, a whimper leaving your lips as he pushed himself into you more. His hand drops your legs resting against his waist as he leans over you, grabbing at your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue pressing into your bottom lip as he fully bottoms himself into you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. Leon let out a soft whimper as he leaned up, holding at your thighs as he rocked into you. You looked so beautiful finally lying below him; he had waited for this too fucking long.

“You look so fucking beautiful taking me like this..”

Leon groans down at you as your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling him back down to press his chest against yours as his speed increases. His face comforts your shoulder as your hands grab at his back, your nails scraping at his back as he lifts your hips, the new angle making him hit that perfect spot.

“I- Leon!”

Leon nodded his head as he looked down at you, forehead glistening with his sweat and his hair sticking to his skin.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He knew because you were gripping him so tightly, he was fighting his hardest not to let himself go inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he watched you squirm beneath him, warmth flooding your stomach and your breaths increasing as he pushed his palm into your stomach. Random babbles leave your lips as your arm comes up, covering your face as you cum around him, your walls fluttering against him, causing a loud groan to escape his lips as he pulls himself out of you, moving your hand from your stomach as his cum splatters all over your soft skin.

You two stare at each other, catching your breath. His arms reach forward, moving your arm from your flushed face.

“There you are.”

He mumbles as he kisses you softly, standing up and reaching down to pull up his boxers. He’s gone for almost two minutes, yet you’re still lying on the couch, eyes studying the ceiling.

“You organize your laundry room weirdly.”

Leon’s voice makes you tilt your head, watching him walk back into the living room. He leans over, wiping your stomach with the small rag in his hand, your lips tugging into a smile as you reach forward, touching his face. He peers down at you, smiling back as he helps you sit up, his fingers pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“You want a shower?”

He asks softly as he sits beside you and wraps his arm around you as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“I just want to be with you.”

You mumble, your eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m not leaving anytime soon; I think you’re stuck with me.”

Leon speaks as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly before he stands up, lifting you over his shoulder, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips as he taps the skin of your thighs with a smile.

“Let’s shower. Then you can show me more drawings, yeah?”

[ellieswifie]

︿︿ ੈ[ 🎶 ] ༉‧₊˚✧

thinking about ellie teaching you to play guitar…

blurb

you’d be minding your own business sitting across the room from your girlfriend while she has the guitar in her hands, stroking the strings carelessly. you guys haven’t said much since you sent her a message indicating you were coming over.

you were in your notebook drawling little doodles and sketches of her as she attempted to play the guitar. but you notice something was off about her.

maybe it was the way she didn’t have her joyful smile while she played, or maybe it was the way you weren’t sitting beside her as she played like you usually are.

"hey babe?" you called, causing ellie’s head to quickly dart up to your face. "hmm?"

you smiled at her sudden reaction, placing the notepad on the bed, walking over to where ellie was seated. you stood in front of her, tapping her lap softly.

her head nodded as she placed the instrument on the floor, allowing you to sit on her thigh. you wrapped your arm around the back of her neck when she pulled the guitar back up, resting it on your lap.

ellie held your hands carefully bringing them up to the strings. a cheap giggle left your lips as she spread your fingers on the neck of the instrument.

"i have no idea what i’m doing." you smiled, causing ellie to laugh against your neck.

"let me teach you." she whispered.

and you let her. she held your hands as she moved your fingers from note to note. it didn’t sound perfect, but you felt as if you were getting there.

"i like when you teach me." you muttered as ellie removed the guitar from your guys lap, pulling her full attention on you.

her cheeks heated a bright red when you pressed a soft kiss on her temple. "i like teaching you." ellie smiled, pulling you further down on her lap.

"but i like you more."

[mimisempai]

I'll find you at the end of the road - Chap 3/8

Chapter summary

Through the mysterious mailbox, Crowley and Aziraphale get to know each other and their bond grows stronger...

On Ao3

Rating G -  3764 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5 - Chap 6 - Chap 7 - Last chapter

April 15, 2024 - 7:00 a.m.

Crowley, his heart beating a little faster than usual, approached the mailbox from which the flag was raised.

He opened the flap and unfolded the note with slightly shaking fingers.

Thank you for this lovely gesture. I haven't stopped wearing it since I received it. But how did you know that tartan is one of my favorite things?

You tell me that this connection with me allows you to open up to others and not feel alone, and you ask me if I want to continue this correspondence?

I don't want to stop either! I feel the benefits in my life as much as you do.

I don't know if we'll ever meet, but I want to keep getting to know you and for you to get to know me.

Let me know what you like, what you don't like, what makes you tick, whatever you feel like writing.

Sincerely.

Aziraphale.

Crowley, not realizing he was holding his breath, let out a sigh of relief, tucked the letter in his pocket, and left. He had to get to work before he could write. It was no longer a matter of writing a short note; he wanted to take the time to think before he could answer Aziraphale.

As he walked through the school gates a few hours later, even though he loved his job, for once he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

April 17, 2022

Aziraphale was reading Crowley's latest letter, a steaming cup of tea beside him, sitting in what had become his special Crowley corner, the armchair in front of the bay window.

As for the tartan, I was really acting on a hunch, I saw this scarf and thought you'd like it.

A little more about me: 

I became an astronomy teacher because I've always loved the stars and planets. I lived in a country village as a child and was fascinated by the night sky.

My favorite color is red, although I pretty much only wear black.

My favorite spirit is Talisker and I love spicy food.

Queen is the best band! (I won't accept any arguments to the contrary).

My favorite book is Persuasion by Jane Austen.

I love to drive my old Bentley. 

I'm afraid of fire.

I can't stand cruelty, condescension, and lying, especially people who lie to themselves.

And I hate people who feed bread to ducks (it's not good for them).

I love the lake house.

Aziraphale laughed slightly at the humorous tone of the letter, then finished his tea before fetching his notepad to begin writing his reply.

April 19, 2024

Crowley, sitting cross-legged on his sofa, Harry curled up in a ball on his lap, read the latest letter from Aziraphale.

I love old things, especially old books. In my antique shop, the only thing I refuse to sell are old books. I prefer to keep them for myself.

I love restoring old furniture and objects to their former glory.

I also drive an old car, an old yellow Beetle from 1941.

My favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, but Persuasion is a close second.

I listen to my favorite classical music on an old gramophone, but I also have Queen records. (Which I listen to sometimes and I won't deny that they are the best band).

I like to draw, or rather make sketches that I never finish. 

My favorite drink is sherry and occasionally a good glass of French red wine from Bordeaux. I love sweets more than anything and especially French crêpes.

I also dislike lies, prejudices, and gratuitous meanness - well, just plain meanness.

I also like the lake house. A lot. A lot. (All the more, since it seems to be what made our connection possible.)

As for the ducks, what should I feed them if I see any on the lake? 

How did you come to live at the lake house? 

Crowley reread the letter, folded it, and placed it in the small metal box where he'd put the others before going to bed and thinking about what he'd answer the next day.

April 21, 2022

It was a day of rest, and Aziraphale was still in his bathrobe when he left the house to see if there was any mail. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Crowley had already replied, if the little flag was to be believed. He refused to think about the fact that his heartbeat had quickened for that reason, attributing it to the fact that he'd been walking a little faster than usual.

He took the letter and read it over his breakfast, Harry munching on a lettuce leaf at his feet.

Frozen peas. The ducks love them and it's good for them. 

I rented the lake house after I graduated from university. I needed some space and peace.

It was the strangest place I'd ever seen. 

I couldn't imagine anyone building it. In fact, I couldn't imagine anyone building it and not living in it. I liked the way it seemed to float above the water. I liked the path that led to it. I don't know why, it has a strange, timeless charm.

April 23, 2024

Crowley, during a break between classes, took Aziraphale's answer out of his pocket and read it again.

I now have a bag of frozen peas in my freezer. I'm ready for the ducks. 

Regarding the lake house, I so agree with you.

The fact that you have to walk so much to get to the front door, it's like you have to earn the right to enter the house. Every time I walk up the path, it's like I'm on a quest, and the prize is the right to enter.

I'm sorry, I must sound a little eccentric. 

April 24, 2022

During his lunch break and throughout the day, Aziraphale read and reread the last words from Crowley.

Please don't apologize. Not to me for being who you are. 

You can be eccentric. You can be anything you want.

Aziraphale had always felt different, in both his personal and professional life choices, never accepted by his own family for who he was, so Crowley's words eased some of his inner struggles. 

He couldn't ignore the warm feeling in his chest at this affirmation from someone he'd never met.

There was someone in this world who accepted him for who he was.

You can be anything you want.

A few weeks passed as Crowley and Aziraphale continued their strange correspondence. 

It was late spring now, and yet the wind was blowing strongly on this early morning in London as Crowley walked briskly to the academy. 

As he always did these days, he smiled at the thought of Aziraphale's latest letter, already thinking of what he would write back. 

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he reached for it to answer the call.

Seeing the name on the screen, he said in a cold voice, "Yes?" 

He held back a sigh of annoyance as he listened to his caller and then replied, "Look, this isn't easy for me either. You know... no, I'm not angry that you called. It's just that... I'm sorry, I have to go to work and I..."

He approached the school and didn't want to continue this conversation as more and more students entered.

After listening to the arguments on the other end of the line, he replied firmly, "I don't think that's a good idea. No, Furfur, I'm asking you not to come. Because we need more time... Especially if we want to stay friends. I just don't think we should... Look, I'm on my way to work, so we'll talk. Bye."

Crowley sighed again and shook his head as he walked out the large front door.

"Don't tell me you've lost your motivation already."

Crowley looked up and, meeting Mrs. Tracy's gaze, replied, the smile back on his lips, "Absolutely not."

"That's fortunate. Eric has the flu and we need someone to cover his classes while he's out. Since your resume says you majored in art, I was wondering if..."

"No problem! I'm happy to oblige. Just don't blame me for associating it with astronomy." 

"I'm already happy to have someone, I'm not going to be picky. You can check Eric's schedule with the assistant and then make arrangements. Thank you, Crowley, really. If it weren't for the exams, I wouldn't have asked you."

Crowley replied kindly, his expression open to show her he meant it sincerely, "No worries, really."

On the contrary, he was pleased to see that even though he was the last to arrive, he was trusted.

However, at the end of the week, when he came home with his arms full of groceries, he thought maybe he should have thought before saying yes, because he was literally exhausted. He hadn't realized how much time and energy it would take to do the work of two people.

Luckily, Eric was back at work by Monday. 

But despite his exhaustion, nothing could stop him from going looking for Aziraphale's letter, which must have been waiting for him at the lake house for days.

Less than two hours and a few speeding violations later, he parked in front of the mailbox in a cloud of dust, and a few seconds later, leaning against his car, he eagerly read the letter.

Hello, pen pal. 

It's been a while since you last wrote. 

I hope all is well.

Several words were crossed out before the letter continued in Aziraphale's elegant handwriting.

It's ridiculous, just a few words to write, and it makes me sound like a babbling teenager (if there's such a thing as sound when it comes to a letter).

Well, I'll write it: I MISS YOU

It was obvious that the last words had been written with determination, probably as much for the author as for the recipient.

Crowley felt a strange warmth in his chest. He, too, had missed the correspondence, more, he had missed Aziraphale's words, so he hurried to reply and put the letter in the box before heading home.

Parking the car in front of the mailbox, Aziraphale decided to ignore the butterflies in his stomach when he saw the little flag raised.

He took the letter out of the box, and once he was home and Harry was fed, the antiquarian went to his favorite spot to read it.

It's been a tough week.

I've had to take a sick colleague's classes and have only had the strength to go to bed at night (and feed Harry, of course), and I feel like it's been a century since I've looked at the sky or seen a bloody tree. That's what I miss. The nature that surrounded me at the lake house.

It's not so bad when I'm busy. It's when I have a minute to breathe, to look around, that it seems really hard. 

I wonder what I'm doing here, alone, in this gray city. I miss the trees.

PS: I missed you too. A lot.

June 15, 2022 - 7:00 pm 

Aziraphale left the house with a medium-sized tree and gardening tools in the trailer attached to the Beetle and headed for London.

June 15, 2022 - 8:55 p.m.

Arriving at Crowley's address, in front of the construction site he'd seen the other night with Muriel, Aziraphale parked the Beetle. He took out a shovel, put on the gardening gloves he had in his pocket, and after finding the ideal spot in front of the construction site where Crowley's future home would be, began digging a hole.  With the help of a rope and a lot of sweat, he managed to get the tree into the hole and covered its roots with the soil and potting soil he'd brought.

Half an hour later, at 9:30 p.m., he stood in front of his work with his hands on his hips and said quietly, "I hope this will work."

June 15, 2024 - 9:30 pm

Halfway between the school and his apartment, Crowley saw rain gathering in the sky and began to pick up his pace as he realized he didn't have an umbrella. Suddenly, a rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and as he ran almost the entire distance to his apartment, the rain began to fall.

Of course, he was completely soaked as he ran the last few meters to the front door of the building. He fumbled for his keys, dropped them, and grew increasingly frustrated as the rain poured down on him, when suddenly it stopped. 

Which surprised him because it seemed to be falling everywhere around him except on him.

He looked up.

Above him, the thick green branches of a young tree formed a canopy that swayed in the rain just above Crowley. That tree hadn't been there a second ago, but now it was sheltering him, and Crowley stared at it, mouth agape.

June 15, 2022 - 9:37 p.m.

Aziraphale smiles as he tosses the shovel into the Beetle's trailer before heading home.

June 15, 2024 - 9:37 pm

Crowley, overcome with emotion, smiled broadly and, knowing that only Aziraphale could be responsible for it, whispered to him, though the other man could not hear him, "Thank you, my friend."

Raindrops fell through the green branches, but Crowley didn't care as he danced with joy under the tree, his face turned skyward.

2022 - A few days later

Muriel stood on the small path in front of the lake house and exclaimed, "Wow!"

Aziraphale motioned for them to follow him inside, and Muriel entered, still stunned by the house, before asking, "So this is where you've been hiding?"

Aziraphale smiled back, "Yes. Would you like some tea or something stronger?"

Muriel replied quietly as they looked around, "Tea is perfect."

Aziraphale took two cups from the cupboard, poured the tea and they sat down in the chairs in front of the bay window. 

They talked for a while about the new house, for Muriel, as usual, had a lot of questions and Aziraphale was happy to answer them.

Muriel finished their cup of tea, put it down, and with a more serious expression, they said quietly, "Aziraphale. I didn't just come here to escape my miserable existence in the city. I've come to talk to you about HH and to ask you to come back with us. We need you."

Aziraphale shook his head vigorously, "HH? Sorry, Muriel, but no."

His friend insisted, "But if you talk to her..."

"Forget it, Mother doesn't want me back. I don't want to come back. Everybody's happier now."

Muriel argued anyway, "What about your work? Your work was great. Even she admitted that. Look, I know it's hard, but if you put aside your problems with her..."

"I said forget it," Aziraphale replied, this time in a firm tone before softening, "I'm really sorry, Muriel. It's just that... I like it here. And I like my job at the shop."

Muriel replied gently with a slightly sheepish look, "At least I tried," then after a few seconds they asked with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes, "Are you seeing anyone?"

After a slight hesitation that didn't go unnoticed, Aziraphale shook his head.

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't hesitate."

"Yes, you did."

Aziraphale said in a voice he knew was a little unconvincing, "I... I'm not committed to anyone, okay?"

"Okay," Muriel replied, smiling amusedly before continuing, "I'm just saying you might want to think about the future."

Aziraphale laughed. 

He couldn't stop himself. 

Think about the future.

For God's sake, he was communicating with someone who lived two years in the future.

Muriel looked at him as if he'd gone mad, "What?"

Aziraphale continued to laugh.

"What?"

A few days later, with Crowley's letter open in the passenger seat of his Beetle, Aziraphale drove to Waterloo East Station, near Westminster School. 

He parked, picked up the letter, and got out, heading for the station entrance.

About the same time, two years ago, I lost something. 

At Waterloo East station.

I was taking the train home to my parents and left it on the platform. See if you can find it for me. I won't tell you what it is. 

Then drop it in the mailbox. 

It's your mission if you decide to accept it.

The exact date and time is on the back of the letter.

Aziraphale couldn't resist a challenge, so he found himself searching for an object he knew nothing about. He wandered around the station, scanning the few people who were there. 

He looked for a single man and saw none. Only a few families and an elderly couple. 

He continued his search when suddenly, through the window overlooking the platform, he saw a man with short red hair get up and prepare to board the train.

Aziraphale's heart leapt, he wasn't sure if it was Crowley, but he had this deep intuition that it was, and if it was, oh my God, his pen pal was incredibly handsome. 

Aziraphale hurried through the door to the platform where he was standing and was about to approach him when he stopped abruptly.

The red-haired man was embracing another curly-haired man who had his back to Aziraphale. 

They kissed quickly and embraced again before parting.  

Neither of them noticed that Crowley, for it was undoubtedly Crowley, had left a book on the bench behind them. Aziraphale had seen it, but he didn't dare come any closer and decided to wait and watch, a slight twinge in his heart that he chose to ignore.

A voice over the loudspeaker announced the train's imminent departure.

Crowley gave the other man a sad smile before boarding the train, obviously reluctantly.

The one who appeared to be Crowley's lover didn't move and watched the train pull away until it was completely out of sight. He didn't notice the book. Aziraphale watched him go, and when he was far away, he approached the bench. He looked at the book that Crowley had left behind. It was a well-worn copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion. 

It had definitely been Crowley.

Crowley impatiently made his way to the mailbox, thinking that Aziraphale might already have gone to the station. He was not deterred when he saw the small flag raised.

He opened it, disappointed not to see the book, but only a note. With just one question.

What are you doing on July 1st?

Crowley replied immediately on the same piece of paper, and just as he was about to leave, he heard the characteristic sound of a small flag being raised and returned to the mailbox and opened it. He grabbed the note and unfolded it.

C: I have no plans. Why do you ask?

A: If you remember, the village celebrates summer with fireworks on the lake. 

Would you like to watch them together? 

From the lake house. The fireworks on the lake are wonderful.

C: I know, I used to watch them from the house when I lived there. You're not asking me out, are you?

A: No, no. I just thought it would be nice to do the same thing, that's all.

C: The same, but two years apart.

A: It's better than staying home.

C: Okay. Let's go see the fireworks.

A: See you in 10 days. 

July 1st at 10 p.m. in front of the mailbox.

Aziraphale didn't wait for an answer and walked happily back into the house. Even though he'd denied it, it still felt like a date of sorts. Perhaps Crowley would agree to tell him more about his mysterious companion. 

July 1, 2022/2024 - 10 p.m.

Two years apart, in the same spot, Crowley and Aziraphale sat next to the mailbox. Aziraphale brought one of the chairs from the garden and Crowley brought an old folding camping seat from his car.

They were both armed with notepads and pencils.

The strange, timeless conversation resumed, still punctuated by the little flag going up and down.

C: Did you go to the train station? I never got my book. You're not going to keep it like all your old books, are you?

A: Let me keep it for a while. I want to read it. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you.

Who was the other man at the train station? Was he your boyfriend?

Why didn't you tell me about him?

The way the questions were asked gave Crowley the impression that Aziraphale was jealous, but he didn't want to get the wrong idea.

C: You don't talk to me about your love life either.

A: Because I don't have one. God, I can't believe you didn't tell me you were married.

C: I'm not married, you idiot. We split up when I moved to London.

I'm single now.

The fireworks have just started.

A: They've started here too.

I'm sure yours are better because they're supposed to get better every year. 

C: Probably. Let's enjoy the show.

Then, during the fireworks, the flag didn't move for a while. But the noise did not drown out the sound of their hearts beating in their ears.

Then, as the last bouquet ended and silence fell, the flag suddenly rose, startling Crowley.

A: At the station, when I saw you... I didn't expect... I mean, you didn't tell me you were gorgeous...

Crowley gasped, then blushed at the compliment. He looked around, embarrassed, even though he knew no one was there.

C: That's not fair. 

You've seen me, but I still don't know what you look like.

Aziraphale ran his hand over his face and figured that since it was the night of truth, he might as well go for it.

A: You're right. 

I would like to know what I'll look like in two years. Why don't we meet in the future and you can tell me what you think? 

Crowley thought, then looked at his watch; it was 10:43 p.m. He took a deep breath, suddenly excited and nervous, then wrote quickly.

C: Why don't you call me on July 1, 2024 at 10:45 p.m.?

Just as Crowley was about to raise the flag after dropping the note in the mailbox, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate, nearly knocking him out of his chair.

Heart pounding, without looking at it, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and picked it up, "Hello?"

_________

A damaged author can't write the next chapter... so don't hit me for this cliffhanger...

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[sonder-paradise]

𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 & 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 — 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

◊ characters. mitsuya takashi, gn!reader

◊ wc. 1k

➺ 𝘪𝘮·𝘱𝘶𝘭·𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘫. 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘔𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

Mitsuya doesn’t consider himself impulsive. 

He’s calm, collected, passive even. He thinks through his movements, his actions, everything. He plans and double checks. It's out of habit mostly. Years of being an older brother, a mentor, a designer, have crafted him into a precise and composed person. 

And then you came along. 

“Hey, I’m your new neighbor,” you said with a grin, hand outstretched as you offered him a simple handshake. Mitsuya flashes you that signature smile of his and takes your hand in his. You’re warm. His hands are chilly in comparison. Having been lost in his current project, his hands had grown cold from the open window. 

“Mitsuya Takashi. It’s nice to meet you.” 

And then you smiled and he felt his stomach warp and flip. He wished you wouldn’t let go of his hand just so he could feel your warmth a little longer. 

“You as well. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mitsuya.”

His eyes follow you down the hall. He counts the doors carefully till you reach the first, second, then third—no—fourth door. Mitsuya shuts the door behind him, hand reaching up to settle above his eyes before dragging down to cover his mouth. An exhale leaves him before he heads back to his work area to continue his project. 

He leans back against his chair, rocking against it before glancing out the window. It’s been a while since he moved out of the apartment with his sisters and mother. In moments like these, when it’s quiet and the word seems so distant, he wonders if it’s a good thing. He stares at the light fabric in his hands. Fingers running through it before he looks back at his initial design sketched out on the notepad next to him. 

It didn’t look right. 

It didn’t feel right.  

This sketch had been too rushed, too… 

The word alluded him as he reached over to turn the notepad over. As he did so, the mug of coffee next to it tumbled over and onto the light-colored fabric he had been working on. A string of curses fell from his lips. He immediately went to his feet, wiping down the coffee and eventually assessing the large and visible stain on his newest project. 

It seemed unsalvageable now. He handled the fabric slowly, scanning for any other stains or abnormalities. Eventually, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and grabbing his keys. Maybe a good wash would fix it up. 

The laundry room under his apartment complex was always poorly lit and filled with a puddle or two. He was used to this sort of environment. He used to take Luna and Mana to a laundromat just like this when he was still in high school. There was one other person in the room. Mitsuya blinked a couple times before spotting you leaning against the washer, scrolling on your phone. 

“We meet again,” he said, hand in his pocket while his free one cradled his project. 

You looked up, pulling out one of your ear pieces to look at him. Then a grin sprouted on your face. “Mitsuya, right? What brings you down here to the lint-filled dungeons?” 

He raises the white fabric with the obvious coffee stain on it. 

“I had a little spill.” 

You stood a little straighter, moving closer to look at the bundle of fabric in his arms. He offered it to you and you held it so delicately he could have sworn you already knew of its importance to him. 

“Is this your girlfriend’s or something?” 

As you unraveled the coffee-stained project, it unfolded to reveal the rough beginning of a dress. He placed a curious look on his face before realizing. 

“Oh, no!” he said, a light snort escaping him as he looked down for a moment, “It’s just a design I was working on this morning.”

Your eyes widened a moment as you handed it back to him. “Wow, you’re a designer? That’s impressive.”

“Not as impressive as you’d think, honestly,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m still trying to get my name out there. This… was supposed to be for a show I managed to get in. But I’m thinking of just trashing it.”

He stared at the dress, a frown creasing on his features as he traced his fingers over the coffee-stain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” he said quickly, flashing you an awkward smile. 

You shake your head. “Nah, you’re fine. I’m always happy to listen to someone who needs an ear.” Mitsuya watches as you motion towards the project in his arms. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but… I think you should give it another shot. This one already looks really well-done.”

Mitsuya feels his stomach flip-flop again when you flash him another smile. 

“Besides,” you continued, “it looks like you put a lot of work into it already.”

The lavender-haired man laughed, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite actually. I drew up the sketch for this one too… impulsively.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you shrugged, a smile still strung upon your lips, “Maybe get to know the design a little more.” 

Mitsuya stared down at the design. He thought about the notepad upstairs and the rough outlines he’d so hurriedly gone over while commuting to work. He chuckled, tilting his head slightly as locked eyes with you. 

“Maybe you’re right… Though, it doesn’t change the fact there’s coffee all over it right now.” 

You rolled your eyes, patting his arm heartily as your dryer pinged to alert them of its completion. “I got the perfect cleaning solution for you. Let me grab my laundry and I’ll show you the miracles of detergent and white vinegar.” 

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲

[astyrial]

a diner non-date osamu miya x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: you go to a new restaurant together word count: 1.2k warnings: none masterlist | requests are open

    "we have to try the place, oh so great cooking connoisseur," you lean up against osamu, bringing the back of your hand to your forehead. 

  he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping as he hears yet another attempt to get him to a new western-style restaurant. from the taco bar to an insane dish called 'meatloaf', he's seen it all. making him slightly worried to try a cheeseburger with more items stacked on it then one hand can count (especially when mcdonald's is one of his only references). 

  you raise your eyebrows, a small smile lining your lips. "last time i ask... unless you absolutely love it," you wrap your arm around his, eyes meeting his. 

  when your gaze meets his cold steel blue eyes, it's hard for him to say no. especially when he can feel you next to him, inches separating your noses, "fine, just this last time. if it absolutely sucks, i'm never trying another thing," osamu looks ahead at the concrete road, unable to look at you so close.

  "thank you! from what some of the upperclassman say, the place is delicious," you play with the strap of your backpack, "plus i've already started directing us to the place instead of our usual study place..."

  osamu's eyes widen, peeking over at you to see your suspicious smile. he should've known you'd do something like that. he also should've known that walking with you, arms intertwined, makes him unaware of his surroundings. a train could fall out of the sky behind you and the only thing he could focus on is the sun beaming down onto your irises.

  you lead him down a couple more blocks until you can spot the sign 'flame flair'. the shop has a little burger sketch next to the kanji, drops of ketchup flying from it. the overall aesthetic of the place feels like an american diner in the fifties. checkered flooring, skates on the waiters, aprons fitted to their waists with a poodle design on the corner. 

  "this is all so ridicu-" osamu turns to look at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.

  when he looks at you, your eyes are twinkling like a nineties anime episode. something about the intrigue of the place, the interesting smells that hit your nose as soon as you enter the door. watching you care about something so delicately as he cares for his own dishes makes him stop in his tracks, "is it as you imagined it?"

  "even more so, i mean just look at this place, this is great," you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him towards a booth seat. 

  osamu sits across from you, grabbing one of the menus from a little holder. all of the food appear greasy and all too deep fried. he always appreciated a good set of tempura, but the selection seems more than he's ever seen. especially something called a waffle burger... 

  "i'm absolutely getting a cheeseburger! maybe we could split some fries, 'samu. oooh and a milkshake! like in the movies, you know?" 

  share a milkshake?? osamu's heart beats quicker as his breath catches. he would absolutely die to share a milkshake with you, even if it's the last thing he did. "we uh, yeah we should. that would be so much uh fun. i might just try a hamburger," osamu looks away from you, hoping not to catch your eye as his face heats up.

  you nod in agreement, an almost annoying smile on your lips. it's beautiful, cheeky beyond a doubt, and nearly able to knock osamu on his feet if he weren't sitting. he'd probably finally get the confidence to say something until a waiter came over, an older lady with a little name tag.

  "hello and welcome to the flame flair, what can i get you lovely couple?" she asks, holding a small notepad and pen. 

  the two of you look at each other, eyes wide in surprise. it wasn't the first time the two of you had been called a couple. the first time having been at a bookstore that you dragged him to, another patron loving how your 'boyfriend' was taking you on a book date. the second time when you were cheering him on at a volleyball game against karasuno (the nekoma guy a little too observant). 

  this time, though, felt a little different. the way you immediately smile to yourself, nodding your head, "amazing, we just had to try this place out!"

  "well hopefully you enjoy the food, can i start you off with any drinks?" 

  "maybe some waters?" you look over at osamu, raising your eyebrows.

  "yeah water works for me, that would be great," osamu nods, looking up at the waiter, a slight dusting of blush covering his cheeks.

  you had just went along with the idea of dating osamu. to a complete stranger, you made her think that the two of you were dating. osamu can't help but think about whether or not you'd actually go out with him. would the two of you take dates similar to this one? would you hold hands while walking through the school's courtyard? a good luck kiss before his games?

  "osamu?? you there?"

  "oh yeah, sorry, just thinking about which one would be the best," he looks up at you, a smile crossing his face. 

  you narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows furrowing. "you don't have to be weird about the dating thing. i just figured it was easier than explaining everything. not that you would be awful to date or anything..." you trail off, unsure how to get your rant to how you want it to come off as. 

  osamu shrugs, attempting to ignore the 'you wouldn't be awful to date', "yeah, no, i'm seriously not. just trying to decide if pickles would be good on a hamburger patty..." 

  you narrow your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. however, instead of dwelling on whatever you thought osamu was feeling, you looked back down at your menu. his ability to be both entirely truthful and secretive of how he feels in a situation never ceases to amaze you. one second you're flirting and you're staring into each other's eyes. the next you're playing it off and wondering if he feels the same way. 

  especially as you sit across from him, watching as he nervously bites at his hangnails. "so what makes you so worried about this hamburger?" you question, looking back as you see the waiter coming back with your waters. 

  "well last time i tried one, it was from mcdonald's and it honestly wasn't that good. i mean i've had hambāgu, but even as a kid i never enjoyed american-style foods," osamu shrugs, taking in a deep breath as he leans back in the booth. 

  "okay but those tacos were actually delicious, you can't deny that-"

  "okay i really can't, but hamburger just isn't that good. those tacos were like the exception-"

  before either of you can say anymore, a smile on your faces, the waiter comes up to you, waters in hand. she takes your orders and for a second, osamu realizes that his fear was never about trying anything bad. but rather he feared sitting across from you, sharing food and drinks and pretending like every little thing he loves isn't sitting right in front of him. 

  that you can so confidently play with the idea of dating him, that you can offer to share a drink with him without any romantic intentions. ultimately, that scares him, that you'll want to be with him always, but never with him.

[thebunnednun]

Whine me up! Rosinante Corazon x Bartender! Reader (Modern AU)

Originally from my "Tempted to touch" series but I think it deserves a spot of its own. Happy Cora Week to everyone!! I love this clumsy man.

Use these songs:

Tempted to Touch by Rupee

Aventura - La Novelita

On with the show!!~

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

Rosinante joined the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates at a bustling club to celebrate their latest victory. The atmosphere was alive with pulsing music and laughter, drinks flowing freely as everyone reveled in the night's festivities. Amidst the animated crowd, Cora sat quietly at the bar, nursing a glass of water, his serene expression belying the chaos around him.

You, working behind the bar as a bartender, couldn't help but notice the lone figure amidst the revelry. Curiosity sparked, you approached Rosinante with a friendly smile, unaware that he couldn't speak. 

“Hey stranger, you enjoying yourself?” 

He looked a little startled by you. He hadn’t expected anyone to strike up a conversation with him tonight. Holding up a polite finger, he dug into his pocket for a moment, pulling out a notepad. He scribbled a cheerful greeting and slid it over to you, hoping to communicate with you. 

‘Hi! Thanks for asking. I’m doing fine.’

Unfortunately for him, his pencil broke. Cora let out a silent groan before reaching into his pockets to find another writing tool. Quiet giggles filled his ears before he looked up to see you pull a pencil from behind your ear and you scribble a cheerful greeting and before sliding it over to him.

‘No problem at all.’

Rosinante, caught off guard by your gesture, glanced at the note with surprise before returning your smile. You picked up a pen and offered it to him and he began to respond in kind, a playful doodle sketched on its surface. It depicted a tiny heart wearing a straw hat, accompanied by a speech bubble saying, "Quiet night?"

You looked up, surprised, then smiled warmly. He reached for the note and wrote underneath, "Not much for the noise. Enjoy watching them have fun."

You chuckled softly, replying with another doodle, this time of a heart holding a pen, writing, "I get that. Sometimes it's nice just to watch."

Rosinante grinned at your doodle, appreciating the whimsy in your communication. Before he could respond, a commotion broke out nearby.

Your coworker, a spirited woman named Maya, known for her contagious enthusiasm (and for getting so hammered with the clients she would dance on the bar), had spotted you at your station. With a mischievous wink, Maya grabbed your hand, urging you to join her on the dance floor.

At first, you resisted, shaking your head with a playful protest. But Maya wasn't easily deterred. She pulled you gently but persistently, whispering, "Come on, just this once! It's your song!"

~ ♩♪♩♬   ♬♩♪♩~

The DJ, sensing the moment, began to cue up your favorite track, its familiar beats filling the air. Initially hesitant, you laughed and shook your head, trying to resist her playful insistence. But Maya wasn't one to take no for an answer. With a playful pout and a persuasive sway, she coaxed you onto the dance floor amidst cheers and encouragement from those nearby. 

“Fine! Just for one song!” You finally relented, stepping onto the dance floor. Caught up in the moment, you began to move, your body responding naturally to the music. Your dance was a display of precise waist control and confident grace, drawing all eyes towards you.

The music enveloped you, with you effortlessly weaving through the crowd with dance moves that showcased your skillful waist control and playful charisma. The club erupted in cheers, friends and strangers alike clapping along to the rhythm, captivated by your impromptu performance.

Meanwhile, Rosinante watched in awe seated at the bar. He couldn't help but watch with rapt attention. His cheeks flushed as he observed your skillful movements and the joyous energy you exuded. He hadn’t expected this tonight, he hadn’t expected you tonight—so vibrant and alive, captivating everyone around you.

The club erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating your impromptu performance. Maya danced alongside you, matching your energy with her own infectious spirit, creating a scene of pure revelry and joy.

Rosinante, mesmerized by your dance, felt a warmth spread through him. He couldn't look away, feeling admiration and perhaps a hint of a crush stirring within him as he watched you shine in the spotlight of the dance floor. His heart pounding in his ears along with the music's beat. 

Meanwhile, Luffy and Zoro noticed Rosinante's fixed gaze on you. With mischievous grins, they nudged Law, who was quietly sipping his drink nearby. Law, ever the strategist, decided to intervene in his own unique way.

"Cora-san seems to need a little nudge," Law remarked casually to Luffy and Zoro.

"I'll help him find it."

Before Rosinante could react, Law had already grasped his hand, feigning concern as he led Rosinante away from the bar. "Let's checkout the DJ booth," Law suggested, his tone masking his true intentions.

Confused but compliant, Rosinante allowed himself to be led towards where you were dancing. Suddenly, Law released his hand, leaving Rosinante standing awkwardly behind you. Flustered, Rosinante attempted to move out of the way, his taller frame proving a challenge in the crowded club.

“Looks like we got a challenger folks!” The DJ boomed over the music leading you to turn around and crank your neck up, up, up at the now standing silent customer.

“Oh it’s you!”

Cora, unsure of what was happening, allowed himself to be led, his mind racing with thoughts of how to gracefully excuse himself from the situation. Just as he was about to attempt to leave, you noticed him and gently grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing his escape.

The music pounded around you as you shouted over the noise, "Hey! Dance with me!"

Startled, Rosinante fumbled for his notepad to write a response, but you took it gently from his hand and pocketed it with a knowing smile. Sensing his hesitation, you hopped up onto a nearby table, waving him forward. Your eyes met his, and he could see the playful challenge in your expression.

“This should be okay, right?”

With a shy nod and a blush coloring his cheeks, Rosinante tentatively joined you at the table. It had been years since he last danced, but with your encouragement and the pulsing beat of the music, he quickly found his rhythm again. His movements were graceful yet tentative at first, but as the song progressed, confidence surged through him.

The dance became a playful exchange of steps and spins, laughter ringing out between you. Rosinante surprised himself with how easily he moved, his tall frame gracefully accommodating your playful gestures. As the music reached a crescendo, he swept you into his arms, one hand securely under your thighs and the other clasping yours. You held onto his waist with your legs and together, you spun in sync, the joy evident on both your faces.

The club erupted into thunderous cheers and applause, celebrating your spontaneous and captivating dance. Even Law, watching from the sidelines with a rare smile, couldn't help but be impressed by Rosinante's unexpected grace and the dorky cuteness between you both.

For Rosinante, this unexpected dance had not only brought him closer to you but also rediscovered a part of himself he thought he had long forgotten. And as the club around him faded, amidst the laughter and celebration, he found himself very grateful for the playful twist of fate that had brought him to your side.

As the song ended, you both took a bow, and the crowd clapped enthusiastically. However, in his attempt to stand tall and bow gracefully, Rosinante rolled his ankle and stumbled, causing a collective gasp from the onlookers.

“Ah shit.”

“There Cora-san goes again!”

“Have you tried drinking some milk?”

Quick to react, Law stepped forward, helping you guide Corazon to a nearby chair. He swiftly retrieved some ice from the bar and placed it gently in a bag on Rosinante's ankle, muttering about the clumsiness under his breath.

Rosinante winced slightly but managed a sheepish smile as he gestured for you to come closer. With a touch of embarrassment, he handed you a note. You gasped in surprise, feeling your pockets and realizing that Rosinante had discreetly taken back his notepad without your notice.

The note was a simple yet heartfelt message, thanking you for the best time he'd had in years with a smiley face that had hearts on both cheeks. You beamed warmly at him, feeling a rush of affection for this gentle-hearted man who had ventured out of his comfort zone for you.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked softly, seeking permission.

Rosinante's shy eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly, opening his arms. Without hesitation, you dove into his embrace, feeling the warmth and sincerity in his gesture. He felt so fucking good to hug.Even the scent of his cologne, mixed with the subtle aroma of the club and the faint trace of sweat from dancing wasn’t bad at all. 

He was so tall you actually could almost climb into his lap if you wanted. But that would be going pretty far for a first meeting. Instead, you tucked your head into his neck and closed your eyes. His heart was pounding against yours, the rhythm syncing with the lingering excitement of the dance.

‘He’s so fucking cute!~’

In that moment, amidst the music and the crowd, you realized that you weren't the only one feeling a "little" flustered. 

Suddenly, the DJ's voice blasted over the speakers, giving you both a shoutout. "Let's hear it for the cutest couple out here tonight!"

You and Rosinante's cheeks flushed crimson as you snapped your necks to the DJ before shyly looking back at each other. As he sat back in the chair, trying to process the unexpected attention. In his flustered state, he tipped backwards, taking you with him in a gentle fall. Before you could react, his strong arms instinctively wrapped around you, protecting you from the fall. 

You cringed at the echo of the chair slapping against the concrete floor as you ended up in the handsome stranger's lap and pressed up into his chest and neck. 

"Sorry!" he whispered in your ear softly, his voice so warm and soothing that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was then that you realized—he could talk, and his voice was incredibly nice.

The crew members of both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, along with your coworkers and even your manager, let out collective "awes" at the sight of you both, wrapped up in each other's arms. The moment, filled with laughter and warmth, seemed to freeze in time, a perfect tableau of the unexpected

As your coworkers and Law helped you both back up from the chair, the warmth of the moment lingered between you and Rosinante. Despite the stumble, you found yourselves chatting easily, laughter punctuating the conversation as you exchanged stories and shared moments from the night.

Eventually, the festivities began to wind down, and one by one, your friends and colleagues bid their farewells, heading home for the night. Rosinante lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours with a soft smile.

Before he left, he waved goodbye and then gestured towards his pocket. Confused, you looked down and discovered a note tucked neatly into your pocket. With a flutter of anticipation, you unfolded it and read the words written in his neat handwriting.

–

My tiny dancer,

Thank you for the most wonderful evening I've had in years. Your smile lit up the room, and dancing with you was a joy I'll cherish. I hope we can do it again soon! (But hopefully without the ‘accidents’.)

Take care, 

Rosinante

Phone number: XXX- (555) -4567

–

Heart racing with excitement, you looked up to find Corazon already halfway out the door, his shy smile lighting up his face. With a rush of gratitude and newfound connection, you tucked the note safely away, 

You nodded at him, conveying your appreciation and eagerness to see him again, and then playfully blew him a kiss.

Corazon's cheeks flushed crimson once more as he, in a moment of playful realization, pretended to catch the blown kiss, but his attention was momentarily diverted. With a soft thud, he accidentally banged his head against the metal door frame, a mix of embarrassment and amusement crossing his features. You cringed a little bit from the impact and gestured to his forehead. He gave you a thumbs up and your heart relaxed a bit. 

Meanwhile, the other characters in the club had been watching the scene unfold with amused affection. Maya clapped her hands together with a gleeful laugh, thoroughly enjoying the romantic interlude she had inadvertently helped create. Law, who stood nearby, nudged Corazon along, “Come on, you’ll see her again soon,” a rare smile playing on his lips as he observed Corazon's departure.

Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing as Corazon walked away from the club, a smile lingering on his lips. He couldn't shake the butterflies of excitement and anticipation, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him to you.

Back inside, the club gradually quieted down as patrons began to disperse, each carrying with them memories of a lively celebration and the heartwarming sight of two unlikely dancers. Maya and your other coworkers exchanged knowing glances, silently agreeing to tease you about this later and hound you for updates once you’d texted the clumsy cutie. 

You were a little more smiley as you closed up your section. Standing amidst the remnants of the evening's joy, you felt a sense of possibility and newfound happiness knowing that this night had brought something special into your life—a gentle-hearted man named Corazon, who had danced and rolled his way into your heart. 

You reached for your phone to take a picture of the note. Just in case you lost it. Tucking Corazon's note safely into your pocket, you knew that this was just the beginning of a romance with a gentle-hearted giant named Corazon.

Later that night, as you settled in at home, you reached into your pocket and pulled out Corazon's note once more. With a smile, you carefully unfolded it and read the words again, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. You decided to send him a text, wanting to talk to him again.

----

Unknown: Hi Corazon! It's [Name] from the club. I made it home safely. Thank you for the lovely note. 😊

----

Meanwhile, across town, Corazon lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his ankle elevated, the result of an unexpected mishap on his way home. While walking back to his car with his friends, Cora was lost in thoughts of you and the evening's enchantment. So he had stumbled into an uncovered manhole, resulting in a tumble that miraculously left him only bruised and slightly battered.

----

Rosinante: Hi [Name]! I'm glad you made it home safely. Sorry for the delay—I had a little accident on my way back. Nothing serious, just a reminder to pay more attention. 😅 How are you?

----

You settle back into your cozy spot on the couch, phone in hand, waiting for his response. The moments stretch out as you imagine the possible scenarios, your mind filled with concern for the endearing, clumsy man who had captured your heart so unexpectedly.

Your phone dings again, and you quickly read his reply.

––––

Oh no! What happened? Are you okay? :You

Rosinante: I was daydreaming about you and didn't notice an uncovered manhole. I fell in and sprained my ankle and bumped my head. I'm in the hospital now, but it's nothing serious. Just a bit embarrassed. 😳

–––––

“Oh Dearest Pie, he falls down a freaking manhole and still asks me how I’m doing.”

Your heart melts at his candid confession, a mixture of concern and affection welling up within you. You can't help but laugh softly, picturing the tall, awkward sweetheart stumbling into a manhole because he was thinking of you.

–––––

Tiny Dancer: Oh no, Rosinante! I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you're not in too much pain. If it helps, I'm flattered that I was on your mind. 😊

–––––

A shy smile tugs at his lips as he lies in his hospital bed. His reply comes quickly, the playful tone lifting your spirits.

–––––

Rosinante: It does help, actually! Your smile is a pretty nice distraction. 😊

–––––

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you continue the conversation, sharing stories and laughter, bridging the distance between you with every message. The night grows late, but neither of you seems to notice, too engrossed in the blossoming feelings between you.

––––

I wish I could be there to keep you company. :You

Rosinante: Just knowing you're thinking of me is enough. But maybe we can meet up again soon please? I promise to avoid any manholes this time! 😅

––––

“Fuck he’s too cute.”

––––

I'd like that very much. Rest up, okay? :You

And thank you for making tonight so special. :You 

Rosinante: Thank you, too. Goodnight, Tiny Dancer.

Goodnight, Gentle Giant. :You

––––

Despite the mishap, Rosinante couldn't help but smile as he typed out the message. The memory of your smile and the warmth of your presence lingered with him, easing the discomfort of his minor injuries. He eagerly began to look up other dance clubs he could take you to, his heart thankful for the continuation of this unexpected and delightful chance of meeting you.

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

I own none of the images or art!!

I wanna add more characters later, Lemme know what characters you want! DM's are always open.

Posted on the ao3 account soon.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ And thank you guys again for 100 followers!!

[ruwriteshours]

MONSTERS IN MY ROOM (PART I) ⛧ L.JN

↝ pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader

↝ genre: mortal instrumental! au, angst, gore, urban fantasy, fluff, eventual smut (MINORS DNI)

↝ warning: mention of death of characters

↝ summary: You didn't know your usual habits would become a huge significant part of your life. With little memories of your past, you are forced to remember to find your missing mother with the help of Jeno, an immortal.

"Yeah, I know I wouldn't forget." You groaned, your hand clutching onto the phone as you moved it to the other side of your ear. "You've been talking about it since last week."

You could hear grumbling noise of complaint coming from Jongho at the other line. "Well, how am I suppose to know you'll follow through. Your mom's crazy."

"Well, my mom doesn't control my life." You began sketching on your notepad, your fingers tracing on the symbol you drew as you let out your usual monologue. "I'm three more months to eighteen. Plus, she won't know a thing." You whispered out the last part.

"Yeah, whatever 'Miss Independent'." You giggled. "Just don't get both of us in trouble."

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. She won't suspect a thing." You assured, before hanging up— not even giving Jongho the chance to retaliate.

Flipping through the pages of you sketchbook, you had realised how much your sudden habbit had gotten worse. Your book was occupied with the same drawings of the symbols. All of it being repeated.

Sighing under your breath, you walked out of your room to wash up. "Hey, sweetie!" Your mother's chirpy voice greeted you by the kitchen, preoccupied with her cooking. Muttering back a soft 'hey' as you walked away only to be stopped again by her voice calling out to you.

Whining, you turned around. "What is it?"

Turning off the stove, she looked up at you with her beaming smile. "I see you've gotten busy."

Glancing down at your hand, you could see the graphite ink of your pencil had painted your entire hand— smudging your clean shirt.

"Yeah, it's for a project." You lied, attempting to rub off the dirt.

Your mother only prodded further. "Well, tell me more then." She said excitedly. You laughed awkwardly as you gestured towards the bathroom. "I would love to, mom but I'm meeting Jongho soon." You excused.

"Oh," You could hear the tease in her voice. "Your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" You yelled out, a little too quickly. "He's a boy and he's my friend. He's my boy-space-friend." You explained, which only cause your mother to smile even more annoyingly. "Alright, sweetie. Have fun."

"He really isn't!" You began rushing to the bathroom to get ready. The last thing you heard was the gleeful laugh of your mother.

"Hey— woah." Startled by the sudden force being pulled on him as you hastily dragged Jongho out of your house. "What's the rush?"

"Don't want you to suffer by the wrath of my mom." You half-joked, still bothered by her comment. "Uh oh, what'd she say this time?" He laughed seeing your flustered expression.

"Nothing that concerns you." You grumbled, still holding onto his elbow to have him match your pace. He hummed, "Sure must be embarassing to have you this worked up."

"Shut up!" You hit his shoulder as it only fueled his humour, not finding your weak attack effective.

The walk towards the cafe was fairly short, your conversation with your best friend had always resulted in light bantering— not that you minded. Despite what everyone says about Jongho, (that he was someone who always plaster a cold exterior) you knew he had that warm light inside of him. His sense of humour and brightful personality was what made you want to get to know him more.

"Thanks a lot for doing this for me." Jongho spoke up. You smiled, "Don't go soft on me now, what are friends for?"

Oblivious, you didn't take notice on how Jongho's shoulder seem to slump— disappointed by your response. He was quick to cover up by bumping into your shoulder playfully, chuckling as you hit him back dramatically. Nearing to the destination, he walked up first to open the door. You didn't bother picking up on his gentleman act, having being used to his gesture.

"I'll get us a drink." He declared as the both of you found a seating. "Don't forg-" He was quick to interrupt you, though. "Forget to add in more whipped cream, got it."

With your order, he made his way to the queue. Your attention now being directed to the stage, listening to poetry slam— watching as the man stumble with his words, the beat of the drum not matching up to his speech. Letting out a sound of amusement, you turned your head to the tinted window— only to catch your attention at a certain symbol.

The same symbol you drew.

Without much though, you walked out of the cafe to take a closer look. Crossing the road carefully, you made your way to the open alley— observing excrutiatingly at the drawing. Your heart having picked up the sense of familiarity as your brain couldn't seem to remember. You didn't know you had taken so long outside until you heard Jongho's voice, followed by his hand holding onto your shoulder.

"Hey, why are you out here?" He asked, startling you out of your daze. Shrugging off, you could only utter, "I don't know."

He was about to question further when you turned to face him abruptly. "Let's go back." You grabbed his hand as you led him back to the cafe— thankfully, your seat was not being taken.

"Are you alright? You're being awfully quiet." He asked, noticing that you were in your head and was not paying attention to the event. You looked up at him with a small smile, "It's nothing, I'm just tired."

"Agony. Pain. Suffer." The voice of the performer acting out his scene.

"Tell me about it." He joked. "We'll finish up and go, you want another packet of sugar?" You nodded, "The brown one, please."

"Gotcha."

Watching him walk off, you let out a sigh of relief. You noticed a blonde-haired girl eyeing your best friend, a smile played on your lips as you observed the both of them exchanging greetings. You also couldn't help but notice that she kept staring at Jongho, obviously taking interest in him. Your heart soared, happy that your best friend had a chance to find someone. However, you were quick to assume when he walked away— rather quickly to your seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Why'd you leave so quick." He looked at you confused, "That girl you just talked to, she's totally into you."

He shrugged, not finding interest in the topic. "Not my type." You scoffed, "Oh please, you can go to her. I don't mind."

He scoffed back, "And leave you alone. No way." You groaned at his stubborness, "Act like that and you're gonna be single for life." You said jokingly, sprinkling the sugar onto your cup.

He didn't seem to take offense to your insult as he shrugged. "Maybe I'm saving myself for someone." You looked around dramatically, as if trying to search for who he was talking about. "Who?"

He didn't get to answer your question when the cheers and clapping sounds from the audience interrupted him, though you could see that he seemed relief to have avoided the topic altogether. Not soon after, the both of you joined in— acting as if you were listening to the awful speech.

The sky eventually went dark as the both of you took a detour, looking through every single local clubs that were available. As you past through every one of them, your eyes landed on the sign— with the same damn symbol on it. You turned towards Jongho as you pointed at the place. "Let's go here."

"Do you think it'll work?" Jongho asked incredulously.

"Of course it will."

Walking towards the entrance of the club, you were about to recite your script that you had prepared when the person behind the both of you cut through. His eyes were electric blue, hair spiked and his body covered in tattoos— all of which were random signs and symbols that had no meaning. "What an asshole." Jongho murmured.

Annoyed with the guy's rudeness, you looked up only to have an idea popped onto your head, "Actually, follow my lead." Ignoring his protest, you walked up to the bouncer with a confident facade as you pointed at the sign on top. "What does that symbol mean?"

Your question perked up the man that skipped ahead of you, turning around to look at you as he shared a look with the boucer. The man briefly whispered in his ear.

"What are you talking about?" Jongho harshly commented, his face panicking as he thought you had lost your mind. "Relax." You assured, focusing ahead as you watched the two men interact.

Not a moment after, the bouncer allowed the both of you inside. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around to face Jongho with a smug smile.

"Did you went here without me before?" He asked in amusement.

The further you went inside the club, you squeezed your way through the crowds of drunkard people. Their bodies swaying to the side as the upbeat music echoed and flashing lights shining through the room. Jongho struggled to trail behind you, a look of discomfort takes over his face.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked— well shouted, as he was trying to overpower the loud music. You replied back with the same volume, "Yeah, but just water please!"

You looked around, your eyes catched a sight of the man who let you in the room. You were about to walk up to him, ready to ask him questions when his eyes looked behind you. Turning around, you caught sight on the most gorgeous woman in the room, her black hair swayed down her shoulders— the tight white dress complimented her curves, the tilted smirk of her lips as her sultry eyes bored onto the man.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching him walk towards the woman. You couldn't ignore the sudden feeling in the pit of your stomach, your feet following the both of them in the other area of the club— which is still in an open area, where everyone could see. You began to worry.

Something felt off.

Just as you predicted, the ring on the woman's fingers began slithering its way like a snake, transforming into a metal coil as it began wrapping itself on the man's neck. You gasped in shocked, completely in disbelief as you continued to watch the scene unfold.

The gurgling sound of the man struggling to gasp for air was spine-chilling. He clawed his hands around the metal coil but that only enrages the woman. The fury of the woman turned the colours of her eyes green as she balled her hands into fists— which made the material tightened around his throat. You looked around panicking as you noticed how the crowded room didn't seem to react at all at the murderous scene that was happening right in front of their faces, as if these people were invisible.

Shortly, a figure came in and began holding the man down— you watched helplessly as he was pleading for his life. Just then, another man came emerging through the crowd with his hood up, hiding his identity. You could only make out the black strands of his hair that was sticking out as he pulled out a weapon. His hand tracing along the lines of those threatening, sharp knife.

Without much thought, his knife sliced against the man's throat— completely decapitating his neck clean off. The blood began splattering everywhere, only now that you realised that the blood was black in colour as the fog escaped his body like acid. The sound of the man hissing in agony made you scream at the top of your lungs.

The three individuals hastily turned their heads towards the sound, seeing you in utter horror— from the way you covered your mouth as you teared up at the gruesome sight. The dead man was transformed into a horrifying parasite before it melted away into nothingness.

Your sudden screaming has also alerted the people in the room, who turned their heads towards you in confusion— not seeing the brutal death of the man. Your eyes dart towards the three people, their eyes staring back at yours. You could finally see the face of the hooded man. He was the last to fled the scene, taking a couple of steps closer towards you as his gaze was set at yours. His hooded eyes began to squint, as if trying to recognise you.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" Jongho was at your side in an instant, his hand grabbing onto your face to make you face him. You couldn't listen to his words, not when the fresh memory keeps repeating itself at the back of your head.

"I know what I saw." You rushed out of the club. "They killed that guy!" You repeated for what seemed to be the millionth time, still shaking from fear.

"Did you drink something, perhaps?" He asked, following your steps as he reached his hand out to call for a cab. "I heard that these people popped some stuff in the air to make sure we have a good time." He explained, trying to find some logical reasonings for your outbursts.

"Then how come you're not affected by it." You shot back, your makeup now smudged from the tears you let out previously— in a state complete mess. Thankfully a taxi came to a stop as the both of you hopped inside, his constant assurance only left you with more anxiety.

You knew what you saw.

After bidding your goodbye's, you were quick on your feet to make a beeline to your room— shutting your eyes in hopes to get some rests. Your vision clogged and your mind went black as you succummed to the darkness.

The morning after, groaning as you let out a stretch— rubbing your eyes but hissing at the sudden burning sensation that made your eyes water. Looking down, your hands were completely smudged with the ink of your pencil. In shock, you looked around your room as you gasped in horror. Papers were scattered across the floor, hung up and pasted on your cream textured walls. The same drawing accumulating in your room. You grabbed onto a couple and shoved it inside your bad, dashing out of your room as you made your way to the door.

However, you didn't make it far when the voice of your mother stopped you. "You went back late last night." Her usual nagging tone bugged you, not in the mood to get yelled at.

"I know, I'm sorry but I really have to go now." You pleaded, turning around to face your mother. Her eyes widened in shock seeing you in such a distress state.

The dark circles under your eyes are prominent as your hair flung in every direction. Despite the amount of sleep you had last night, it was as if you hadn't slept in days. "You can't leave."

You scowled in annoyance. "Yes, I can. I'm just going to hang out with Jongho, mom. It's fine." Your mother wasn't convinced, "So what? You're going to go off to him when you have problems, isn't that more of what you would do to a boyfriend." This time, you didn't detect any playfulness in her voice— it was as if she was hurt that you couldn't confide in her.

It was then that she realised that she needed to tell you the truth. Now. However, before she could utter a word— Jongho made his presence known as he stepped inside the house, which gave you the opportunity to fled, ignoring your mother's calls.

Showing the drawings to Jongho, you could only explain the events that had been happening as you watched his face contort to confusion— obviously not believing your spiel. Sitting at the cafe with eyes like a mad woman, it was difficult to convince Jongho. Ignoring his advice as you saw the same hooded man from the club, ignoring your train of thought. Your eyes widened in horror as you cowered away from his vision.

"What? What are you looking at?" Jongho asked exasperately as he began scouting around.

"Wait here." You said before running off, in hopes to finally get some answers— even if it killed you.

"Who the fuck are you?" You sneered nastily, shutting the back door that was leading you to an alley. The man chuckled at your rudeness.

"Lovely girl, aren't you?"

"This isn't funny! You killed someone, you're a murderer!" You accused, shouting at the man.

"I prefer to be called Jeno, actually." He stated as a matter-of-factly. "But I guess people who love to assume can call me that too."

"I know what I saw." You retorted.

"You think you know what you saw." He pointed at you, his eyes hardened.

Grabbing his hands to take a closer look at his tattoo, the same symbol being drawn on his hand— with shaking hands, you dug under your pockets to retrieve the drawing that you drew as you shoved it up to his face. "Why do I keep drawing this."

He hummed, taking the piece of paper as he observed it. "It's a mundane." He explained, as if there was no further explanation needed.

"What's a mundane?" You asked incredulously, prodding the man to continue. He looked down at you, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone that's from the human world."

"Well, if I'm not a human then what am I?"

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

©ruwriteshours

[shuhwaa]

Shuhua | Canvas [M]

(G)I-dle Shuhua x fem-bodied!reader words: ~2.5k genre: soft smut (a bit of body worship, fingering, some praise, ninety-six, mostly just pretty soft lovemaking) warnings: none

Desc.: You’re trying to draw a picture of your girlfriend Shuhua but the way none of your attempts seem to turn out right makes you frustrated, so she decides to take your mind off of things.

The lines on the paper add up, grey-ish pigments of your pencil leaving traces of graphite that keep growing thicker. However, you're not getting any closer to where you want - no, need to be, and so eventually you tear the next sheet out of the notepad to start over again. It's an agonizing process, and frustration has you on edge so you end up yelling when the girl in front of you moves. 

"No!" you shout at her, your voice sharp and filled with urgency, and you immediately regret your harsh tone.

"What?!" she, however, yells back, eyebrows furrowed. There is frustration visible on her face as well, and after you whisper a small "sorry", her features relax. "Y/N," Shuhua calls out to you now, having regained her composure. "Just leave it. Nothing's going to come of it anyway." You clench your fingers a little tighter around your pencil upon hearing her words. You know she's right, deep down you know, but the truth is hard to accept. 

Eventually, you throw the notepad aside along with the pencil, and you get up off your chair with a heavy sigh.

"I know," you mutter, letting your eyes scan her frame in the light dress you picked out for her to wear, scanning her position once again for any possible difficulties that have led you to make a mistake. But then again, all of your sketches you make of her look off somehow. And it hasn't always been this way, only when you started dating have you slowly begun to lose your ability to draw her. 

She raises an eyebrow at you while pressing her lips together and you know she feels sorry for you. You watch her body shift into a more comfortable position on the bed, then you peel your gaze away from her.

"I can draw anyone, anything, but you," you hiss through gritted teeth. "I don't understand why. Shouldn't I know how to draw you better than anything else?" You sound more desperate than angry as you clench your fists, but the heavy feeling on your shoulders seems to lift as soon as Shuhua calls out your name.

"Y/N, come here." She raises up her arms to invite you into her embrace, tilting her head to the side a bit as she smiles. Her long black hair sways to the side as she moves, and once again you find yourself captivated by her beauty.

Slowly, you walk a few steps over to the bed, kneeling down on the sheets and crawling closer to her. She chuckles when you reach her, putting one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders in order to rest her hand atop your head.

"You look miserable," she remarks. "You don't have to try so hard. You can draw literally anything else, there's no need to get so stuck up on drawing me." You sigh, releasing the tension in your muscles and letting your body sink into her hug. With your head against her chest, you listen to the calm beating of her heart and you close your eyes for a moment in an attempt to find some peace.

"I know," you eventually mutter. "I know I don't have to. But it just bothers me that I can't draw pictures of the woman I love." You sit up, looking right into her eyes now. "That's what artists are supposed to do, right? Draw the person they love as if they were obsessed with them." Shuhua raises her eyebrows in concern, but when you show her a weak smile to indicate you were joking, the corners of her mouth curl up as well. 

"Let's not think about it anymore, okay?" she suggests, adding, "At least for today." You nod eventually, and as you're wondering whether you can really banish this problem from your mind, you feel yourself being naturally pulled towards her, and you start to lean in. 

She meets you halfway, brushing a spare strand of hair out of your face before her lips find yours. Light touches turn into firm kisses, but movements remain slow, as if you were trying to savour every second that your lips are connected. You snake your arms around her upper body, pulling her in closer eventually, until her chest is pressed up against yours, and only then do you part.

"This is better, isn't it?" she whispers, close enough for you to feel her breath tickle the skin on your face. She brings up her hand to cup your cheek with it, but ends up letting her fingertips dance down to your jaw, and eventually they find a path down the side of your throat too. She reaches the shirt you're wearing - a loose button-up - and when she draws near again to press her lips against yours with more need now, she begins to undo the buttons one by one.

"I love you," you moan in between kisses, but what you actually meant to say is probably closer to a "thank you". However, Shuhua leaves you no time to speak nor to think properly as she finds your lips again, nipping at them and sinking her teeth into the delicate skin. She peels the shirt off of your shoulders, helping you out of it and tossing it aside. Then she immediately reaches for your shoulders and restlessly rakes her fingers through your hair. You break apart for air eventually, and you let your fingertips glide down her back, dragging them over her thighs and finally slipping them underneath the skirt of the slightly see-through dress. You let your hands explore her body lines blindly, caressing her hips, waist and sides, and you catch yourself wondering once again what you're doing wrong when trying to put those lines to paper.

"Stop thinking," she says, and as you look up at her face you're met with a serious expression. 

"Right..." you mumble, feeling guilty because she caught you red handed. However, that feeling soon makes way for surprise when she boldly pulls the dress over her head, discarding it herself, and she's now sitting in front of you in just her underpants. You can't help but let your eyes observe her body closely, even though you've seen her naked a thousand times before. Still, upon being met with the sight a gasp escapes you, and when you feel her putting her index finger under your chin to make you look up at her face, heat rushes to your core.

"Or I'll have to make you stop thinking," she adds on to her last words, and you find yourself unable to do anything but nod, and then she kisses you again. 

The movements of her lips against yours feel hot, like fire burning under your skin and demanding more, wanting to consume you whole, and the flames only spread as she runs her palms down your chest and stomach, and then up again on your back until she reaches your bra to take that off you as well. She releases your lips for a second to look you in the eyes, checking in with you while she cups your face with her hands. And then she pulls you closer, bringing you in for an open mouthed kiss. Meanwhile you let your hands roam her body again, this time without the intention of finding an explanation for your countless failed drawings, but simply to feel her skin against yours, to feel her chest rise and sink as she breathes and to feel her shiver and hear her sigh into your mouth as your palms find her breasts. 

You break the kiss naturally, allowing for Shuhua to throw her head back, eyelids fluttering shut from the sensation of you fondling her boobs. Taking the opening as a chance, you attach your lips to her neck, scattering kisses all over her throat and when she moans in appreciation, you can feel the vibrations of her voice against your skin.

"You're so beautiful..." you mutter in between nips. Then you put one arm behind her back and you lay her down on the pillows. "So beautiful," you repeat, and you begin to slowly make your way south. You let your fingertips dance down her belly, making her laugh and suck in her stomach from the tickly sensation. Tracing every line and connecting every spot, it's like your fingertip is drawing on her skin what the pen couldn't bring to paper. You study her features anew, worshipping the shapes of her body, until eventually you press your digits against the fabric of her panties. Feeling the wet spot on them, you chuckle, and your grin only grows wider when she squirms underneath you as you begin to tease her through her underwear.

"Love..." she mumbles as she gives herself up to you, letting you have your way with her.

"Baby..." you answer, light touches to her core sending shivers down her spine. "You're so pretty..." you say again. "And I'm gonna make you look even prettier." Finally, you pull down her underpants, and with your help she wiggles out of them. Having thrown them to the floor, you run your fingertips up the inside of her thigh, earning a small impatient whine from your girlfriend, and you position yourself so you can comfortably kiss her while fingering her. Lips leaving a trail up the side of her neck, you drag your fingers up and down her folds, causing her to press her thighs together tightly, but eventually she relaxes. Putting one arm around you, she brings you closer to kiss you, and when you unexpectedly dip a digit inside her, she breaks contact with a gasp. You can't suppress a playful grin as you pull out again, finding her clit to draw circles on it. You alternate between that and pushing two fingers inside, curling them against her walls for a while, until she whines again and you find her frowning at you.

"What's wrong?" you whisper, halting your movements. Shuhua brings you in for another kiss on the lips, before muttering an answer.

"I wanna make you feel good too." The pleading expression in her eyes makes you melt, and you show her an adoring smile before placing a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

"I have an idea," you say and you slip out of your pants before you get on all fours. Completely naked now, you turn around, crawling on top of her so your hips are just above her face and you can lean forward to have your head aligned with her core. Without needing another word, she wraps her arms around each of your thighs, kissing her way up to your pussy as you lower yourself. Feeling her tongue lick a stripe up between your folds makes you let out a sigh, overcome with heat that rushes through your whole body.

"Mmh... you taste good..." you hear your girlfriend mutter before she starts tending to your clit, and you moan from the pleasure. You follow suit by pressing a kiss to her wet cunt, wrapping your lips around her sensitive bud. Now it's her moaning in response, and the vibrations up your core make you whimper. 

"Fuck..." you let out a curse, feeling her lap at your pussy, her tongue slipping inside you and then darting back up to your clit as she hums in appreciation. She has you in a steady hold, nails digging into your ass, but she allows you to slightly rock your hips for more stimulation. "Fuck, you're doing so well baby," you praise her through gritted teeth, already feeling your orgasm building up somewhere in the distance. Led by a greed to make the two of you reach your high together, you try to focus on eating her out, slipping your fingers back inside her while you suck on her clit, having her buck her hips up to feel more as she keeps moaning at your touches. You rile each other up like that, seeing who can push the other over the finish line faster, but once your body signals that you're almost there, it's getting increasingly hard to focus on what you're doing. The movements of your fingers inside her and your tongue on the outside are getting slower, while she is maintaining a steady pace that’s just about to drive you crazy.

"Shuhua... baby... I'm-" you cry out, digging your fingertips into her thighs now. "I'm gonna..." You moan her name as your orgasm comes crashing down on you, and she helps you ride out your high as you fuck yourself on her tongue. However, once you're done you don't give yourself any time to catch your breath, instead going back to pleasuring her. The way a shaky whine escapes her when you start sucking on her clit again tells you she's close, and so you push your fingers back inside as deep as you can, curling them against that perfect spot. 

"Right there..." she moans, and you pick up the pace while your mouth alternates between licking and sucking. "L-like that... keep going like that," she adds, and you feel her body tense up as she continuously bucks her hips to meet you halfway while chasing her high. Still holding onto your ass, she suddenly cries out and when you feel her walls clenching around your fingers, she drags her nails down, leaving scratch marks along your thighs.

Breathless, you crawl off her and lie down right next to her. One of your hands finds its way into hers, and you give her a kiss on the cheek. Your girlfriend’s eyes are still closed, face reddened as she bathes in the blissful feeling that lingers after her high, and once again you can't but smile at her because of how much your love for her makes your heart swell. And then it hits you.

"I think I know why I can't draw you," you say out of the blue. She turns her head and raises her eyebrows at you as she looks at you. You explain, "Because I love you so much, and I could never bring to paper the way I feel about you in a single sketch. That's why it always looks off." Shuhua gives you a smug grin, and for a second you're wondering what makes her react that way, but then you figure it out - she already knew this and was just waiting for you to understand it yourself. You sigh when you put your arm around her, and you bury your face in her neck.

"I should stop trying to draw you..." you mutter, and a moment later you feel her wrapping you into a warm hug. 

"Probably," she answers with the smile still present on her lips, and you start to wonder if maybe there's more that she knows about you which you haven't managed to figure out yet.

[304blur]

⁰¹ . dream a little dream of me..

wc : 820

warning(s): entirely written

notes: so sorry for the short chapter, the chapters will be uploaded slowly 🫶 ty for all the responses

taglist: @yeonlogic, @pcheyes, @babigriin, @ur-mother-realnotclickbait .

prev - masterlist - next

soobin strolls around the entire university campus, looking for a spot to just sketch. but there would always be someone bothering him, he wouldn't say it out loud, but the nosiness of college students pissed him off. looking for a perfect place led him outside of the campus. walking down the street, he spots a tiny entrance, draped in warm lighting, a neon red sign that said 'centennial jazz bar', it blinked a few times, either that sign knows soobin needed a spot to sketch, or there's something wrong with the electricity in this building. either way, he's intrigued. he craned his neck around to see if there's any employees that could guide him in. but all he's hearing is a smooth saxophone instrumental, and that led him inside, like a cartoon character smelling fresh baked goods. he looked around, the interior being mostly made out of glossed over dark wood, the lights colored the place in a warm white. there was obviously a drink bar, and some tables. the place was not so full of people, most look to be regulars. this is the perfect place. customers weren't loud and this didn't look to be a party type of bar. he was relieved and sat down at a table, and brought out his phone and clicked on the notes app, typing in the establishment's name to save for the next time he needed a place to go. he reached into his backpack, and placed down his essentials. a small notepad for some throwaway sketches, a pencil case, and his sketchpad. the woman on stage prepares for a song, stepping up to the stage in her dazzling dress, she gently wraps her fingers around the metal of the microphone, the melody of her voice echoes in the room, when she began singing the lyrics to 'isn't it romantic?' by ella fitzgerald, it was like the bar was a whole new place, like it was a whole new era. soobin doesn't even notice himself staring, the pencil hasn't even touched the paper, it's like he's frozen in place.

she's looking back at him too.

his heart's pit-a-patter slowly grows louder in his ears. he's not sure if it was sort of a revelation, but he felt the need to capture this image of her, not just in his heart and eyes. in his sketches, in his assignments, in his projects, he doesn't even know her, but he just feels the need to have a little prescence of her everywhere. the lead of his mechanical pencil touches the paper of his sketchpad, he quickly strokes lines, waves, circles, anything to possibly accurately illustrate her, without knowing, he's filled a page with her, just her. in the time that passes by, while he's aggressively sketching his way into a restraining order, or a romance he's always needed but never wanted, she starts to step off stage, and starts approaching him.

"i've never seen you here before, you new here?"

her voice echoes in his ears, he stops the movement of his pencil for a bit, before slowly looking up. it's her. the pencil lead stains on his hand are visible, as he awkwardly extends his hand to her for a handshake.

"oh, yeah, uh, i'm a university student at hybe u, studying fashion, aha.."

as she was about to shake his hand, he retracts it, and brings out some wet wipes from his bag and wipes the stains off.

"oh my god, sorry, it's just my hands are dirty because of the—"

she takes the hand he was wiping the dark lead smears off of, and shakes it with the sweetest smile he's ever seen.

"it's okay. i'm (name). and i go to hybe u, too!"

she turns her head to his uncovered sketchpad, full of sketches of her. he immediately shuts the book closed with a blush that anyone could see.

"were those sketches me? those are so cool!"

"yeah. uh, i just like your outfit.. oh, i'm soobin, by the way."

she points at his pencil case beside his sketchpad.

"do you mind if i borrow something from there?"

".. sure.."

he hands her the case, and she opens it, rummaging around, his different stationary clinking around. she finally found what she was looking for, a pen. she takes the hand she shook earlier, wrote her number on his palm, and closes his hand.

"there! now, i've gotta go!"

she rose from where she was, and waves him goodbye, her white maxi skirt swishing around as she walks and exits the bar. soobin just sits there, shell shocked. he now has the number of a girl he'd just met, and some embarrassing memories he'll never forget. guess he won't have to worry about the creepy sketching. he spent a few minutes, not even bothering to put all his things in his bag. then he realizes,

"she.. she stole my best lineart pen."

he opens his palm, and read what she wrote.

'if you want me to return it, or just meet me, call this number! i won't return the pen until you contact me :)'

[anxiousstark]

Hey! Read you are taking requests for king!eddie. Super happy about that. Was wondering if you could write about Eddie seeing his Queen play with children, maybe they visit a orphanage, and wanting to give her that joy in her life. But talking about it with her, Eddie confesses how he doesn't think he will be a good father, since his father was't either, and his Queen reassuring him. It could end with smut, but I leave that up to you 🙏❤️

Love The Way You Do | EDDIE MUNSON First and foremost, I am sorry for not updating this sooner. Unfortunately, life happens lol, and to be honest, I had written at least 1K words before deciding it wasn't good enough and deleted it in order to write something else. I hope you cherish it and that it meets your expectations. I truly loved this idea.

Bastard King! Eddie x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, breeding, pregnancy, unprotected sex, child abuse, and violence. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, does not allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST

"You are incredibly talented." Eddie's soft fingertips glided across worn and tattered pages, his attention drawn to the wonderful artwork that appeared to be highly realistic. "This is seriously incredible, Tristan." His gaze was reluctant to divert away from the exquisite paintings, but his words were honest, and he wanted the teenager to grasp his true feelings. 

Tristan, who sat next to Eddie, grinned, his cheeks flushing as he bowed his head, hands between his legs, an act of shyness. "When I get out of here, I want to be a painter." He was about to turn eighteen, which meant he'd be allowed to leave the orphanage. Eddie, on the other hand, made certain that if someone needed to remain for a longer period of time, they could. "If I can." He sighed, looking down at his most prized notepad, which was on Eddie's knees. 

"Are you unsure whether or not you want to be a painter?" Eddie creased his brows. 

Tristan's head was instantly shaken. "I'm pretty sure I want to be a painter. It's my passion." The glint in his eyes vanished with his next words. "But I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to be one."

Eddie nodded his head, visibly pondering. "Well," His fingertips glided over the sketch of what appeared to be Aurora, one of the orphanage's girls. One that Tristan appeared to paint a lot, giving Eddie the impression that he liked her. "It won't be easy." He winced at the sound of his own words. He didn't want to lie to him or imply that life was simple. "However, I believe that if you dream big and work big, you will be big." Tristan didn't appear completely convinced, but he agreed, feeling a little more optimistic about his future.

"I will work tirelessly."

Eddie smiled at him, returning his gaze to the sketches sitting on his knees, and his fingers proceeded to trawl through the works he hadn't had time to look at. "This." His breath became trapped in his chest. 

"The queen," Tristan responded sheepishly.

"I know," he chuckled, his fingers longing to caress her face but not wanting to ruin the sketch. "Even in the darkest of rooms, I'd recognise her." His heart burned, and sensations of love tingled every part of his body. 

The artwork depicted her gorgeous grin as she waved through the carriage window on the day he revealed her as their future queen. He flushed as he recalled what had transpired between them minutes earlier. 

"It was the very first time we saw her." Eddie nodded without looking away. "She appeared kind, and I couldn't help but draw her." He waited for a few seconds, watching King Eddie's expression as he stared at a simple sketch of her. "She is kind." Both looked up as soon as those words were pronounced.

Eddie sighed, his gaze wandering over his wife's form. Her grin was wider than the one in Trsitan's sketch, and she had no worry in the world as she kneeled on the ground, surrounded by some of the orphanage's young children, who gazed at her with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. 

As she kneeled on the ground, his queen, but more importantly, his wife, was unconcerned about her new gorgeous gown. She had spent hours playing with the kids, while he had paid more attention to the older ones, who understood their predicament best. 

He chuckled. She had been anxious about meeting them, considering Eddie was heavily involved with the orphanage.

Eddie's initial move after assuming the throne was to visit the orphanage in his kingdom. He had discovered deplorable working conditions and treatment, and he had fired those who did not deserve to work with the younger generation, instead employing those who had proven to be pleasant souls. Then he used a portion of his nation's financial system to rebuild and expand the orphanage. He additionally made certain that the youngsters had all they needed. As a result, you were concerned about not being accepted by the children since you knew they adored Eddie, who interacted with them as if he were a child and spoke to them as if they were grownups.

Nonetheless, your husband had no doubts that you would be adored by all of the children, from the youngest to the eldest.

You'd played 'Save the Queen' with them, then 'tea time,' pretending to drink nothing and eat sand. The kids adored the fact that you played in the same fashion as they did. 

They sat on the ground around you now, listening to you read them a story. Some leaned against you, asleep, while others paid intent attention with eager eyes and thumbs inserted in their mouths as they sucked on them. 

Eddie's heart quivered as he saw your right hand clutching the book and your left hand cradling a toddler against you.

"Will you..." Tristan paused. "Would you like to have children, my King?"

Those words were so innocent, but so frightening for Eddie as the image of an individual he had buried deep inside himself flared in his mind. Did he desire children? The true question was not whether he wanted children or not, but whether he should have children. "I think I understand." Tristan kept on speaking, given that Eddie hadn't replied. "If I ever marry and have children." His glance travelled in the direction of Aurora, confirming Eddie's previous thoughts. "I'd be afraid of becoming like my father."

Tristan was one of the children who had lived with his father before being abandoned. 

Eddie was well aware that the man in question had carried out atrocities, and that the youngster seated next to him had endured the emotional and physical effects of having a violent father. Eddie couldn't help but tighten his fists whenever he identified his anxieties or the evident limp in his gait.

"Did your dad know how to paint?" Eddie inquired at random. Tristan raised his brows for a split second, perplexed by the shift in subject, but swiftly shook his head. "If you were different in that aspect, why wouldn't you be different in that one?" He took a peek at him. 

"If you're such an outstanding king, why wouldn't you be a wonderful father?"

Eddie was now bewildered since Tristan had used the same logic he had used on him. "Tristan." When he overheard his name, the boy gave a nod. "When will you be 18?"

"Next month."

"Perhaps you'd like to be the royal painter of the palace?" His mouth was gaping as he gazed at Eddie with wide green eyes. "You would be the one doing every portrait for the royal family, and you will be offered a very good place to live with your..." He cast a peek toward Aurora before returning his gaze to Tristan. "Your future family. You'll get compensated, of course, and I'll do all I can to get you professionally taught so you can learn more." Tristan nodded his head rapidly. "Great." Eddie grinned, snatching a pen from Tristan's fingers and writing a directive on a blank piece of paper. "As soon as you reach the age of 18, write a letter to Dustin. He is one of my devoted peers, and he will notify me that you have written to him." He returned the drawings and the paper. "I will send a carriage for you as soon as I receive such a letter." He smiled as his hand rested on the kid's back.

Eddie had been fairly quiet on the trip home, and he remained mute even while you recalled your greatest highlights of the day. His gaze looked lost, and he appeared to be deep in contemplation as he changed his clothing, slowly undressing, eager for the day to end the moment he went under the sheets of your shared bed. 

"Eddie?" He hummed. His back was against the bed's headboard, and his arms were draped over the sheet that covered his naked chest. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Hmm?" His gaze shifted to his side when he noticed you donning one of your nightgowns and grabbing a corner of the sheet to get into bed. "Did you say something, sweetheart?"

Eddie would often turn on his side and gaze at you as soon as you climbed into bed, but he didn't this time. "Eddie." Your voice was barely audible, accompanied by a grimace. "What thoughts are you lost in?" 

His gaze met yours for the first time in hours. He didn't look at you. He saw you. 

"Today," he said as he took a big breath. As he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hands flew to his head, fingers digging holes into his temples. "You looked breathtaking with the kids today." When he finally looked your way, he noticed your perplexed countenance. "You were filled with joy, and you seemed so natural holding that little girl." His face lit up with a smile. "They loved you, and you loved them."

"Is that...bad?" 

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. "No, not at all." His right hand brushed your cheek. "It made my heart ache peculiarly, and I found myself wanting to have children with you." You found yourself crying as you grinned at his remarks. "I want little yous and little mes running around this palace giggling, but..."

"But what?"

A quivering sigh exited his body, sending shivers down your spine. "I have no idea what a good father is supposed to be like, and I don't want to bring children into this world if their worst enemy is the person who should always have their back."

"My love." You sat down, acknowledging his concerns and allowing him to place his head against your chest and tummy. "You are not going to be like your father." You could feel his chest heave as he inhaled deeply to speak, but you didn't allow him. "I have proof that you will be a fantastic dad." Your fingers were entwined with his locks. "The way in which you treat Dustin and the others? How you are so involved with the children at the orphanage, and how much you care about everyone?" As you spoke about him, his head tilted upward, attempting to gaze at you. "You played with the kids, talked to the older ones, and played with them too." The pride in your voice as you mentioned him. "You looked very handsome and caring while feeding Lily." Your eyes sparkled. Lily, a one-year-old, appeared to be entirely in love with Eddie, her eyes shining as she only relaxed in his arms. "You were fantastic with them, Eddie. And, while I didn't know your father personally, I know he didn't love the way you do. He didn't have a single ounce of affection in him. However, you," Your hands gripped both of his cheeks, forcing him to stare at you. "King Edward Munson, you are all love."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Do you want to have children with me? Children we will absolutely love and protect?" You nodded, your eyes welling up. "Fuck." As he rose from your breasts and abdomen, he drew a big breath and blinked swiftly. "Are you sure you're serious?"

"I wouldn't say yes if I wasn't serious, Eddie." He nodded, his gaze shifting from yours to your lips. "Children come with a lot of responsibility."

Eddie's eyes darkened as he sat on the bed, his stare fixed on you. Your brow wrinkled, perplexed by his solemn gaze. As his hands held your legs, you fell fully on your back, your head resting against the mattress rather than the pillow. "Eddie? What?" You were stunned by his behaviour and had your eyes wide open. His curls vanished beneath your nightgown and between your legs. As his warm breath stroked your sensitive skin, his fingertips rubbed on the flesh of your thighs. "What exactly are you doing?" A chill ran through your body, and an unsteady breath became trapped in your chest. He did not respond to your query, though, as he planted a light kiss on the center of your core. "Eddie." A cry emerged from between your lips, and the heat threatened to overpower you as you pushed up your nightgown, wanting, yearning to see the magnificent sight of him between your legs. Yet another kiss. This one was longer and filthier as he sniffed your mound with his nose.

"I really want you." He grumbled, his big eyes fixed on you. "I need you." His fingers tightened around the band of your underwear, and he truly needed you since he ripped it instead of pulling it down. "I want you to be stuffed full of my cum." Your entire body began to tremble, and you became flushed as a result of your body's reaction to him, whether it was his words, a touch, or merely a look. "And I want your tummy with my baby inside it." Your teeth bit down on your lower lip, followed by a gasp. "I can't even stand it. I'm sorry, but I can't worship your body for hours like I normally do." A squeeze on the inside of your thighs. 

"I can't because coming in my pants without even being touched by your hands would embarrass me." Your fingers discovered their favourite hiding place: entwined between his curls. "So I'm just going to be inside you until we both fall apart, and then I'm going to fall asleep while softly sucking you right here." His fingers massaged your slit, which was already moist. "Like an adorable baby." His gleaming eyes met yours. "Is that okay with you, sweetheart?" You swiftly nodded your head. "Words."

"I want to have children with you, Eddie. I want to teach them what it's like to be loved and to be as compassionate as you are. More people like you are needed in the world." 

Several minutes went by in a haze. A haze of naked bodies, heated breaths, stray hands, and wet lips. You couldn't stop yourselves, and there was no time for nice words or any other form of preparation. There was no need.

As soon as he received confirmation, his head pushed your slit open, and both of you groaned in delight since you both felt at home with each other. 

"You are soft and tight at the same time. How is that even possible?" His hips didn't move as swiftly as in previous times, but his thrusts were mighty, his testicles smacking against the fluid dripping to your bottom. "I can't wait to fill you all up." Your pleas were frantic. Eddie made you feel as though you were losing your mind and about to pass out. "I can't wait for your stomach to round out." His hands moved from your breasts to your stomach. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable to have the nightgown pulled up under your chin, but you both have been impatient, not being able to entirely undress. "I want to feel the changes in your physique. I'm curious to see how your breasts grow in size." His thrusts emphasised every one of his claims. 

"I won't last much longer." It hadn't been long since you both started, yet there was a desire, a passion, and an awful sensation of being too far apart. Your wrapped legs around his waist sought to force him farther inside as if he could get closer to you. "Please, Eddie. "Fill me up."

His cock jolted within you twice, his balls tightening as he inhaled deeply or gasped. "Fuck, I will, baby." His left hand ran down your body, thumb pressing against your clit, and you were coming undone before he could circle it, Eddie doing so first. It was his warm jets of cum that finally pushed you over the brink. 

"Oh, my lord."

"Just your King, sweetheart." He continued thrusting you both to the utmost degree of pleasure possible while kissing your forehead. "I hope you're ready for more, sweetheart, because I'm not going to stop until you are with child."

[thepenultimateword]

Hey! Can you please continue short prompt #56? I’m literally on the edge of my seat wanting more lol. Thx ❤️

Part One

Supervillain's office smelt like someone had dumped a gallon of autumn spice cologne over every cherry wooded inch of the room. Villain tried hard not to gag as they came through the door--they were already in enough trouble as it was--but they couldn't seem to completely wipe their grimace. The scent made their eyes sting and lingered bitter in the back of their mouth.

"You needed me?" Villain piped up and then immediately winced. Was Supervillain going to take that in a romantic way? Of course, Supervillain didn't need them; first of all, it was just a dating app match, and second of all it wasn't like Supervillain couldn't date whoever they wanted. They didn't want Supervillain to assume that they assumed that something was about to happen between them. Villain wasn't that pathetic. Or desperate. Or interested.

"Ah! Villain." Supervillain swiveled in their desk chair, steepling their fingers beneath their chin. "Quick question. Roses or orchids?"

Villain stared, facial muscles seizing in involuntary shock. They didn't even think they could blink. "Uh...orchids?"

"Eating in or eating out?"

"I don't get why--"

Supervillain cocked their head to the side, the sharp cut of their slow blink stopping Villain short. Those eyes were like clear-cut diamonds, so pale they were almost devoid of color. In picture, Villain could stare for hours, but in person, it was a little like being flayed alive.

Villain swallowed. "Depends on my mood and how long of a day I've had."

Supervillain considered that for a moment, and though their eyes vaguely clouded over, the change in luster was not enough to stop their vacant gaze from piercing straight through Villain's throat. Another sudden blink seemed to file that information away for later and on they went.

"Movie or dance?"

"Movie I guess."

"Salty or sweet?"

"Neither. Spicy."

They were getting the hang of this question game.

"PDA or privacy?"

Nevermind.

Villain blushed and looked down at their knees. "A little of both."

This time Villain did take a physical note on the notepad in front of them. Then they marked something on a grid sheet and nodded Villain politely back toward the door. "Alright, I'll take that into consideration. You can return to your workstation now."

Villain blinked. "What?"

"I said that's all I need from you, you can get back to work."

Was Villain hearing this right? Not acknowledging the dating app was one thing--there were a million ways to explain it away, and after all, it was sort of embarrassing--but to ask all these odd personal questions and then dismiss them?

"You're not even going to tell me what all these questions are for?"

"Just a little pop quiz."

Villain blinked again. "What?"

Supervillain pulled a stack of papers across the desk and began initialing sections every few paragraphs. "I'm gathering data from my admirers in order to transfer it into my ruling style. Whatever attracts you to me could also be used to "attract" more followers and sway the public to my side."

"Oh." Villain hated the humiliated flush spreading across their cheeks, but they hated the disappointed knot in their chest even more. "That...makes sense."

Stupid. Why didn't they deny it? Tell Supervillain that their little narcissistic test didn't apply to them because they'd only swiped up out of pity. Why did any words at all refuse to come to their mouth?

They turned numbly back toward the door, barely feeling their legs move them across the room and down the hall back to their desk. They stared blankly at the blueprints they'd been drawing up for a new destructive weapon, something that had been meant to really make them stand out from the rest of the think tank, and half-considered crumpling it into the garbage can beside their desk before they forced their hand to take up their pencil again and went back to sketching lines. This jilted feeling didn't mean they still didn't want a raise.

They lost themselves in the work, letting it consume them whole, anything not to think about the humiliation and irritating hurt roiling in the back of their mind. It was nearly midnight when they realized Supervillain's story made no sense. How did gathering data on Villain have anything to do with Supervillain's admirable qualities?

They must have dozed off sometime after that because when they came to themself again, they were blinking morning light from their eyes and their cheek was pasted to the blueprint sheet. Lifting their head groggily, the glint of blue glass caught their eye.

A little vase of red orchids sat safely on the far corner of their desk.

Villain rubbed their eyes, but when they lowered their fists the orchids still stared prettily back. They looked around the empty office for matching gifts, even mozied around to the other dead departments to widen the pool, but it became quickly apparent that they weren't going to find anything.

They were the only one with flowers, and based on yesterday's interrogation they knew who they were from. They just wished they knew what that meant.

…

I felt like this scenario could go lots of ways, hopefully this one is ok :)

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer