#or that I made a client happy with the art I created for them!

[kryptid-kat]

We should normalize being the average artist who never really goes viral and is happy in their lane creating for their own sake (be it commissions, or art for themselves).

The clout chaser mentality of all social media sites rotted our brain where we can't find value in our work unless it has a big number besides it.

Create for yourself, not to please some elusive algorithm that changes on a whim and pushes you back to square one.

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1

author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!

after

despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.

but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.

the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.

“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.

“how was work?” your mom asked.

you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.

when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.

but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.

but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.

it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.

“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”

both of your parents hummed.

“did you have dinner already?” you asked.

“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.

your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”

you wanted to throw up.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.

“oh,” was all you could say.

“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”

you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him. 

“i’ll figure something out,” you said.

your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood. 

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly. 

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

after

you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.

“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”

“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.

“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”

your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.

you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”

but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.

you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.

and that’s what life had felt like lately:

unfortunate.

unfortunate shit just happening to you.

it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.

you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.

emma:

hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!

you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.

years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.

but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.

you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.

now it just filled you with dread.

no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.

but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.

you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.

you:

i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!

and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.

before

the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.

missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.

it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.

school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.

now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.

and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.

the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.

especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children. 

all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.

which is how you ended up playing the game of life.

even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.

you found yourself smiling and laughing along.

you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.

“are you having fun?” he asked.

your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”

“really?” he smiled.

you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”

matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”

you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.

but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.

you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”

matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”

to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?

evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”

he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”

you locked your fingers together. “promise.”

after

it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.

which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had. 

before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.

“hey! what’s up?”

you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”

emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”

you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”

“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”

and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.

“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”

“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”

“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.

“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”

you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”

“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”

you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.

there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”

before

matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.

both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.

morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.

hence the party in the basement.

morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.

“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”

no one said a word.

you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.

“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”

the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”

thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.

you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.

but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” simone replied.

morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.

the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.

“truth or dare?” she asked.

you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.

“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.

a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.

“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.

morgan blinked. “what?”

it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”

she guffawed. “but you have to!”

matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”

“but you lose if you don’t!”

he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”

your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.

“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.

a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.

“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.

matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”

you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”

matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”

“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”

you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”

he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.

“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.

oh god. did he like simone?

your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.

you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”

he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”

now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”

matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”

“matt, what are you talking about?”

he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”

“know what?”

matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?

“matt what—”

“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.

you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.

matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”

“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”

“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”

you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”

“would you let me?”

words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.

but it was perfect.

after

you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.

most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.

it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.

unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.

but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?

you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.

it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.

“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”

and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.

the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.

“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”

you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”

taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.

you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”

taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”

your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”

taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“taryn...”

“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”

you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.

“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”

you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.

“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”

you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”

the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.

you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.

emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.

the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.

it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.

emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.

you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.

you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.

emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.

but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.

“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.

if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.

if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.

if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.

but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.

brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.

if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.

but it was too late now.

matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.

you felt like an idiot.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.

your hands were shaking again.

you shoved them in your pockets again.

matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.

“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.

you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”

matt scoffed. “not happening.”

out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”

matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”

“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.

brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”

you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.

and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.

you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.

but it wasn’t like that this time around.

you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.

the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.

you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.

you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.

except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.

you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.

you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.

brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.

a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.

you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.

in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.

his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.

you just—

couldn't.

matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.

you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.

before

you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.

matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.

the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.

“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side. 

“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”

“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.

moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.

you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.

matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.

matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”

you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.

all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.

you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.

“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.

you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”

matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”

you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.

matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.

you blinked, still smiling. “what?”

“you're not gonna say you love me back?”

you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”

matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”

and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”

and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.

matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.

“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.

“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”

matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”

“i love you so much.”

after

the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.

you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.

last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th. 

the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.

“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.

“rough weekend,” you grumbled.

frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”

you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.

“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”

you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”

“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”

there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.

“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”

you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.

“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”

“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”

you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.

“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”

frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.

you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.

but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.

not two minutes later.

not thirty minutes later.

not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.

not even on the drive home.

frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.

it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.

and now it was no one.

now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.

you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?

you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.

“hey.”

it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.

“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.

“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”

“good.”

matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”

“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”

“if you—”

“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?

matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”

the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night. 

“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”

“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”

“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”

“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”

you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.

one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.

and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.

there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.

you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.

so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.

you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.

“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.

your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”

“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”

a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”

before

“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.

you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”

“do you have any back up schools?”

you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”

ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”

“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.

ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”

“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”

your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”

“i want to be with matthew.”

ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”

“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”

ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”

after

you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.

it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.

and now it was saturday.

you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively. 

if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.

you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.

it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.

despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.

the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.

“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”

“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.

she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.

“how’s work going?”

you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”

simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”

“but are you passionate about what you do?”

she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”

you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.

“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”

it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.

simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”

you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”

simone whispered your name.

“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”

simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”

you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”

simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”

you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”

your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”

“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”

“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”

your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.

so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”

simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”

you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop. 

the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.

maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.

before

the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.

you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.

the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.

but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.

but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.

it was fine.

just high school.

you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.

but it wasn’t like that.

because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.

matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.

so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.

you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.

“please hold your applause until the end.”

you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.

your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.

as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.

“outside!” brady pointed.

you nodded.

as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.

a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.

when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”

matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”

“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered. 

“me too, baby.”

unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.

but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—

everything was perfect.

you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf. 

and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.

but you had no idea how the future would turn out.

you thought matt was forever.

after

you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.

you could do that, right?

just casual sex?

the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—

you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.

your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.

the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her. 

her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.

his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.

he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.

but maybe it was for the best.

you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.

“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”

“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”

you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.

which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.

you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.

“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”

oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?

but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.

you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.

“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”

“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.

simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”

“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.

“mostly acrylic.”

andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”

you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”

“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.

you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.

“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”

your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”

and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.

“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”

you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”

andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.

he, quite literally, left you in the cold.

andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”

you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”

andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”

your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.

you refused to be pathetic any longer.

which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.

before

you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.

and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.

because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.

tonight was different.

safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.

you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.

until tonight.

you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.

“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.

matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“you okay?” you asked.

he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”

the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.

but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.

normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.

“nothing,” he grunted.

“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”

“there’s nothing to help.”

“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”

“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.

your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.

matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”

“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.

matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.

a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.

a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.

his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.

“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”

“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.

you kept walking.

“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”

you kept walking.

a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.

gently, he turned you around.

“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.

you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?

he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”

you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”

with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”

“matthew, you know that’s not true—”

“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”

a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.

“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.

“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”

your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“i love you, matty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”

after

“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.

your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.

you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”

“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.

you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”

your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”

your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”

“alan, this will be good for her!”

but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”

“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.

but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

so was matthew.

you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”

the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew. 

but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.

andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.

and you hated yourself for it.

the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.

andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.

“hey,” he greeted.

you gave him a small smile. “hi.”

“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”

you shook your head. “not too bad.” 

c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.

“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—

“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”

you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”

andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”

you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.

you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.

your phone buzzed.

simone: 

how’s it going?

you smiled despite yourself. 

you:

he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.

you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.

you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.

“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.

you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”

“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”

your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.

you wanted to throw up.

instead, you chugged the drink.

“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.

you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”

he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.

and another.

and another.

your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.

matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.

but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.

your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.

“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”

but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.

then the panic set in.

it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.

“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance. 

“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.

“matt hey—”

brady. you were right, brady was here.

god you loved brady.

“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”

with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.

oh. your date.

there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.

you were gonna throw up.

or pass out.

you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—

“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.

your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.

were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—

oh god.

oh god.

“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”

did you?

but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.

maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.

“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.

“he—he was gonna—”

matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.

matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.

your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.

what a year tonight has been.

your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.

“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”

your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.

rock bottom.

you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.

“you okay?” he asked.

“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”

matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.

“baby i—”

“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”

“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”

maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”

“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”

“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”

matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.

and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?

you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.

“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”

brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.

“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”

matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”

your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”

he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”

you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”

[mayakern]

hi! i love your art, it's such an inspiration! if it's alright to ask, how many layers do you use + how do you sort them? it's something i struggle with to keep from becoming disorganized

thanks! i do not use layers in a normal/organized way 90% of the time so i do not think my methodology will be hugely useful, but here you go

basically i have a sketch layer and if i ink the piece i have an inking layer. whichever i use for my lines is put on multiply.

then i do underpainting on 1 or more layers depending on how complex the piece is and how much color variation/manipulation i want to do. in this case, i used 4 layers for the basic underpainting

and then i merged all the underpainting into a single layer and made various adjusted versions of that layer (using curves, hue+saturation, and color balance) and masked them to only show where i wanted them to

after that i merge everything into one layer and just paint. but that doesn’t mean i only have one layer after this. as i reach certain milestones (ie painting the armor) or approach something i think will be difficult/that i might struggle with, i duplicate my single merged layer as a way to preserve progress states. there are a LOT of things i completely repainted or redrew in this piece and having these progress states was invaluable.

as part of this reworking stage, i may create a new layer on top to re-sketch a part of the piece i wasn’t happy with, which i will then mask out the unnecessary parts of later.

after i’m happy with where my painting is at, i’ll do a similar thing i did to my underpainting: duplicating and making multiple single-layer versions of my art so i can fiddle around adjusting each one and masking them to just affect the areas i want them to. i also usually end up using a couple adjustment layers like overlay.

and that’s it! it’s a pretty disorganized process and is not the sort of file i would turn in for professional work, but i don’t do client work anymore so i can do whatever i want and the only person who has to deal with my files is me lol

[lilgarbitch]

Touch, Torture, and Tattoos- Nicholas Ruffilo (One shot)

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

CW: tattoos/ description of getting one, bit of shitty plot, lots of dirty filthy evil smut 🤭, SassySubby!Nick (more like bratty switch), unprotected p in v(naughty lil fuckers), creampie, cockwarming???, my shitty writing 🫶🏻

Word Count: 10.8k👀

Author’s Note: Just a quick lil thing. Don’t ask what came over me to make this. Just know that I’m not to blame😇 (i wrote the smut before the plot so the opening is ass ngl)

Viewer discretion is advised. 18+

You sat in the slightly uncomfortable metal chair of the tattoo shop, trying to entertain yourself on your phone. Nick was quiet as he focused on the leg of the client in front of him, not wanting to make any mistakes, so you made sure you did your best not to distract him. 

The boys had time this week to relax and do what they wanted, for once not having to be in the studio or travel for an interview, so you happily accepted their invitation to spend time with them since you haven’t had the chance to see them in a while. 

The group and you mainly hung out at their house, either watching movies, swimming, making a mess in the kitchen, or chatting about how life used to be before they got big. It was nice that they finally had time to just relax and have fun in the mix of their busy schedules. And you were definitely happy that you were finally able to see Nick again. You had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, instantly being attracted to his humor and his gorgeous looks, but pushed the feelings away once they started getting busier, knowing that there wasn’t even time for a relationship, even if he felt the same. But that didn’t stop the feelings from slowly resurfacing and becoming more than just a crush every time you had the opportunity to spend time with him.

Every time all of you hung out, your attention always seemed to fall on him more than the rest. Even when watching a movie, your eyes always trailed towards him. You never made it obvious, though. You did your best to treat them all the same, treating them like brothers. The last thing you needed was to make it awkward, or even worse, create so much tension you couldn’t see them anymore. But the tension that had been building inside of you was becoming torture.

Nick had known of this break for a while now. Itching to get back into tattooing, he asked a friend of his if he could use his studio for a day, then asked around if anyone was looking to get a piece done. He had two offers, and you happily told him that you were willing to get another. Not that you weren’t always down to get a new tattoo, but you mainly offered so you could spend more time with him. You loved spending time with the boys, and absolutely enjoyed hanging out with all of them, but when a rare chance came to get alone time with Nick, you just had to take it. 

You two had been here since early this morning. He told you that you didn’t have to come in until later in the day, but almost seemed sad to say, like he regretted spending most of his free day away from you. But with the offer of being the errand runner and grabbing us lunch, he happily obliged. Not that he needed any convincing, but he had to pretend like he felt bad making you spend half the day doing nothing but sitting in the shop with him. 

Your attention gets pulled from your phone as his client stood up and walked to the mirror to check out their new tattoo. Nick chatted with them for a few minutes, getting payment set up and wishing them a good day as they left, pleased with the new piece of art on their body. 

He walked over and sat down in the chair by you, stretching his back after being hunched over for an hour. 

“I love doing this, but god, does my body hate it,” he mumbled as he stretched his arms over his head. A small sliver of skin caught your eyes as his shirt raised with him, but you quickly blinked away any inappropriate thoughts and looked back up at him just in time for him to settle and glance at you. 

“So, you ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together with a smile on his face. You couldn’t help but match his smile. 

“Always,” you said as you stood up from your chair. 

He stood and walked over to where he had your piece already drawn out and prepared on a stencil. You two had been shooting ideas back and forth for the last few days, and eventually landed getting a skeleton hand. One of the few remaining spots you had open on your skin was on your rib, right below your breast, so you decided that getting the hand to fit the curvature of your body would look pretty cool.

He grabbed the stencil and walked over to you, so you lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He eyed the space of blank skin, then held the stencil up to it. After a few moments of him lining it up perfectly, he finally placed it. You both walked over to the mirror so you could check the placement. After turning your body a few times, making sure you liked where it was, you told him it was perfect. 

You walked over to the bed and laid down, tucking your shirt under your slightly lifted bra, and angling your body in a way where the stencil could be easily worked on. He set up his table with everything he needed and then got himself sat and pulled up next to you, ready to start. 

“All good to go?” he asked, making sure you were officially ready to start, and you nodded. 

You did your best to relax, but tattoos in this area were hard not to focus on. So you mentally prepared yourself as he reached out and held your side and brought the needle to your skin. But the sensation of his touch completely overpowered the pain of the needle.

All you could focus on as he began working was the way his gloved hand held and pulled at your skin. You didn’t know if you were glad that you didn’t have to focus on the needles, or if this feeling was much worse. He was touching such a sensitive area, and you had to try your hardest not to blush or react in any way. 

His finger grazed against your skin, causing you to shiver. He stopped and looked up at you with a concerned look. 

“You okay?” he asked, assuming that was because he just went right over bone. Knowing you’d just stammer your words, you nodded.

But your eyes locked onto his as he looked up at you, and your mind went blank. The look of concern mixed with something you could distinguish in his pretty blue eyes fueled a fire inside you that you needed to extinguish as fast as possible. You blinked and turned your head away, trying to get that look out of your mind. He finally went back to working on your tattoo, and you forced yourself to focus on the pain, needing it as a distraction. 

After about an hour of grueling torture, him constantly being so sweet, and you forcing yourself to keep your mind off him and on the needles repeatedly hitting your skin, he finally finished. 

“Let me just wipe one more time and then you can go check it out,” he said as he scooted his chair back and grabbed the green soap. 

“Okay,” you said, sighing a breath of relief. It wasn’t over just yet, but you finally had a break from the torture. 

He came back over, gave you one last wipe, and then moved back, giving you room to stand so you could check it out. 

You walked over to the mirror and eyed your new piece, a smile forming on your face. It was really good. Not that you hadn’t expected it to be, but it was thankfully worth being so close to him for an hour straight. 

“I love it,” you said with a smile, turning to him. His eyes snapped up from your body and to your face, almost as if he had been caught staring, and he mirrored your smile. 

“I’m glad. Now let me wrap that and I can close up shop,” he said as he quickly turned to grab Saniderm. 

His mind raced as he went to wrap your new tattoo, needing to be quick so you could finally put your shirt down. The last hour had been absolute agony, being so close to such an intimate part of you. He had to use every fiber in his body to keep his focus on your tattoo and not let his eyes glance up at your slightly exposed under-boob. 

You were sitting on Nick’s bed, back pressed against the wall, scrolling on your phone as he worked on his laptop, occasionally typing away as he answered his emails. He said he had to get a few done, and offered to let you hang out in his room with him until the rest of the guys got back from doing who knows what.

You did your best to entertain yourself as he worked, but you mind kept trailing back to how close you two were earlier. How you could almost feel his breath on your skin as he worked on your new tattoo. The way he kept glancing up at you, checking to make sure you felt okay. You couldn’t get that look out of your mind. His pretty eyes just looking up into yours, holding more emotion that he let on. You had been so worked up since the tattoo started, and it wasn’t going away. 

At this point, you had stopped scrolling and were just staring off into space as your mind wandered, imagining the emotions you could get his eyes to portray. Every thought that you had pushed away was now flooding your mind since he wasn’t focused on you, and being alone in his room with him did absolutely no help. 

You finally come back to reality, only to notice him glancing at you in your peripheral. You glance over, but once he realized he had been caught, he quickly focused back onto the screen in front of him, causing a smirk to form on your lips. Was he actually losing focus because of you?

“Getting distracted, Ruffilo?” you teased, causing him to tense slightly at being caught. Your mind was glazed over with how turned on you were, and you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You just wanted to mess with him. 

He cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off the laptop, and did his best to act nonchalant as he responded, “Huh? Oh. No, just thinking.” 

“Good. You wouldn’t want to miss any important details,” you teased with a smirk still on your lips. He let out a small huff and playfully rolled his eyes as he looked at you. 

“I would never. I’m a professional,” he said, making you bite back a giggle. He was so cute when he tried to play things off.

“Oh, I know,” you responded with an amused smile. He raised an eyebrow at your smile. He did his best to keep a cool demeanor, but couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at your expression. 

“Then why are you teasing me?” he asked, pretending to be annoyed. You gave him a playful scoff. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning offense, making him chuckle. He turned in his chair and looked at you, crossing his arms. 

“Oh sure you don’t. You’re just the picture of innocence,” he said sarcastically, causing you to giggle. 

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it,” you replied, a smirk tugging on your lips. He couldn’t help but smile at your giggle, it causing a strange warmth in his chest. But your smirk was causing a much more intense reaction in him that he had to hide.

“But you’re awfully sassy for someone who tries to be so innocent,’ he teased, his tone turning playful, with a hint of flirting. He was enjoying this playful banter between you two. 

“Sassy?” you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. You’ve got quite an attitude on you.” He teased, chuckling at your act. You crossed your arms and tried thinking of the best comeback, but none were coming to you. 

“Well you’re easily distracted.” you finally said, giving him a playful grin. He raised an eyebrow at your comment. He tried to play it off, but there was a pang of embarrassment in his chest.

“Easily distracted? Me? I’m never distracted.” he protested, trying to sound confident.

“Oh yeah? Then how far along are you on those emails?” you teasingly asked, pointing to the laptop sitting on his desk. His eyes glanced over to the laptop, one that showed a half written email, and mentally cursed at himself. He had gotten distracted thinking of you, and then let you distract him even more with the playful bickering.

“I’m…uh…almost done,” he lied, trying to salvage what dignity he had left.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh escaping your lips. He tried to keep a cool demeanor, but he was getting more flustered as you teased him.

“Yes. I’m serious. I’m almost done,” he repeated, trying to sound more confident this time as he turned back to his laptop. 

“Good, because I’d feel bad if I was the reason you couldn’t get any work done,’ you said, amused. He could feel his face getting more flushed. He tried to come up with a witty comeback, but all he got out was a flustered stammer. 

“Y-you’re not the reason..I just..got distracted, that’s all,” he managed to get out, making you smirk as he finally admitted to being distracted.

“Then what’s got you so distracted?” you playfully asked, causing him to tense up. He didn’t want to admit it, so he tried coming up with the most convincing answer. 

“I don't know..I guess I’m just tired from having to focus on tattooing all day.” he lied, now pretending to be more focused on this half written email on his screen. 

You nodded with a grin on your face, not actually believing him, just having a lot of fun messing with him. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he was just thankful you stopped pushing the issue. He let out a sigh as he started typing again, doing his best to focus on the words, but he couldn’t stop letting his mind travel to you. His eyes involuntarily trailed back to you, causing you to smirk. 

“Do I need to leave?” you teasingly asked, calling attention back to how easily distracted he was. His eyes widened slightly as he realized he had once again been caught staring, so he turned back to the screen, hiding his blushing face. 

“N-no, you’re fine. I’m just..lost in thought,” he said, trying to play off that he was just straight ogling you. You giggled and crawled across the bed, moving closer to him. 

“Whatcha thinkin about?” you asked, in a slightly annoying childish voice, wanting to tease him more. He swallowed hard as he heard you move closer to him. He tried his best to keep his composure.

“N-nothing important,” he lied. His eyes flickered over to you against his will, gauging how close you now were. 

“Well, it’s obviously important enough that it keeps distracting you,” you said, feigning a sweet tone. He let out a soft huff, getting frustrated at how easily you were getting to him. He shifted in his chair, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation. 

“It’s not important enough to share, trust me,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He tried keeping his gaze back on his screen as he felt the tension in the room grow thicker by the second, but his eyes trailed to you once more, curious as to why you were so quiet. Once his eyes landed on you, he saw that you were giving him a childish pout. He sighed, knowing that you always did that when you didn’t get your way, but he had to resist telling you the truth. 

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, trying to sound stern, but you giggled when you noticed the amusement in his voice. He let out a defeated sigh and leaned back in his chair as his resolve crumbled away at the sound of your laugh. 

“Fine. You wanna know what I was thinking about? It was you. I was thinking about you, alright?” He said, slightly embarrassed but also annoyed that you actually managed to pull it out of him. 

You raised your eyebrows in shock, not expecting him to be so blunt and say it already. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know, but you were surprised he just came out and told you straight. 

“Oh, you were thinking about me?” you asked, once again bringing back your playful tone. His cheeks flushed more as he realized how bad of an idea it was to admit it. He didn’t want to, but you broke him down so easily. 

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. He kept his gaze on you, gaging your reaction, “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

“And what about me were you thinking about?” you asked playfully with a smug smile. This caused him to groan. You had been playing at his frustration and desire all day, and now that he was forced to think about you, he was struggling to keep those thoughts under control. 

“Everything about you. Your smile, your voice, your eyes…everything,” he said, his voice growing huskier. He shifted in his chair again, trying to alleviate the tension in his body. Your eyebrows raised slightly as an amused smile played on your lips. 

“Everything?” you asked, your tone teasing, yet slightly seductive, causing his eyes to darken. He could feel the tension in the room reach its boiling point, and he had to refrain from losing control.

“Yes. Everything,” he repeated, his voice getting closer to a growl as you kept pushing his buttons. He gave himself permission to rake his eyes over your body now that he knew he had nothing to hide, “I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”

“Did this start before or after the tattoo?” you ask, seemingly unaffected by his tone or actions. 

“Before. Long before,” he answered, his voice dripping with desire as he watched you with hungry eyes. He had developed an attraction to you a while ago, but being so close to you as he tattooed you just made it worse. 

“And how did you feel when I told you where the tattoo was gonna be?” you asked. You were enjoying this way too much. Just watching him lose it right in front of you. 

“I was…conflicted. On one hand, I was excited to finally get so close to you, but on the other, I knew it was going to be absolute torture.” he answered. You feigned offense at his playful choice of words. 

“Torture? You saw being so close to me as torture?” you teasingly asked. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes and he knew that you were enjoying this a little too much. 

“Don’t give me that look. You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his tone getting more seductive, “Being so close to you, yet not being able to give in and.. touch you…it drove me insane.” 

“Well looks like you’re gonna have to stay insane,” you teased, shrugging. He was just giving you more and more opportunities to mess with him, so now you were going to keep riling him up and just not give him what he wanted. His eyes darkened more at your words, his smirk fading into more of a frustrated expression. 

“Don’t tease me like that…You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to touch you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low husky whisper as he leaned forward. You just gave him a smug smile as you relaxed back, supporting yourself on your hands as you met his gaze with a mischievous look. 

“And that’s why I’m not gonna let you,” you said bluntly. His eyes widened at your serious tone, his face turning into a mixture of desire and determination.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, tempting me like that just to deny me. It’s cruel.” You just shrugged, amused with how easy it was to egg him on. 

“You can’t do anything about it. I won’t let you, so you’re just gonna have to suffer from a distance,” you said nonchalantly with a smirk playing on your lips. He took a deep breath and glared at you. 

“You make it so hard for me to be a gentleman,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, his eyes raking over your body hungrily, “You’re so damn tempting, sitting there all smug and teasing me like that,” 

You let your eyes slowly trail over this figure, seeing how tense and worked up he was, before landing back on his eyes with a mischievous smirk on your lips. He’s making it so easy to get him riled up, and it just makes you more excited to finally break him. You knew this was all an act. He wanted you to think that you had no control over him, but in reality, he was wrapped around your finger. 

“Hey, I said you couldn’t touch me. But if you’re nice, maybe I’ll touch you,” you said in a stern yet seductive voice, getting quieter towards the end. His breath hitched as you spoke and his body tensed at the thought of you touching him. He looked at you with a mix of desire and desperation in his eyes, slowly breaking. 

“You’re killing me here. How can you say something like that and expect me to behave myself?” he said, his voice straining as he struggled to maintain his composure. You so badly wanted to make a face, finally cracking down on his faux dominance, but you knew exactly what you could do to get him to finally break. You gave him a teasing pitiful pout.

“Because you wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?” you asked in a soft teasing yet seductive tone. His eyes widened as the words left your mouth. He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his composure, but his mind and body had already given in. It took a few moments for him to respond, but he gave in.

“Y-yes…I wanna be a good boy for you..” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. A proud smile formed on your lips, happy that you finally got to him. 

You scooted back on the bed, creating a space for him, before patting the spot next to you. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between your face and the spot on the bed. He was torn between his desire to give in to your every whim, and his pride, but ultimately, the desire won and he slowly stood up and walked to the bed. 

He sat stiffly, trying to maintain some semblance of control over himself, but his body was tense with anticipation. He looked at you with a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his eyes, waiting for your next move. Taking that as a sign to continue, you softly pushed against his shoulders until he was now lying down in front of you. He didn’t resist, but just tensed at your touch. He watched you intensely, his heart racing in his chest as he waited to see what you would do next. He felt vulnerable in this position, completely at someone’s mercy for the first time, but there was a sense of trust and excitement in his eyes. 

Enjoying the adorable man completely giving himself to you, you gave him a warm smile as you softly started tracing your fingers against his stomach, trailing them over his hips and down his legs, giving him a glimpse of the new dynamic. His breath hitched at your touch, his skin felt extra sensitive as he was not used to being so vulnerable, but also loving it.

“Now remember, no touching,” you said softly yet sternly as you looked into his eyes.  

“I..I won’t touch you…I promise,” he said, his trembling voice barely above a whisper. His body felt like it was shaking with desire, but he was determined to be good for you. 

You gave him a soft smile and a quiet, ‘Good boy,’ as you continued teasing your fingers across his body. He just watched and took in the feeling as you started trailing your fingers down to the hem of his shirt. You hooked your fingers under and pulled up until there was just a delicious thin strip of bare skin between his waistband and shirt, and softly traced your fingers over it, watching his reaction as you teased him. 

Nick’s eyes fluttered shut and a soft gasp caught in his throat as he felt your fingers brush against his bare skin. He could feel his body responding to your touch, his skin tingling with every gentle graze of your fingers. He was completely under our spell and he knew it. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with desire and submission. 

You bit back a smirk as you caught his gaze. You knew that he was falling deeper and deeper under your control and you loved it. You looked back down to where your fingers traced against his skin and slowly moved them up, bringing the shirt with them. He watched as you slowly lifted his shirt, exposing more and more of his skin to your touch. He could feel the heat rising in his body, and his breathing grew heavier with each passing second. 

You were going to tease him for as long as he let you, so once the shirt lifted to right above his navel, you leaned down and started softly littering kisses on his bare skin. His breath hitched as he felt your lips touch his skin. The sensation flooding his mind, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His eyes closed as his body overreacted to your touch. 

“That feels so good…” he managed to whisper out, his voice thick with desire. He wanted to touch you so badly, to get you to speed up, but he knew he had to resist. He was determined to let you take the lead, even if it killed him. 

You looked up at him with a playful gaze as you started trailing kisses higher and higher, lifting the shirt with you. You just wanted to see how long it was going to take him to start begging for more. As he felt your lips trail up and his shirt rise, he opened his eyes and looked down, meeting yours. He had a look of desperation and admiration, and you could tell this was slowly driving him insane. 

“Please…don’t stop,” he begged, his voice ragged. He was struggling to keep his composure as his body tensed and trembled with desire. He was completely under your spell, willing to do anything to keep feeling your touch. 

Once his stomach and chest were on full display, you continued to litter his skin with soft kisses, occasionally licking and nipping at sensitive spots. This caused him to lose himself in a haze of pleasure, his body responding to your every touch. He let out a string of low moans and soft gasps and his back arched, pressing himself against your lips more.

“F-fuck…you’re driving me crazy,” he managed to gasp out, his voice laced with need and desire. 

You were enjoying the sight of him falling apart under your touch, so you slowly started upping your game. Trailing kisses back down his chest and stomach, you slid your hand onto his thigh, softly rubbing it, moving your hand up and down, and occasionally rubbing his inner thigh. He let out a soft gasp as his body started responding to your touch, his muscles tensing and his breath picking up. Enjoying his reactions, you started moving your hand higher, getting a little too close to his growing bulge. He let out a strangled moan as his hips involuntarily bucked slightly in response. 

“Please…please don’t tease me like that,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whine and filled with desperation. He was growing more and more frustrated and desperate with each passing moment, his body aching for your touch. 

“Be a good boy for me, baby,” you said softly, with a slightly demanding tone. As much as you enjoyed his begging, you’d never give in. You were going to make a mess of him. 

Nick shuttered at your words, his body responding instinctively to your command. He wanted to be good for you, to obey your every whim. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to regain control over himself. 

“I-I’m trying…I’m trying to be good,” he gasped out, his voice strained. He could feel the tension building inside of him, the need for more growing stronger by the second. 

Humming appreciatively, your kisses started getting lower, now running along his waistband, and your hand moved higher, now brushing against his bulge. He let out a shaky airy moan, jolts of pleasure shooting through his body every time he felt you moved your hand. 

“Oh god… you’re killing me,” he whimpered. His body trembled in anticipation, him wanting nothing more than for you to touch him, to give him the release he so desperately needed. 

A small giggle erupted from your throat, the vibrations traveling to his sensitive skin. You lifted your head and just watched him as you started softly palming him through his jeans. A strangled moan left his lips as he felt the heat and pressure of your hand against him. Every time you rubbed your hand against him, he let out a small gasp, his body tensing in response.

“Please, baby…more…I need it so badly,” he begged, a desperate, pathetic whimper. 

“Beg all you want, my love, you’re gonna get what I give you,” you said with a slightly stern tone. He whimpered again at your tone, his body submitting to your will. He knew there was no use in begging, but he couldn’t help himself. The need for your touch was overwhelming, and he would do anything to feel your hands on him. 

“I’ll be good…I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to take pity on him. 

His eyes just made you want to tease him more. This was becoming too fun for you. To have so much control over him that he could look up at you with those pretty eyes, begging you to help him. It was like a drug, and you just wanted more. 

Keeping your eyes on his, you leaned back down and pressed your lips on the waistband of his pants, and slowly kissed closer and closer to his aching bulge. He watched with a bated breath as your lips moved closer. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body tense with anticipation. He desperately wanted you to touch him, to give him the release he craved so badly. He let out a shaky moan once you were so close yet so far from where he needed you the most. 

You gave him one final look, before placing a sloppy open mouth kiss against the height of his bulge. He let out a loud moan the second your lips finally made contact with it. The feeling of your warm mouth through the fabric was almost too much to bear, and he couldn’t stop himself as he bucked his hips up against you. 

“Oh god..yes…please..” he gasped out, his voice laced with need and desperation. He was completely at your mercy now, unable to control the way his body responded to you. 

Pleased with his reaction, you decided to step it up a notch and softly sink your teeth into it. Not enough to hurt him, but just enough for him to really feel you through the fabric. He let out a strangled cry. The sensation was both shocking and pleasurable, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. His body shuttered as his hips bucked, desperately trying to get more friction.

“F-fuck…do that again…please..” he gasped. He was completely lost in the moment, completely lost in your touch. 

Even though you said you wouldn’t give in to his commands, you enjoyed the reaction too much. You softly pressed your teeth into him again, this time running your tongue along the fabric between them. He let out a loud moan as you did it again, the sensation of your tongue sending shivers down his spine. He was practically writhing beneath you now, his body wracked with pleasure. 

“God…I can’t take it anymore…please..let me cum..I need to come so badly,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse and desperate. The feeling was too much and he was ready to explode at any moment. You lifted your head and looked at him, giving him a pathetic pitiful look.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already about to cum?” you asked condescendingly. He let out a strangled whimper at your words, his face flushing with embarrassment. He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. He was so pent up, so desperate for release.

“I-I know…I’m sorry..I just can’t help it,” He said, his voice trembling. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy, “Please…just touch me…I need to feel your hands on me..”

You raised an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to his bulge, softly palming him again, giving him a small sliver of what he was begging for.

“And why should I do that?” you asked. He let out a shaky breath as he felt your hand on him again. His hips arched up against your hand, desperate for more friction. 

“Because…because I’ve been good for you. I’ve been doing everything you asked..please..just give me a reward..” He begged. He was practically panting now, his body trembling with desire. 

“Oh, you want a reward? After all the begging and commands for more, you think you deserve a reward” you asked, your tone condescending yet teasing. You hooked your leg over his and moved to straddle his thighs as a way to get more of an advantage on him. You began palming him again, this time much lighter so he couldn’t get as much pleasure from it, causing a whine of frustration to leave his lips. It was torture, and he could feel himself getting even more worked up. 

“Please..I’ve been a good boy. I’ve done everything you asked…I need this so badly,” he begged, his voice shaking with need as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. Smirking at his desperation, you moved your hand up to the waistband of his jeans, popping the button then unzipping them. You looked back up at him as your fingers started toying with the waistband of his boxers. 

“I don’t know. You’ve been pretty naughty, always bucking your hips even when I told you that you had to be good and not try to touch me,” you teased. He could feel his heart racing as you played with the waistband of his boxers and your words sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it. You just feel so good,” he gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper. He was desperate, willing to get on his hands and knees if it meant you’d give him the release he so desperately craved. You finally hooked your fingers under his waistband. 

“You gonna be a good boy and let me touch you?” you asked, your voice raspy with seduction. His eyes locked onto yours as he swallowed hard. 

“Yes..I’ll be good..Just please..please touch me..” he pleaded, his voice shaking with desire. He would do anything to feel your hands on him. Absolutely anything. You start to pull his pants and boxers down, but stop, right before his tip could peek out. It couldn’t hurt to keep teasing him, right?

“You know, I don’t know if I believe you. Maybe you should beg some more,” you said, looking back into his eyes with a mischievous look. He looked at you with pleading eyes, his desperation evident. He could feel the cold air on the sensitive skin of his tip, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Please…I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to. Just please touch me. I need it so badly. I need to feel your hands on me. I’ll be good. I promise.” A smile formed on your lips on your lip at his begging.

As much as you’d love to see him on his knees, begging to be touched, you figured you could just give it to him. You pulled down his pants and boxers more, just enough for his cock to spring out. The tip was red, hot, and desperate for attention. He let out a sigh of relief as you freed his aching cock. He looked up at you with a mix of desperation and gratitude.

“..Thank you…” he whispered out, his voice trembling. He could feel the cold air on his exposed cock, and it was driving him wild. He wanted you to touch him so badly, to relieve the intense pressure that had been building inside him.

He let out a low moan as you ran your fingers against his sensitive skin, his body tensing at the touch. He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged and uneven. As you wrap your hand around him and brush your hand over the tip, he let out a gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Oh god…that feels so good..” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. 

A string of curses escapes his lips as you start loosely pumping his cock, the feeling of your hand dragging against his skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tried to keep his hips still, but they kept bucking into your touch, seeking more friction. 

“Please…more…I need more,” he gasped out, voice hoarse with need. You stopped your movements and looked up at him.

“Stop moving and begging or else I’ll stop,” you said, your voice stern and condescending. He whimpered at your command, his body going rigid as he forced himself to stop moving. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his expression pleading. 

“I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t move or beg…just please…don’t stop,” he pleaded with a trembling voice. He desperately wanted to obey your orders, wanting to prove that he could be good for you. That he deserved this.

Humming contently at his words, you shift your position, now moving your hips closer to his until the base of his cock was pressed right against your covered core. He let out a strangled moan as you moved. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to thrust his hips up against you, but he forced himself to stay still, remembering your command. 

“Please…can I touch you? Just a little bit?” he begged.

“Good boy for asking, but no,” you said with a teasing smile. He let out a frustrated groan as you denied his request, but quickly forgot about it as you started rocking your hips against his cock, rubbing yourself against him. The feeling of your heat against him was almost too much to handle, and he had to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you closer. 

“God…you’re so cruel..” he gasped out. You giggled as you stopped your movements. 

“Cruel? My love, you better watch your mouth,” you said with a mischievous grin. He swallowed hard as he realized what he had done. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help it. He was so desperate for you, so needy. 

“I’m sorry..I didn’t mean it. You’re not cruel, you’re just…driving me crazy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared at you with his signature pleading eyes, begging for you to continue. 

You softly giggled at his apology. He just gave you a perfect opening to mess with him just a little bit more. He watched as you slid off his lap and stood beside the bed, a whimper escaping his lips, worried he actually ruined his chance at release. He looked at you with a look of curiosity and frustration, wondering what you were planning next. With your eyes still on his, you slowly moved your hands to your pants and undid them, before slowly pulling them down and stepping out of them. His eyes widened as you were now left in only underwear. 

With a smirk, you crawled back into the position you were in before, straddling his hips. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you and felt your bare legs now pressed against his hips. 

“Fuck…you’re killing me,” he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. 

He let out a low moan as you grabbed his cock and positioned it against your wet panty-covered core. The feeling of your wetness against him was too much to bear, and he involuntarily bucked his hips again. 

“Please..I need to feel you..no more teasing.” He pleaded, his voice thick with desperation and need. 

“I was gonna let you touch me, but since you keep making commands and bucking into me, I guess I won’t,” you said looking down at him sternly. His eyes widened as you spoke, making him curse under his breath, regretting his actions. 

“No, no, no..I’m sorry..please. I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll be good. Just please..please please let me touch you,” he begged, his hands still gripping the sheets tightly. He was desperate to feel your skin against his, to feel the warmth and softness of your body. You hummed as you debated his words. 

“Thighs only,” you said as you watched the way he gripped the sheets below him. He let out a sigh of relief as you agreed to let him touch your thighs, albeit just your thighs. He let go of the sheets and reached up to grip your thighs, his hands finally being able to slide up and down your soft skin. 

“Thank you…thank you so much..” he whispered, his fingers softly digging into your flesh. He massaged and gripped at your thighs gently, trying to show you how grateful he was for even this small amount of contact. 

You hummed at the feeling of his large hands on your thighs. Slowly and softly, you began rocking your hips as you watched him. Nick let out a shaky breath at the feeling of your core rubbing against him, driving him insane. He gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought the urge to thrust up against you.

“God…you feel so good. I wish I could feel you without these damn panties in the way,” he groaned through gritted teeth, his voice strained with need. Pleased with his reaction, and secretly agreeing with him, you slipped your hand down and slid your panties to the side. 

“Your wish is my command, my love,” you said as you pressed your now bare pussy against him. A loud moan left his lips as he watched. The feeling of your bare skin against his was almost too much to handle, and he couldn’t hold back much longer. 

“Oh..f-fuck..that’s so much better,” he gasped out, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, pulling you closer.

“Hey. Thighs only, remember?” you said sternly. You enjoy the way he pulled you, but you couldn’t have him thinking he can just get away with doing what he wants. He quickly let go of your hips, grumbling in frustration, but obeyed your command and brought his hands back to your thighs.

“Sorry..you just feel so good..I couldn’t help myself..I want to feel all of you..” he whimpered. 

“Be a good boy, and you will,” you said as you started moving your hips again. He fit so perfectly between your folds and rested perfectly against your clit, rubbing it every time you moved. 

He watched as you moved, his eyes fixed on the spot where you were connected. The feeling of your slick folds against his sensitive skin was almost too much, and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge. 

“I’ll be good..I promise. I’ll be the best boy for you, just please..don’t stop,” he gasped out. He gripped your thighs tightly, trying to control himself and not buck his hips again. 

You held him closer to your core, applying more pressure. You hummed a moan, loving the feeling of him rubbing against your clit. He groaned as he felt his cock throbbing against you. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and it was driving him wild. He wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and thrust up into you, but he knew he had to be patient and wait for your permission. 

The pleasure of his cock dragging against you was so nice, and you needed more. You let go of him and moved up his hips more, your core now right above him, and started grinding into him. Soft moans escaped your lips as you felt him rubbing through your folds and against your clit so perfectly. His eyes widened, and he let out a guttural moan, the feeling of your slickness against him becoming too much to bear. He could feel your arousal coating his cock, and he desperately wanted to be inside you. 

“Fuck…you’re so wet…so hot..” he gasped out, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter. 

The feeling of his hands gripping you in pleasure and need just added to the feeling, causing you to speed up your movements and applying more pressure, needing to feel him against you more. His hands gripped your thighs tight enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise, the pressure and friction against his cock becoming almost unbearable. He could feel his release building up inside him, but he fought it, not wanting this moment to end. 

“Please..I need more, I need to be inside you, I need to feel you clenching around me,” he pleaded, his foggy mind causing him to whine. You couldn’t agree more. He let out a gasp as you grabbed his cock and positioned it at your entrance, the feeling of the tip pressing against your slick heat sending shivers down his spine. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to continue. 

“Please…please let me inside. I’ll do anything,” he pathetically whimpered. 

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, causing him to let out a frustrated groan as you teased him. He could feel his cock twitching as you slowly took him, desperate for more.

“You’re torturing me..please..I need to feel all of you,” he begged, his hands returning to your hips and desperately grabbing at them. You wanted to scold him again, but felt as if you teased him enough, so you let it slide as you finally sank down on him. 

Nick let out a loud moan as your hips met, the feeling of your tight walls enveloping him was overwhelming. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold back from thrusting up into you.

“Oh..god..you feel so good,” he gasped out, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your core, causing his eyes to shoot back to you as you pressed his fingers against your clit. Quickly understanding, he began rubbing circled against your sensitive nub as you began moving up and down. 

“Oh yes..just like that,” he groaned, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he tried to hold on for as long as possible. 

A low moan left your lips. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly, mixed with him rubbing your clit was mind-numbing. You involuntarily clenched around him in pleasure, causing a strangled moan to leave his lips. The feeling of your walls tightening around him almost sending him over the edge. He continued rubbing you, but his movements became more erratic as he fought to hold back his own release. 

“You’re so tight… squeezing me so good..” he gasped out, his eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. 

You couldn’t fight back the sounds that wanted to escape your lips. He just felt so good and you could feel yourself getting closer. You just needed a little more. 

“Nick?” you whimpered out, causing his eyes to shoot up and meet yours with a dark look of desire. 

“Yes, my love?” he asked, his voice hoarse with need. He continued rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and harder against you, hoping to bring you closer to your release. You had to fight back gasps as you said the words you knew he wanted to hear. 

“Fuck me,” you sternly pleaded, needing him to take over. His eyes widened at your plea, his heart racing in his chest. He had been holding back for so long, so he couldn’t resist any longer.

“With pleasure,” he growled as his hand moved back to your hip, his grip tightening as he began to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with powerful strokes. 

Instantly, loud moans left your lips as you brought your hands up to his chest, leaning on him for support as you gave him full control. He groaned as you gave him a better angle to thrust into you. He could feel your body trembling, and he knew you were getting close. 

“That’s it, baby…Let go. I’ve got you,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming faster and harder as he pounded into you relentlessly, finally not having to hold back anymore. 

Your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed as pleasure coursed through your body with each thrust. Your release was approaching faster and faster. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were getting close. 

“You’re so close, I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his own release rapidly approaching. 

With a few more thrusts, you came undone. A loud moan fell from your lips as your head dropped and pleasure took over your body. Nick watched as your body shook in pleasure and he let out a loud groan as he felt your walls spasming around him, the sensation officially pushing him over the edge. 

“F-fuck,” he grunted, his hips stuttering as he thrust up into you a few more times before spilling himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you. 

Another loud moan left your lips as you felt his hot cum spill into you. You involuntarily clenched around him more, milking every last drop before collapsing onto his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel your heart beating wildly against his own, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of being so close to you. 

“Fuck…that was amazing,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from exertion. He ran his fingers through your hair and gently stroked your back as he basked in the afterglow of your orgasms.

Once you both finally calmed down, your heartbeats gradually slowing down as you came down from your high, he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, feeling a wave of affection wash over him. 

“You’re amazing, my love,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers still gently running through it. You hummed at his praise and affection, bathing in the dopamine. He chuckled softly at your response, his hands now tracing soothing circles on your back. 

“You’re so quiet now. I think I wore you out,” he teased. A smirk formed on your lips. There was no way you were going to let him bask in that small moment of dominance. You looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek, ready to pull out your winning move. 

“Yeah, you were such a good boy, Nick,” you said softly, giving him a proud look. His eyes widened and he felt a slight shiver run down his spine, loving the praise. 

“You think I’m a good boy?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he leaned into your touch. You softly brushed your thumb against his cheek. 

“Such a good boy. Listening to me and making me feel so good,” you said with a teasing seductive tone, softly clenching around him still inside you to really prove your point. He let out a low moan, his cock still sensitive from his orgasm. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at your words and actions. 

“Oh god..don’t..don’t do that. You’re gonna get me worked up again,” he groaned, his grip on you tightening slightly as he tried to control himself. You giggled mischievously at his reaction. 

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” you asked playfully. Nick shook his head, a mixture of amusement and frustration on his face. 

“No, we wouldn’t. But you’re making it so hard to behave right now,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He shifted slightly underneath you, trying to adjust himself so he wasn’t so sensitive, but it was difficult with you still wrapped around him. You hummed, amused. He was just making this too easy. 

“You’re a good boy, Nick, I know you’ll behave,” you said softly as you ‘absentmindedly’ shifted into a ‘more comfortable position’, so your hips were slightly raised, him still halfway inside you.

Nick let out a soft groan, his cock twitching as you shifted. He could feel your breath on his chest, and the feeling of your body pressed against him was driving him crazy. He tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths and focusing on your words. 

“I’m trying..but it’s not easy when you’re being so tempting,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips, gently rubbing circles against your skin. 

You giggled softly. This wasn’t anywhere near over for him. He was smug now, but you were going to break him until he cried. With your head still lying on his chest and a sweet smile on your lips, you very slowly started moving your hips. Pressing them down torturously slow so he sank back into you, then lifting them so he dragged back out of you. He let out a strangled moan, the slow and deliberate movements driving him crazy. He gripped you hips tightly, trying to control himself as you teased him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he groaned out, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on anything but the feeling of your body against his. 

“Just be a good boy and ignore me,” you said sweetly as you continued your movements, loving the feeling of him slowly dragging in and out of you. 

He let out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to follow your instructions. He desperately wanted to thrust up into you, to take control and make you his, but he knew that you were testing him. And he couldn’t let himself disobey your orders. 

“It’s not that easy,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the way your ass moved up and down on him. 

“Just think of anything but the feeling of your cock slowly pumping in and out of me,” you teased, your tone full of faux innocence. His eyes darkened at your words and he let out a frustrated huff. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me like this?” he asked, his voice laced with both desire and annoyance. He tried to think of anything else, but everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of you riding him. 

“Torturing you would be forcing you to stop touching me again,” you teased, a mischievous smile forming on your face. His grip on your hips tightened as his eyes snapped open and looked at you. 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and serious. You were right, but he was already struggling to control himself as is. 

Hearing his challenge, you lifted yourself so now you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, able to easily rock back and forth to continue teasing him. His breath hitched in his throat, this angle making it even more difficult to resist the urge to thrust up into you. You looked straight into his eyes with a mischievous look. 

“Don’t challenge me, love. I absolutely will if I have to,” you said, your tone condescending yet seductive. 

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” he growled, his voice low and husky. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but find your confidence and control arousing. You brought your hand to his jaw and held it, forcing him to look at you. 

“Now now. Don’t be mean. I could make this absolute torture for you,” you said sternly with a smirk. His eyes narrowed as his gaze was locked on yours. He knew you had the upper hand in this situation, but he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement at your dominance, wanting to test it. 

“And what exactly would you do to me, hm?” he asked, his voice dripping with defiance. You raised an eyebrow at his tone. 

“You really wanna know?” you asked, your tone both teasing yet threatening. His expression darkened, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. 

“Yes, I do. I want to know what you’d do to punish me for being mean,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He couldn’t resist the temptation to push your buttons, even if it meant getting himself in trouble. 

You let out a huff at his bratty attitude. Within a blink of an eye, you grabbed his wrists and held them above his head as you fully sunk down on him, using your body weight as leverage to keep him pinned. He gasped as you moved. He struggled against your grip, but found that he couldn’t break free. And the feeling of being completely inside of you again caused a moan to rumble deep in his chest. 

“Oh god..you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of desire and frustration. You leaned down so your lips were close to his ear. 

“You tested me. You wanted to be a naughty boy, so now you’re stuck like this,” you whispered harshly into his ear, causing him to shuttered and tense beneath you. He couldn’t tell if he hated being restrained like this, or if it turned him on even more. 

“I-I didn’t mean to be naughty. I can’t help myself when you’re being such a brat,” he protested weakly, his hips twitching as he tried to move against you. 

He was really pushing his luck now. You tightly clenched around him in punishment as he called you a brat again. He let out a low groan, the feeling of your tight walls gripping him making it difficult for him to think straight. He finally gave in.

“Watch it.” you said sternly. 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a brat. You’re just so damn irresistible when you’re in control like this,” he whimpered out, a hint of frustration in his tone. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it, because now you’re stuck like this. I’m not moving,” you said harshly. He let out a frustrated whine at your words. 

“You can’t leave me like this. I need more. I need to feel you moving on me,” he pleaded, his hips shifting beneath you in a futile attempt to get some friction. You just pressed your hips into his more as your grip on his wrists tightened.

“I can do as I please. And it’s not so bad right? Feeling my tight pussy around you as you’re restrained to the bed. You get to think about the way you came in me. The way you thrusted in me and how I moaned in pleasure. The way my body shook as I came around your cock,” you whispered in his ear, your voice both seductive and menacing.

He let out a low whine as you effectively immobilized him. Your words sent shivers down his spine and he could feel his cock twitch inside you as he thought about everything you said. 

“You’re evil,” he whined, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he struggled against your grip on his wrists. 

“That’s what you get when you’re a naughty boy. You’re lucky you even get to feel me. I could tie you to this bed as I play with my pussy in front of you and never let you touch me,” you whispered menacingly into his ear. His eyes widened at your threat, and he felt a pang of desperation in his chest. 

“No, no, please don’t do that. I’ll be good, I probably. I’ll be your good boy,” he said quickly, his voice a pleading whine. The thought of being denied any further contact with you was too much to bear. 

“Oh? So you wanna be a good boy again?” you ask condescendingly. He nodded vigorously, his expression full of submission. 

“Yes, yes, I do. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your good boy, your obedient slave. Just please, please let me touch you. Let me feel you,” he begged, his voice trembling with desperation. A small amused huff left your lips. 

“Sorry, my love. You haven’t proved yourself just yet. But I’ll give you a chance. No touching. No moving. Got it?” you asked him sternly. He let out a frustrated growl, but nodded in defeat. 

“I got it. No touching and no moving. I’ll stay still like a good boy,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. He was desperate for your touch, but he knew he had to obey your rules if he wanted any chance of being rewarded. 

You let out a hum of appreciation as you began moving your hips again. He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to move. Instead, he focused on your words and kept his hands firmly pinned above his head, even though every fiber in his being was screaming for him to try and touch you.

You two finished cleaning yourselves up and getting dressed again. You were cuddling on his bed, whispering sweet things to him, praising him and complimenting him. Telling him how good he was and how pretty his eyes looked when he looked up at you like that. He just softly hummed at your praise, staring up at you in adoration as you spoke. 

That’s when you heard the door downstairs close and a stampede of feet come into the house, causing you two to scramble up and out of his bed. You both took one last look at yourselves, making sure the previous event wasn’t painstakingly obvious, before opening his bedroom door and going back to the places you were before. Him on his laptop and you nonchalantly scrolling on his bed. 

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and turned to the door to see a smiling Noah appear. 

“Show me the new tat,” he said excitedly, causing you to laugh.

You sat up and lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He got closer and looked at it smiling. 

“That’s sick! It really fits you. Nick did a good job,” he said as he examined it. You smiled and turned to Nick, who was watching you two. 

“Yeah. He did really good,” you said, secretly winking at Nick since Noah’s eyes were focused on your new piece. 

Nick blushed and turned back to his laptop as Noah stood back up and looked at you. But then his eyes caught something. 

“And what’s that?” he said, a smirk forming on his face as he pointed to your neck. The fresh love bite, still forming on your skin.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 10.2K

paring: Sero x fReader

warning(s): dirty talking, fingering(f! receiving), premature ejaculation, messy sex, semi-public sex (if ya squint) - you know the works here, pretty standard smut, nothing too crazy.

authors note: Happy Belated Birthday to me! Not only did the amazing Onyx give me this idea MONTHS ago about the dynamic between Sero and I, but this won the poll for what I was going to work on next - and though I went with Bakugou's story first (cause it was fresher in my mind) I have finally finished this! AND OH BOY, how self-indulgent I was with this one - I am not known for my dialog but couldn't help but put lots in here! That being said, I did try and keep this as generic as I could, just may not be AS generic, ya know? Anyway, I hope you all love this glorified tape dispenser as much as I do~🔮

Sero had always loved to draw, even when he was a little kid. What started as scribbles covering the walls of his home turned into small doodles - those that filled his notebooks more than his writing and school work turned into piles and piles of sketchbooks that were filled with intricate drawings and were stacked high within the confines of his room. 

He remembered being little, using washable markers to doodle fun patterns and designs on his arms and the arms of his friends, remembering how most recess breaks were filled with doing a doodle request for several fellow classmates. To being older, and having those same classmates come up to him to see if they could utilize his skills to make projects look nicer; to make epic banners for school events, or to make posters pop in his signature way. Even while he was in college, next to a prestigious art school that only accepted a handful of creatives a year, he had people beg him to create designs for tattoos they were wanting to get; willing to pay lots of money so they could forever have a drawing of his on their skin.

And that sparked something inside him. A passion to turn a hobby into a career.

It took years and years of effort, of schooling, of practicing, of littering his skin with designs both good and bad - and subsequently spending more time fixing his faults - and then shadowing those more experienced, to be taken into their shops and under their wings, so he may draw on the bodies of those that were hoping to decorate their skin. Not all patrons were ideal; some were not hygienic, and others moved too much and then complained of sloppy work, demanding a refund. And not all shop owners were pleasant to work for; many accepted clients even when they shouldn't, often dismissing those beneath them out of pride and a superiority complex, and always taking the side of those patrons trying to scam him and his time. But there were a few people that made it all worth it in the end, a few colleagues turned friends that made ‘sticking it out’ much more bearable.

And without all the bumps and hurdles, Sero would not have become as confident in his abilities and his worth, and he would not have had the chance to meet so many amazing people and artists - some of which had the same goal and ideas in mind as he did; who would follow him wherever he went. Before he even knew it, Hanta Sero finally achieved his goal, of making his childhood dream and hobby into a reality. He finally owned his tattoo parlor. 

He found a little shop within the city, perfect enough for him and a few friends to call their own, to create their own brand, and to make their own living; to finally call the shots and have complete creative control. The building itself was a little run down - something to be expected with the small price tag attached - but it was the ideal size for all of them and in the perfect location. So no one cared that it needed a few months of intense TLC to get the building up to code, it was more than worth the effort. And before anyone knew it the inspector came to claim the building was up to standards, giving the business license and the all-clear to start accepting patrons; it only took a few days before people heard the news.

When word got around that Sero and his business partners had finally opened their shop, to start accepting clients and creating art on their skin that they would enjoy for a lifetime, so many jumped on the chance to get an appointment with them - Sero especially. Some were people he had known for years, eagerly awaiting another drawing of ink, and some were those that saw his work on the many social pages advertising the business that wanted to add another to their growing collections. Whatever the case was, once he turned on the neon ‘open’ sign on the day of opening, he and his friends were booked for months in advance.

And the cherry on top of all of this? Another wonderful addition to the streams of success he was facing, was the bookstore that sat just across the street from him. 

Not because he was into books, though he did read from time to time and enjoyed it when he did, but because of the owner that bookshop had. At first, he couldn’t be sure you were the owner, but day in and day out he watched you show up at opening and leave at closing, and unless you were an incredibly dedicated employee, it was an easy assumption to make. And Sero couldn’t deny that he thought you were pretty when he first caught sight of you through his window after closing on his first day; and he couldn’t deny that he would wait with anticipation when you closed your shop and would begin making your way home, just so he could get a glimpse of your cute face.

He wished he had the free time to go and speak to you, to see you up close and hear your voice (which he could just tell was adorable and sweet), but his clientele made it nearly impossible for him to get the chance. By the time the last client would leave, your shop would already be closed, and for some time, with you nowhere in sight. There were just simply not enough hours in the day for him to spare to meet you; as well he was terrified of canceling an appointment or rejecting a client so early on in all of this, afraid that one bad comment could ruin the shop and cause it to sink.

But Sero always made the best of any situation, that was part of his charm. He figured that if he didn’t have the time to go in and speak to you, to properly act on his little crush, he would let you know who he was and his existence through different means. 

Romantic gestures that could be seen as small and friendly - those that wouldn’t scare you off or have you become afraid. He started by sending you flowers; a small bouquet to help liven your shop if you wanted; which you did if the vase by your check-out counter was any indication. Next were chocolates, all bundled in pretty wrapping paper for you to carefully tear away. Then balloons, attached to a small gift basket with quality skincare items that could be found at his shop with his business card nustled amongst the jars and tins to ensure that you knew who sent them and that it was from the new neighbor across the street - not some strange admirer. 

He could tell that you liked them, given the delight that bloomed on your face whenever you received them - the bright smile as you brought those flowers to your nose to inhale their earthy scent, or when you eagerly started to open up some of the chocolates to enjoy, or when you carefully inspected each tin of cream; placing a small dollop on the back of your hand before putting them aside and back to your work. Sero especially knew you liked them when, a week later, you sent a gift basket back to him filled with artisan treats from the local farmers market; with a card welcoming the new store to the neighborhood.

After a while of staring hopelessly at you, to the point where all his friends were relentlessly teasing him, Sero finally made the decision to meet you properly; to make his way over to your shop to say hello. 

“And it has nothing to do with Kaminari!” he exclaimed at Kirishima and Mina, ensuring they could hear him over the snickering, as he grabbed his jacket to sling over his shoulders.

“Sure, whatever you say, big guy~” Mina sang as waved goodbye with a wink, clearly not buying it - especially as Kaminari just got back from your shop, book in hand that you recommended.

Sero shook his head, out of frustration at Mina’s words knowing that she called his bluff, as he slammed the door shut behind him and briskly walked across the street; breathing a sigh of relief, one that made the tension in his shoulder slack, when he stepped foot into your shop. It was everything he thought a bookstore should be; it was cozy and warm, the kind that would make anyone instantly at ease and would spend hours just curled up to read; which he assumed the patron he walk passed had been doing all day.

“Welcome! Can I help you?” A voice sang through the air, causing his head to turn to face a young woman - sadly not you - wearing an apron with the store's logo on it.

“Uh, not sure.” Sero smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment, and as a polite hello, before gazing around.

“First time here?” She inquired, moving behind a nearby counter to grab a stack of books.

“Yeah, pretty obvious huh?”

“A little, many have the look on their face when they first come in. It’s a little overwhelming at times, the place is a bit bigger than they assume.”

“You could say that again…” Sero could hear her airy giggle, watching in the corner of her eye as she began to sort through the titles.

“I can give you the run down if you like?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem at all, sir.” She smiled, pausing her task to free her hands for gesturing with her explanation  “This place is a lot like a library, people can come and go as they please, staying all day if they want to, without the pressure of needing to buy something. They can also borrow books for a small fee if they want, to ensure they don’t waste their money on a bad book, or they can obviously purchase them if they want.”

“A safe haven for those that love books, huh?” Sero chimed with a smile, taking another glance at all the sitting areas close to him - the plush pillows and fireplace inviting for those that would want to curl up.

“Pretty much, that was the idea” The employee agreed, already starting to sort again “Have a look and take all the time you need.”

Sero left her with a ‘thank you’ and another nod before venturing further into the store - taking stock of what sections of books there were and all the small cozy nooks for people to curl up in; taking his time to explore the entirety of the shop before leaving. “For research purposes, in case I wanna go back” he would mumble to himself, ready to defend his actions from his teasing friends upon his return. It was for those reasons, and those alone, not at all because he was trying to find you.

He finally did come across you, after what seemed like hours of searching, hidden away within the Historical Fiction sections tucked near the back walls, shelving some books that were stacked within your arms and reorganizing the ones that had been misplaced. To say Sero was smitten with you would have been an understatement before, but now? Seeing you so close? Smitten would not even begin to compare to how love-struck he was; one so strong it struck him dumb and left him unable to do anything but look at you.

“Sir?” 

Sero couldn’t tell if he was lucky or not to have your voice call out to him; luck that it broke him out of the stupor he was in, unlucky that he was unable to say or do anything more than gaze up at you with his mouth agape.

“Do… do you need help with anything?” Your sweet voice called out to him again, though clearly confused, and it made Sero look away to try and gain his thoughts once more.

“A-art book.” He cleared his throat, cheeks turning hot and red as his eyes did their best to look anywhere but you “Looking for one of those.”

“Well, which one?” You smiled, biting your lip to hide it as you gently placed the books you were holding down.

“Art, The Definitive Visual Guide” Sero blurted, voice sounding rushed as he named the first art book he bought when in college; watching as your brows furrowed as you took a moment to process what he said.

“By Dixon?” 

“Y-yes!” Sero exclaimed, eyes brightening and heart swelling with pride when you giggled over his excitement.

“Well, that would be in our art section, which would be…” You began to lean forward, carefully perching yourself on your ladder to see past the bookshelf currently in your way “Ah! Just over there!”

“O-over there?” Sero nodded, trying his best to not be affected by the smell of your shampoo as it lingered in the air as you moved to stand upright again “T-that’s perfect thank you!”

“Oh, no worries at all! You just let me know if you can’t find it okay?” You smiled, already picking your books back up.

Sero smiled back, giving a wave goodbye, before almost scurrying away; head hanging in defeat once he knew you were out of sight. A small part of him hoped he couldn’t find the book so he could talk to you again, but he knew that would be a mistake - especially as the spine of the book stared right back at him when he first began looking in the section you sent him to. Begrudgingly he accepted his fate, bringing the book up to the front cash and paying the borrowing fee to the employee he met earlier.

He came back to the parlor feeling like a complete idiot over messing up his first proper encounter with you, not doing at all what he planned to do - not being the effortlessly charming and fun guy he knew he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep stopping by. 

After all, he had to return the book he borrowed.

~

Sero waited a week, in his mind if he went back the next day it would cause him more harm than good; would lead to you asking him way more questions than he would want about the book itself - and well, he already made a fool of himself once. Besides, the week-long buffer would allow him the chance to clear his head and come up with a game plan, so he could be properly prepared himself to see you again.

Because this time he wanted to start an actual conversation with you, one where he could learn about who you were, why you opened this store and everything in between that led to this moment in time. He wanted to know if his crush on you was justified, or if he should just cut his losses now before he was in too deep. But to be fair, based on what all his friends have said, he already was; even so, he couldn’t hold onto that book forever.

Regardless of what the outcome may be, he had to see you again; even if it meant rescheduling a client for a Sunday to make up the lost time, he just had to get to you and your store before closing.

And it was the perfect time to go he found. The store was almost completely empty, with seemingly no one else in the building but you as you began your usual routine for closing - so dutifully organizing stacks of papers and placing books that needed to be returned into a neat little pile; he almost felt bad for clearing his throat and breaking you out of your stride.

“H-hi!” You exclaimed, your body jolting in surprise when you regarded him, clearly not used to anyone being here so late “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner, I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No you’re fine, I just walked in,” Sero reassured, taking a step closer to your counter.

“Oh, are you here to return that art book? The one by Dixon?” You asked, back straightening as you smiled up at him. “I hope you liked it!”

“I did, it was a great read.” Sero mirrored your smile as he handed the book back over to you, enjoying the way your smaller hand brushed against his briefly “Though I was wondering if you could me find a similar book?”

“Sure, of course! Do you want a recommendation or are you looking for a specific title?”

“Uh, Creatives on Creativity is what I am looking for,” Sero said, breathing a mental sigh of relief over remembering the title - one he only heard of a day prior when searching for art books to ask you about.

“Creatives on Creativity…” You mumbled, turning to your computer to check if you had the title in stock - the sound of a keyboard clacking could be heard, filling the silent space briefly “By Steve Brouwers?”

“Yup! That’s the one” Sero confirmed with a nod, perfectly hiding the fact he was completely unsure as he watched you round the counter of the counter with a wave.

“Yeah, we should have a few in stock if you would follow me!”

You took him back to the Art Section, your stride confident as you weaved your way through bookcases and magazine towers, as you began locating the book in question; trying to remember where exactly you cataloged it - whether it was with the Art Help books or the Art Education ones.

Sero followed behind you, keeping his stride to a more casual pace to avoid possibly stepping on your heels, as he regarded your profile; enjoying the concentrated gazes, those mixed with slight perplexity, as you looked from shelf to shelf trying to help him out. Never before was he grateful, and possibly will never be again, about having trouble trying to find a book.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally spoke, watching as you began to stand on a small stool to look at a higher shelf, figuring his time was running out.

“Uh, sure?” You muttered, voice soft as you continued on your hunt. “Go ahead”

“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but I’m curious as to what a bookshop owner's favourite book is?” 

“Oh! Wow, that’s a great question!” You said, finally sparing him a brief glance with a smile “And one that’s kinda tough to answer. I love books from all genres for different reasons, so to compare one that’s horror to one that’s fantasy is a little difficult to do.”

“Well, what are you enjoying right now?” Sero asked, body leaning against the bookshelf so he could continue gazing up at you.

“Uhh, wow what am I reading right now?” You chuckled nervously as your mind began to race, feeling your cheeks heat up as you heard him do so as well “Let's see… probably The Historian, it’s a thriller mystery kinda deal - involves vampires and stuff - it’s proving to be quite fun” 

“Vampires?”

“Yeah… it’s historical fiction. It blurs the lines of what happened with whatever our imaginations can think of with the folklore of Vlad Țepeș and Dracula. Partly why I like it I guess…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sero hummed, watching as you scanned the titles before you, almost as if you were counting each one for inventory later “Take it that’s why you opened this place? Fell in love with reading books from far and wide?”

“Something like that” You agreed with a shrug of your shoulders “Wanted to be a librarian, always thought they had a great gig going on, and one thing led to another and, well, here we are.”

As you spoke your deft fingers delicately pulled the book you both were looking for from its place in the self, where it was hiding. Once you secured it in your grip, you slowly descended from your stool handing the book out to him once your feet were securely on the ground.

“And here you are.” You smiled, watching as he stood upright and uncrossed his arms.

“Thanks, for finding this for me” He gingerly took the book from you and tucked it under his arm, smiling wider at your cheery response back; following you obediently back up to the cash to once again pay the borrowing fee.

“Hey, if you don’t mind…” Sero began, fingers tapping nervously against the wood of the countertop “I have one more question to ask ya.”

“Sure, go ahead!” You giggled, amused by his polite curiosity as you began the transaction of payment.

“Would you want to go for some coffee sometime?”

His question made your fingers fumble on the touchpad, causing an error screen to pop up and for you to almost frantically try to fix, and you nervously cleared your throat; face going hot in surprise and embarrassment over your stumbled, and failed, answer back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or make you uncomfortable” Sero tried to soothe, hands raising up and away from the bubble around you to prove he meant no harm “Just think you’re cute and would like to treat you to some coffee, that’s all.”

“W-well, that’s um, very sweet of you, I just um…” You floundered, doing your best to finish quickly so you could hide away from him - to shield him from witnessing your embarrassment further “Just don’t think that would be a good idea?”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Y-you know, we’re strangers! We only met a few days ago and all….”

“Actually we’re neighbors, good ones at that if our gift exchange was anything to go by.” Sero clarified, watching as the realization of who he was crossed your face, his hands lowered to shove themselves in his jacket pockets before shrugging his shoulders “But hey, not gonna pressure you or anything. If you don’t want to that’s cool, I won’t pressure you!”

“I’m flattered, believe me, just….” You countered a sheepish look on your face as you passed the book back his way for him to take “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure thing, thank you again,” Sero said, giving you one last small smile before taking his book and leaving; wishing you a good night as he walked past the threshold of your store with a wave.

A few things were certain that night; the first being that you were worth having a crush on, and he would love the chance to treat you right. And second, you were not used to the straightforward approach, and if he didn’t want to screw anything up, he would have to be patient and go about things slowly.

But Sero Hanta was up for any challenge, and you were more than worth the wait.

~

After that night, Sero found himself stopping by your shop a few times a week; to return a new book he borrowed (and spent the night before diligently reading), and to further chat with you. The conversations were always led by a question or two before it sparked into something beautiful - he loved the way you would ramble, talking with your hands, as you explained something, how passionate you got over the things you loved, and how blessed he found himself when you tried to tell a story from when you were younger but couldn’t over your laughter of remembering it all.

And after each night, when the conversation had reached its end and the book he had paid for was tucked snugly under his arm, he would, without fail, ask you out on a date as he was leaving your shop; in love with the smile and the amused shake of your head when you bid him a simple goodnight, to - “try again some other time” - before shutting the door behind him and switching you sign to closed.

Slowly but surely you were coming out of your shell, becoming more than eager to spend the last hour in his company; you didn’t realize it right away, but soon you found yourself noticing how excited you got when you would greet him. Or how you would try and keep the conversation going just a little bit longer as you walked to the cash, not wanting the night to end so soon. And how you would linger close to him before closing the door and saying good night. He was fun company, some of the best you ever had, and you couldn’t deny that you were starting to catch feelings for him too; to slowly become as enamored as he was.

Sero noticed this little factor as well, after a couple of months of visiting, when it was you who ask him a question; as you gingerly took hold of his arm to get a better look at the intricate tattoo that was perfectly placed on his forearm after handing him his recently purchased item.

“Did you do this yourself?” You whispered, almost in awe, as your fingertips barely brushed over the details of the design.

“Yeah,” Sero breathed out, quite taken aback by your bold action - though nowhere near complaining. “Took a while, but I think it turned out great.”

“Did you design it too?”

“Mm-hmm, designed all the tattoos on my body.” His eyes shifted their gaze from his arm to your face, “Wanted to work on my skin first before anyone else’s, just in case I wasn’t good at it.”

“I think it’s safe to say that you are, it’s beautiful work.”

“Do you have one?” 

“N-no…” You broke your gaze away, taking a step back from him - completely aware of how close and possibly inappropriate you were behaving.

“You want one?” Sero inquired with a clear of his throat; wanting nothing more than to move closer to you again, to gain that moment of intimacy once more, but knew he couldn’t

“Well yeah,” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, “But I just never really know what to get, and I don’t wanna regret getting something cause it’ll be on my skin forever, you know?”

“I can design something for you if you want?” 

“You would?”

“Obviously, wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to!” He smiled, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a marker from your countertop “Just tell me some things that you like, and I’ll come up with something! See, I already know you like owls, and foxes, and of course historical fiction and fantasy books…”

“Sero, listen this is really sweet! I am honored you would do this for me and all but….” You began, cutting him off from his parade of knowledge of all things you loved - heart swelling almost uncomfortably with the attention - “But really, you don't have to do this for me.”

“You kidding, I would love to! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have done this for a living; hard to make a career out of something you hate!”

“Yeah, clearly, I obviously get it. But even so, you’re booked for months! You got plenty of other clients that need your attention and designs a lot more than I do.”

“Oh ho~ How do you know I’m booked for months?” Sero teased, enjoying how you looked away in fake annoyance as your shoulders raised in embarrassment “Even if I was, which you’re so cutely right that I am, I would reserve a spot for you regardless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it can be after hours too, if you wanted.” Sero offered, with a shrug “Ya know if that would help put your nerves at ease; less people and all that stuff. And it could help make you feel better about accepting my offer~ I wouldn’t have to cancel on a client if you did.”

You sighed, shoulder slumping as you weighed his very tempting offer. You had been wanting a tattoo, ever since the new parlor opened across the street; and especially so every time you looked in Sero’s direction - the ink that was littered across his skin was beautiful - now here was the most perfect opportunity to finally get one and to get some more alone time with the artist himself; you knew you would regret it every day if you said no; despite your nerves telling you otherwise.

Squaring your shoulders you finally looked back at him, giving him a nod of approval over his proposition.

“Yes!” His fists thumped the counter as he proclaimed his excitement over your acceptance “I promise you won’t regret it! I’ll start working on the designs tonight and will have them done A-S-A-P!”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at his childish behavior “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh! One more thing!” He passed the marker over to you, his palm slayed out as if acting as a canvas “I’ll need your number so I can both let you know when the design is done and so I can book you in for your appointment.”

“Okay, well then hand me the paper you were just scribbling on” You pointed and the scrap paper, brows furrowing when you watched him shake his head ‘no”. 

“No can do babe, it’s covered with stuff already. Just write it on my hand”

“Sero, this is a permanent marker, I’m not going to do that!”

“I think I’m more than comfortable with permanent ink on my skin,” Sero winked, moving his palm closer to you “It’ll come off in a few days, but hey, if you don’t want me to leave you could just say so~”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes again, hating that he was right and you were wasting time yet again to have him stay longer. You acquiesced, taking hold of his hand to keep it steady as you carefully wrote your number, being sure it was as clear as possible to avoid any confusion or mishaps that could be caused if you didn’t.

You watched as Sero left, head held high and chest filled with puffed-up pride as he sauntered back to the parlor; clearly happy with himself at winning you over and gaining your number.

~

It only took four days before you got the message from Sero; stating, with plenty of exclamation marks, about how your design was done and to stop by at any time to come and review the sketches - he was more than happy to squeeze you in at a time that worked best for you; whether that be between a client or after-hours.

And well, the thought of coming after hours was tempting, your confidence in quelling those nerves that swam in your stomach wasn’t strong enough yet; you were already pushing your limits when it came to the tattoo appointment. But the thought of you extending your lunch break by a few minutes seemed like a good idea.

The sign said ‘Closed for Lunch’ when you finally made your way across the street, and though Sero was insistent that you could come in regardless, you were still a little hesitant; standing by the door debating whether to knock or just walk in.

The decision was made for you when a woman with beautiful soft pink hair opened the door, startling you out of your thoughts as she asked if she could help you with anything.

“I-i’m just here to review some sketches…” You mumbled, hands playing nervously with your phone that still had the messages from Sero open “But I can come back if you’re closed!”

“It’s with Sero right?” She inquired, golden eyes squinting at you as they scanned you from head to toe; 

“Yeah..” You nodded your head, trying your best not to shift your body in reaction to her gaze.

“Oh my gosh! So it’s you! The librarian across the street!” She squealed, wasting no time in taking your arm and pulling you into the shop  “I’ve heard so much about you! Just been dying to meet you! I’m Mina, one of the artists here.”

“Bookstore owner….” You mumbled, casting a shy smile her way as you gave her your name “Heard about you as well, it’s really nice to meet you too”

“Right, bookstore owner, sorry about that!” Mina waved in apology, taking a step back to appraise you once more “and I gotta say, super jealous of Sero that he snagged you as his client; you’re a total babe! Like, that outfit is to die for! Where’s you get it?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face at her statement, her brazen compliment both flattered and embarrassed you as you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ as you gazed down at what you were wearing.

“And oh my god, your nails!” She exclaimed again, taking hold of your hand to inspect closely inspect your delicately painted fingernails “These are so pretty! Where’d you get them done?”

“Uh, the spa a few blocks down the road” You answered with a breathless laugh at her enthusiasm “They always do a good job.”

“I can tell! I’ve always wanted to check them out, but was a little unsure, but now I’m definitely gonna go as soon as I can!” She squealed, squeezing your hand in delight “Oh, but you’re not here for me, which is a total bummer. Sero’s station is just back here, I’ll let him know you’re here!”

You gave her your thanks, appreciating her help and unknowingly helping you become more at ease, as she led you to Sero’s area; leaving you with a wave and a promise he’ll join you in a few minutes. 

His area was quite spacious, possibly the largest out of the others you passed, and the furthest from the front door. His chair and equipment sat near the center of it all, just slightly off to the left for others to pass by, and looked clean and organized as you peered around the room. He had a work table as well, pressed up against the wall, with a book of design and sketches.

If you were braver you would have opened it and gone through the slightly worn pages to see what they contained. But instead, you opted to scan the wall before you, taking in the fun, wild, and beautiful designs that were taped to them; staring in awe at just how beautiful they all were. Masterpieces in black and coloured ink, ones you were sure some lucky people got to wear proudly on their skin.

Or perhaps they were littered on his…

Sadly, you couldn’t allow your mind the chance to wander to such thoughts, to wonder just how much of his body was covered in ink and how low some tattoos would travel, before you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Admiring the wall?” He greeted, his smile as bright and friendly as always when he greeted you

“Yeah, the designs are beautiful” You glanced back at him with a smile “But I think you already knew that.”

“What can I say, just like hearing people sing my praises!” He joked with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders before walking up to you “But we’re not here to talk about these, eh?”

You watched as he gently, smoothly, pulled open a large drawer at the table you were currently standing at, one you didn’t realize was there given the sleek design. Carefully he pulled out a tiny stack of papers, laying them out before you to inspect and admire, as his arm kept him leaning over the table, and more importantly, you.

You tried your best not to be affected by his voice, how his breath tickled your ear, as he spoke about the direction he went with the designs. Some larger, more detailed as they encompassed all the things you loved - like the barn owl sounded by flora and books before a full moon - and some that were smaller, simply beholden of a single item you loved, like a sitting fox amongst fall leaves; and where on your body each tattoo would be placed.

He left a pause when he was done speaking, allowing you the chance to mill over what he said; to further inspect his designs, and to take your time in picking out what you wanted most; unable to help himself from staring at you, eyes half-lidded, as you bit your lip in concentration.

“I like the fox,” you finally whispered, pulling the sketch closer to you to admire it further, already imagining where it will sit on your arm.

“Yeah?” was all Sero could breathe out as he leaned in closer to you

“Mm-hmm” You nodded, finally turning your head to face him; watching as his eyes gazed at your lips, causing you to do the same “...h-how much will it be?”

You could feel your breath catching in your throat as Sero ignored your question, instead taking the opportunity to lean his face closer to yours; feeling his breath gently fan against your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation; wanting nothing more than to feel what his kiss would be like.

“Sero, delivery is here!”

A gruff voice is what made you turn your head away; face scrunching in frustration over the unwanted interruption. You heard him sigh; feeling cold and a little disappointed when you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“Yeah… I’ll be right there Bakugou…” Sero spoke firmly, trying his best to keep his voice from sounding frustrated and annoyed as he looked back at his friend “Just finishing up here.”

Sero took another deep breath, one that turned into a loud sigh, over the now-ruined moment as he pulled the fox design from the pile of paper; taking a step away from you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.” He gave a pained smile, slowly backing his way towards the backrooms, to where Bakugou was waiting “Just pick a day with Mina and we’ll go from there, ‘kay?”

You simply nodded your head, giving him a small smile and wave as you watched him disappear; taking the time to finally release the air you were holding as you clenched your fist in anger over your ruined kiss; at how perfect Bakugou’s timing was in all of it.

But after a moment, you couldn’t help but laugh; shaking your head in amusement as slowly made your way back to the front desk to book your appointment; knowing you had to get back to work soon and relieve your assistant.

~

It wasn’t long before the day of your tattoo arrived; the Saturday you booked it for came faster than anticipated, though the entire day felt like a year as you kept glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed, only to groan to yourself when it showed a mere 10-minutes.

Cataloging books did help with your dilemma, taking your mind off the many hours between you and seeing Sero again, as you continuously went up and down your little ladder to put the many returned books away. And before long, it was 9:00 pm, and you could flip your sign to ‘Closed’ and make your way across the street. 

You were surprised, given that the parlor was supposedly closed - or at the very least seeing their last clients at that point of the night - to see all the artists by the front desk chatting away; almost as if they were waiting for you to arrive.

“There you are!” Mina exclaimed, making her way from behind the desk over to where you stood, taking your jacket, and hanging it up for you “Thought you got cold feet on us!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that” You smiled, allowing her to complete her courteous gesture “And if I did cancel I would make sure you knew.”

“Are you excited!? First tattoos are always the most fun!”

“I am! Been looking forward to this all week!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you have~” Mina winked, “Now, let me introduce you to the other artist! Well, we’re all friends here but ya know.” She guided you over to where the three men stood, pointing first to a blonde with an unamused expression “You already met Bakugou last time you were here, I think you met Kaminari when he was at your store a few weeks back. And that giant redhead is Kirishima - he looks more scary than he is!”

 “It’s really nice to meet you!” Kirishima smiled, nudging Bakugou to acknowledge your presence - which he did in the form of a nod - before extending his hand out to you to shake “Heard a lot about you, been meaning to stop by your store for a while now. Apparently, you give good recommendations!”

“Oh, I do?” You asked, gingerly shaking his hand with a confused expression

“Of course you do, babe! Why else would Sero keep bugging you~” Kaminari jumped in, winking as he took your hand in his own and squeezed it “Nice to see you in our neck of the woods finally.”

“Okay okay! That’s enough, you guys!” Sero finally emerged, walking his way in between the group to disperse them; pulling Kaminari away from you to force him to let go of your hand “You should all be getting ready to leave, as you said you would!”

“Oh come on man! We just wanted to say hi to her!” Kaminari whined as he, and the rest of the group, were huddled towards to back of the place while you stood in place, fighting off a wave of giggles that were threatening to overcome you over the whole scene.

After a moment Sero returned, smoothing out his shirt as he tries his best to act as nonchalantly as possible; an act you could see right through given the blush that was dusting his cheeks but decided not to comment on.

“Sorry about all that, you ready to get started?” He asked, hand running through his hair nervously.

You hum in agreement, head nodding as you let him guide you back to his station; once there he motioned for you to get comfortable on the plush leather chair as he got his equipment ready.

 “Your friends are really nice,” You commented, tugging up the sleeve of your shirt for ease of access.

“Yeah, they are” Sero admitted, chuckling to himself “Pains in the ass half the time, but they mean well”

“Well, that’s how you know they love you” You chimed, sitting more upright as you watched him press an alcohol swab against your skin for a moment

“Guess you’re right.” He shrugged, holding up the stencil of your tattoo next to your arm “You want the tattoo here or a little lower?”

“No, there looks good! After all, you are the expert” You smiled, allowing him to press the paper against your skin; feeling him pressing down on it, before removing it to showcase the temporary art that was to forever be marked on your skin.

“Yeah that looks good,” He murmured, taking his tattoo machine in hand and dipping it in ink “Now, you let me know if this hurts, or becomes too unbearable okay?”

“Okay..” You bit your lip and nodded your head as you stared at the machine.

“Don’t worry, on arms you normally can’t feel anything” Sero reassured “ and I’ve got a steady hand which helps. All this just looks more scary than it is.”

“Like Kirishima”

“Yeah!” He laughed, shaking his head at your silly, but accurate, comment “Just like Kiri. Now, take a deep breath for me, kay?”

You nodded and did as you were told, taking a deep breath as his machine whirled to life; you watched with bated breath as it approached your skin, letting out a large sigh of relief when it finally touched you and no pain could be felt.

“See? Not so bad, yeah?” Sero smiled, slowly beginning to outline his design.

“Yeah…”

You didn’t converse much after that, not because you didn’t want to, but rather because you were blown away by Sero’s skills and concentration. You had never seen this side of him before. Normally he was goofy, animated, and fun, which you thought was endearing and cute; gave him his boyish charm. But now? As you watched his brows furrow and eyes look at you with such steely focus, you couldn’t help but find him extremely attractive. Choosing not to break the silence in fear of breaking his concentration, and thus this newfound allure, or embarrassing yourself.

Though he did make it difficult.

Throughout the entire session, every time he needed to shade something or thicken a line, he would always praise you after; claiming you were doing ‘such a good job’ for pushing through it; or for being called a ‘good girl’ when you took a needed deep breath at the right moment in time.

He said it so often that you can’t tell if he’s being reassuring or doing it to get a rise out of you; to tease you to see you get all hot and bothered.

Whatever the case was, it was affecting you way more than it should have; lighting a small fire deep within your core as you tried to rub your thighs together without him noticing to relieve some of the newfound pressure, as you suppressed all the small squeaks your wanted body wanted to let out every time another praise left his mouth.

It was agonizing torture in the best possible way; and when the session was finally done, when he was gently placing cellophane wrap over your fresh tattoo, you weren’t sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that it was all over.

“How much…” You gently cleared your throat, voice a little raspy over underuse “How much do I owe you again?”

“I already told you, babe,” Sero chuckled, carefully putting away his equipment “It’s on the house, my treat for you allowing me to borrow all those books.”

“You paid for those, Sero” You shot back, legs moving over the side of the chair as you leaned closer to him; showcasing your cleavage further from the lowcut hem of your shirt “I can’t just let you give me something like this for free - it’s not fair.”

“I told you, I like doing this.” He shrugged, ignoring you and your subsequent subtle attempts of seduction “More than happy to do this for you, think of it as a first-timer bonus!”

“There must be some way I can pay you back”

It was your tone that made Sero’s back straighten, clearing his throat he carefully placed what was in his hand down to turn and face you - breathing ceasing when he saw you sitting so pretty for him; the dark look in your eye making this cock twitch to life in his pants.

Sero couldn’t help it when his tongue poked out to lick his lips, unable to stop his eyes from trailing over your figure sitting before him; his own legs spreading further apart as he shifted a little closer to you; making you bite your lip. 

“How about finally going on that date with me?” He offered, hands twitching in his lap as he tried his best to restrain himself from touching you without permission.

“Payments happen immediately after a service…it wouldn’t be right paying you back days later, especially after you did such an amazing job” You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head up; brushing your nose against his “I prefer to pay you back now, kay?”

“Kay…” Sero barely even had the chance to whisper the word out before your lips pressed firmly into his; hands fisting into his shirt to keep him from pulling away.

As if Sero even wanted to move away, his own hands reaching out to pull you closer to him; closing any inch of space between him and your soft body. His hand cupped your face to deepen the long-awaited kiss that he dreamed about for weeks, as he slotted between your legs, groping and pinching the meat of your thigh as he hiked your leg up to wrap around his waist as he placed more of his weight onto you; groaning into your open when your clothed cunt brushed against his hardening length.

Your sweet, breathless, mewls were addicting and it made his mind dizzy with lust as his lips descended down your jaw and onto your neck; licking and sucking on the sensitive skin you so graciously barred to him, biting down on your pulse to hear you cry out his name into the heated air as he continued to grind his hips against yours.

His kisses continued downwards to your chest, pulling your shirt down - not bothering or wanting to take a mere moment to part from you to properly rid yourself of the article of clothing - before his lips began to suckle at the plump flesh his found; moaning into the heated flesh as he relished the way your hand began to tangle and tug at his hair.

It was all so much, and yet not enough for you; the fire that slowly emerged in your core was raging for me, not being fully satisfied with his sweet kisses or the grind of his hips. You needed more, been craving for more for hours, and you were starting to get a little impatient as you guided the hand pinching and stroking your thigh up to your core.

“Sero, please, touch me more,” You sighed out, legs widening to give him better access as held his hand against the damp cotton of your panties

“Hanta,” He corrected you, wringing his hand from your grasp to slowly stroke his knuckle up and down your slit “call me that, and I’ll do what you want, you needly little thing.”

“Hanta, please? Want you…” You whined, arching your back in an attempt to get more friction; unable to keep the smile off your face when you heard him groaning; clearly loving the way his name sounded off your needy tongue.

“That’s a good girl, hips up” He gently coaxed your lower half off the chair to pull your panties down your leg; pocketing them for later, before slowly guiding your legs to spead even wider for him “Already so wet after a few kisses, hm?” 

You looked away, face buried into his neck, the heat burning your cheeks in embarrassment over his teasing, as you nodded your head - unable to muster the courage to say the truth - as your heart fluttered over his rumbling chuckle.

“Aw, are we shy now?” He teased even more, deft fingers spreading your lower lips apart to gently stroke at your hardened clit “You weren’t shy a second ago when you asked me to play with this pretty pussy, want me to stop?”

He felt you shake your head, a sweet little whine accompanying the motion, as you continued to cling to him; your warm breath, coming out in pants, next to his ear made him slow his pace to one that could barely be considered movement.

“I dunno, it sure seems like you do” 

“N-no!” You mumbled, gripping his shirt tighter; biting your lip to suppress another whine threatening to escape. “Please don’t stop..”

“Then let me see that pretty face, hm,” He asked, tone still mirthful as he watched you slowly come out of your hiding spot “There you are, look at you, huh? All cute and flustered, you like what I’m doing that much?”

You nodded your head, once more, voice squeaking out a ‘yes’ as you felt his fingers resume a faster pace - swirling your bundle of nerves before slipping into your wet heat; your own hand coming down to grasp his forearm over the sudden intensity.

“That feels good, baby? You like my fingers?” Sero hummed, lips grazing your ear as he leaned closer to you, gazing down to watch his fingers go in and out of your drenched hole.

“God yes, Hanta!” You couldn’t help but cry out, throwing your head back, as you felt his fingers curl; stroking that sweet spot within your gummy walls that you made you see stars.

“Yeah you do,” He groaned, feeling your slick drip down his wrist as he repeated the motion “you wanted this, didn’t you? That’s why you wore that cute little skirt, huh?”

Sero watched you nod your head, though the blissed-out look on your face made him question if you even heard what he said as your hips began to wiggle, legs shaking as you neared your release.

“Can feel you twitching around my fingers, pretty girl, you gonna cum for me?” He asked, as his free hand pushed down your squirming hips “Hey, hey, don’t whine! I’ll give you what you want, promise”

His swollen lips brushed against your collarbone, a subtle gesture to prove he meant what he said - that he wasn’t going to tease you or stop you from going over the edge; his thumb twisting up to rub at your clit to help ease you over the edge you were climbing.

“That’s it, cum for me, god you sound so pretty, keep twitching for me.” He groaned, fingers working frantically as your cries grew higher in pitch.

Everything went white for a moment, an end to the mounting pleasure he was giving you, the world was forgotten for a brief moment as you succumbed to the pleasure; your back arched almost painfully as your legs clamped around his wrist; your entire form shaking from the intensity as eyes rolled back into your skull. The only thing that kept you in the realm was his deep voice cooing down at you as you felt your juices run down your thighs and stick to the surface of his leather chair.

“There she is…” He mumbled, lips kissing all over your face and chest to slowly help ease you back down “Slowly, that’s it, you did so good for me…”

“Hanta, s’too much!” You whined, bucking your hips away from his still-moving fingers; ones that were still slowly stroking your soaking cunt; hissing when he finally took them out.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, hands returning to stroke your thighs and hips as he gazed down at you “You certainly know how to stroke a man’s ego, huh? Never had a girl do that from my touch.”

You groaned one that turned into a giggle, as your hands came up to your face to hide from another wave of heated embarrassment “Well, to be fair, never had a guy touch me like that. Can’t blame a girl for enjoying it!”

“No I can’t, glad you liked it so much, baby” He murmured, pulling your hands from your face to kiss you once more, murmuring sweet nothing to you between each small kiss as his hands wandered again, up and down your body, smiling into the kiss when he felt your hands do the same.

“A-ah!” Sero moaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking to your small hand that started to stroke at the large bulge in his pants; another one choking out, ending in a whimper, when you applied more pressure.

“Can I return the favour?” You asked, voice sounding so saccharine and confident that it made his head spin at the total 180 you just pulled with your demeanor.

“N-no,” He whimpered out, hand grasping at your wrist - just as yours did before - to stop you from continuing your sinful motions.

“Why not?” You whined, the pout you gave almost made him regret his choice, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“I know you do, but I won’t be able to last long if you keep that up” He reasoned, clasping your hands in his to bring them away from his twitching, aching cock.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“God, you’re too much…” He mumbled, head shaking in amusement as he cleared his throat, trying his best not to let you get the best of him as he watched you squirm.

Your pout was still prevalent on your swollen lips as you gazed up at him, calling out to him once more in that saccharine sweet voice “But I wanna make you cum.”

Sero couldn’t help but groan again, head turning away from you as he thought of anything else at that moment - things that made him cringe in his past - to try and stop himself from creaming in his pants like a teenager. With his voice strained, hoarse with effort, as he instructed you to lay back.

You do as you are told, heat in your belly igniting once more when you hear the clinking of his belt unbuckling; bending your legs up, to get betting frictions on your tingling nub, as you waited as patiently as you could for his return.

The chair groaned, squeaking slightly, at the added weight Sero provided, as he situated himself between your legs once more. You gasped, one that turned into a moan, when you felt his cock head tap at your entrance; his hard length sliding up and down your slit - teasing you as he coats himself in your juices.

“Hanta…!” You groan out, hips bucking to try and slip him inside; groaning once more in frustration when you feel his hands pin your hips down once more “Hurry up!”

“So impatient, naughty, naughty, naughty ” He clicks his tongue at you, chuckling at the frustrated glance you cast his way “Just give me a second, don’t wanna hurt you after all”

You huff, brows furrowing further as acquiesced; knowing thing it was for the better to have him take things slow - but the burning in your core was making it difficult for you to have a clear and level head; wanting nothing more to feel him fill you up.

After another agonizing minute, you slowly feel him sink into your heat; feeling his fat cock stretch you out so agonizingly slow that it makes you throw your head back and moan; mouth agape as you feel every inch bury itself deeper into your core.

“God, you’re tight!” Sero hisses, body taut as he holds himself above you as he continued pushing into you “Already milking me, baby, damn!”

You both groan when he finally bottoms out, breathing labored as they mingle together in-between tiny kisses as you both try to adjust; legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to you, as he begins his slowly thrusting into you.

His thrusts were almost teasing with how slowly he was moving, dragging his cock out languidly from your gummy walls before slowly returning back into your warmth - but they were precise, with each thrust hitting every sweet spot you had; making your eyes cross as you fell into the throws of pleasure over his slow lovemaking.

Over time though, Sero could not keep up the unhurried pace; what was once a tactic to ensure that he didn’t cum too early, to properly worship you and your perfect body, was now not enough - his body needed more. His lips attached to yours, kisses muffling the sweet moans that you were making as he slowly picks up his pace; thrusts turning sloppy and hurried, a fair cry from before, as Sero now becomes unable to hold off his own pleasure; frantically trying to chase his release.

The sloppy, wet, noises of your pussy could be heard over your constant moans, over the  sound of his skin slapping against yours, and it was becoming overwhelming - his thumb joining his frenzied hips as he rubbed at your clit; trying desperately to get you up and over that edge before him, to feel your walls flutter and clasp his weeping cock as it did his fingers before he spilled into you.

But he failed, your wanton moans as they called out his name, and the sharp sting of your nails and they dug into his back pushed him too far; quickly pulling out with a choked wail he came; spilling his hot seed all over your thighs and stomach.

“I-I’m sorry” he gasped, trying to regain his breath - body, and cock, still twitching over the intensity of his organism; leaving you for a brief moment to get a clean rag from his equipment table to clean you up.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, voice still raspy and sore, as you watched him methodically clean you up.

“Well, you know, about getting you all messy. And…. yeah…” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders, too embarrassed to look at you or saw the real reason he apologized.

It made you smile, though you did your best to contain the giggles that threaten to pass your lips as you watched him. Sitting up, you pushed the hand that was cleaning you away, pulling him back down into you for a kiss.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind getting messy. Part of the fun, right?” You giggled, nudging your nose with his trying to lighten the mood; effectively making a small smile tug at his lips as he returned your kiss.

“Besides…” you whispered, hands coming down to teasingly stroke his chest “My place isn’t too far from here. If you wanted, you could spend all night making it up to me”

“Aren’t you a naughty girl,” Sero smirked, hands grabbing the meat under your thighs as he picked you up from his chair; moving your legs to wrap around his hips to keep you upright and in place “But, I think my place is closer.”

[inestheunicorn]

Art vs Artist! 🍄🌿 Reusing the same photo from last year because I never take any photos of myself and I just noticed I didn't have any that's not a selfie making a weird face 😂 a very short 2023 recap of my art 🌠

This year has been weird, but with many new learning experiences! I got to illustrate another children's book and also got some cool client projects that I haven't shared here 🐦

I mostly did digital art this year, but I really miss my gouache paints and markers, so I hope I can play with them again next year! But thanks to all the digital art I made, I finally tried some new merch items like washitape, zip pouches, acrylic charms and wood ornaments, so I got the chance to learn about the manufacturing process too ✨

I got burnt out in the middle of the year and I was totally uninspired to create, but this made me learn to accept projects more wisely and manage my time better.

And to wrap up the year, me and my boyfriend moved in after 6 years together! The move was pretty stressful, but it's been such a rewarding experience and we're loving it so much!

With all of this, I'm being gentle on myself for not having created a lot of bigger traditional illustrations, but I'm so looking forward to it next year!! 🌟

I'm so grateful for all your love and support throughout this rough year, and I hope we'll be together for some new and exciting adventures in 2024!! Wish you all a Happy New Year!! 🌠

P.s: I'll be taking a little break from social media in the beginning of January, but I'll still be working so the shop will be open as well as my inbox ♥

[furiousgoldfish]

How do I decide a career field?

I mean my entire self esteem, self worth and self confidence is destroyed. I hate myself. I don’t think I’m capable of doing anything. I like art, even though it’s very hard for me to do I’m pushing myself to explore as much as I can. I am thinking of going into data analysis but it’s so overwhelmingly scary for me.

I have an MD, but i can’t pursue it because of my mental health issues.

Okay so I might not be the best person to talk about this, because I figured out that career just isn't important to me when I'm just trying to survive, so I don't think any field is worth chasing or putting effort into, for me at least! Job is just something that gives you the means to get survival resources and that is it.

Otherwise I really relate to what you're saying, I also don't feel like I'd be good at any field, don't feel like I'm made for anything and can't see myself doing anything specialized seriously. It's also very difficult to choose a field when you've never gotten to try bunch of things, never had experience doing stuff and you don't really know what you'd enjoy, what you like, or at least what doesn't feel too stressful, overwhelming and impossible.

It's incredibly impressive that you have a MD, that alone signifies great endurance, persistence and intelligence on your part, and it's awful that mental health issues prevent you from doing anything related to it (I feel the same tho, my degree is in the closet, never seen or used at all lol)

I think the best way to decide is to talk to people who work in various fields and ask them what their day-to-day work is like, and figure out where you see yourself, where you fall in easily, or at least what seems doable, not too stressful, not overwhelming. What doesn't make you hate yourself. I'm just doing cleaning but I couldn't be more pleased because it's very obvious when I've done well and it's so low stakes that pretty much nothing can go wrong. Nobody ever complains either. In fact yesterday I got a text message from a client saying I did amazing, I mean that kind of stuff is ideal to my mental state.

I think we're raised to believe that our career needs to be something very significant, something that creates a place for us in the world, the proof that we're useful to society and that we made something out of ourselves! We need to show off our success and our identity needs to be tied to what we do. And we need to be good at it and make a difference in the world with it.

Well in the current capitalistic climate, this is bullshit. The only socially useful jobs are the ones which get no recognition, no social acceptance, no praise, no acknowledgment, in fact you're looked down upon if you just do manual jobs that are incredibly necessary to keep the society going.

The jobs where you can reach high success and high paycheck - are the ones that make rich people richer, and that is not what I'm about. I mean it's not what anyone really wants to do, but it's the only thing that is considered successful and admirable, and I hate it, don't want to participate in it, makes me want to run away from capitalism.

And also it's a myth that you need to be really good at your job because people do bad jobs constantly and get paid and they don't feel bad at all, lots are bad on purpose and use their jobs to do evil, and get away with it, so there's no pressure to be perfect at your job. If it gets done thats all that matters.

So if you can find anything that just fulfills the purpose of getting your survival resources to you, go for it. If you feel like data analysis is what makes you pleased and happy, go for that. If art makes you feel good, you can do that too! You don't have to have only one job, you can change jobs multiple times during your life, it doesn't need to define who you are, you are not here to serve the society, you're here to survive and you can do your job for yourself only. It's supposed to serve you, not the other way around. You don't exist only to do your job. You exist to be safe, and happy, and fulfilled, and safe. A job is supposed to do this for you, and it doesn't matter which one, as long as you're not being tormented by stress and fear, it's fine.

So what I'm trying to say, the world should not pressure you into making a quick decision, you should take your time trying out stuff and finding what works for you, and what doesn't make you feel awful about yourself. And also if it helps, everyone has a sort of a low confidence when only starting! Everyone is bad at everything when they're starting. Confidence will come with experience, when you see yourself getting better at something trough the years, you will get a chance to gather some faith in yourself and know you're doing well. You can follow any interest you have, regardless of how well or bad you're at it, as long as it can secure you some income. It's okay to be bad at first too because everyone is kinda bad at first.

Also, I've seen some people incredibly confident in their work while doing an awful job at it, it was pretty scary. Like they were doing active harm to society and didn't understand how anything actually worked but boasted about how capable they are because they were picking up a high paycheck. When I think there's people like that, and then others are worried about not being good at anything, it makes me stunned. I truly believe that no matter what you do, you'll never do as much harm as some high-paid people out there.

I hope you don't have a horrible time deciding anon! It's a difficult spot in life for anyone, so don't worry if it takes a bit of time or if you choose something and then quit, it just brings you a step closer to what you actually like doing, and it's a good thing to try things out and pick out the one that works best for you.

[00belle00lovely00]

*+_THEATER AND OG DAYCARE AU!_+* (PART 1)

(OK. THINGS FIRST, DO FORGIVE ME IF YOU SEE SUDEN STRANGE CHANGES IN THE ART STYLE, I swear to my mama I made all of these, just that I've been drawing this concept idea for the past 2 years and I somehow completely changed from my own art style for these sillies towards the cardboard cutouts that the game has us to offer. So if there's any confusion, the first image up there is the latest from a few weeks.)

So I had this concept AU idea where I wanted to explain WHY the Sun and Moon can be completely separate while Eclipse is just cast away from the whole 'brotherhood' the fandom has created. And BECAUSE I haven't seen anyone do this back when I had this idea, I decided to make it my own!

AU LORE:

Eclipse in this AU appeared way back when the pizzaplex was being built. Small variations of iconic attractions such as a smaller version of the atrium, a half-cut area of Rockstar Row and Bonnie Bowl which was, at the time, the biggest attraction at the in-construction were all located within the upcoming glamrocks with their beta versions. Back at that time, Eclipse was somewhat of a prototype for the present-day daycare attendant we all know and love. They began to work around a smaller version of the daycare, being introduced to the children with both daytime and naptime protocols to ensure their safety and fun in Superstar Daycare.

Eventually, though, the pizzaplex began to grow bigger and bigger, to the point where more clients of all ages started to watch the early performances of the beta Glamrocks. Due to funds increasing and higher-ups becoming much more daring, a new attraction was set up near the daycare, this being known as the present-day Theater where Sundrop and Moondrop were introduced as its performers. Working as entertainers and jesters for comedic acts, especially for the adults who dropped off their kids and went off for a bag of popcorn and a soda to watch the sillies on their performances.

Sun and Moon as Jesters:

Sun back at the time was his usual joyful and happy self, yet one full of ego and quite self-centered if you must say. As Sun was given the role of the main character in the majority of his performances, he kept the idea that everything must be according to what was planned. Perfect, clean and nicely done, he thinks that the smallest mistake could ruin his "character arc" and much rather be scrapped on set in front of all his fans than admit that sometimes you just have to get off your fantasies and set yourself in real life.

Moon on the other hand, oh boy, that guy wasn't any less good. As the antagonist of the majority of the performances, he grew a 'villainous wanna-be' personality. Where he tries to prank you, trick you, and make pathetic yet silly obstacles before laughing away in an 'evil' laugh. I mean... what would you honestly expect? This is Moon who we are talking about you guys, there's no way this guy can be a calming presence to be around, not even before the virus situation.

FAMILY BONDING:

At first, Eclipse seemed a bit shocked and wary about how there were suddenly two completely identical modelled animatronics that resembled a lot of him living just near his daycare. At some point, they didn't want to be involved in whatever these two jesters were.

But as time went by, admittedly Eclipse grew attached to the twins. Having an older sibling bonded with them as they were the ones making sure those two imbeciles wouldn't go at each other's necks for dumb reasons like a scrip, a mistake in their performance on stage or even just a simple argument. Which they had. Multiple times.

Things were always a ruckus with the jesters. They hung out on their after-hours, helped each other with their usual routines for the day, and even there were rare occasions when Sun and Moon were invited into the daycare. That, of course, was where Sun learned how to adore arts and crafts. Seeing the beauty of art from his own viewpoint. As for the Moon jester? Well, he learned about disciplinarity, the need for perpetual rest and most wholesomely, he grew to like naptime due to Eclipse's soft lullaby that they would spread to every kid alike. Although too proud to admit, he is slightly jealous of Eclipse's calming nature. In a good way.

ANYWAY, ILL UPDATE ALL WITH THE 2ND PART SOON BYE-

[colleendoran]

I went to a lot of comic cons in college. My impression was that most of the creators were… creatives. People that spend long hours in front of a drawing board or a typewriter, building worlds out of the aether that is their brain(s). That’s illustration to me. Physically manifesting the metaphysical, moment by moment. Picking the best moments for each beat of the story.

I -flat out- went to school to be a comic book artist. I just cannot fathom feeding my wife and my boys by manifesting the images in my head into a monthly income. But hey, that’s me. Your work is a continuous source of inspiration and joy for me.

My eldest son loves the power rangers. He he drew the green ranger in pencil on a canvas. He then painted the drawing with acrylic. He had a full-on meltdown when the painting didn’t look as good as he wanted it to look.

I sat with him and explained the process of creating comic book artwork. From blueline to publication. I spoke with him about the value of perseverance, and the value of using mixed media. He waited a day and then outlined his painting with Sharpie. He BEAMED with pride when he showed me the final product. Made me so, so happy.

Rodin was a hack. Dude had no deadlines, and no narrative outline.

Keep being awesome. You are an inspiration to me, to my boys, and to generations to come.

I am so glad you are encouraging your son to make art and enjoy it, and it is great that you find so much to appreciate in comic art and have so much respect for those who make it. We all truly appreciate it.

A few thoughts, if I may.

If you want your son to understand and appreciate mixed media, you might want to move him away from using markers like Sharpies.

If you are concerned about the longevity of the original art, I regret to inform you alcohol based markers such as Sharpies and Copics are not lightfast. That is to say, they fade on exposure to UV light. They do not use pigmented inks, they use dyes.

The fading may not happen today, it may not happen tomorrow, but it will happen sooner than you would like. Many well-known cartoonists who used Sharpies on their original comic pages, or did commissions sketches using them, have seen the art fade markedly (pun intended) over time.

Here's what that looks like.

This Klaus Janson commission has just about gone home to Jesus.

Try to switch to pigment based markers, such as those from Faber Castell, or go wild and learn to use a crow quill.

Also, while I truly appreciate your kind compliments, it's not necessary to do that at another artist's expense.

Rodin was the complete opposite of the definition of "hack".

A hack is a term originally used for one who works on tight deadlines to publisher specifications, and produces poor quality work.

That's not Rodin.

Rodin was a spectacular talent who earned his place in the canon. He came from humble beginnings and spent the first two decades of his career sculpting decorative architectural elements. He obtained his place as a fine artist after many years of struggle.

And even then, a fine artist often works to deadline, as there are salons and exhibit specs that must be met, as well as the requirements of patrons and clients, to say nothing of the grueling formal training aspiring artists were subjected to in the ateliers.

His work often contains strong narrative elements as well, as evidenced by his design for The Gates of Hell.

In fact, for most of the history of modern art, narrative elements were considered anti-art. As someone who prefers 19th century genre art, this attitude is bummerific.

The term "hack" comes from the 17th century term "Grub Street Hacks".

Back in the day writers did not get royalties. Bookstores usually published books and paid writers a flat fee and never another penny, which resulted in a lot of very broke writers, or writers who came from wealthy families who could afford to scorn the sordid topic of coin.

Grub Street was located in London where a lot of book publishers were housed next to brothels and flophouses. It's now known as Milton Street. This area was the location of the lowliest of the low publishing joints.

The great Samuel Johnson was once a Grub Street Hack.

I've just read the most wonderful book about Samuel Johnson which has many amazing details about the development of publishing. The Club: Johnson, Boswell and The Friends Who Shaped an Age. My highest recommendation, though some will be very upset by attitudes and behaviors toward the women in these men's lives.

Johnson, despite many years of poverty, was able to escape after his work eventually earned him a royal pension. When well-thought of creative people couldn't make royalties, they were supported by wealthy patrons and the royal pension system.

While I don't have a formal education, I spent many years doing research for auction catalogues and ghost writing articles about art history, which is why I am annoyingly pedantic about it all to this day.

[maxhpart]

Blogiversary the Sixth

Happy 6th anniversary to my art blog! 🥳 It’s been a bit of a slower, stranger year for me in terms of art, with notably fewer new pieces overall, and a higher proportion of them being original/non-fan art. But I was busy with other cool milestones in my life, and I still got to do some big and exciting new things with my art, like expanding beyond static images a bit more.

So, here’s some of my art highlights in 2024:

contributing to three zines, including one where I dipped my toe into the horror genre and another where I tried my hand at…

…creating another two-cel gif! And then later I made a short, looping animation by hand!!

making timelapses to see how my art process looks when sped up

designing my own chibi style, which I played with more in…

doing Art Fight (so many defenses this time! 🥺) and a more laid-back, vibes-based Inktober.

(oh, and crafting another D&D character! I only shared sketches on my AF account, and I’m still not done with the visual design 😓)

Once again, I had a fair number of pieces get left behind as WIPs simply because I couldn’t spare the time and energy to complete them. —Gosh. I just went back and counted: 12ish things this year that didn’t get posted, whether for privacy reasons or incomplete status. Maybe I’ll share a few that I can in the next couple months while I’m otherwise busy with a big logo design project and holiday stuff!

For the farther future, I hope to do a little catch-up on stuff I’ve wanted to accomplish for quite a while (I see you in the corner, set-of-things idea, figure-studies idea, and illustration-style-test idea), but I also want to keep trying new things, as always. Maybe I’ll even…try out adding a new platform again. Who knows?

Thank you to my 164 followers, my commissioners and clients, and those who have encouraged me! You make the difference. May we wield hope as a discipline in 2025.

Cheers, and stay hearty! 💪💚

[jessenigma]

My Favorite Continuing Manga Reads of 2023

For the past few years on twitter, I've made threads of some of my favorite manga and light novel reads from the past year. This year, I decided I would move it over to two tumblr posts.

After the cut are some of my favorite titles that I started before 2023 and kept reading this year.

Basara, Yumi Tamura

The best thing Viz did for me this year was create a whole new cheap subscription service full of Shogakukan titles, which meant that I could plow through the last several volumes of Basara all at once. This series thrilled me, broke my heart, and made me so happy. Sarasa is such a good lead, finding the courage to fight for her people while still being a teenage girl who just wants to be happy and loved, and I would love to read more series with leads just like her.

Run Away with Me, Girl, Battan

When the first volume of this came out and Kodansha's marketing compared it to Princess Jellyfish, I thought it was going to be something at least a bit lighthearted - woman reunites with her high school girlfriend, they end up running away to live happily ever after, the end, right? - but as it turns out, it was more like the very good but very depressing series about domestic abuse, Sensei's Pious Lie. While it wasn't as heavy as all that in the end, I was fascinated by the relationship between the two leads and the struggle to deal with baggage left from their teenage years. (And Battan's art is awfully sexy, much appreciated.)

Tales of the Kingdom, Asumiko Nakamura

I am so sad that the English release of Tales of the Kingdom is nearly caught up with Japan, because that means that I have to wait a small eternity for more stories about this fantasy kingdom where all the men have complicated relationships with their brothers. Asumiko Nakamura really goes all out on the clothes for this one and it's just gorgeous. There's another volume set to come out early in 2024 and I will cherish every page.

Kowloon Generic Romance, Jun Mayuzuki

I have been in love with Kowloon Generic Romance ever since the end of the first volume completely recontextualized everything that went on before it, and each new volume fills me with even more delight and questions about what's going on with these characters in this very fictional version of Kowloon Walled City. Mayuzuki's art is also super gorgeous and sexy, and I am so ready for the next volume to set my head spinning even more.

10 Dance, Inouesatoh

Finally! A new volume! This series was on hiatus in Japan for a while, so it was understandable, but I rang in 2022 with the previous volume of my beautiful ballroom dancing Shinyas and wasn't entirely sure I'd get to see them at all in 2023. The events of the latest volume were more than a bit of a surprise (sex? in my very charged but not technically explicit ballroom dancing bl manga?), and now I'm even more eager to see what happens next.

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard (light novel), Nanako Tsujimura

I enjoy the Jeweler Richard novels a little more with each new book and this year brought the best part of the story so far to me. This series is such a thoughtful exploration of its characters, from the leads to the recurring side characters to the one-off clients and friends, and I appreciate how deliberately inclusive it is.

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

It's basically illegal for me to leave Witch Hat Atelier off any yearly list of favorite titles as long as there's new volumes coming out for me to read. With each volume, it feels like we're moving farther and farther away from the bright and shiny new world of magic that Coco first joins, but there's still always this idea that people can and should help others. It isn't necessarily easy, and magic certainly isn't the cure-all, but there's still almost a kind of optimism. I like that, that it's possible to have horrible things happen in a story but there's still light out there.

Ooku, Fumi Yoshinaga

So I finally finished Ooku this year, only 6 years after I first picked it up at the library. Bless Fumi Yoshinaga for being the catalyst for me learning anything about the Tokugawa shogunate and for creating such a fascinating alternate take on history, complete with women leaders who were just as terrible as the original male versions. I can't believe they actually did an anime, however incomplete an adaptation, because I long had that pegged as something that would never ever ever happen with this series.

My Love Mix-Up!, Wataru Hinekure & Aruko

My most favorite cheery gay romcom title also came to an end this year, and going straight for the silliest soap opera trope in the last volume was both perfectly on brand and perfectly suited to the story. I just wish more stories would unabashedly embrace the ridiculous tropes and give me lots of humor alongside the romance.

Lost Lad London, Shima Shinya

Though the conclusion of this series seemed a bit rushed, I really loved how well Shima Shinya captured the feel of a British crime drama all the way through the story's three volumes. I want to see how much they grow with their storytelling in the future, because this was a strong first series.

MADK, Ryo Suzuri

How could my beloved eroguro demon manga end? Ryo Suzuri does such creative work with character design and it's such a shame that I won't get to meet any more cool-looking demons now. But that said, the story really stuck the landing with Makoto's obsession. I can't wait to reread all three volumes so I can fully appreciate just how much changed (and how much didn't change) for him.

[chargoeson]

Happy New Year! I wanted to just give a little update on what I'm working on and some of my hopes for my writing in 2024.

Project Amgydala (tentative title: Ballad of a Blue Whale) Novella- Literary Fiction/Surrealism Status- Draft 1 complete at around 33,000 words 2024 Goal- First revision/draft 2 Synopsis- Maren Hara, a recent graduate, moves back in with her father and turns completely inward. She removes herself from the life she created throughout university and begins walking from sunset to sunrise, looking for something she cannot put her finger on. This leads her to Devereaux's Salvation, a jazz bar seemingly from another era, whose eager manager and illusive owner begin to crack through Maren's walls and bring her back into humanity.

Project Corvidae (tentative title: I Want to Build a Home with You) Undetermined- Literary Fiction/Light Mystery/Horror Status- Plotting and beginning first draft 2024 Goal- Complete outlines and give draft 1 my best shot Synopsis- In the wake of the death of her family matriarch, portrait painter and former performance art prodigy Leonie Richards finds herself on the receiving end of her grandmothers vast literary legacy and her eclectic, spirit filled home. Alongside her uncle, the art store clerk, and a host of portrait clients she begins to unlock the secrets of the final years of her grandmother's life.

This is the one and only true goal I made for my writing this year: Learn to write short stories. So here I am, learning this new form and having a hell of a time at it. I have around three completed in a first draft capacity right now, but don't plan on doing much serious revising or rewrites as I find they come out mostly formed and it's best to just let them be. But here's a taste of the ones I've written so far! Mind Over Matter- this is actually backstory for Leonie from Project Corvidae and seeks to shed light on her past performance art pieces and the relationship between her and her grandmother. Light body horror, unsettling women, the works. One of These Nights- a slice of life, Murakami-inspired piece of an American expat living in Tokyo trying to ground herself within a new language. Digs into themes of friendship and social anxiety. Lots of fun music cameos. a green pea moon- my FAVORITE. My little baby. A surrealist romp through the dream world and how it relates to the joy and fear of being queer and letting yourself be loved. Near and dear to my heart.

Thank you all for keeping up and showing me love! Can't wait to see what we all get into in the coming months. xoxo char

taglist: @annlillyjose @coffeeandcalligraphy @subtlefires @belovedviolence @onomatopiya y'all are amazing, if i am missing anyone please let me know and i'll try to keep better track!

[autumn-foxfire]

So, of course Ran would investigate Vermouth because the last time a women called her angel, she was being shot at and her little brother and his friend had been "kidnapped" by her. Shinichi should just tell her and trust her T-T

I think it's cruel of Heiji to tell Ran he could be there when he knows that Shinichi won't appear at all. He said he only did so because he knows Shinichi won't be allowed to go if Ran doesn't but we know that's not true, Heiji has taken Shinichi without Ran many times. It was just done so we can have a "see Ran loves Shinichi" moment.

Shinichi: Why did you hire a highschooler?

Client: Because I knew I wouldn't have to pay him.

I wish Heiji was violent towards the man because he is an adult that is trying to hit on teenagers and not because he's jealous and thinks of Kazuha as his possession.

Gosho. Heiji competing for a better location to confess to Kazuha than Shinichi is not romantic. Confess to her because you like her, not to outdo someone. Besides, any confession with effort put into it will be better than Shinichi's.

Gosho knows how bad Shinichi's confession is that he only ever focuses on the location, in front of an iconic landmark of England, than what Shinichi actually said and why he confessed.

The women: Maybe not sound to happy when talking about the death of a real man?

The men: You write gruesome murders don't you? Why are you bothered by it?

I know there's probably going to be another reason but this is a good example of what one enjoys in fiction doesn't mean they are okay with it in real life. Of course the women doesn't mind talking about the ways she kills fictional characters but finds it offensive to be so happy about the death of a real person.

Heiji episodes are just them busting myths now, aren't they.

Shinichi and Heiji have mastered the art of speaking telepathically. Poor Heiji though, always the bridesmaid never the bride.

Oh thank fuck. I like the older Yokomizu and for once it is not fucking Yamamura. Although they seem to have dumbed him down a lot as he used to be much sharper.

So are Heiji and Shinichi hidden artists now.

Heiji and Shinichi: If I had a nickle for everytime a person used a dog as part of their trick to create a mythical creature, we'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

Everytime they're sent to investigate myths and there is a dog at the scene, you know they're just going to suspect the dog is being used.

I've insulted. I'm a young women but when I saw the notebooks filled with the same writing over and over I immediately assumed it was just someone practising how to write because we already knew that a foreigner was involved. Ran and Kazuha aren't stupid, they should have made that connection too instead of being "scared".

Lmao what a fucked up family though.

Did Yokomizu really not notice it was Ran and Cnon this whole time.

Gremlin.

Heiji is right though, Shinichi should watch how someone confesses to a person they like properly.

Pretty.

...

Oof.

[aurorialwolf]

ELABORATING ON MY "KINLIST"!

I made one of those posts with a visual showing all the characters I "kin" (I personally don't really kin many characters, but I closely relate to aspects of these ones so!) And now here I am to fully explain why I kin them all!

Now for the elaborating part (from left to right, going down the rows):

Kenshirou Yozakura (Nanbaka): I like his strong sense of justice, and I relate to it, and also he's very doglike and I too am very doglike, both irl and online. (One time I mentioned that I felt doglike to my irl friends and they agreed without hesitating,,)

Kaveh (Genshin Impact): His struggles with creative workings, and making them right for his clients is very relatable, as I always worry about making my art and content perfect. His admiration for the arts is also very relatable, as well as his empathy (though not the bit about being gullible for scams,, I'm pretty good about that part lmao)

Neuvillette (Genshin Impact): His issues with social interaction and creating connections, as well as lacking an understanding of humans, is something I relate to, to an extent, and him being very particular about consumption (specifically water) is also super relatable!! (I hate city water blegh) Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs): I'm obviously not remotely as smart as him, but I'm decent at figuring things out, and also. autism likely. Also I love snacks. Big ol' metabolism. Oh and I've taken a law class and passed with pretty good grades.

Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs): He's a very silly little fool sometimes. And I relate. :3

Camelopardalis (Redacted Audio): Ok Cam now, RIGHT ok so I've been a bit of a mediator in the past, and I ALWAYS deal with my issues on my own to the extent that all my friends think I have it easy, sunshine and rainbows because it's literally never crossed my mind to mention anything I struggle with. I'm just acutely aware of the fact that everything will pass, so what's the point in mentioning it? I can handle it all myself, no point in dragging someone else into something they can't really do anything about. I am (now) aware this is an unhealthy mindset but it's fineee.

Sunshine (Redacted Audio, Listener, the symbol I used for them is one I made bc they don't have a canon one): They're a creative person, and make art, so do I! And I also love Elliott and wish I could have a dreamwalker partner lmfao.

Ukyo Sainoji (Doctor Stone): MY BOI!! I wish Doctor Stone was more popular it's literally so good. Also specifically I wish Ukyo had more fan content. Anyways! He's an archer, and so am I! He has sensitive hearing, which is good for monitoring his surroundings, and I also have sensitive hearing! Since I live on a highway, I use it to listen for engines coming down the hill as my driveway is a slight blind spot. Also his logic patterns are very similar to mine. So he's majorly relatable I love him so much :3

David (Redacted Audio): I have a pretty emotionally blank exterior, and am bad at expressing emotion in my tone, making it very difficult for people to tell how I feel. Whenever I'm happy or content, unless the emotion is extreme enough it doesn't seem like I'm enjoying myself. I don't express emotion unless it's very strong, with some small exceptions, and usually feel rather blank emotionally until a certain threshold.

Elliott (Redacted Audio): I love daydreaming, and do it for up to an hour daily in my room. I also have incredibly complex dreams, with plots and everything, and remain somewhat lucid during them. I also love his kind of creativity :3!

Mitsuki (Boruto): It's the possible autism again I fear. Anyways. The way he acts around people is extremely relatable and I love him he's so adorable what a little guy!!

[epitomereally]

five faves from h/d erised: dec 1 - dec 14

Is there something in the water for Erised? How does everyone write the absolute best version of the fic that they set out to write? I’ve been honestly blown away by every fic that I’ve read so far & it was exceedingly difficult to narrow this rec list down. I am also so behind reading Erised this year, so this is only the first two weeks, despite posting being on week five — can’t wait to tackle the rest of the fest :)

ART: the art created for Erised is out of control this year. I don’t feel qualified to write any art recs but I have loved every single piece. You can’t go wrong with viewing/reading them all, honestly :)

The Hardest Hue to Hold by @cavendishbutterfly (17k, M):

Harry needs to get the hell out of England. So he sets up a teaching assistantship in America, hops on a plane, and heads off to a fresh start. Except there’s a familiar face among the university faculty, and it’s really not the familiar face that Harry wanted. Or at least, it’s not who Harry wanted at first.

You know when you read a fic & you immediately have to put down your phone or computer because you’re so overwhelmed? Like you have a hangover and you can’t read any more fic for a little bit? This fic did that to me. It’s so gorgeous and tender and cathartic as you watch Harry and Draco rediscover themselves and each other.

Historians by @oknowkiss (30k, E):

It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

Sorry for including two fake dating fics on this list (Fire Meet Gasoline is another incredible one, recced below), but this fic was such a delight! From the incredible use of switching POVs to build tension to Department of Mysteries absurdity (which I am a SLUT for) to Draco & Ron in the hot tub, I couldn’t put it down. This fic alternates between hilarious (Harry unable to log into his email for months) and deeply lonely (both of their work at Mysteries, the red sweater), but always remained light-hearted. It also was one of the hottest fics I’ve read for the fest this year. All the teasing of their ‘fake’ sexual dynamic throughout & then the way it actually played out 🥵

The Binding and the Loosing by @goblinmatriarch (35k, M):

Draco Malfoy is a reclusive academic who works on layered generational magic under the pseudonym Scholar Griseo. When he is contacted by a ‘James Black’ for help with a tricky situation with a magical House, he can’t help but notice the similarities between his potential client and Harry Potter.

Since he can’t exactly refuse to help the Saviour of the magical world, Draco girds his loins and visits Grimmauld Place, where he ends up involved in what he must presume is one of those classic Harry Potter misadventures. Bonding, sentient Houses, domesticity ahoy!

I loved this light-hearted take on accidental bonding & house magic! Despite dealing with some extremely sad material (how Harry has never had a real happy home & doesn’t know how a home is supposed to feel — just rip my heart out), this fic is so funny & generous. It’s also chock-full of incredible details: magical theory & sentient houses (the alarm clocks that sound throughout Grimmauld Place!), Harry as a magical toymaker, Draco as a reclusive academic, and pitch-perfect characterisation for all of their friends (Ginny orchestrating a race between Harry & Draco, Luna’s ability to bridge gaps between friends, & Pansy’s crush on Neville). Come for a gorgeous, growing understanding between Harry & Draco, stay for the hijinks and magical theory :)

Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet (43k, E):

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known…

It comes to him as ideas often did: too late.

Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

I don’t even know how to write a rec of this fic; it left me absolutely speechless. It’s a deeply melancholic meditation on loneliness and longing — for a better life, to be a better person, for love. The prose is sparse and elegiac (like “Harry had traded fraught unhappiness for the kind of melancholy that settles in dusty corners, clinging to him and drifting everywhere he goes.”) There is so much to love about this fic: the deft handling of a non-linear story; the casual and thoughtful wandlore; the way this story lingers and then speeds by and somehow covers so much more ground than 43,000 words; and how my expectations about where the story was going were completely subverted. I’ll absolutely be returning to this fic to drink in the richness of the worlds & the love in all of them.

Fire Meet Gasoline by @lettersbyelise (E, 62k):

When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

Another incredible subversion of a classic Drarry trope that I love — fake dating! This fic is super steamy; Draco & Harry’s chemistry rolls off the screen, both physically & emotionally. I love that neither Harry nor Draco start out as perfect, or even well-adjusted, but still suit each other so well & both push each other to be better. This fic will alternately make you laugh out loud, bang your head on the table (because they’re such idiots!), fan yourself, and cry. 

I actually haven’t seen any Erised rec lists cross my dash — if you have one, please let me know & I’ll link it (for my own reference and anyone else’s! I love seeing all the rec lists!). @gracerene is doing so much work reccing Erised fic & art in individual format on her tumblr though & I love all of her recs. @sitp-recs has a lovely list here & @thehoneybeet here.

Happy reading!

[lisa-russell]

I know Twitter is dying, but alot of my friends and fellow splatoon artist use it. To make a living, general fan interactions or to just post their art. Ever since HE bought the thing, its gone down hill. BlueSky and Cara arnt the best choices, still in early stages of development and cant handle the amount of users flooding to them.

Its also where a lot of small time artist post their stuff and build their fanbase, I've helped a few grow and gain followers by simply sharing and crediting. Its also were i find the greatest, memes and art! I find it hard to find artist on here, i only know of a few, while twitter has hundreds of easily searchable ones.

Now I go on this morning and freaking see a new kind of horror. If HE implements this into Twitter it will. KILL. IT. Its FOOKING wonder Nintendo and companies are just cutting ties from the site. Like shell, they reactivated the Splatoon page they have on Fb.

Remember the panicked rush of artists fleeing twitter cause of the whole A.I farming stuff, and like everyone looked for other sites to take shelter in? Well its gonna be a shell of flood... scary thing is, its not been made public yet, but it will be happening supposedly by word of mouth dev of Twitter. The point of something being called a SOCAIL MEDIA is because of thats platform ability to create communties and interactions for the general and larger public.

If you take that away or lock it behind paywalls nobody can really afford nowadays your gonna kill a majority of your client base off. Half of thw time I cant even message an artist because im not paying to get the *verfied* blue checkmark. I'm worried/concerned and angry at this man's stupid descion.

HE's already taking the abilty for followers and others to see your public likes.

If you have friends who use Twitter as away for making a living with art commissions id go ahead and warn them. Or see if they have other socials, and follow them there. Its what im going to do. I am not happy about this at all. As annoying as Fb can be, its better than the poisoning and sanitizing ink HE is pumping into Twitter.

It could be Ragebait, but id keep an eye open. HE cant be trusted.