#not the matching color palette in the last two | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsgotjams27 · 6 months ago

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perfect palette | jjk

vegas isn’t your first choice, but you love your best friend and are willing to do anything for her, including planning her bachelorette party. everything is all set, ready to go for the last day, until you receive a text from the model you’ve hired. he’s out sick but have no fear, he’s sent the next best thing to replace him for the night.

✨ title: perfect palette

✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader (nicknamed Ro)

✨ genre/au: slice of life, light angst | model!jk, las vegas!au

✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.5k

✨ warnings: language, drinking, mild nudity, jungkook + reader are tipsy, kissing, reader is nicknamed Ro but is only called by her name a handful of times.

✨ a/n: hi again! so this idea came to me when i was in vegas lmao, and the painting idea is from 'this is us' (the show). i just thought it was a fun premise. i hope you enjoy it.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is growling. As you pop your head up, you notice the hotel room is a complete mess: furniture has been knocked over, empty tequila and champagne bottles litter the room, and clothes and money are scattered across the floor.

A low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover up with the duvet. You definitely don’t remember sleeping with someone. Your mind races, attempting to recall last night’s shenanigans.

Whoever is next to you mumbles under their breath and turns over on their stomach. The silver chain that’s adorning their neck glimmers from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You can’t help but notice their broad chiseled back and the markings on it. No, they’re not scratches from nails—they’re purple lines, going from one beauty mark to the next, and each mark is surrounded by a pair of red lips. Turning your hand over, you see it’s stained with purple, matching the color on their back.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

You lean over, peering at the mysterious person. A scalloped tattoo delicately covers their shoulder and the rest of their arm is covered in ink. You giggle when you discover the tattoos are colored an array of hues—blue, red, green, and orange. It looks almost like a child was told to have fun and went wild with coloring.

The person groans again, switching to lay on their back side. You pull back, holding the duvet up to your chin. A small gasp comes out when you recognize the mystery person—it’s Jeon Jungkook, your old college buddy. Five years have passed since you last saw him at graduation. Last you heard, he was in Los Angeles, taking a jab at modeling and acting. Well, with his perfect face and body (your eyes quickly scanned over him), who would say no to him?

The real question now was, how did he end up in Vegas, and specifically in your hotel room?

—

The day before.

“Ro, cheer up please. We’re in Vegas, not a funeral,” Lottie says, swiping on a pink lip stain. “You’re only gonna feel like shit if you keep scrolling through those photos.”

Lottie’s right because looking through your ex-college sweetheart’s wedding photos is not doing anything for you. Four years of committing to a man who said he never wanted to get married, but there he was with a ring on his finger.

Your phone is swiped from your hand. “Hey!” you protest, standing to snatch it back. “Give it to me!”

“No! I will not let my maid-of-honor mope around like a sad puppy. Forget Jimin! He’s a married man now and a Libra—an October Libra too, I might add. That should’ve been a red flag right off the bat!”

She’s been your work wife for the past three years, and the two of you bonded over talking shit about your boss and colleagues. The only anecdotes she knew of Jimin were the ones you spilled on drunken nights.

“Lottie, give me my phone. I have to make sure everything is ready for tonight. It has to be perfect,” you explain, holding out your hand, insisting she gives it to you. But it was an excuse to keep lurking.

The itinerary for today consisted of: brunch, pool and cocktails, dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then a night of painting–naked painting you should add. As if the Magic Mike show wasn't enough skin for Lottie and the rest of the crew. You somehow stumbled upon a small business, ‘Perfect Palette’ combining models and painting into one. This would be the next closest thing to being with a fully naked man. It's been a hot minute since you've seen one.

The bride-to-be reluctantly hands over the phone and you're scrolling through emails, switching apps to confirm everything.

“Take a chill pill, babe. Everything doesn't have to be perfect, but I am excited about painting tonight!” Lottie smiles and claps, then leans over to give you a hug. “Okay! Time to get ready for brunch.” She runs off to the restroom. “And no more pining over Jimin, please!” She yells back.

It's hard not to look through the photos of your ex-boyfriend because it was supposed to be you, not the woman he's kissing and holding. If only you could go back to graduation and fix things between you and Jimin…maybe life would've turned out differently for you.

As you open up Instagram (your burner account, obviously), you see a new post of him and his wife on a plane with the caption, “Can't wait to honeymoon in Bali.”

Bali was your dream honeymoon location.

With a heavy sigh, flinging yourself onto the bed, you turn off your phone. Lottie’s always right—this is depressing.

A ding goes off and you're hoping it's just one of the girls confirming the schedule for today. Grabbing your phone, you hold it above you, the screen illuminating your face.

The notification reads:

Namjoon 8:30 AM

Hey. I came down with the stomach bug so I can't make it tonight, but don't worry, I'm sending the next best thing to replace me. I promise the bride and your girls will love him. He's a newbie but he's just as beefy if not more than me. Have fun tonight.

You turn the phone over and rub your hand over your face. Great, just my luck, you think.

Well, whoever this person is, you hope he’s worth what you’re paying for.

–

The Primrose restaurant is the perfect spot to finish off a weekend in Vegas. It’s bustling with groups similar to yours—probably other brides and bridesmaids celebrating a last hoorah before committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life. At this point it seems silly, doesn’t it? Being with someone, choosing them on a daily basis, loving them for all their faults, but who are you kidding? You’re a hopeless romantic now waiting for your charming prince.

Gwen and Ivy sit across from you and Lottie, whispering and pointing to their phone like two high school girls. You don’t doubt they’re plotting something. You just hope it doesn’t involve more naked men, minus the one you’ll see tonight. There are only so many ripped abs you can take.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lottie asks while narrowing her eyes. She holds her glass of mango mimosa, taking a sip.

“Nothing!” They both speak in tandem and Lottie makes a face at the two.

“No surprises,” you plead with your friends. “The rest of the day is already planned.”

“Don’t worry, babe! We’re not planning anything else,” Gwen reassures.

“It’s just that—” Ivy is cut off when Gwen jabs her in the ribs. “Ow!”

Gwen puts her phone down, hiding it under her thigh. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“But it does—kind of—” Ivy interjects. “Jimin and his wife—they’re pregnant.” She grabs Gwen’s phone, showing a photo of Jimin kissing his wife’s belly.

“Oh,” you say softly. “That’s great. I’m really happy for him.”

You hate to admit it, but it stings. He’s living the life you dreamed of with him. The big house, big cars, but someone else got the big ring. And now they’re starting a family? Everyone seems to be moving forward, but it feels like you’re at standstill. It’d be amazing to have a man plop in your lap, but life just doesn’t seem to be going your way.

Clearing your throat, “Should we get ready for the pool?”

—

It doesn’t matter how many times you tug down your swimsuit, it keeps riding up in all the wrong places. The white linen shorts and tie top aren’t doing you any favors either by being paper thin.

The pool is bustling with hoards of party-goers. They’re laughing, drinking, and having the time of their life. An ex-boyfriend’s current life shouldn’t be affecting yours—but it is. You wish you could let go, let loose, forget everything related to Park Jimin. You’d rather be consumed by anything, anyone other than him.

Lottie’s at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Gwen and Ivy are grabbing the attention of four guys. And it’s the last night before returning to reality, so you should be having fun, flirting, and making a fool of yourself to someone whom you’ll never see again. That’s what Vegas is for, right?

As a maid of honor, you’re definitely not living up to the hype and you know Lottie’s disappointed expression like the back of your hand, and yet you can’t unbunch your panties that are in a twist. The effects of the morning mimosas have worn off, and maybe you need something stronger. Hell—even a gummy sounds tempting at this point. Anything to forget how miserable your love life is.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Lottie asks. You shake your head no, but she knows you. She sits down, taking your hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Jimin. It sucks that he got married even though he said he never wanted to—” You’re ready to interrupt but she stops you, placing her index finger on your lips.

“Bup-bup-bup. I know what you’re going to say, but don’t,” Lottie implores, pleading with her eyes. She knows how much you torment yourself with lowly thoughts.

You want to say that there’s definitely something wrong with you. Why else would Jimin say one thing to you about marriage and then do the complete opposite?

“You’re more than enough, so please don’t think otherwise. Don’t let this one guy determine the course of your future relationships. He’s not worth your time and energy.”

Tears began to well behind your eyes as she continued, “You deserve to have some fun. So please, can we enjoy this last night together before we have to go back to our real lives?” Lottie pouts along with puppy eyes.

Lottie’s always right and that’s what you love about her. You hate that you’ve been a poor sport this weekend when you’re supposed to be celebrating your friend and having fun. You’ve been busy moping over a man who is now married with a child on the way. It’s a pathetic way to spend your last night in Vegas.

You let out a deep breath, expelling all the bad energy you’ve harnessed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst maid of honor, but have no fear!” A server brings over the drinks that Lottie ordered, you pick up your Paloma cocktail and an oversized margarita, handing it to the bride-to-be. “Let’s have the best night. Cheers!” you say, clinking your glass against hers.

—

Tequila is one of your worst enemies, but also the best way for you to loosen up your limbs and lips.

By the time the four of you arrive at the hotel room, you’re unsure if you can even pick up a paintbrush, let alone even get paint on a canvas.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry that you love me! Change my mind up like it’s origami!”

The trio of you, Ivy, and Gwen are linked arm in arm trying to fit through the door while singing at the top of your lungs.

“Ugh—I swear Tate McRae is my spirit animal,” you say, turning to Gwen. “You know, she just gets it. Always gets me in my sad girl hours and then has me dancing the next.”

“I’m a-I’m a-I’m a wild ride that never stops!” Ivy continues singing, letting go of the two of you while Lottie trails behind. Someone has to be the semi-sober one.

“Hey Ro—they’re bringing everything right?” Lottie asks you.

“Yeah, the guy will bring the supplies. There’s an area cleared out for him. I’m gonna freshen up then I’ll be out.”

“I’m ready for a man to bare it all and ask nothing of me in return,” Gwen comments, taking a seat on the couch.

You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. Hopefully, it’ll be the last naked man you’ll see this weekend. But either way, you’re sure you’ll enjoy this last activity.

The powder puff pats against your skin, making dust fly everywhere. Taking a step back, you give yourself the once-over in the mirror, but not before swiping a red stain on your lips. You don’t want to look disheveled for this naked guest. Apparently, he’s the ‘next best thing’ next to Namjoon, and you saw Namjoon’s photo on the website. You’re curious to see this mystery man and how this evening will end up.

As the door is ajar, you can hear the girls talking amongst themselves along with giggles. Whoever this guy is, he must be living up to their standards.

You’re unsure what to expect, how everything will turn out. Is this model fully naked? Are they covered? Do you keep your art piece? How are you supposed to bring a canvas of a naked man on a plane without receiving a few stares? You definitely didn’t think this part through.

“Ro! Get your butt out here. We’re gonna start painting soon!” Gwen yells, making you sprint out the door and into a curious situation.

Four canvases on easels and paint palettes on stools surround the model. His back is turned to you and he’s already half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. One arm is completely inked from the top of his shoulder to his wrist. When he turns around and your jaw drops, not because he’s built like a Greek god (well, yeah he is), but because you recognize the half-naked man.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ro?” His eyes light up and he secures his towel, tucking it in his waist. “What are you doing here?”

You step toward him and the girls. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Err—”

Lottie clears her throat, blinking at you and then Jungkook. “Um, excuse me. How do you two know each other?”

The pair of you give each other a look and chuckle before you answer. “Oh, we went to college together.”

“Just went to college together? Nothing more?” Ivy narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you’re lying.

“What? No! We’re just friends. I was with Jimin, remember?” A pathetic reminder of your past relationship and now non-existent one.

“Uh huh,” Lottie remarks, taking a stride to you, pulling you in. “I wanna hear all the details about that one later.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you whisper. “We’re friends—nothing more.” Catching Jungkook’s gaze, you smile softly before taking your seat on the stool.

“Are you ladies ready?” Jungkook asks, ripping off his towel, only to reveal another small hand towel covering his crotch.

The girls are yelping and hollering. You can’t help but cover your eyes, giggling at the fact that you’ll be painting one of your friends—naked.

—

Jungkook’s surrounded by the four of you. His pose is simple, straight forward. Literally straight forward because he’s facing you, knees slightly bent as he’s sitting on the stool. Your eyes have caught his every now and again, but he's focused on something past you.

Every inch of him is chiseled like a statue right out of Ancient Greece. From his jawline, to his collarbone, to his sculpted chest and not one, two, three, four, but eight pack abs. How is it that some people are just born to look like a Greek god? You didn’t think God had favorites, but Jeon Jungkook definitely proves you wrong.

Studying Jungkook’s physique for the past hour has made you realize how intimate this feels. Although the pair of you were friends in school, this is the most time you’ve spent with him outside of it, and the most time you’ve spent just looking at him. He is definitely a pretty boy with a soft, sweet energy.

Your brows are knitted, biting your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to paint his inked arm. It’s looking more and more like a glob than anything distinguishable. It’s when your eyes catch his and he’s doing that smile, the one where one side curves up, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to the large clock in the living area. “Okay, ladies. It looks like time is up. How did everyone’s painting turn out?” There are groans and grumbles coming from the four of you. Jungkook chuckles, “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

He turns, fetching a robe behind him, slipping it on to cover himself. Jungkook takes it upon himself to check out everyone’s canvases, and you’re dreading the moment when he approaches yours.

You clutch it, holding it close to your body, and you have no intention of Jungkook ever seeing it.

He tilts his head, giving you a look. “Ro—it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me, it is!” You turn, hoping to somehow destroy it before leaving tomorrow morning. It’s not that Jungkook looks horrible—it’s that you’re a horrible painter. But your death grip isn’t as strong as he is. With a sigh, you hand it over to him.

Jungkook nods with a pout on his lips. “It’s…”

“Horrible—I know.”

“No, no. I’d say it has an abstract feeling to it. I like it.” He gives a bright smile, returning the canvas to you.

You give him a thin smile, knowing that he’s just saying it because it’s his job. “By the way, you’re really good at this gig, but are you still pursuing the whole modeling thing?”

“I’m still doing that. I just do this gig for fun on the weekends. I mean, I get to meet cool, and sometimes crazy people and the money isn’t bad either.”

“Alright, ladies and gentleman. Tequila, anyone?” Gwen suggests as she wiggles her eyebrows, holding up the bottle. No one answers which makes her frown. “Aw, come on!”

“I’m game. What about you Ro?” Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised, eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. “One for me?”

You know it’s never ‘just one’ with Jungkook. You’ve seen first hand what that one line does to people, but you take the risk. “Okay, Jeon—just one.”

Everyone else gives in, raising and clinking their glasses to toast the bachelorette. Expelled breaths come from everyone after knocking back the clear liquor.

“Round two?” Jungkook asks, extending his glass toward Gwen in which she happily obliges.

You smirk, shaking your head as you catch Jungkook’s gaze.

—

It didn’t take long until you were feeling euphoric from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re always on cloud nine when you drink Tequila.

Lottie called it quits after her fifth shot. Gwen and Ivy are also well on their way to sleeping like babies. But you and Jungkook? You both have caught a second wind of energy.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry!” you exclaim, rubbing your belly as it growls. Jungkook’s trying to hold in a laugh. With a gasp, you turn to him, slapping his back, which is firm to the touch. “Shut up! Drinking makes me hungry.”

“Okay then, let’s get some room service. What are you craving?”

You tap your cheek with your index finger, combing through the many options. “Pizza. No—wait, chicken wings.” Jungkook closes his eyes and hums. “No, nope! I want a juicy, juicy hamburger…with…with…” Your brain is obviously short-circuiting.

“Fries?” Jungkook answers.

“Yes! Fries! And a milkshake!”

“We can do that. I’ll call it in.”

An hour has passed and you and Jungkook are sprawled out on the bed, bellies full and minds are swirling.

“Oh man, I haven’t done anything like this in such a long time,” you admit, turning over onto your belly. You lay your head in the crook of your arm, facing Jungkook.

“What? Eating?” he teases.

You giggle. “No—getting tipsy and I don’t know, just being free.”

“This is you being free?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I gotta get some more tequila in you then.” He proceeds to get up, but you pull him back.

“No, no, no. Trust me, this is good. I don’t wanna black-out.”

“Okay, how about some champagne then? Just to celebrate your last night here,” Jungkook suggests.

You know you’ll regret it, but you agree. “Just one bottle.” Besides you already paid for it, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

He sprints out of the bedroom to the bar area to grab a bottle and two glasses. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex as he pours the two of you a glass.

“To—”

“Lottie,” you finish his sentence.

“To Lottie.” He clinks his glass with yours before chugging down his bubbly.

You stare blankly at the Greek god himself. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

His lips thin into a smile. “I’m not doing anything…”

“Mmhm.” You take a gulp of your glass. You’re sure that if Jungkook were to ask you to do something, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. He made being around him comfortable and you always felt at ease.

“So, what should we do now?”

Your lips turn into a pout, peering around the room before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah! I have just the thing.” You rush over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Turning around, you wave a box of double tipped markers.

Jungkook knits his brows together. “And what do you think you’re going to do with those?”

You giggle. “You’ll see!”

—

Your tongue is out, concentrating on the purple line connecting from one beauty mark to the next. You’ve forced Jungkook to lie on his belly as you’re hunched over, straddling his legs.

“Don’t move!”

He relaxes, letting you continue on. Capping the purple marker, you set it aside. You’re giggling, tracing the line across his back and you can feel him squirm under your touch.

“You finished or what?” He peers over his shoulder but you turn him away.

"Just need to add the finishing touches." Leaning forward, you press your lips to the first beauty mark on his mid back, leaving a lipstick stain. Then you move to the next one beneath his shoulder blade, and continue on. His skin is smooth and warm under your lips, and though it's faint, you think you hear a low groan from him.

You sit up, adjusting your position, staring at the artwork you’ve created on Jungkook’s back. “Done—with your back at least. Now onto your arms.”

—

Jungkook turns his head to see what you’re coloring, flexing his bicep, making you color outside the lines.

“Oh my god! You made me mess up!” You try wiping the color, but it doesn’t budge. “You did it on purpose.”

“I did not! Why do you need to color inside the lines anyway?” he asks before returning to his previous position, resting his head on his arm.

“Because…that’s the way you’re supposed to color.” Taking an orange marker, you continue shading in his cloud tattoo.

“You don’t always have to follow the rules,” he breathed, gazing up at you.

“I know…” you mumble. Your eyes flick to his then back to the tattoo. You hate when things are not in your control. There were a handful of moments in your life when shit hit the fan and chaos ensued—Jimin being one of them.

You clear your throat, grabbing a yellow marker to color in a gradient effect. “And are you the type to not follow the rules?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I guess we don’t know each other well huh?”

“Well, I was practically glued to Jimin when we were in school.”

“What happened with you guys anyway? I thought you guys were like soulmates or something.”

“We just wanted different things,” you mumble, not wanting to elaborate. “What about you, hmm? Being a model in LA and Vegas? I’m sure you have women wanting to crawl into bed all the time.”

His gaze catches yours. “Exhibit A.”

You scoff. “Hey! We’re friends—that’s the only reason why you’re in my bed.”

“Uh huh. I saw the way you were eyeing me during the painting session. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it,” Jungkook teases, making you stop coloring, and pinch his underarm. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, just kidding!” He moves away, but you pull him back.

“Hey! I’m almost done coloring,” you say, gripping tighter onto his arm.

“That’s not fair. Only you get to color me?”

You sigh, tilting your head. “I’ll let you draw one thing on me.”

“Can I pick the location of where to draw it?”

“As long as it’s not my tits or ass.”

Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh. “Alright, how about your—”

Your hand flies to cover his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “Jeon Jungkook! That’s a hard no!”

“You practically saw my junk and I can’t see yours?”

“Well, I paid for it.”

“I can pay you too.”

You gasp. “You can’t just buy me.”

“Fine. Give me a few options and I’ll choose the placement.”

It would be easy to choose a place more visible, but you’re feeling frisky. “My hip or my back.”

Jungkook lips his licks, eyes flicking to your hips then back up at you. “And I can draw anything I want?”

You hum with a nervous tremble. You’re sure he wouldn’t draw anything ridiculous. “I trust you.”

“‘Kay then, turn over on your belly. Top off.”

Sitting up, facing Jungkook, your hands fall to the first button on your linen vest. Your eyes never leave his as you continue to unfasten the rest, then you toss it aside, revealing a blush pink see-through bra with floral detailing. Jungkook is trying his best to not let his eyes wander lower and you’re trying to do the same. Yes, you’ve stared at his half-naked body for an hour tonight, but you didn’t have the chance to explore it up close.

“Is this okay?” You know it is, but you’d like confirmation.

“Mmm.” He gestures for you to lie down, and you do as he asks.

Jungkook reaches for a black marker, the tip is thinner than the others. He shifts his position a few times before lying comfortably next to you. The warmth from his body radiates, heating up against your skin. You lie on top of your crossed arms, facing him, wondering what he’s planning to draw. Maybe some flowers or stars.

His brows are knitted as he’s concentrated on where to begin. He starts on the middle of your back, drawing circular shapes from what you can tell. The tip of the marker grazes back and forth, and his hand and fingers emanate a gentle touch upon your skin.

He’s quite handsome, you think. Even the scar etched on his cheek has a certain beauty, and his nose must be a butterflies favorite place to land on.

“Is it okay if I unhook this?”

“Hmm?”

“Your um,” he clears his throat. “Your bra.”

You’ve been too focused on Jungkook’s face, you hadn’t realized he was halfway down your back. “Yeah, um, go for it.”

He unhooks your bra in one fell swoop and the sides of your bra fall to the side. Continuing with his design, he concentrates on the smallest details going down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut as his warm breath softly fans the wet ink on your skin.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asks, trying to make conversation, realizing he doesn’t know you well, besides when you were with Jimin.

“Single as can be. What about you? A girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Situationship?”

Jungkook laughs. “What kind of life do you think I lead here, hm? That’s a lot of assumptions about me.”

“I don’t know. I just assume that someone that looks like you would have someone is all.”

“Well, I’m also single, and I’m a more monogamous kinda guy.”

“You are?” you question with a dramatic gasp. “That comes as a nice surprise. Maybe we should go get married tonight in a chapel,” you joke.

“With a few more drinks in me, I’m sure I’d say yes to anything.”

“Stop—don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious. I’m ready to meet someone and do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but a lot of the people I meet just want sex.”

“I’m sorry, did I just meet a guy who doesn’t want sex?”

Jungkook deadpans. “I didn’t say I don’t want sex. I do—I just wanna be a romantic and spoil someone.”

“Oh, well, you can always wine and dine me. I won’t object,” you tease.

As Jungkook continues drawing, the pads of his fingers create a light buzz of electricity, from one end to the other. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing from his soft touch. You almost let out a low moan but catch yourself when he gets to a ticklish spot near your ribs.

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the right person will come along for you?”

A beat passes before he answers. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever they are, I just know that I'm probably not ready to meet them yet, but the right time will come.”

“But what if the right person came at the wrong time?”

“Or…you were the right person in the wrong place,” he suggests. “Are you talking about Jimin?”

“Yeah, I've been trying to avoid talking about him. He recently got married and his wife is pregnant too.”

“Ah, don't tell me you're feeling shitty? ‘Cause you shouldn't.”

A sad chuckle leaves your lips. “I'm pretty sure I fumbled it.”

Jungkook stops drawing on your back, softly calling your name, in which you hesitate to look at him for fear of bursting into tears.

“Hey…you didn't fumble anything. Pretty sure it's Jimin’s loss.”

“You're sweet, Kook. Thanks.”

Jungkook continues on his quest to finish his drawing.

“Is it almost finished?” you ask, clearing your throat. The tequila and champagne are starting to wear off and tomorrow’s reality is beginning to settle in. Tonight feels like a dream and you don’t want to wake up.

He hums. “Almost. Just a few more details then we’ll be good to go.” Short strokes lightly mark across your back and he doesn’t break his concentration. He continues for a few minutes before closing the cap. “Done. Wanna see?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m low-key scared to see what it is.”

Jungkook straightens his posture then reaches for his phone. “You have nothing to be scared of. It’s pretty. I promise.” He takes a photo, showing it to you.

Though the drawing session didn’t feel long, you could see the intricate detailing he went into drawing the moon phases down your back.

Sitting up then turning away from Jungkook, you use your arm to cover your breasts and secure your bra. “Are you always good at everything?” you ask, standing and walking over to the dresser, you pull out an oversized shirt, slipping it on, then you grab the tequila bottle and two shot glasses. There’s just enough to end the night.

Jungkook shifts to the edge of the bed, legs spread, and you slot yourself right in between. “Nah, I’m not good at everything.”

“Oh yeah? What are you not good at?” you ask, making him hold a glass while you pour his then yours.

He chuckles, looking away, then back up at you. “For starters, I’m not good at flirting.”

“You’re lying.” Your eyes lock in on his as you set the empty bottle down on the floor.

“I’m not.”

“Okay, practice on me then,” you say, trying to persuade him.

“A bit of liquid courage might help.”

You raise your glass and clink it against his. “Bottoms up.” The both of you wince as you knock them back, tossing the glasses on the carpeted flooring.

“Better?” you inquire, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. Jungkook’s fingers delicately trace up and down your thighs, sending tingles across every inch of skin. His eyes are so starry, you’ll gladly get lost in them.

“You’re pretty.”

“Could say the same about you,” you giggle, twirling his hair in your fingers. “You’re right.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, reveling at your touch against his skin. “Mm, about what?”

“That you’re bad at flirting.” Your eyes linger on his lips, wondering what they taste like and how much you’d like to kiss the chocolate chip mole right underneath his bottom lip.

He lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at his feet then back at you. “Told you,” he says as he pulls away, propping himself up on the bed. He scans you from head to toe, loving the fact that you’re in between his legs. Hasn't seen you in years, but he’s intrigued.

Letting out a yawn, you cover your mouth then apologize.

“Damn, didn’t think my non-flirting would put you to sleep.”

You laugh. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow.”

“Right, I should head out too.” Jungkook shifts, scooting to the edge of the bed but you don’t budge.

“Do you wanna stay? Since it’s pretty late already.” Nearly 3 AM and you know you’ll regret this but right now, you’ll indulge in whatever’s left of this trip.

Jungkook’s silent for a moment before answering, “Sure. I’ll stay.”

You crawl over him, slipping under the covers that have been calling your name for the past few hours. The plush, fluffy pillows are like a cloud as you lay your head down. Jungkook follows your lead, doing the same, facing you. His fringe gently falls, covering his eyes, and you find yourself moving them out of his face.

“You’re cute,” you whisper, letting your finger trace his cheeks to his jawline.

“I don’t really like being cute,” he hums.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” You inch closer to him, and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. It feels nice to be in close proximity to another human being again. And you like that there are no expectations. You can just be with Jungkook. The two of you run in the same circle of friends, and he makes you feel safe—like if anything were to happen to you tonight, he’d take care of you.

Your eyes flick to his lips, lingering longer than expected, and your cheeks are warming up, ridding the last bit of alcohol coursing through your veins.

Jungkook moves in, closing the distance. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, lips ghosting each other in a delicate dance before finally meeting in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into each other. Hearts beating in perfect harmony, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

With your breaths mingled, it creates a cocoon of intimacy as you savor the softness of each other's lips. Your fingers entwined in his hair, drawing him closer, bodies pressed together in a silent declaration of desire.

The last leg of this trip was fate trying to make you forget about your worries, and Jungkook was the perfect color to paint over your monochrome palette.

There’s a longing deep inside you wanting to escape, and as much as you want to release it, you’d rather have him when you’re sober and in the right mindframe.

“Ro…” Jungkook moans as he pulls away, your hands splayed on his taut chest, forehead resting against his.

“Yeah?” you reply, leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t want you like this,” he says, taking you by surprise, almost like he could read your mind.

Letting out a chuckle, you answer, “No—yeah, makes sense.”

“It’s not that ‘I don’t want you’, I do! I just—don’t want this to turn out like other flings I’ve had in the past because I don’t consider you ‘a fling’ or someone to just toss the next day because we’re friends and I would never do that to—“

You interrupt him with a peck on his lips. “Jungkook. I understand. I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight and that’s all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“No, you did! You helped me loosen up.”

“I’m sure it was just the champagne and tequila doing all the work.”

“They helped, but it was mostly you.” You smile, letting a beat pass before speaking again. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

He hums, leaning in for a kiss, in which you willingly give. You tug on his silver chain, asking for a few more kisses before letting him go.

Not even three minutes in and Jungkook is already snoring. His chest rising and falling, rumbling like a mountain. It’s cute, you think. Could get used to listening to this, almost like white noise.

You admire how Jungkook lives his life without worries, letting the wind guide him. It might not happen right away, but maybe when you return to reality, you should consider not always staying within the lines. That it’s okay to go out of bounds and live a little. Life shouldn’t be so serious all the time.

—

There’s a light sound of pitter patter sweeping across the floor with shushed ‘Ows’ and ‘shut up’. You weakly open your eyes to see what the commotion is. Your body wants to get up, but the pounding migraine is saying otherwise.

A loud thump makes you blink your eyes open and pop your head up. There’s furniture knocked over, tequila and champagne bottles are scattered everywhere, along with clothes and money.

The low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover yourself with the duvet. They’re facing away and you can’t make out who this mystery person is. You peer over to find a man covered in tattoos, and it looks like a child tried to color inside the tattoo lines but failed miserably.

He mumbles gibberish under his breath and turns over onto his stomach. Great, now you can’t even get a good look at him, you think.

His silver necklace glimmers from the sun peeking through the blinds. And holy shit—his shoulders?

Broad.

Chiseled.

For all you know, he could be some kind of athlete. Then you notice the purple lines on his back, and no—they aren’t scratches from nails, the lines connect from one beauty mark to the next across his back. It’s like one of those connect the dot pictures, except the finished drawing wasn’t anything recognizable. But surrounding each beauty mark is a pair of red lips, and as you look down at your hands, you find that you’re the culprit who must’ve drawn on this man.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

Another groan escapes the man’s lips and he turns over again. You pull up your side of the duvet, further covering yourself, and the smallest gasp comes out. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, an old college buddy.

The duvet is pulled down, covering his bottom half, revealing his taut chest and not one, two, three, four—but an eight pack set of abs. Is it humanly possible to even have more than six?

How did he end up in Vegas? And specifically in your room?

“Jungkook?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm…”

You move closer, feeling the warmth from his body. “Jungkook, it’s time to get up.”

Still half asleep, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “Just five more minutes, Ro,” he says, nuzzling into you.

“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?”

He chuckles, smiling, finally peeking his eyes open. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“I…remember things…” you say, lying through your teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook moves into a sitting position, turning to you. “So you know we got married, right?”

Your jaw drops and eyes widen. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re lying.”

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

How could you let yourself get married in Las Vegas? And at your best friend’s bachelorette party? It’s not like you’re trying to steal her thunder, quite the opposite, really. This was supposed to be about her, not you. Fuck—Lottie’s going to hate you, isn’t she?

Jungkook quietly watches you freak out. Wonders how long he can let this continue before telling the truth. He thinks you’re cute when you’re all flustered.

“No, we can't be married! I don't even know you and how would this even work? We live like 3000 miles away from each other? And would you move to New York? Or would I move to LA? What if your family doesn't like me? Your friends even? Wait–do you even like me? Oh–Jungkook, how did we let this happen?” you ask, burying your hands in your face.

Question after question runs through your mind and Jungkook is sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“Why aren't you freaking out?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles, leaning over toward you. “You're really cute, you know that?” he says.

Your eyes follow his finger as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, it's time to get down to the important things. “Kook–please! This isn't the time to tell me I'm cute. We have bigger things to worry about. We're married!”

He sucks in his lips, trying to hold in a laugh.

You knit your brows and narrow your eyes. “Unless…we’re not married…”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, his finger gently caresses your cheek. “Maybe one day, pretty girl. If we ever get to that stage of course.”

A smack against his arm reverberates throughout the room. “Aye! I'm gonna kill you. You really had me worried.”

He rubs the ruby red spot that's imprinted on his arm. “Why? Because marrying me would've been horrible?”

No, you think, quite the opposite.

“Of course not. It's just, we don't know each other and I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in a marriage,” you explain.

You'd at least wanna go on a real date and get to know him before strapping him down forever.

He nods in agreement. “Well, I had fun last night. Hence all the things I let you do to me.” Jungkook points out the badly colored arm and connect-the-dots on his back.

“Oh, I'm so sorry about that.”

“I'm not. I'm glad you had fun even though you don't remember it.”

“Please tell me I didn't act like an idiot.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, you're fine, but uh, I should get going since you have a flight to catch.”

“Oh, shit. My flight.” You reach over to find your phone. It's already 9 AM, and thankfully the airport isn't far away and TSA Pre-check has been a lifesaver.

With another glance, you see your clothes and Jungkook's scattered on the ground. He reaches to grab his shirt and sweats.

“I, um, I was pretty bold last night. Wasn't I?” you were referring to the pair of lips covering his back.

Jungkook snickers. “Yeah, just a bit, but I didn't mind it at all,” he says, slipping his shirt on. He stands, putting his sweats on and you can't help but stare at his peachy ass in his black Calvin Klein–the tight kind. “Do you remember anything else from last night?”

Your mind thinks back to the whirlwind of last night. There was definitely alcohol involved because you only act with confidence under the influence of Tequila.

But a recollection of soft lips and entangled hair between your fingers flutter back into the present just for a fleeting moment.

You shake your head, wanting to keep this memory to yourself.

Jungkook's lips thin into a smile as he ruffles his bed head hair. “Call me next time you're in town?”

You stand to meet him. “Or you can call me when you're in the Big Apple,” you reply, handing him your phone.

He dials your number, so you can have his. “Mm, looks like that confidence hasn't left yet.”

“Mm, I have a smidge of it left.”

“Yeah?” He draws closer, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking in his warmth and scent.

Last night was hazy but bits and pieces are coming back. You're not sure if a lot of these moments with Jungkook are real or just a dream. You'd like to hope he enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with him.

“It was really good to see you, Kook.”

“Good to see you too, Ro. Don't be a stranger, okay?” He turns on his heel to open the bedroom door, but turns around to say one last thing. “Oh, and don't worry too much about the right person. Who knows, maybe you’ve met them already.”

You wonder if he's referring to himself. You have to admit, he's been making you smile and laugh more than usual, even making you blush.

“Mm, I'll keep that in mind.”

He flashes a smile, opening the door.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, turning to you again.

You reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “What happened in Vegas, can it not stay in Vegas?”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic

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purplealmonds · 11 months ago

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Currently, Sky: Children of the Light and Mononoke are my two favorite things and I so very badly want to will this collaboration into existence. 🕯⚖️

Process GIF & artist commentary below the cut!

This began as a self-indulgent costume design project: aMononoke-inspired Sky cosmetic. It was supposed to be a quick-and-dirty mockup that would not be shared outside of private Discord servers, but I got...carried away.

It came out a lot nicer than anticipated. A bit rough around the edges, but when zoomed out clean enough to look like a legit Sky cosmetic. I extracted the high-res Sky and Mononoke logos from their respective websites. I custom-made the handhold collaboration icon. Then I slapped it on top of the costume design. It looked neat!

But then I started having second thoughts. The outfit was quite complex, and it didn't feel right to have it sit in a sterile, empty space like that. It looked half-baked, incomplete. So I used the Mononoke movie poster as inspiration for set dressing and color palette:

There are vestiges of the project's origins scattered throughout this piece - namely that a lot of the visuals were built upon screenshots from Sky. Since it was a costume design project, I didn't feel the need to draw from scratch. They were completely painted over in the final product, but using this technique sped up my process quite significantly!

I went to the Sky Wiki for references. I cobbled together some Season of Revival's kimono cosmetic as a starting point for the outfit. The eyeliner detail Days of Style mask looked similar to the Medicine Seller's face markings, so did a quick photoshoot in the Office to match the camera angle of the previous image.

For the lantern, I made a shared memory in the green room to get the ideal camera angles for each of them:

The grave markers I referenced from a photoshoot in the Hidden Forest's hub:

And the bridge I took from the Sunny Forest:

The butterflies were a last-minute addition - I wanted something to make the composition more sparkly! Then I remembered the end credits of Mononoke had a butterfly too! I figured since I went with the Medicine Seller's new design, this would be a nice homage to his classic look.

#モノノ怪 #mononoke 2024 #mononoke 2007 #kusuriuri #medicine seller #thatskygame #sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatgamecompany #thatskygame fanart #sky cotl fanart #crossover #purplealmonds #2023 #🔕

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kaciidubs · 10 months ago

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Stupid in Love

❣ Summary: Perhaps they call it falling in love because you never truly stop falling. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 813 ❣ Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, Hyunjin fell hard for you, genuinely just fluff and love ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, Reader is referred to as My Love, I suggest listening to 'Stupid in Love' by MAX, featuring Yunjin, it's what inspired this whole thing ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love.

Love was a concept that was both foreign and familiar, something he knew he’d felt before but in the same breath, something he had no working experience with - which only seemed to make things worse.

Love wasn’t black and white turning to color, it was his already extensive color palette expanding with new, vibrant hues and shades he hadn’t been able to create on his own.

With you, he felt like he was walking on clouds, dancing in the drizzling rain as the sun shone through the droplets to cast the most beautiful, vibrant rainbow across the blue sky. At the same time, he felt like he was a newborn deer discovering the world on new, wobbly legs, going about everything with an air of curiosity and wonder that had his heart leaping at every turn.

Complex and simple, it made his head spin as he tried to make himself understand the feelings he was experiencing, though the only suitable conclusion he could ever come to was the simple fact that he was in love with you.

You, who giggled when he stumbled over his words while introducing himself.

You, who agreed to go on a date with him a mere three weeks after meeting, on the only condition that you would plan out the date.

You, who he found himself calling his girlfriend within the blink of an eye, and in the next blink you were both two years and a few months deep, and going strong.

You, you, you.

“...and I figured making chocolate covered fruits would be better than attempting to make an entire cake from scratch, even though Felix swore he and Seungmin could bake with their eyes closed - I’ve seen their lives before! There’s no way they’re baking anywhere near my kitchen.”

Hyunjin blinked, his subconscious floating back down to earth as he watched you wander through your kitchen with no clear goal in sight, simply rummaging through cabinets as you spoke.

Truly, he wished he could remember what spurred this conversation - he loved the sound of your voice, and it felt counterintuitive that his wandering mind would distract him from one of his favorite sounds in the world.

However, his disappointment would disappear as fast as it arrived as you turned to him, a dazzling smile holding your lips and dancing in your eyes.

“So, what d’you think we should do for valentine’s this year, Hyune?”

It would be your third Valentine's Day together, and though you both celebrated each other often, the day of love was reserved for grander gestures to keep the social tradition alive.

Pushing himself away from the island counter, he sauntered over to you before wrapping you in his arms, swooping in to steal a feather-light kiss from your lips; pulling back just enough to bask in the sight of your lidded eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s get married.”

You ducked your head, an astonished laugh bursting past your lips, “You- What?!” Endless giggles shook your shoulders as you looked up at him once more, winding your arms around his shoulders, “Hyunjin, really!”

“Yeah, really.” He pressed, a lovesick smile curving the corners of his lips, “Let’s get married, we can go to Vegas and get it done right then and there.” Of course, he knew his suggestion was mostly in jest, but his sentiments were as true as the sky being blue.

He wanted to marry you, if not now, then sometime down the line - he wanted to be your last love.

Humming as if contemplating his offer, you tilted your head, “How about matching tattoos first? I have a feeling neither one of us would want a Vegas wedding.”

“Oh?” Now it was his turn to tilt his head, a strand of black hair tickling his forehead, “And what type of wedding were you thinking about, my love?”

“I don’t know…”

The tone of your voice was sing-song-ish - facetious, leading, and sugar coated - and he was hanging on with a bated breath.

“I was thinking… Paris?” Your teasing smile threatened to break into a full on grin as his eyes widened a margin, before they narrowed with mirth.

Arms tightening around your waist, his lips found yours in an instant, “Matching tattoos,” he hummed breathlessly, before catching your lips in a slower, deeper kiss, “then matching rings.”

Nodding, your fingers danced in the hair at the nape of his neck as you blinked up at him with adoration, “I definitely wouldn’t mind sharing your last name, Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin grazed his nose along yours, reveling in your smell, your touch, you, you, you.

“I’ll give it to you as fast as I can, Mrs. Hwang.”

Hyunjin was smitten.

Truly, utterly smitten, infatuated, head over heels, down bad, and stupidly, stupidly in love with you.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes , @caitlyn98s , @ch4nn13luv , @ihrtlix , @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 , @maximumkillshot , @y-ur--i , @acker-night , @dreamescapeswriting , @specialstay , @s00buwu , @tinyelfperson , @jj-stay , @katsukis1wife , @inlovewithmusician , @keen-li , @armystay89 , @main-character0 , @vampcharxter , @ddyskz , @prettymiye0n , @bbgnyx , @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz , @milknhoneyracha , @hann1bee , @palindrome969 , @newhope8 , @softkissfelix , @luvyev , @luminouskalopsia , @kpopsstuffs , @luvyev , @starquokka , @wolfs-howling , @laylasbunbunny , @zaethefangirl, @broken-glowsticks, @j-onedrabbles, @dawninnie, @dwaekkistar, @junglyric, @piercedddriver, @sometimesleeknows,

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader

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cyberslvts · 1 year ago

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COME BACK TO ME || w.maximoff

Summary: As you struggle to decipher your feelings, it becomes increasingly apparent that Wanda is not willing to let go of what you once had.

Warnings: 18+, angst, arguing, Smut, restraints, fingering (r recieving), oral (r recieving), desperate Wanda(creaming), happy ending.

WC: 6k

a/n: I had way to much fun writing this chapter.

Part 1 || Part 2

———-

Your office was a realm of muted grey and white, the color palette matching the heavy clouds that hung low in the sky outside. The city rain tapped a soothing melody against the windows, filling in the silent gaps of the room. Droplets trickled down the glass panes, distorting the view of the cityscape bellow.

You sat in your swivel chair, your fingers absently tapping a rhythm on the armrest. Your eyes were fixed on the raindrops, as if they held the answers to the turmoil within you.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cityscape appeared gray and hazy, the tall buildings shrouded in mist. Your thoughts were as cloudy as the weather outside, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions.

The heaviness in your chest matched the atmosphere outside, a weight that had yet to lift since that fateful confrontation. The events of that night constantly replayed in your head, never leaving your mind as if they were following you like your shadow.

Its been about four months since youd last spoken to Wanda. Legal matters and discussions, were conducted solely through your lawyers, a clear boundary you had set. As for Wanda, she was promptly banned from your office building, further deepening the growing rift between you two.

Your eyes felt heavy as you stared out into the city. You had started to spend more time at the office, shwoing up hours before all of your employees, and leaving when the halls of the building were as quiet as the streets bellow. You couldnt stand being in your apartment. The space that once felt like a refuge now held a haunting echo of Wanda, The silence of your home was loud and overwhelming, Each room seemed to be haunted by the ghost of your relationship, a constant reminder of what once was. So you instead chose to bury yourself in your work day and night to try and erase the growing void in your heart.

It was during those late nights at the office that you would catch glimpses of her, seated on the black bench outside your building. The sight of her there was like a ghost from the past, You could see the weariness in her posture, the heaviness in her eyes. She appeared as lost and broken as you felt.

As you stepped out into the night air, your eyes would inevitably find her. Silently sitting, watching cars zip past her. A jolt of surprise would cross her face as she noticed you, and then a flicker of hope. She would scramble to her feet, her gaze locked onto you as she rushed to intercept you before you could walk away.

“Y/n, wait, please,” Your strides were beginning to widen and You could hear the clacking of her heels behind you “Please, I just want to talk.”

Abruptly, you spun around, halting in your tracks. Wanda faltered, her heels nearly causing her to lose her balance as she struggled to come to a stop.

“Fine, then talk,” you stated, your arm extended slightly as if urging her to get to the point

Wanda's words stumbled out, her voice laced with a mix of anxiety and determination. “I miss you,” she confessed, her gaze holding a raw vulnerability that pierced through the space between you.

You watched her, the ache in your chest growing with every passing second. "You betrayed me, Wanda," your voice held a hint of bitterness, a mix of hurt and anger that you couldn't fully hide.

"I know," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I can't change what I did, and I can't take back the pain I caused you."

Your fists clenched involuntarily, the turmoil inside you threatening to overflow. "Do you even understand what you've done? The trust you shattered?"

Wanda's shoulders sagged as if each word you spoke weighed her down further. "I do, y/n. And I'm so, so sorry."

The two of you stood there on the empty sidewalk, the world around you seemed to blur, Wanda's eyes remained locked on you, her gaze a mixture of regret, longing, and a silent plea.It was a scene heavy with emotions, a moment frozen in time.

"I can't just forget what happened," you finally said, your voice cracking as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Wanda nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "I don't expect you to. I just... I wanted you to know how sorry I am."

The ache in your heart was overwhelming, a mixture of love and pain that you couldn't untangle. You turned away, your steps carrying you toward your car.

"I need time, Wanda," you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with a sadness that mirrored the rainy night.

"I understand," her response was a whisper, barely audible against your retreating form. "I'll wait.”

You sat up in your chair, the memories of that night jolting you from your trance. A suffocating wave of despair started to build within you. Before you could let it fully consume you, you spun around in your chair until you were facing your desk. Clicking your mouse to wake up your screen in order to resume the previously abandoned pile of work.

You missed Wanda more than you could let yourself admit. You wanted to hate her, and after what she did you should hate her. And you tried, you really did. You locked yourself away from her, you buried yourself in work in hopes to erase any happy memories you once had with her, so you could replace them with the cruel and heartless version of her you knew now.

But the truth was different. You couldn't erase the way her eyes lit up when they met yours, or the way she made you feel—loved and safe, in a way no one else ever had.

You think you would always remember her this way, a constant reminder, etched deep into your heart.

—-----——-

You returned to your penthouse drenched, the rain having caught you off guard without an umbrella. The water had rendered your hair a shade darker, and you left a trail of wet footprints on the hardwood floors as you made your way towards the bathroom.

You shed your wet clothes and stepped under the stream of hot water in your shower, feeling immediate relief as the tension in your muscles began to dissipate. The air was filled with the refreshing scents of lavender and sandalwood as you lathered up and cleaned yourself.

After finishing your shower, you stood still for a moment, the steam swirling around you like a comforting embrace. The warmth and solitude created a cocoon of serenity, shutting out the world beyond the bathroom walls.

When your fingers began to wrinkle from the water, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower, reaching for a fluffy towel to wrap around yourself.

You were in the midst of lathering lotion in your hands when a loud knock stopped your movements. You looked down at yourself, seeing you were naked and only covered in a white towel. You debated on changing but decided not to assuming it was your neighbor coming to get the spare key she left you, having locked herself out multiple times.

The ends of your damp hair left small droplets on the floor as you padded to the door, twirling a pair of keys. absentmindedly in your hand. When you peered through the peephole, your breath caught in your throat. You practically ripped the door open upon seeing her. Wanda stood before you, her appearance slightly disheveled, her hair displaying a touch of frizz despite still looking perfect. The collar of her shirt was creased, and her makeup seemed to be fading – signs that she might have come directly from work.

“Y/n I can't do this anymore.” Wanda spoke before you could even fully comprehend why she was here. The sight of her there, standing at your doorstep, caught you off guard, and you struggled to process her sudden appearance.

“What? Wanda, what are you doing here,?” Your voice trembled with a blend of confusion, your grip on your towel invonultarily tightened when you felt her push past you until she was standing in your living room.

Wanda's impatience seemed palpable as she brushed past you, her steps echoing in the living room. “I know I really fucked up, but I cant keep doing this,” her voices wavering as she began to lightly pace across your dark floors.

“I dont understand, you cant do what anymore” you shot back, your own voice carrying a mix of exasperation and pain.

“Be away from you!” she declared, finally turning to face you fully. The frustration in her eyes was clear, mixed with a weariness that seemed to emanate from deep within. “I know you wanted space, and I get that, I do, but are you just never going to talk to me again?”

The intensity in her gaze held you captive for a moment, and you felt your heart tug in response. But you couldn't let yourself fully give in. “Wanda, I don't know what you want me to say to you. You lied and went behind my back for months,” you responded, the weight of your words underscored by the lingering hurt.

“And I am so sorry for what I did, you know I am,” she pleaded, her desperation evident. Her words stumbled out as she struggled to find the right ones. “Just… Just tell me what I have to do to make this right.”

Her next words hit you like a wave, unexpected and powerful. “I'll give up everything if that's what it takes. The company, the money, all of it.” You looked at her as if she had lost her mind, but the determination in her eyes was unwavering.

“Are you insane? you cant just show up here in the middle of the night-”

“I love you, y/n, and I know you still love me,” her voice cracked with vulnerability. “And I will spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, but this can't be the end for us.”

A sharp retort formed on your lips, fueled by your anger and the pain she had caused you. “Well, you're wrong, Wanda. I don't love you anymore,” you stated, your words a defense mechanism to shield yourself from the turmoil inside

A fleeting expression of hurt crossed Wanda's face, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown. “I don't believe you,” she responded with a firmness that matched your own, her unwavering gaze locked onto yours as if she could see right through your facade.

“Well you are going to have to believe it” you harshly responded, With a frustrated sigh, you turned abruptly on your feet and began walking toward the hallway that led to your master bedroom. The echo of Wanda's footsteps followed closely behind, the tension between you two was concrete.

“Where are you going?” Wanda questioned as she followed after you like a lost puppy. Her voice, still heavy with determination,

"Well, I'm not planning on lingering here half-naked in a towel,” You responded, the annoyance and sarcasm evident in your voice. “since you don't have plans on leaving any time soon”

The door to your bedroom swung open as you entered, and you didn't even need to glance back to know Wanda was right on your heels. It was almost comical how she managed to keep up, considering the weight of the conversation that hung between you.

With a huff, You made your way into your closet, turning around you shut the door right in her face, an offended expression painted her features as if she was expecting to walk right in with you.

Wanda leaned back against the gray walls of your bedroom, her gaze fixed on the closed closet door. She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, frustration and resignation mingling in her expression

"I can't believe you actually tried to convince me that you don't love me anymore," she scoffed, her voice dripping with a mixture of disbelief and anger, her words a response to the emotional grenade you had thrown earlier

You continued your search for clothes, the sound of fabric rustling and drawers opening serving as a background to the tension in the room. "Oh please, Wanda," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because nothing says 'I love you' like secretly sharing confidential information with our competitors.”

Through the door, you heard a muffled sigh, signaling Wanda's exasperation as she leaned against the wall. The room felt like a battlefield, the air heavy with unspoken regrets and unreleased emotions.

"Are you seriously bringing that up again?" she pushed herself off the wall until she was once again face to face with your closet door.

She could practically hear you rolling your eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that supposed to be forgotten in the grand gesture of you showing up unannounced?"

Wanda's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze narrowing at your words. "I came here to try and fix things, y/n. I'm not just going to disappear from your life."

“My life would actually be a lot easier if you did disappear from it.” your voice slightly strained as you reached behind yourself to hook on your bra.

“Oh shut up, you don't mean that.” Wanda rolled her eyes, her frustration is evident as she crossed her arms over her chest. “For God, sakes how long does it take a person to put on a pair of pajamas?” she slapped her hands on the side of her legs and looked up at the ceiling her patience seemingly wearing thin. There was a beat of silence, while Wanda was waiting for you to respond, assuming you were just choosing to ignore her now.

Wanda let out a breath, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she slowly made her way across the room to sit on the edge of your bed. The sound of fabric rustling filled the otherwise silent room, and while you were engrossed in changing into your night clothes, Wanda battled an intense urge. She fought against the impulse to barge through your door, to grab hold of your unclothed body, and to never let you slip away again.

The ache within her was unbearable at times. The depth of her longing for you was a constant weight, an ever-present companion she couldn't shake off. It was a desperation that kept her awake at night, leaving her tossing and turning in her own lonely bed. She had become accustomed to falling asleep to the rhythm of your breath, to the warmth of your body beside hers. Without that, her nights felt empty, restless, and devoid of the comfort she so desperately craved.

How badly she yearned to touch you, to feel the softness of your skin beneath her fingertips. How she wished she could hold you close, wrapping her arms around you and never letting go. The memories of your touches, your kisses, and your whispered words of affection haunted her every moment.

She missed you, missed everything about you. Your absence left a void in her heart, a hole that seemed to grow with each passing day. She missed the mundane routines, the simple moments that now felt like precious memories. She longed for the times when you would both come home from work, tired but content, and share stories of your day. She missed the stolen glances, the inside jokes, the way you would fit perfectly in her arms.she missed waking up to you. She missed the messy hair that would cascade across your face as you slept, the way your brows would furrow just slightly before your eyes fluttered open.

As Wanda sat there on the edge of your bed, a whirlwind of emotions surged within her. She couldn't help but wonder if you missed her as much as she missed you if you felt as tortured as she was.

And then, like a sudden lightning bolt, a horrible thought struck her. Was there someone else? someone who had taken her place. It was a painful idea that clawed at the corners of her mind, igniting a pang of jealousy that she struggled to suppress. Was that why you hadn't called? Or why you seem to be perfectly fine while she felt like she would die if she had to go another day without seeing you.

The mere thought of another person filling the void she had left behind was enough to send a wave of nausea crashing over her. She wanted to believe that you were suffering too, that the separation was as torturous for you as it was for her. But the uncertainty gnawed at her, feeding her jealousy like a hungry fire.

Wanda recognized the unfairness of her jealousy. After all, she was the one who had shattered your trust and broken your heart. Her actions were inexcusable, and she had no right to feel possessive or envious. And yet, the images of you with someone else, sharing the intimacy and love that had once been exclusively reserved for her, were like poison to her soul.

Her determination to win you back was stronger than ever. She knew she had to make amends, to prove to you that her love was genuine and that she was willing to do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness. The thought of you in someone else's arms was unbearable, driving her to fight for you with an almost desperate fervor. As she sat there, wrestling with her emotions, she knew one thing for certain: she needed you back in her life. The pain of being apart from you was too much to bear, and she was willing to confront her own mistakes head-on to rebuild the connection that had once been the center of her world.

Wanda heard the sound of your closet door opening and immediately spun around, a burning flame of determination in her chest. She was fully prepared, ready to win you back no matter what the cost was. If she had to stay here all night declaring her love for you, then so be it.

But as soon as her eyes met yours, she froze. Every single thought in her head felt like it evaporated.

There you were, in the door frame wearing a set of lingerie, a stunning shade of scarlet Her favorite color. Her favorite set. On her favorite girl. She felt herself begin to get hot as a flame of lust ignited inside her. The bra, a work of art, lifted and accentuated your chest, offering a subtle allure that both revealed and concealed. The patterns of the lace danced across your skin. The panties, a matching masterpiece, hugged your hips with a gentle grace, the lace tracing a delicate line along your waist and hips. The fabric caressed your curves with a tender touch, leaving just enough for Wanda's imagination.

You cocked your head to the side in confusion at Wanda's sudden quietness. The atmosphere seemed to shift, the air growing thick with tension. Your attire, in contrast to the serious situation.

Wanda found herself taking an involuntary step closer. She felt as if she were under a spell, her attention drawn completely to you. But abruptly, she stopped, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. What exactly were you playing at? Were you testing her? Teasing her?

“Y/n.” she broke the silence, Not tearing her eyes off you for even a second as you waltz over to her. For the first time in a long time, Wandas mind went completely blank. All she could do was hopelessly stare.

“I figured this would make you shut up,” you retorted, a hint of playful defiance in your voice.

You took her by the belt. Looping your finger inside the leather material and pulling her forward until her lips met yours in a rough kiss. Wanda's hands immediately went to your waist, holding you agaisnt her.

Wanda felt like she was floating. She couldn't get enough of you, pressing harder into you, her hold on your hips tightening as if you were going to slip away. You sighed against her lips missing this feeling just as much as Wanda. You slipped your tongue into her mouth, moaning when you felt her gently suck on the wet muscle in return. Wanda felt herself beginning to get lost in you. The feeling of finally having your undivided attention was euphoric.

With each press of your lips against hers, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you in a suspended moment. Your hands worked quickley at the metal buckle of her belt. You sudden eagerness took her by surprise. The sound of clickling metal was echoed throughout the room as you pulled out the belt from her pants. Wanda was to lost in the feeling of your tongue in her mouth to feel you gently take her hands from you waist and lightly wrap them behind her back.

Your lips journeyed down to the curve of her neck, where your teeth grazed her skin, eliciting a throaty moan from her. “Fuck, baby,” she panted, shutting her eyes to relish the sensation.

Wanda's attempt to move her hands to run them through your hair was thwarted by her realization that she was now bound. She broke herself from the kiss, whipping her head around her shoulders to see her belt tightly wrapped around her hands into makeshift cuffs.

“Where did you learn that?” her tone a mix of concern and curiosity. she brought her face back around to yours, her breath tickling your lips.

“Internet.” You smirked, Placing your hands on her shoulders and shoving her until the back of her legs reached the bed. As she fell you admired the bewildered expression on her face. She always looked so adorable when she was confused.

Wanda attempted to stand up but before she could you swung yourself over her, your legs on either side of hers. Your hands place themselves on her shoulders. Keeping her back pressed against your soft white comforters. Wanda looked up at you with her mouth slightly agape. She flexed her arms trying to free herself from your restraints.

“Y/n. What is this? Why am I tied up” She questioned, wiggling her arms and shoulders in an attempt to free herself. You ran your hands over her body, soothing her frantic movements.

“You know, you really hurt me.” you softly spoke, faking a pout, and leaning down so the ends of your hair were on her face. Wanda's eyes softened into yours, She wanted to move her hand up to cup your face but realized she couldn't given her position. “You made me hate you again. And just when we were starting to get along” you tisked your lips, faking a disappointed expression.

“Y/n. Please. Im sorry.” Wanda spoke with desperation in her eyes, The guilt slowly eating away at her heart. You brought your finger up to her lip, hushing her gently.

“You didn't think you would be getting off scot-free, did you? Your voice suddenly dropped an octave, which made Wanda shiver. The heat and lust between the two of you rapidly growing.

Wanda's eyes widened at the realization of what was about to happen. She lifted the upper part of her body off the bed so her face was right in front of you. Her lips near touching yours.

“No, baby, please,” she murmured, her voice taking on a submissive tone that sent a jolt of electricity through the air. Softly, she kissed you, her words almost a plea against your lips. “It's been so long. I need to feel you.”

With a willpower you didn't know you possessed, you pulled away from the kiss, eliciting a frustrated whine from Wanda.

“Now how would that be fair? Huh,” you teased, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. The tension in the room was thick, the air charged with a mixture of longing and unresolved emotions.

You sat back on her legs and reached behind to unhook your bra. Wanda's gaze glazed over as your chest was revealed, and you discarded the bra, your hands tracing sensually over your skin. A soft moan escaped your lips as your fingertips caressed your hardened nipples.

Observing this, Wanda's mouth began to water, her desire growing. She leaned forward, eager to taste you, but you gripped her shoulders, preventing her from moving further

"Patience," you whispered, your voice a sultry purr. "I'm not done yet."

Wanda's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her anticipation evident in the way her eyes were fixed on you. She bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh as she fought back the urge to pounce.

Your fingers continued their dance across your skin, teasingly grazing over your curves. Your hips started to grind against the flesh of her thigh. Wanda let out a groan, feeling your wetness soak through her thin pants. The low moans that escaped your lips seemed to echo in the room, a symphony of pleasure that played to Wanda's eager ears.

"Y/n," Wanda practically whimpered, her voice dripping with need. "Please, I can't wait any longer."

A knowing smile tugged at your lips as you watched her squirm beneath you. The power you held in this moment was intoxicating

You maintained your hold on her shoulders, savoring the way she practically trembled with anticipation. Your eyes bore into hers, a mixture of dominance and affection in your gaze.

"Tell me, Wanda," you cooed, your voice a velvet caress. "Tell me how much you want it."

Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving yours. “so bad," she confessed, her voice a soft plea. “I want it so bad”

You let your fingers trail a tantalizing path down your body, inching lower with deliberate slowness. Wanda's gaze followed your movements, her pupils dilating with desire. You slipped your fingers into your panties and began stroking yourself, coating your fingers in your wetness.

Wanda dug her nails into her palm watching your eyes flutter shut as you fucked yourself on your fingers. Her wrists burned from the tightness of the belt, rubbing together in an attempt to free herself.

You withdrew your fingers and lifted them to Wanda's awaiting mouth. She readily opened her lips, allowing your fingers to glide onto the top of her tongue. A moan escaped Wanda as the taste of you hit her senses, her eyelids fluttering shut as her tongue caressed and sucked your juices from your fingers, savoring every drop. The desire within her intensified. She wanted to taste all of you. She wanted to flip you over and hold your thighs open and bury her tongue into your wet pussy. This felt like torture, She didn't know much longer she could hold out for. To Wanda's disappointment, You pulled your fingers out of her mouth.

“Let me touch you, please,” she pleaded, her lips connecting to the base of your neck. “ill make you feel so good” You let her get a few more kisses in before you pushed her shoulders back.

“No touching. This is your last warning” you asserted firmly, bringing your fingers back to your core.

Wanda's frustration started to bubble up inside her. Watching your chest rise and fall with every heavy breath your let out, Your pillowy thighs squeezing her own as your wetness stained her pants.

Wanda subtly maneuvered her hands, sensing the belt beginning to loosen. Unbeknownst to you, a mischievous grin formed on her lips as you were becoming consumed by pleasure

“God, Wanda,” you moaned, the rhythm of your hips quickening, grinding down onto your fingers. The sensation coiling within your abdomen was becoming increasingly intense

Wanda began moving her leg up and down, matching the rhythm of your fingers. Distracting you from her movements behind her back. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your pleasure building to an exquisite peak.

Just as you were about to unravel you were abruptly flipped over and slammed onto the mattress. Your eyes shot open to see wanda hovering above you.

Wanda's chest heaved with a mixture of frustration and desire. She was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between her need to reclaim control and the overwhelming attraction that pulsed between you.

You could see the anger in her eyes, her hands aggressively squeezing yours as they pinned themselves on either side of your head. “That's enough. You've had your fun.”

She lowered herself onto your body, her breath caressing your skin with a fiery touch. Her lips trailed along your neck, chest, and stomach, each touch stoking the flames of anticipation. With a swift motion, she ripped off your panties, her lips immediately finding your wetness. She pressed her mouth against you, releasing a primal, heated moan against your sensitive flesh. She was relentless, giving you no mercy against her ministrations. She brought her lips up to your clit and began harshly sucking on the bundle of nerves. Your mind began to muddle into a haze of overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck- oh my god, Wanda” You gasped, Throwing your head back and arching your back into the air. Your hips began to squirm and Wanda threw her arm over your waist, anchoring you down onto the mattress. She brought two fingers up to your entrance and gently pushed them in, immediately curling against your sweet spot. Her tongue continued to roll against your clit as she took a moment to glance up at you.

You looked indescribably spectacular, as you always did right before you came. Your breaths became erratic, your hand reached down to tug at Wanda's hair making her groan into your core. That was all it took to send you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around Wanda's head, efficetevly muffling her moans as you unraveled under her. She brought her hand to your thigh rubbing circles into your skin, soothing you through your orgasm.

‘Wanda” you pant, watching her come up from your thighs, her fingers still lodged inside you. You cry out when you feel her begin to pump her fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck, please, Wanda,” you implored, your fingers digging into her shoulders as the intensity of her thrusts sent tremors through your body.

“C'mon, sweet girl, you can give me one more.” Wanda purred against your collarbones, beginning to suck hickeys down your chest. Your velvety walls pulsed around her fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy, her pussy.

“Is this pussy still mine baby?”

“God, yes!” you were clawing at Wandas back, feeling your orgasm start to build,

“and who do you belong to.” you went to respond but your mouth fell open when you felt wanda slide a third finger into your wet pussy. The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, and your hold on Wanda tightened. your nails grazing her back as your orgasm surged forth. The sensation was electric, radiating through your entire being as Wanda continued her assault. The ferocity of her movements only heightened your pleasure, and you felt your body convulse in response.

Even after all this time she knew exactly what you liked and how to make you scream. Wandas entire focus was dedicated to pleasuring you, her fingers pumped in and out of you at a perfect angle and you felt your mind begin to grow fuzzy.

“Answer me.” Wanda's voice was firm, and filled with possessiveness, the thought of anyone else seeing you like this ignited fiery wave of jealousy inside her.

She hovered over you as you writhed beneath her. Her fingers maintained their relentless pace, and your hips bucked against her hand, seeking more.

“You, Wanda. I belong to you,” you moaned, your chest rising to meet hers. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit, sending jolts of ecstasy through you. Your senses were aflame, every nerve alive as Wanda's fingers orchestrated a symphony of pleasure within you

“There it is,” Wanda's voice held a triumphant note as she watched your face contort in pleasure. Her eyes shimmered with adoration, locked onto your expressions as you reached your climax. “Yes, that's my good girl.” Sloppy kisses found your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she reveled in your moans, the sweet sounds that fueled her own desire.

As the waves of pleasure gradually receded, you felt your body relaxing, your breathing slowing down to a steady rhythm. Wanda withdrew her fingers gently, her touch tender as she shifted to lie beside you. She wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close against her as you both caught your breath. The afterglow of your intimacy was palpable in the air, a mix of emotions swirling between you.

Wandas voice broke the comfortable silence, soft and caring “ Are you okay, love?”

You turned your head to meet her gaze, her eyes a mirror of concern and affection. Despite everything, the depth of her feelings for you was undeniable. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on her arm, a silent reassurance.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice slightly muffled into her chest.

She gave you a kiss on your cheek before gently moving you off her so she could stand up. Your head that was being supported by wandas chest was soon replaced with the soft material of your pillows.

Your heart started to ache at the thought of Wanda leaving you, but she returned a few minutes later with a damp towel and a glass of water. She handed you the glass urgining you to drink it while she carefully cleaned the mess in between your legs.

When she was finished she awkwardly sat back on her legs, unsure of her next movements “if..if you want me to leave I can. I know your still angry, and if me staying here is too much for you I understand”

Your heart swelled at Wandas words, Even amidst the turmoil and the tangled emotions, she was still attuned to your needs and boundaries.

“I just want you to be happy Y/n.” she spoke, her breath faltering before she spoke her next words “And I understand if its not with me. I promise ill leave you alone after tonight”

“I dont want that Wanda.” you confessed, finally looking up into her eyes. "I can't deny that I still care about you," your vulnerability laid bare. "Despite everything, there's still something between us."

Wanda looked up at you relief and hope shimmered in her eyes, her fingers nervously toyed with a loose thread on the bedspread. "I've missed you so much, y/n. And I know I messed up, more than I can even express."

Tears welled up in your eyes as her words hit you, the rawness of her admission cutting through the layers of resentment. "I missed you too, Wanda. But you hurt me so bad."

"I know," she whispered, her voice laced with regret. “And im willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, a complex wave of emotions surging through you. "I still love you, Wanda. But it won't be easy."

“Im not looking for easy.” Wanda's thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek. "I love you, more than words can say."

The weight of your shared feelings hung in the air, a fragile bridge between your past and the uncertain future. But in that moment, you both knew that love was worth fighting for, even if it meant navigating the complexities of hurt and forgiveness.

As she leaned in, her lips met yours in a kiss that was a fusion of longing, remorse, and a tentative hope. It wasn't a magical fix, but it was a step towards healing, towards rebuilding what had been broken.

With a renewed sense of hope and a shared commitment to heal, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter. The past wouldn't disappear, but perhaps, with time and effort, you could build a future that was stronger, more resilient, and filled with the love that had never truly faded away.

As you pulled away slightly, you met her gaze with a tender smile. “Well have to take it slow,"

Her eyes lit up, a mix of relief and excitement dancing within them. "Yeah, slow sounds good."

A hint of confusion crossed Wanda's face as she glanced around the room, contemplating her next move. "So, should I... I mean, can I stay tonight?"

You couldn't help but chuckle, the warmth of her presence reassuring you. Without hesitation, you reached out, gently pulling her shoulder down onto you as you fell back onto the bed "Oh, You're not going anywhere."

Wanda's face broke into a radiant smile,. As she settled beside you, you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. She inhaled the smell of your hair feeling more at peace than she had in months.

In that moment, you both knew that while the road ahead might not be easy, the desire to be together was undeniable. The past was a part of your story, but it didn't have to define your future. With each heartbeat, you felt the strength of your love growing, and the promise of a second chance filling the air with hope.

Taglist: @reginassweetheart @marvelwomen-simp @lesbianpizza @ilovetlcc @kittnii @romanoffsgff @justabrokensunshine @blueredg52 @bibliophilicbi @ms-brek-ker @lizardslizzie @casquinhaa @dvrkhcld @dmenby3100 @marvels-slut @pawiie @brooklyn-r-dawson @psychickryptonitebouquet @ju-maxi89 @dracarys8287

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel

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peridots-pixiwolf · 9 months ago

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[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

#survivor rain world #monk rain world #hunter rain world #nightcat rain world #gourmand rain world #artificer rain world #rivulet rain world #spearmaster rain world #saint rain world #enot rain world #slugcat rain world #rain world #peridots-art #< feels like too long since that last tag's been used. i can say with certainty that the majority of the reason i haven't been just as #active here (not to mention not drawing as often since that's relevant) is just due to my life getting busier with a new school year but i #do miss putting my stuff here! and would like to reblog more on top of that.... so forgive not remembering exactly how to tag everything #(and how to write everything up there but to be fair it's not like long textposts were a staple of mine. i mostly just rambled and it was #fun hehehe.....some of those notes (parts of riv/spears mostly) were written around the beginning of the drawing itself)#OH i messed something up with the drafting and really did not mean to post it while tags were in progress! but regardless. i would've liked #to post it tomorrow to mirror how i was going to post it on JAN 29 a month ago......but it's not like i'm unhappy with this outcome :]#to sum it up really though it's been strange working on this for so long.....unfortunate to not get a chance to let it be seen and keep #experimenting with odd biology much earlier but i'm just glad it's out now cause i am proud of these!! it's been a lot of fun and slugcats #are still my go-to doodles :] if i had to end this off promptly though what's up with that secret pipeyard shelter as gourm that's not on #the maps. connected to vs_a04. doesn't appear on the miraheze or interactive maps for anyone strangely but i've only been there as gourmand #anyway! i'm sure there's a lot i could've said in the rush but goodbye dear reader anyway :]#i forgot spearmy initially. i'm so sorry

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peachesofteal · 2 years ago

Text

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?”

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him.

“Last name?”

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter.

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.”

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago.

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses.

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table.

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers.

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull.

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything.

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head.

His girl. His.

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass.

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak.

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him.

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.”

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know.

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know.

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open.

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.”

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now.

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him.

“Simon.” You whisper.

He steps back.

Your face falls.

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t.

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again.

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family.

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain.

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price… she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.”

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw.

“Fine.” The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What? You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.”

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks.

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away.

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work.

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder.

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad.

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His.

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?”

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage.

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously.

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.”

“It’s not.”

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open.

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat.

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed.

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her.

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face.

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.”

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.”

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him.

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad.

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader #sassy series #simon riley #pregnant reader #simon riley x you #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #tw pregnancy #peaches writes #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #dad Simon Riley

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years ago

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Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader Hey! Can you do a story where reader gets hurt during the fight in the last episode and Xavier freaks out and helps her feel better? Thank you! I love all your stories, they’re so good!!!

Who’s the idiot who accidently deleted all the asks/requests thinking I was on another side-blog that I wanted to clean up and re-purpose? It’s me. Hi. I’m the idiot. It’s me. I wish I had saved them somewhere, but I didn’t for Xavier… Please send requests for him so I can keep writing!! Also, for some reason I ignore, this post has not been showing anywhere so I took it down and reposted

Request: Can I get Wednesday’s sister getting attacked by the hyde and Xavier being at the hospital when she wakes up?

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

It all happened so quickly.

You and Enid had been running to get to Wednesday with Thing when you heard a grunt as Enid fell to the ground with a strange crack. You assumed she was hurt, but something else was happening. She was turning.

‘’Enid!’’

Her body was twisting in a sickly way as she was turning, her clothing ripping as she grew in size and shape and fur now coating her usual smooth and soft skin. You had never seen a werewolf turn before. You’ve always wondered how small people like Enid could turn into these beasts. It was fascinating.

Farther away in the woods, Wednesday found herself face to face with Tyler. They exchanged a few words until, just like Enid, his body transformed.

Once her transformation completed, the now werewolf girl howled into the night and began running to where you assumed was Wednesday. You and Thing followed after her, your much shorter legs — or fingers — carrying you slower.

You halted when you saw the hyde, seeing it for the first time. He was massive and visually terrifying as he fought with a ferocious Enid. You looked around for your sister, but the raven haired girl was nowhere in sight. She must have gotten away and gone to the school, Thing was explaining to you. That’s where the final battle with Crackwood will happen.

Suddenly, you felt sharp claws in your calf and were dragged down as you screamed in pain and terror.

The hyde got you. You clawed at the ground to anchor yourself, soil getting under your nails as you tried to resist the monster’s grasp but he was so much stronger and bigger than you that your fight was already lost. You were going to be the next victim — the next death.

Thing tried to help you, but he was just…a hand.

You kept screaming and fighting, tears formed at the corner of your eyes as the pain in your calf was intensifying. You’ve felt pain before, but never on this level. This felt like your whole calf had been butchered.

Your screams of distress were heard and a growl echoed, followed by Enid jumping on Tyler and clawing him with all her anger. He had hurt you, he had hurt her friend.

The two creatures moved the fight, and Thing hurried to your side. You sat to check your injury, the fabric of your pants slashed and soaked with blood. There were three deep gashes along your right calf. Blood was spilling rapidly and beginning to make you feel lightheaded.

Thing was telling you to hold on, to stay awake, but your eyes were too heavy and consciousness slipped away.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a room too bright for your sensitive eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and moaned in complaint, cursing the fluorescent lights above you. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh lighting, then started making out the white walls and the heart monitor that was beeping loudly every three seconds. By the window, there was a table with some dying flowers — pink tulips — and a matching pink card. They must be from Enid. The color palette matched her too well. There was also a small black cat plush that was likely from your sister, Wednesday.

At the foot of your bed was a boy in a dark gray hoodie asleep in a small and uncomfortable looking chair.

‘’Xavier?’’ you croaked out with difficulty, your throat and mouth dry.

You hadn’t seen him since the day he got arrested. No one had been allowed to visit him in the Jericho police office. You had tried to sneak in, but one of the officers caught you and escorted you out.

‘’Xavier,’’ you repeated, a little louder this time. It came out more like a squeak, but it was enough to make him stir and frown, slowly waking up.

Your name slipped from his lips and his eyes filled with tears when he saw you were awake. There were dark circles under his tired eyes and his hair were thrown into a messy half up, making you wonder how long he’s been sitting there for.

‘’Hi.’’ You reached out to him with your hand, only to wince at the small movement, feeling a throbbing pain in your calf and up your leg.

‘’Don’t move. I’ll come closer.’’ Xavier stood, rushing over to you and clasping your fingers with clammy hands.

He should alert the nurses that you were awake, but he’ll do that in five minutes.

‘’You’ve been unconscious for a few days due to all the blood you lost. You…you almost died—’’ His voice faltered, the thought of losing you making his heart ache.

Back in the woods when the hyde had attacked you, you thought that it would be it too. You thought that you would die and never see Xavier again. Never get to touch him or hug him or kiss him again. But he was here, standing before you and holding your hand in his.

‘’Enid told me what happened in the woods.’’ His eyes shifted to your blanket covered feet, your calf more precisely. ’’I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’’

You shook your head, refusing to take his apologies. ‘’You were fighting your own fight, Xavier. Besides, there were handcuffs and chains on your wrists and feet. How could you have been with me?’’

He looked down and laughed softly, knowing you were right. What could he had done from the inside of his cell?

‘’What happened to Tyler? Did they kill him? And Enid? I’ve got to thank her for saving me. What about Wedn—’’

It was Xavier’s turn to shake his head, shushing you. ‘’Later.’’ One of his hands let go of yours and tucked your hair behind your ear. ‘’I’ll tell you everything later. You need to rest…and I really gotta alert a nurse before one of them comes in and see I didn’t tell them you were awake.’’

He kissed your forehead before going, promising to be quick, but you grabbed his wrist as he was leaving. ‘’Not yet. I want to stay alone with you a little longer.’’ You looked into his green eyes and played your cards, knowing how to make him fold to your requests.

Xavier sighed, soft for you and unable to say ‘no’ to that face. ‘’Alright… Five more minutes.’’

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo—uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @wrldofsage @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

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candysims4 · 1 year ago

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MODULAR SET

A small but adorable set with four items: 1 hair, 1 top, 1 "dress," and a pair of earrings.

THE FULL CREATOR’S NOTES IS BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

360º GIFs & THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

LOLA HAIR

HAT GAME COMPATIBLE

3.730 POLYGONS

119 SWATCH COLORS - 24 plain colors from EA Color Palette - 95 plain colors from my Candy Color Palette

YOU WILL FIND IN LONG HAIR OR/AND STRAIGHT OR/AND UPDO

AMANDA EARRINGS

1.920 POLYGONS

65 SWATCH COLORS - 10 metallic colors - 55 plastic colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

ROSALIA TOP

3.492 POLYGONS

95 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 40 patterned

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/BLOUSE

ROSALIA (DRESS) SKIRT

1.112 POLYGONS

95 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 40 patterned

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/SKIRT

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): LOLA HAIR | AMANDA EARRINGS (TWO VERSIONS) | ROSALIA TOP & (DRESS) SKIRT Free release on 3rd October 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library, @wewantmods, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

CREATOR'S NOTE:

As I was brainstorming ideas for a new outfit, I asked myself a simple question: "Why not create a modular outfit like I did with hair before?" This inspired me to design a dress with a top outfit that can be easily paired with other items, as both pieces can be worn separately. I know this might sound a little unconventional, but I just wanted to mix things up and try something new. I hope you're cool with my different ways of doing things and that you're able to put together some really cool outfits.

The "Rosalia (Dress) Skirt" is in the skirt category, and you know what's great about it? You can mix and match it with other stuff or even with some CC, and it still works like a charm. I personally think it looks cute and works well with sweaters, making it an excellent choice for fall outfits. I plan on creating some sweater looks with this dress in the future.

I've included a few examples to give you an idea of how it can be styled, but feel free to make it your own. Check out the photos on the site.

Rest assured that all the items are categorized correctly, but that doesn't take away from their individual shine.

I was so torn between the plastic and metal swatches/specs for "Amanda Earrings" that I just went for both! They're seriously gorgeous and go with pretty much any outfit.

Last but not least, the "Lola Hair". This cute and romantic low pony with a pretty bang adds the perfect finishing touch to the whole look. It's a versatile hairstyle that can work with different outfits, occasions, and moods.

And as ever, all these items have been made to be worn together or separately - whatever you decide! I hope you like these items and enjoy playing with them. XOXO <33

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gumdropgamespot · 4 months ago

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⬇ Links Below ⬇

At long last, the bed your co-sleeping sims have been dreaming of! Cuddle up in the Alaskan king with your favorite person... and their favorite person... and their favorite person!

This bundle comes with:

An extended mattress in two parts (left and right split)

A separated under-sheet to mix and match colors

A starter frame in 30 colors (keep an eye out for more to come)

Both Blankets and Sheets come in 3 color palettes, so pick which you'll use most, or select the mega bundle (if 90 swatches in one doesn't drive you up the wall!).

Blankets Come in 3 patterns - Basic, Knit, and Plaid

Before you download be aware: V1 has minor lighting problems

PATREON HAS IT ALL HERE, SIMFILESHARE LINKS BELOW

Basic: Picnic Plate Summer Vampire Forest & Feather

Knit: Picnic Plate Summer Vampire Forest & Feather

Plaid: Picnic Plate Summer Vampire Forest & Feather

Or Choose Bundles

Basic Knit Plaid

Under-sheets:

Picnic Plate Summer Vampire Forest & Feather

OR Bundled Swatches

**Bonus Sheets: 85 Swatches of EA Basics in the style of my Linen, Unlinked

Find Frames Here

TOU: These are based on EA meshes and pngs. They were a bloody pain to make. I don't want you to go through what I did. Seriously. Do what you want with them. Edit them (at your own peril), recolor them, throw them in a zip and share them with a friend. Please tag me when you use them! I'd love to see.

If you must put them behind a paywall, you may do so as long as you place the following visibly before the download: "The original creator thinks I am a moron for putting this behind a paywall. You can get it for free somewhere else."

Enjoy this early taste of the Lovestruck polyam that's sure to grace the platform later this month. <3 Happy simming!

#sims 4 lovestruck #the sims 4 lovestruck #sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 bed cc #sims 4 mods #the sims 4 cc #sims 4 polyamory #GumdropCC #AlaskanKing

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autisticlalna · 2 months ago

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🎶 stop the clocks, i'm killing time! i don't ever want this to end, and you say "that makes two of us"

⏯ NOW PLAYING: Stop the Clocks by Enter Shikari

for @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza, featuring Rubyco and VikingPilot from Twitch SMP!

ramblings under cut:

FINAL JUKEBOX!

i was talking to Viking about Enter Shikari (i'd gotten him to start listening to them via the PMV preview) and he mentioned this song in specific as one he's been listening to lately. and, like, i've mentioned before that Radiate is my favorite from this band, but Stop The Clocks was up there for a while. so... yeah! obviously i had to draw something.

this went through a LOT of revision. after my last jukebox i fell into an art slump and was struggling with ideas and what i felt capable of. i knew the main thing i wanted was to include TwitchCon SMP-- the entire thing is that they were only supposed to exist for three days. initially the middle panel was going to be another angle of the same scene, with Viking and Ruby looking out over the beet fields in the sunset, but i didn't feel like i'd have the time or energy for a detailed background.

after that idea got scrapped, i had the idea to lean into the contrast of where they started vs where they are now. this is the version i showed Viking:

..with the middle panel being a redraw of the first thing i drew for Twitch SMP, of Viking dangling Ruby over the cliff. when i started looping the song to start lining and coloring, though, it didn't really match the tone of the song so i scrapped it again, shuffled element positions, and returned to the first idea but with it being TSMP Viking and Ruby instead. still ended up being a bit of a redraw, but this time it's of the scene where Viking talks about his dreams and how they need to embrace whatever's happening to both of them.

and yet despite all of that, the parts i like best are the tiny panels of TCSMP Ruby and Viking. i like the rim lighting, i like the expressions, i like the palette i used for the background. it's just so nice. i wanted to capture a bittersweet fondness, because neither of them expected to continue past this. yknow?

while i'm here, i wanna talk a little bit about tcViking:

he has tViking's palette (hence his goggles being brown instead of black), and he has the scar next to his eye that i draw tViking with. the other scars he got after being lost in time, but i figured having some kind of identifying characteristic would help with Ruby seeing him as her Viking, and then that coming into doubt as she saw how different he was physically and mentally.

this was really fun to do <3 it feels poetic that my first and last pieces are tRuby-- TSMP got me through what otherwise would've been a rough start to the year, and Rubyco especially has been incredibly cool and making me feel more confident and comfortable with being very vocally active in fandom again :,)

back to work on the PMV!

#leo.txt #leo.png #vikingpilot #rubyco #twitch smp #LOOKING AT MY OWN ART MAKES ME EMOTIONAL. GOD. tSPACETIME SIBLINGS BOTTOM TEXT #tsmp #mcytjukeboxbonanza

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scribbleseas · 2 months ago

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in love & in war, drabble 3: the one where he trips you up…?

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: There’s a minor mention of blood in this drabble—that’s all that comes to mind!

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this is a day late, haha! Last night, my amazing friend @mylostleftfootsock and I were having some crazy story breakthroughs for an upcoming work of mine. They were, in fact, hitting so hard that I had to make the fic outline as we were both losing our minds. That being said, here is a pretty long drabble! I hope you like it—and that it’s a nice palette cleanser from SL. I’m purposely trying to keep this one as light as I can <3

I’m also trying out the taglist for this post! If you would like to be added, just specify for which fics (or if all!) and I will tag you in all my content posts!

Happy Reading!

- Dan

Fun fact: I’m also 2,031 words into Staight Laced 10. I’m on a bit of a roll this week, woohoo!

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

The North Pier, Lancashire, 1895

“It is impossible to understate the importance of this promenade, my Lord,” Sebastian explained, matching Ciel’s walking pace to the centimeter as they walked down the cement, having exited the carriage a block away from the beachside pier’s entrance. Sebastian always remained in the same stride as Ciel, a fact that the Earl knew would only delight the demon if he commented on it.

Ciel had no desire to feed the ego of his condescending demon for a butler. Sebastian already gloated endlessly about his upholding of a certain ‘Butler Aesthetic’ that he’d created for himself the first night of his employment.

“You should tell her that her family always hosts the most inspired events, such as this—and you should be sure to show gratitude for her time. Dozens of men not unlike you would do anything for this opportunity,” Sebastian added, emphasizing his words purposefully when he caught on to Ciel’s lack of focus. His butler was correct: a promenade with Lady Y/n at one of TransAtlantica’s seasonal galas for its shareholders, business executives, family ties, and anyone from the business world who mattered. Every year, the shipping company rents out the entirety of the three piers, leaving its multitude of small shops and taverns open for the casual party.

TransAtlantica always picked a weekend that sat towards the end of the spring, the weather a weekend or two away from scorching the Earth. The decision always ensured the best weather—clearer skies, a light breeze, docile sun and seawaves.

Until this year, Ciel would send his regrets, in the same fashion as he would for the company’s fundraisers at the Langham Hotel each season. This event was too crucial to skip, especially after securing himself a promenade. A lot of Britain’s polite society—not just those typical of London’s social hemisphere—would be present. There were no dance cards restricting Ciel’s time with the heiress, and that meant he needed to be especially strategic with the time he managed to have in front of the Y/l/n family.

“I know,” Ciel grumbled. “The color of her gown brings out the…shine in her eyes, or something like that,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes to further his point. Another quick look around them assured him that there were no guests leaving their carriages blocks away from the entrance.

“And that cavalier attitude was what ultimately led her to all except rebuke you, sir,” Sebastian scolded, eyebrows drawing together in a brief show of frustration. “Make her feel as if she is the most important person to you—the deciding factor in which you succeed or you fail. She is just that, after all.” He said purposefully, mahogany eyes interrogating Ciel’s expression. The Earl kept his gaze resolutely forward, watching guests meet the Y/l/n family at the pier’s entrance archway, alongside a handful of the company’s executive board members. “We will be within their natural sightline in about fifteen paces, sir.”

Y/n was dressed sensibly in a light gown, the bodice appearing to resemble a man’s sophisticated white vest, which cut into a feminine design with ruffled short sleeves and lace lining the square neckline. A lot of her clothing tended to include a hint of masculinity—an effort to be taken more seriously in these executive circles, Ciel guessed. Her long blue skirts matched the clear sky, the shade matching the accents in her mother and father’s attire for the afternoon.

The Richmond Earldom always appeared as a matching set, stressing the importance of Ciel’s own apparel during these events. Lord Richmond, Y/n’s father, was searching for an intelligent man who could manage his legacy just as perfectly as his company’s prosperity. All of these simpering suitors could never seem to comprehend that they were vying for more than just a young woman’s hand. They were romancing a company and ultimately, Y/n wasn’t marrying anyone without her father’s approval.

“Remember, my Lord, I can only tip things in your favor so much when it comes to matters of the heart,” the demon lowered his voice, now that they were within earshot of the family, among the last few straggling guests stepping onto the pier.

Ciel fought the strong urge to roll his eyes at his butler’s joke. Tipping things. How cheeky.

Lady Y/l/n, Y/n’s mother, noticed Ciel first. Quickly excusing herself from the conversation she was entertaining, she aimed her publicity smile at him— Y/n always seemed to default to the same empty look without failure.

“Lord Phantomhive! How lovely it is to see you here,” she greeted, accepting Ciel’s hand in a firm handshake. Lady Y/l/n’s short lace gloves matched her daughter’s. “We’re all so thankful that you could make it all this way.”

“The pleasure is completely mine. You’ve picked an auspicious day for this gala once again,” Ciel answered, pleased with Lady Y/l/n’s social intellect. By greeting him so brightly, she had also caught the attention of her husband and daughter, allowing them to respectfully finish their current engagements.

Y/N Y/L/N

You watched Ciel enchant your mother with an entirely faux smile, not unlike the one you kept stretched across your glossed lips. He always managed to look painfully smug, no matter how he tried to soften his expression.

“Lord Phantomhive,” your father greeted, taking the Earl’s hand. He gave it two shakes, never one to waste words. “I understand you will be promenading with my daughter today?”

You flushed, now the object of Lord Phantomhive’s stare. You could also feel the craning necks of others around you, arming themselves with gossip about you.

‘Lady Y/n is promenading for the first time this season, with Lord Phantomhive!’

‘Do you think they will get married?’

You could already see the headlines. There were already peering camera lenses around each corner, the only warning being their blinding flash.

“If she wills it, we shall. A good day, my Lady,” it was your turn to offer your hand to the Earl, but not in a shake. Instead, he took special care in accepting your gloved hand and equally raising your knuckles to his lips and bowing his head to avoid moving your arm too high. His lips hardly grazed your glove.

“To you too.” You dipped into the shallowest version of a curtsy you could manage without being impolite. You hadn’t quite made up your mind about the Lord of Phantomhive, finding him to be contradictory. Sincere enough one moment, crude the other. He reminded you of a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together to make the complete picture.

Thankfully, he didn’t waste time in releasing your hand.

Lord Phantomhive righted himself, clearly attempting to dissect your tight expression. You suspected that you could see through one another as plainly quite easily, no more transparent than glass. You felt a small lump form in the back of your throat, as you were unsure how to proceed.

Unfortunately, your mother could also read you like an open book. “You’ve greeted most everyone already, Y/n. You and Daphne should join Lord Phantomhive and his butler,” she prompted in a gesture that was both helpful— and embarrassing. Particularly in front of your father.

“Right,” you answered. At the sound of her name, your maid appeared. Daphne was always close enough to be a call away—except for when she wasn’t, you thought about your first run-in with the Lord Phantomhive. Was he truly charmed by you from that encounter? You had been, admittedly, short with him because of how nerve-racking the situation was. “We will walk the pier,” you said, forcing your shoulders to drop. High shoulders suggested tenseness, which then, in turn, implicated anxiety.

You couldn’t help but feel the Lord Phantomhive could sense weakness. That was how breakout corporations like Funtom were made, weren’t they? With leadership at the helm.

“Be safe, please,” your mother gave your hand a meaningful squeeze and joined the rest of the guests with your father. Your stomach sank as if they had left you flailing in the middle of the cool sea beneath the boardwalk.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“Did you hear about the ferris wheel they are constructing here? Apparently, it is set to open this July,” Ciel said, breaking the silence with one of the many anecdotes Sebastian armed him with. While the Earl preferred silence whenever possible, apparently long silences unnerved the social butterfly in Lady Y/n. Sebastian had instructed him to keep a steady conversation flowing between them at all times—he’d hypothesized she would feel they were compatible intellectually, if he could manage.

“Oh, I certainly have,” the heiress answered brightly. “Isn’t it fascinating? My father and I visited Chicago’s Columbian Exposition about two years ago. The fuel source are steam boilers with underground main pipes that then funnel the steam into pistons that then power thousand-horsepower engines. It’s an enormous axel,” Y/n explained with an intriguing willingness and clarity.

She knew the intricacies of engineering? How curious of a young noblewoman.

“Did you manage a ride on it?” Ciel asked, not offering his arm to her. That would foil his plan, and he figured Lady Y/n wouldn’t appreciate it at this stage. She valued her independence—or the appearance of being self-sufficient, at least. Ciel had yet to make his final verdict of her disposition. After all, the rumors were that her father trained her with the same intensity he would have a first-born son.

“Heavens, yes.” Lady Y/n said, making a clear effort to look ahead as they walked and maintain casual eye contact with him. Their servants lurked behind them, Sebastian entertaining Daphne with some mindless chatter while picking her brain for more information about her mistress. “There was no chance I would miss that sort of opportunity, being up so high like that.”

“I couldn’t imagine it, myself,” Ciel answered. They spoke aimlessly, cycling through topics they had in common: they were each accomplished linguists, readers, instrumentalists. Y/n even claimed to be a worthy fencing opponent, of all things.

“You are half my height,” not even the Earl could fight the amused twist of his lips at the thought of Lady Y/n parrying his advance. The top of her head just barely reached his chin by a handful of centimeters. And that was in addition to her stately heels.

“But Lord Phantomhive, all warfare is based on deception,” Y/n answered, blinking at him guiltlessly.

“Are you quoting The Art of War?” Ciel asked, raising an eyebrow. That would insinuate Y/n was competent in Classical Chinese, since Sun Tzu’s piece hadn’t been widely translated into English yet. A language that Ciel had still been in the process of mastering with Sebastian. The demon claimed to have been ‘around’ when the military strategist created the ancient military treatise. Presently, he felt it had important lessons for Ciel to understand.

Apparently, Y/n’s father—or her tutor—were incredibly insightful to pick such an ancient text to add to her studies. That was quite an advanced piece of literature. Honestly.

”Yes,” Lady Y/n said, as if this was obvious. “Who better to reference?”

Of course she read it. And learned it well enough to have quotes on hand. She could probably recite it in its original language, Ciel guessed. That wasn’t an unattractive quality in a woman—in fact, he felt a dim respect for it.

“I also quite appreciate Machiavelli’s inspired piece, The Prince,” Ciel answered, finding himself confident that Lady Y/n might understand his reference.

Y/N Y/L/N

His remark made you smile.

Of course, you’d heard the rumors about Ciel Phantomhive, The Queen’s Guard Dog, King of the Underworld, Police of the Underworld. While most of the public could only speculate the sorts of private investigative work that Her Majesty requested of the Phantomhive family, plenty of rumors swirled in the absence of the truth.

You heard whispers of no one daring to cross the Earl, for fear of severe repercussions. Life-threatening ones. You heard of the uncertainties surrounding the fatal inferno that burned down the manor so long ago, killing his family. His miraculous reappearance two years later. Apparently, now the Earl Phantomhive was reportedly a hardened man, callous and willing to crush any opponent in his path.

“You find you relate with the Italian diplomat?” You asked, curious about Lord Phantomhive’s response. Did he read this body of work as a step-by-step to creating a tyrannical regime, or did he perceive it as a frank reading of politics and the nature of diplomacy? It had been so long since you had a proper discussion about such matters with someone besides your father, your tutors, or Daphne, and you were decently assured they were weary of your constant need for knowledge.

The Earl seemed to enjoy this type of logical sparring, embracing it, even. It left you…curious to have more. If not, interested.

Lord Phantomhive took a brief moment to reply, leaving you to appreciate the scenery around you. The sky was impressively clear, no hint of any clouds near the horizon. Seagulls wailed to one another, fluttering about the long piers and across the empty coastline. As warm as it was, the weather wasn’t quite hot enough for there to be beach galas.

The air smelled of salt, gusts of air determined to pull strands of your hair astray. They were certainly doing a number on the Earl’s raven hair, tousling it playfully. This whole promenade, you had walked away from the direction of the gala, and now, as you reached the end of the pier, the two of you turned around, starting back.

“I think there’s more nuance—” Ciel started, “are you alright?”

Before you could process your fall, you were face-first on the sandy boards. Your knee erupted in pain, your bare skin touching your dress. You must have ripped your stockings? How could you have tripped? You had only allowed your mind to wander for a second, and there had been nothing obstructing your path, either!

Not to mention, your balance was typically impeccable. You were no ballerina, but years of fencing helped you regulate your posture and weight distribution.

It was as if the wooden board had simply decided to loosen, give somewhat under your weight, and catch your heel between the planks in order to trip you! How peculiar.

“I’m…fine. I only scraped my leg, I think,” you said, more mortified than pained. Your face reddened as you accepted Lord Phantomhive’s helpful hand, dusting off the sandy front of your dress with the other. You forced yourself to give him a weak smile, looking back down at the flooring. The wooden panel seemed to be perfectly in place.

“I’m not sure what could have caused that,” you added awkwardly, releasing the nobleman’s hand.

You were thankful that no one else was present to witness such an unbecoming moment of yours. It was a contender for one of your worst moments with a suitor.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

The panic in Lady Y/n’s face should have been enough to make Ciel regret his and Sebastian’s plan. However, he’d found it to be rather promising. If he could nail the proper response her ideal gentleman would give, Lady Y/n would feel vulnerable around him. That was key to making love inevitable. She might look to him for support going forward.

Of course she didn’t know what had caused her trip. Sebastian was fast enough to loosen the plank just enough for it to shift under her confident step and throw her off balance, only to re-tighten and return to Daphne’s side in milliseconds. Faster than a blink. That left Ciel to provide Lady Y/n with a helping hand, some validation…and apparently a young woman appreciated a man who could bandage her wounds.

“Oh dear,” Ciel said, his eyebrows drawing together in a construction of curiosity and concern. He ignored his own nagging thought that he sounded like his butler, swallowing down the embarrassment. He could feel Sebastian surveying his performance, having coached Ciel on this part of the interaction. “I wouldn’t wish for it to continue bleeding, you did scrape it,” he said carefully.

“Why don’t you take a seat? I have a handkerchief.” He gestured to one of the pier’s benches with his chin.

“It truly doesn’t hurt,” Y/n attempted to deflect, still staring at the plank curiously. Of course, she was smart enough to know that there had been something amiss, but of course, smart enough to never consider the supernatural.

Judging from the way her fist squeezed at her side, the superficial wound stung more than she wanted to admit. There was likely sand around the injury or near it, only an added irritant.

Ciel merely met her eyes, asking her if she truly intended to push ahead in mild discomfort. Y/n surrendered begrudgingly mumbling a mildly unladylike, “Oh, alright.” Not always so untroubled as she seemed, was that it?

“You’re not in any other pain?” Ciel asked, kneeling to get a closer look at Y/n’s scrape. Daphne, unconicidentally, didn’t have any medical supplies with her. Sebastian had conveniently hid them from the maid to afford Ciel the right to tend to his intended.

“No,” she confirmed, cringing at the light pressure Ciel applied to stop the bleeding and clean the debris. “Honestly, the plank had a mind of its own, it feels like,” she mused, her tilted head racing for some logical explanation. There was none.

“And you are positive you didn’t hit your head on the way down?” Ciel asked her, appreciating the ghost of a laugh that escaped her lips. That was the right thing to say, he could tell.

This battle of love was only growing easier. The Earl was growing confident, fashioning his dialogue to that of a novel protagonist’s. Bland and kind, slightly humorous.

“Positive. Unless I hit my psychotic break last week in agreeing to have you join me for a promenade,” Lady Y/n said, standing once Ciel tied the handkerchief around her leg tightly, stopping any more bleeding. “In which case, we might need some more urgent care.”

“Would it take another such reckoning for you to agree to meet me again?” Ciel asked, adding a new flair of seriousness to his voice as he righted himself in front of Lady Y/n. He took a quick moment to dust the fronts of his trousers free of sand before refocusing on Y/n, urging her for the answer he craved. The key to becoming an official suitor of hers.

One outing was a trial. Two was one step closer to serious consideration.

“No, it would not,” the begrudging grin at the heiress’ lips told Ciel that he’d offered her a masterclass in lying and deception. “Perhaps, the 1895 Grand National next weekend. My family loves to attend.”

Y/n Y/l/n was already inviting Ciel to the 57th renewal of the Grand National horse racing event? Perhaps, this endeavor was going to be easier than Ciel originally thought….

Tag List: @vixxzill, @theblueslytherin

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