#seems like a waste to just leave it as sketches

[that-sweet-jester]

they consume my every waking thought

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 2 of 2

(Part 1)

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to Part 1.

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki, Reader gets a little bratty, little bit of a sir kink, cunnilingus, blow jobs, filth.

A/N: I know I usually choose a Loki GIF but Thomas Sharpe seemed…more appropriate. I’ve got a couple more one shots with these idiots, so if you want to see more, lemme know.

Mercifully, the hallway is empty.

You imagine that your exit from the elevator looks as scandalous as what happened inside it. You are draped in Loki’s arms, still out of breath and a little glassy eyed from the two earth shattering orgasms that he’d given you only minutes prior. In contrast, Loki looks relatively put together and intently focused, like there’s nothing more important on this earth than getting you both back to your suite as quickly as possible. That thought gives you a bit of a thrill—the idea of you wanting him is not necessarily new or unusual, but the idea that he might want you just as much is utterly thrilling.

It occurs to you that you’re in rather close proximity to his neck and it seems like a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. You press your lips against the pulse point in his throat and lazily make your way along his jaw. His breath hitches when you catch his earlobe between your teeth.

“Are you trying to ensure that I take you in the hallway, Mrs. Pine?” he says, his voice dropping deep.

“I won’t be able to scream for you in the hallway,” you breathe into his ear, “and I kinda think you want that.”

“Minx,” he growls, picking up his pace just slightly as you resume kissing his neck.

“I take it that means I’m right,” you say. “Or that I’m in for it when we get back to the room.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s both, darling.”

You shiver and nip at his earlobe once more.

Loki drops the glamor as soon as the door to your room shuts behind you and while you like the cropped blond hair of Jonathan Pine, there is something about his natural long, dark locks that drives you wild.

“Let’s me make two things clear, Agent,” he says as he carries you into the bedroom. “First: there are no covers in here; I want you screaming my name when you come. Second—” he sets you down at the foot of the bed. “—I want to taste your pretty cunt.”

Heat and tension coil in your hips. “I can agree to both of those things.”

“Good. Undress.”

He watches as you slowly strip off your swimsuit, his eyes greedy and hungry. Once you’re completely naked, he gives himself a moment to look you over in full, unconsciously licking his lips when his gaze falls on your breasts and hips, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Finally, he nods at the foot of the bed. “Sit.”

You sit down on the bed and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time and you watch, enraptured by the slow reveal of his well-muscled chest and taut, flat stomach. The shirt is discarded on the floor with your swimsuit. He undoes his belt, then the button and zip on his shorts.

He’s wearing black boxer briefs, which surprises you—you had assumed that his preference was likely to go commando. But honestly, the boxer briefs are so fitted that the effect is essentially the same: they cling to every dip and swell and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material is taut across his thighs and his cock strains hard at the fabric. If pressed, you could probably create a reasonably accurate sketch based on this view alone.

You don’t have terribly long to contemplate this, though—he kneels in front of you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, his large hands cupping your breasts. His kiss is thorough and sensual, but the addition of his hands kneading your breasts and gently teasing and pinching the sensitive skin of your nipples may actually send you into the stratosphere.

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. He strokes his tongue lazily on your nipple in slow circles, lightly teasing the hardened bud with his teeth and bringing another flood of slick arousal to your cunt. Your hips rock fruitlessly against nothing, seeking friction to ease the throbbing pulse of your clit.

You sigh, letting your eyes close and your head tip back, your fingers tangling in his hair. After a moment, you reach for his free hand and guide it between your legs. His fingers dip between your legs, collecting your slickness and gently rolling against your clit.

You moan and he draws back, eyes dark. “Lie back,” he says softly.

You recline on the bed and his focus shifts to you spread out before him. “Lovely,” he says. He is being sincere—and there’s a power in that that thrills you, that sends even more heat and slick to your aching cunt.

When he’s looked his fill, he brings both of your legs over his broad shoulders. He lowers his head to your cunt slowly, first dipping down to inhale your scent and then with one wicked grin, slipping the warm blade of his tongue between your folds.

Your exhale is shaky and turns into a soft whine in the back of your throat as he licks a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Loki.” His name falls from your lips unbidden. You prop yourself up on your elbows and drink in the sight of him between your legs, head bowed like he is worshiping at the most sacred and solemn altar.

In the elevator, he was determined to make you come as quickly as possible; now, though, in the privacy of your room, he seems intent on taking his time and building you up achingly slowly. His tongue laves over your clit at a leisurely pace, teasing and tasting and sucking until he finds the rhythm and movement that makes you try to press your quaking thighs together because it feels so incredible. He gently presses your legs back open, keeping you spread and fully at the mercy of the rolling waves of pleasure that his mouth is creating. One of his long and elegant fingers slides inside of you and curls, pressing against that sweet, soft spot that makes your hips buck and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

When a second finger joins the first a few minutes later, you know that it won’t be much longer. Loki looks up at you, lust-glazed eyes glittering like he knows that too.

You approach the edge slowly, your breath coming in rolling gasps, your hands gripping his hair. He watches you, his gaze both hungry and mischievous. You bite your lip, breath stuttering as you furrow your brow against that final ascent.

And then the tension finally snaps and your head tips back as you tumble off the edge and into your climax, your free fall as decadent and shiver-inducing as the beautifully slow buildup.

You don’t manage to gasp his name because the concept of words has fled you entirely and the only sound that escapes your lips is a sharp cry. From the glint in his eye and the low groan of approval offered against your clit, Loki doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The aftershocks roll through you in rippling waves that make your toes curl and it takes you a moment to catch your breath.

“I confess, I’m quite tempted to stay here all night,” says Loki, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. “You have the sweetest cunt.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, your words slurred with pleasure.

“Hardly.” He licks you very slowly from your entrance to your clit and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He repeats the same circuit twice more.

“In fact,” he murmurs, placing another kiss on your clit, “I think I may need another taste.” Another lingering kiss, his tongue teasing your entrance. You suck in a shuddering breath.

“One more.” Another long stroke of his tongue and you shiver again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry—” a quick kiss to your clit, “—but I think I’m going to have to make you come again. I'm simply famished.”

Your back arches and you moan as his mouth once again envelopes your clit and his fingers slide back inside you, curling into that soft, sweet spot. You’re a little sensitive, but he’s moving with such achingly perfect precision that you can already feel another orgasm starting to build in your hips.

The ascent is much quicker this time, and you soon find yourself whimpering and panting, your hands tangling again in his hair. He groans against you and you swear you feel the vibrations shimmer all along your aching core.

“Please,” you moan. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

He lets you ride the edge for a little bit longer, despite your pleas and your iron grip on his hair. But after a minute or so, he seems to take pity on you and he increases his pace just slightly. Your orgasm blossoms in your hips, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you moan his name to the ceiling.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs a moment later, as his fingers coax you through the aftershocks. He looks you over, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” he says, eyes dragging greedily over your body. “Naked and utterly fucked out. Perfection.”

You shiver and slowly convince your loose muscles to allow you to sit up. “I don’t think you can say I’m fucked out if you haven’t actually fucked me.”

His eyebrow arches, “Is that so?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed so that you can run your hands over his firm chest. You press a kiss just above his belly button, tongue flicking out briefly against his skin. “Seems reasonable to me.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I mean, that’s what I was hinting at, yes,” you say.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a sly, calculating smile. “But do you deserve to be fucked, Agent?”

Feeling a little bold, you place your palm flat against the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs, running your hand along the hard, thick length of him. Fuck, he’s big. “Yes,” you say.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, his expression and voice deliciously stern despite your hand on his cock. “You’ve been quite pert. Disobedient. Mouthy.”

You think you have an idea where this is going. “So am I getting punished or begging for you to forgive me?” you ask with a coy smile.

The hunger and delight in his gaze makes you ache. “Let’s see what your smart mouth can do to my cock and maybe then I’ll consider fucking you.”

You lick your lips and trace your fingertips along the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, pausing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your fingertips under the elastic and pull them down.

His cock springs free as the fabric falls to the floor. Between sitting on his lap and the unsubtle nature of the boxer briefs, you knew he was long and thick, but you’re still not fully prepared to experience the full effect of seeing his cock be hard and ready for you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You take a moment to admire him, despite the fact that you know it’s likely only inflating his ego. 

“Do you want me, Agent?” he drawls with a lazy smile. “Do you want my cock?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you say. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“Perhaps I like hearing you say it,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Impulsively, you get to your feet and pull him into a kiss. You can still taste yourself on him—salty and a little sweet.

“You like hearing me talk about how I want you?” you say, pressing your hips against his.

“Very much.” His voice is a low purr and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m aching for you to fill me,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m dripping just thinking about it.” You nip at his lower lip and he groans against your mouth. “But first, I want to get on my knees and worship your perfect cock with my mouth.”

There's a low, pleased rumble deep in his chest and you shiver as you draw away. “Sit down.”

He sits down on the foot of the bed and you position yourself in front of him, standing between his spread thighs and lowering yourself to your knees. You run your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your fingernails along his skin, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. You kiss the inside of his left knee and slowly make your way up the inside of his left thigh, dragging your tongue along his skin every so often. You continue this all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his hip, close enough that he can feel the heat of your breath on his beautiful cock.

And then you lean back and begin the same process again on his right leg.

“What,” he says, his voice going deep and dark, “did I say about playing games, Agent?”

You tilt your head to look up at him. He’s staring down at you with a stern look that makes your cunt clench.

“You know, I came so hard earlier, I can’t quite recall,” you say, making your eyes as wide and innocent as you can.

“And if you want to come again tonight, you’ll find a way to remember,” he says. He’s stern and authoritative, and it’s ridiculously hot. “Now put that smart mouth to work on my cock,” he growls.

“Yes, sir.” The phrase just sort of slips out, but the way it makes your cunt ache and his eyes glitter is absolutely delicious.

“Oh, I like those manners, pet,” he purrs. “I want to hear more of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, pausing to lick your lips, “sir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock is flushed and so hard it presses up against his stomach. You wrap one hand around his shaft and you suck in a breath when your fingers don’t quite meet. He’s huge and the thought of having him inside of you makes you shiver and ache in anticipation.

You stroke him once and lower your mouth to the tip of his cock, placing gentle, closed mouth kisses on it.

He tolerates this for about thirty seconds.

“Agent.” His voice is laced with warning. “I won’t warn you again.”

Your lips curl into a slight smile and you flick your tongue against the tip of his cock, savoring the sharp tang of his pre-come. His eyes glitter down at you, still watching, waiting for you to disobey him.

“Am I not allowed to savor this experience?” you ask, intentionally licking your lips.

“I would urge you to consider that only good girls get to come on my cock, darling,” he says, his voice going dark and deliciously stern. “Choose your next moves wisely.”

The reality is that you desperately want to come on his cock and you wouldn’t put it past him to deny you. So, you offer him a sly smirk before you slowly begin to lick the tip of his cock, gradually opening your lips and bringing him into your mouth.

He groans softly. “You just need a firm hand, don’t you?” he says as you begin to move your head, stroking his shaft in a slow rhythm. His fingers card through your hair as he leans back on one hand, allowing himself to relax a little. “Or perhaps it’s that you want my cock more than you want to be a brat.”

You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.

He laughs low in his throat. “Oh, I think I’m going to  have you taking my orders by the time the week is up.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You have such a needy little cunt and I rather think that will prove to be an advantage for me.”

Your instinct is to let out a low whine, but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You can’t fully stop yourself from reacting, though, and a soft whimper makes its way out of your lips.

He catches this and smirks. “You like being mouthy and talking back, but I think you also crave a little discipline. Being told what to do gets you off, doesn’t it?”

This time, you do whine and he smiles down at you, eyes hooded. “That works out rather nicely,” he says, his voice dropping deep, “because I quite enjoy giving orders.”

You shiver and he notices, running his fingers through your hair.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” He watches you for a minute, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. “You’re gorgeous like this, too, you know,” he says. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth like a good girl. I could watch this for hours.” You glance up at him and catch his lazy smile. “Though,” he continues, “I suspect you’ll also look gorgeous riding my cock. Or perhaps spread out and tied to the bed.”

This image is too much for you: a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat before you can think better of it.

“Oh, you like that idea?” he says, not sounding very surprised at all. “You like the thought of being bound and completely at my mercy?”

Another embarrassing whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“We’ll have to explore that some time this week,” he says. “Though I am starting to develop a rather lengthy list of things I want to do to you.”

Fuck. You are caught between wanting him to keep talking and wanting him to shut up so you stop making such embarrassing noises.

Admittedly, the idea of making him feel so good that you render him speechless is also incredibly appealing.

You suck just a little harder, cheeks hollowing as you start running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, swirling it on the tip as you come up.

His eyebrows draw together, his lips parting slightly. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You pick up your pace just a little and he groans, his hand going to grip your hair.

“Yes—just like that.” His grip tightens on your hair. “If your cunt is even half as good as your mouth—fuck, yes, right there—I’m going to have a hard time leaving this room this week.”

You hum against his cock and he groans, his hips starting to rock toward your mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, his voice husky. “Do you like being on your knees for me?”

You moan against his cock, sucking harder.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Barely an hour and you’re already such a slut for my cock.”

You moan again, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “A bit of a brat to start, but I think I’m going to have to reward you for this. Your mouth is too fucking good.”

Another moan slips past your lips. He groans and is quiet for a minute or two, his hips rocking toward you.

His breath is coming in shaky gasps now. “I’m close, love,” he says, his fingers flexing in your hair. “I’m going to spill myself in your pretty mouth and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You can’t help but moan, which seems to spur him on. His lips part and you can almost feel how close he is.

He makes the most beautiful noise as he comes, a low groan that seems to reverberate in your cunt as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow his release greedily as you continue stroking him, your head moving up and down his length.

You pull off of him slowly, licking your lips and you look up at him, your mouth curling into a smirk. “So, was that a proper enough apology for you?” you ask.

He growls low in his chest, eyes opening to look down at you. “You are still far too pert for your own good,” he says. “I suspect I’m going to have to put you over my knee at some point this week. You need discipline.”

You suck in a deep breath as your cunt clenches at the possibility.

“But right now, I need to fuck you.” He gestures to the bed. “Get up here. Now.”

You don’t need any encouragement to follow this command, but the way that he delivers the order and the way his green eyes get all steely is enough for more slickness to collect between your legs. You clamber to your feet, but before you can even try getting on the bed, he’s pulling you to him and flipping you onto your back. He rolls on top of you, caging you in with his body, his impossibly hard cock throbbing against your stomach.

He kisses you, tongue pressing into your mouth, hungry and claiming. “Do you want me inside you?” he purrs against your lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say, spreading your legs and tilting your pelvis up toward him. “I want you to claim me.”

His smile is sharp and he drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, coating himself in your slickness. “Still so fucking wet,” he growls.

“I told you I need you,” you murmur.

He lines himself up at your entrance and ever so slowly begins easing into you. He presses forward, inch by glorious inch, until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe. “You feel so good.”

He smiles and withdraws just an inch or two before pressing back in. You arch underneath him and let out a soft moan.

“How about that? Is that good?” he asks.

You moan and nod.

He repeats the action. “And this?”

You offer up another moan and he grins. He repeats the action again, clearly teasing you. “What about this one?”

“Loki, please—”

“What is it darling?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss or slap that smirk right off his face.

“Please don’t stop, please—”

“Oh, you want me to keep doing this?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock confusion. “You should have said something.”

“Loki, please—”

He chuckles quietly and begins rocking his hips against yours in slow, shallow thrusts. You sigh and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his mouth as he kisses you. You can tell he’s holding back, though.

“I’m not going to break,” you finally say, tilting your hips to rock with his. “I want more. I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you hard and his thrusts lengthen and deepen, his pace increasing just a hair, and you cry out because he’s now hitting that soft, sweet spot and he feels even better.

“You’re taking me so well, darling,” he says. “This snug little cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your back. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

He wraps those long fingers around your ankles and brings your legs up so that they are draped over his shoulders, your body folded in half. He thrusts again and his cock presses even deeper, rubbing against that tender spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Pressure is starting to build in your hips again.

“You’re getting close already, aren’t you?” he rasps, grinning at you like a devil. “I can feel you starting to tremble.”

You keen, your cunt clenching around his steadily thrusting cock.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he growls.

You nod, words somewhere beyond you.

“I want you to soak my cock,” he purrs. “Let it all out. Scream for me.”

You feel yourself poised on the edge. So close.

“Come for me, darling, that’s it, let go, come for me, let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry…”

You arch your back as your orgasm blossoms and unfurls. The sound that falls from your lips is a high pitched keening that would be Loki’s name, except there’s no space for anything besides this incredible feeling, his cock inside you, and the weight of him on top of you.

“Oh there you go, that’s it,” he murmurs. “You have the tightest, most exquisite cunt. I could fuck you for days.”

You moan, shuddering in the final throes, your cunt spasming around his thick cock. He withdraws for a moment and you moan at the loss, but he quickly flips you onto your stomach and slides right back inside you.

From this angle, his cock thrusts even deeper, pressing more directly against your G-spot. A few strokes in and it becomes glaringly apparent to you that you’re going to come again.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he pants, thrusting hard into you. “I can feel you starting to tremble already.”

You moan into the comforter, arching your back so he hits that spot again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. “I want to hear every filthy little sound that you make. Every. Last. One.” He thrusts in time with those last three words and you moan.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his hips thrusting hard. “You love me taking you from behind like a fucking animal.”

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your orgasm building. “Loki, I’m gonna come again,” you whimper.

“I know you are, sweet girl,” he growls. “I can feel your tight cunt trembling.” His free hand slides between your legs, fingers rolling over your clit in the same rhythm as his thrusting cock.

Your breath stutters and a low whine escapes your lips. You are deliciously close.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a gasp. You’re riding the very edge of that wave and it feels so good that you’re almost certain the oncoming climax couldn’t possibly feel better. Almost.

“Oh, you’re almost there, love, you can do it,” says Loki, his hand still moving with his hips. “You just need to let go.”

You whimper. You are almost there.

“Be my good girl and let go for me,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

It breaks quite suddenly, your whole body shuddering and your cunt clamping down hard on his cock as you come. The noise you make is animalistic, torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Fuck!” Loki is fucking you hard, hips pistoning against your ass. “So fucking tight, you’re like a vise when you come, fuck—” His speech gives way into either Asgardian or Old Norse—you’re not quite sure which, but the idea that you’ve made him feel good enough to abandon English is incredibly appealing.

You’re dreamily floating back down from your high when you hear him make that beautiful noise again, that low, deep groan that falls from his lips only when he comes. You feel his release flood your cunt, hot and thick, as his hips finally start to slow.

It’s another minute or two before he rolls off you, flopping down next to you on the bed. Before you even have a moment to miss him or the comforting weight of his body on yours, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lie there for a long moment, catching your breath.

You think back to your initial meeting with Fury, when you complained about being sent in with Loki. You’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in your entire life.

“So,” you say once you feel capable of speech, “you said you had some ideas for the rest of the week?”

If you thought his grin was devilish before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now as he pulls you on top of him.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[lesaurita]

♡︎ Izuku Midoriya as your boyfriend ♡︎

Pairing: fem!reader x Izuku Midoriya

Genre: fluff

Warnings: suggestive content, jealous!Izuku, sub!Izuku

•° first of all: he's the number 1 babygirl.

•° every hour of the day, no matter what you're doing, he'll take pictures of you. His gallery is just full of your photos. every week his lock screen changes to a new photo of you. And then he loves looking at your beautiful smiling face at night in his bed before falling asleep, so he can dream of you. When you ask him if it's necessary to take all these photos, he answers that they're useful during the times when you can't be together because of missions.

•° do you really think that the photos are enough for him? Nah, Izuku clearly has a talent for drawing, and he certainly won't waste it by only disdaining sketches of other heroes. No, in his room he has a drawer dedicated only to you, inside which there are a lot of notebooks portraying you.

•° you don't have to talk, for him even just looking at you while you share headphones and listen to your favorite songs, with a breathtaking sunset in front of you. That's enough for him.

•° he lets you do any hairstyle on his messy hair. He loves the warmth of your hands in his hair and most of all he loves your laugh when you pass him the mirror to show him the many pigtails you've made on his head.

•° speaking of laughter. HE LOVES YOURS. He would die to hear it one last time. Let's be real, he's not the funniest person in the world, but he puts his all into putting a smile on your face, accompanied by the melody of your laughter.

•° he obviously has a praise kink, tell him how good he was at something: school, missions, even the silliest one and you'll immediately notice the blush on his cheeks.

"Izuku, baby, you did so good today on patrolling. I'm so proud of you." you praise him while placing your hand on his cheek.

"t-thanks, baby. You d-did good too." He's literally pout in your hands.

•° PDA is scared of Izuku. he loves showing you affection both when it's just the two of you, and outside, no matter where you are. Kisses, hugs, arm around your waist, your head resting on his shoulder. He doesn't care if anyone is watching you.

•° it might not seem like it on the surface, but ohh HE'S A JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS BOY. Despite his puppy-dog appearance, he wastes no time when someone stares at you for a few seconds too long to put an arm around your shoulders and turn you towards him, so that he is your only view. Not to mention when they hit on you.

"so, you free tonight, pretty?" a boy a little older than you leans against the bar counter where you're sitting at.

"sorry, but I'm not interested. I have a boyfriend." You try to dodge him off.

"oh, c'mon." He reaches for your face "I don't see him around". Before he can lay even a finger on you, a hand slaps the boy's hand away, and based on the look on his face it must have hurt.

"you didn't see me, but bet you felt that." He couldn't leave you alone even to go to the bathroom, ugh.

•° his only reasons for living are two: to become a hero worthy of being called such and...you. He worhips you so much, you're a goddess in his eyes who can do no wrong. You're just out of this world for him, not real.

•° SUBMISSIVE!! Oh this boy is the definition of submission. In bed he becomes a real mess for you, the control is yours and you can do whatever you want with him, he won't say a word, don't worry.

•° he's the kind of guy who gives you little gifts almost every time you go on a date, or rather every time you see each other. It could be a bouquet of flowers, an origami heart, etc...

[twstowo]

Hello! I absolutely love your work it's always such a joy to read them! So, when I saw your asks were open, I had to ask fast! Can I request for a fluffy work where Jade, Rook, and Vil are painting their S/O? You can add on more if you need to.

I hope you have a nice day! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: They paint/sketch you.

♡︎I almost exploded on Vil’s part.

♡︎Includes: Jade, Rook and Vil

♡︎Warning: Jade smirking

⋆⋅☆Jade

I can't picture him painting you, but I see him having some sketches of you in a notebook, probably filled with information about mushrooms.

After classes ended, you had a habit of lingering at Monstro Lounge. You'd order a drink, often covered by Jade's generosity. There, you would study, awaiting Jade's arrival whenever he was free. On one particular day, he observed you from a distance, engrossed in reading potionology books for an upcoming test. Although you were engaged in a mundane activity, he felt an unusual urge to capture you in his notebook, akin to documenting a rare mushroom.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Jade, is that me?" you questioned as you spotted a peculiar doodle of yourself in his mushroom-filled notebook. The two of you had gone on a hike, and to assist him in identifying mushrooms, he handed you his notebook. To your surprise, amidst the detailed fungi descriptions, you discovered a drawing of your face stuffed inside a book. Much to your dismay, Jade responded with a smirk rather than a straightforward answer.

⋆⋅☆Rook

Now Rook would be the type to paint you and have those paintings of you on the walls of his room, no shame at all. If someone entered his room, he would spend hours talking about the artworks, explaining how divine you looked to the point that he had to capture it for eternity.

He would find you in the botanical garden, staring at some flowers, and out of nowhere, you'd see him with a canvas and an easel running towards you. You have no idea how he managed to get those so fast, as you were just talking seconds ago.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“Is this really necessary?” You were already embarrassed by the fact that he wanted to paint you, but the constant remarks about your beauty made you almost pass out.

“Oh, mon Trickster, I only wish to capture forever what I deem worthy of being seen by millions, as your beauty is undoubtedly impossible to-” And he kept on talking about how much he loved you, how amazing you were, how breathtaking you looked, and how his actions were undoubtedly more than worth it. With each word, you felt your legs growing weaker.

⋆⋅☆Vil

This might start with Rook wanting to paint the two of you together as a cute couple since he was your ultimate shipper. However, Vil never seemed pleased with the paintings, stating that something was missing. You thought he was talking about him not looking as good as he wanted, but after some days, he asks you to come over, and to your surprise, he tells you that he wants to paint you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“Potato, stay still!” By the Seven, you only wanted to scratch your nose. It had been almost an hour, and you were starting to feel really hungry. You'd have to curse Grim for wasting money on his cans of tuna, leaving you with only sandwiches until the smell made you feel sick. You stared around his room, waiting for the work to be done. After all, it surely couldn’t take that much more. “Come see it.” You saw him lower the brush as he looked at you with a smile, and as you approached, you had to grab your jaw or it would drop to the floor. The way he had drawn you had nothing on Rook’s style. You looked so beautiful, it almost didn’t feel like that was you. So, that was how Vil saw you? And he was just mad that Rook couldn’t see the same thing he did.

“Oh, Vil!” You sounded so lovesick as you gave him a hug and a kiss.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! May I request a reader x Keegan drabble where the reader is an artist in secret?

Sure, they roam the wake of no mans land in a ravaging war, but in the moments they are not on missions they capture the scenery around them. Wether it be on rooftops, surrounding woods or abandoned shelters, the reader revels in the few moments of silence they have before another bombardment of bloodshed is thrown their way to remember places or things around them before they eventually move again

How would Keegan react, let alone if he caught reader sketching him?

Thank you for your time, have a good day :D

—Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

The camp is quiet, and you are tired. 

Looking out along the wreckage of this wasted world, there seems to be no end to the broken valleys or the craters of rock—this desolation remains as if an angry God had thrown a tantrum, and smashed the earth to bits. Trees grew sideways, wreckage that could be bits of houses or even remnants of bone breed in the little spaces under moss and bush; where the rest died, nature took back what was hers. Thus, the cycle continued.

What breathes, dies, and with that firm and undisputable reality, you find beauty in moments like these. 

You blink down at what still breathes of the patchwork lungs of No Man’s Land, pencil in your hand still for but a moment of red-eyed concentration. The deer was down in the dip below the Ghosts’ quiet camp for the steadily growing night—white where it should be a tawny-blonde shade. Barely breathing, you watch with half of its albino form sketched out in short bursts of graphite on your sun-bleached possession. 

A sketchbook, old, and worn to the very binding of its pages, and yet to you a more prized possession had never been held in your grip. 

So focused on the deer and its white shadow; its lithe body as it grazes along the forest floor amidst a soft rustling of leaves, you don’t notice the man behind you—a man supposed to be sleeping. 

It’s a minute of looking at your awe-filled face before Keegan clears his throat, speaking in a low grumble. “Not every day you see that, huh?”

You startle back so quickly that your pencil slips out of your hand, bouncing off your thighs before clattering to the flat rock that serves as your lookout platform. A clink of metal on stone is all it takes, the pencil falling down into the lower land and striking through greenery as you gasp and snap your eyes away. The flighty heart of the deer all at once sparked in a puff of air from its nostrils and a flair of a raised tail. 

It disappears into the bushes and its white flash is seen until the thick foliage swallows it again. You look back just in time to grace your eyes with one last glimpse. 

A deep disappointment blooms and you level out a sigh as Keegan clicks his tongue, guiltily rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“Shit, Sweetheart,” he hums, “didn’t mean to…” Keegan tapers off with a low groan. “I’ll, uh, get you a new pencil when we’re back, yeah?” 

You stare at the forest a moment longer before huffing out and shifting—you turn and glance at the Sergeant before grumbling out, “You have a nasty habit of sneaking up on people, Russ. I don’t like it when it’s me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, his body still in gear and armed just like yours. Even sleeping, Ghosts bore the fangs of the living. Keegan’s face is down a mask, though, so you’re privy to see his built jaw and strong features in the moonlight. Black hair like a void. 

He sighs. 

“Again, didn’t mean to. Thought you knew I was there.” Your eyes roll, but a small smirk snaps your lip.

“Of course you did.” Huffing and shaking his head, the man comes to lean against your rock. 

“What ya workin’ on anyways? Seen you scribblin’ in that thing every chance you get. Got curious enough tonight to ask when I saw you up during Ajax’s watch.” He blinks at you, swirling with curiosity and dim intrigue. “You take over for him?”

You smile, shrugging. “Maybe.” Keegan stares and raises a dark brow as your form leans closer, presenting your object of patience and smudged graphite. “You gonna wake him up?”

The man takes the object and studies your half-finished work with an acute eye, taking in the lines and erased bits that indent the paper. He tilts his head at it and a moment later he grunts an answer, lost in thought. 

“Depends.” Blue meets your vision in a slow sweep. “You tired?”

Face burning, you clear your throat and begin to stutter a negative before the worst moment of your life takes place. 

Keegan grabs one page of your sketchbook and starts flipping. Heart lurching and eyes wrenching open to the size of dinner plates, your hand snatches at the old cover—but not before the damage is done.

The dead-gazed Sergeant locks onto a perfect image of his own sleeping body from hours earlier. Drawn face soft and calm in the gray of blended material that you’d had to use your finger to achieve, and limbs loose; he almost seemed to come off the page in an intensive display of detail. 

Keegan pauses and feels his jaw slightly slacken, eyes going that bit wider before his brows lift in shocked pleasure. Your hand latches onto the top of your book and rips it from the man’s grasp easily.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through people’s things?!” Your heart is racing, palms going clammy. At your chest, you hold your belonging with a tight scoff of embarrassment.

Keegan’s lids move up and down three times in quick succession before he replies. A tease is so deep in his words you cringe with a burning face.

“Anyone tell you it’s rude to watch people sleep, Sweetheart?” Glaring, you have to look away. 

It wasn’t exactly common knowledge to others that you liked the gruff man, but if anyone took one look into your sketchbook they’d know the truth. Pages were dedicated to finding the perfect slant of his eyes—that structure of his jaw and his broken-one-to-many-times nose. 

His lips and how his skin looked when he smirked. 

Shame tightens your face and you stare hard at the trees a few feet away; the sleeping forms of your comrades. Until a smooth chuckle leaves you breathless. 

A puff of air spreads over your cheek but you don’t dare turn your head. 

Keegan whispers to you slowly, that gravel in his tone and his lips brushing against your ear as he leans closer to you—arms crossed in front of him.

“If you wanted me to pose there, Doll, all you had to do was ask me. No use watchin’ from a distance…I’ll give you the full tour.” 

He walks off back to his mat of leaves and grass and you’re left gaping and choking on your own thoughts; honied vision dripping shock.

Keegan calls easily over his shoulder as if his comment hadn’t made your pulse pound, “I’m waking up Ajax—go back to bed. Scenery’ll be the same come morning.” 

You breathe in his sly quip, “trust me.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[genericpuff]

oh boy it's that time again

when rachel posts 'video progress' of her work and we proceed to dissect it like a frog in 9th grade science class

like ok first the caption of "is persephone the chicken and hades the egg" makes no fucking sense except to anyone who overthinks it and goes "wait is that a reference to the popularly-perpetuated version of the myth where persephone went down to the underworld willingly and hades didn't actually exist???" because if it is ima scream lmao

but MORE IMPORTANTLY-

Here's the transcript of what she's saying in the video:

"I think I've always wanted to write Hades' and Persephone's story because obviously I really like them. It's like very much a chicken and egg situation because I think in the beginning I thought that I was going to use a very abstract black and white style, and I realized it wasn't very enticing or fun for me, um... and I started drawing these very like vibrant characters and as I drew them I understood more about the story the more that I explored the art style, um and I guess an example of that is, y'know, Persephone is like a very bright color um, and the Underworld, is a very dark dark blue, and so when she says she really sticks out so it's just environmental uh processes like that that really helped inspire the direction of the story."

(despite her expanding on the "chicken and the egg" bit it still doesn't make sense imo lmao)

But what we're seeing isn't S1 LO, it's actually from S3 of LO:

But um... you notice anything interesting about the screenshot I just showed you?

That literally looks NOTHING like what we see in the final panel. At the VERY least I think this goes to show how overcooked it becomes in post-production, when they add the canvas layer and hypersaturate the shit out of the colors, but even the blending technique just isn't matching up?

A lot of what she's doing in this video also feels very... non-existent, like she's brushing her pen around but very little is happening so it feels more like her just putting down random brush strokes to try and make it seem put-together but really she's just kind of pushing colors around and/or doing nothing. Especially when, again, what she's painting here looks nothing like the final picture (so at best it's a lot of wasted work??)

And knowing what we know about the assistants drawing the characters separately so that Rachel can rearrange them in the final episode layout... I don't wanna call foul play here, but this feels like yet another attempt on Rachel's behalf to make her process seem more involved than it is by simply redrawing a scene for the performative aspect of it all. It's like the "sketches" in the books looking way too 'clean' for the final product and giving the impression that she just sketched over the final panels to make them look pretty enough for print.

I also wanna mention that for some reason she's drawing this on her iPad when she owns a Cintiq. It could be because she was drawing this while abroad in the US for her conventions last fall, but despite clearly being ahead of schedule, she still wound up drawing the final episode the night of-

Oh yeah and btw there are like a million clipping layers for what looks like just a simple drawing of Demeter. And this lines up with our previous theories about her using like 128549021809 layers for literally one character.

And aside from all that her commentary, as always, is very nothingburger, just a bunch of word salad. Like she's literally trying to explain LO's color theory as "well Persephone is bright pink and the Underworld is dark blue so she sticks out! That's all you need to know!"

IDK, I'm not coming to any sort of ironclad conclusion based off this one video, but it does feel like yet another desperate attempt to prove that she does work on LO and doesn't just leave it all to her assistants to do at the last minute. But like... she's kind of screwed in that argument either way, because even if she draws the majority of panels in LO, that just further proves the argument that she's stopped trying.

[storytowrite]

|The FINE Art ~ Hwang Hyunjin|

Theme: Art Student! Hyunjin x Y/N

Warnings: mention of nudity, smut, 18+, unprotected sex, the age gap Y/N is 15 years older than Hyunjin.

Word Count: 5257

Summary: Life wasn’t easy for you. You lost your job, lost your husband who remarried and took everything away leaving you only with an old, sick cat. You desperately needed money. Thankfully, your friend is an art teacher and your body is quite tempting. Especially for the young, talented student.

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

“I’m sorry ma’am, but the cat needs surgery if you want it to live longer. We cannot wait long.” The vet said his verdict. Your old cat, Lemon, was ill, and you knew that. The thing was that you didn’t have enough money and you were in a really bad situation. 

“How much is for the surgery?” You asked. 

“It will cost about $3000 in total with all the care.” The vet answered your question and you sighed heavily. Why on Earth does it cost so much?! And more importantly - how will you gather all the money needed? 

“All right… If that’ll help him, please do everything you can. I can’t lose him too.” You said tiredly. 

“We’ll do everything we can to save this little boy.” The vet smiled at you honestly. 

You nodded and left your cat at the vet’s clinic. It wasn’t a good timing for such expenses, but you had to do everything you could to just save your animal. You sighed heavily once again. The previous week was hard and now this. Your life was a mess. You lost the job, since your boss decided to hire “some younger girls” and you were simply too old in his eyes. 

The divorce process was finally over. But unfortunately your ex-husband took everything he could, including your apartment. Because of this, you had to move in with your friend, at least until you get back on your feet again. Fortunately, Lina was happy to help you. 

You returned home wasted and without your cat, which you left at the veterinary clinic. You wanted to cry. Earning $3,000 in a short time seemed unrealistic. Well, because how to do it? 

"Oh Y/N are you back already?" Asked Lina peering at you from above another artwork she was working on. "Everything ok baby?" 

"No, nothing is ok. Lemon needs surgery and I don't have that much money to pay for it. And I still can't find a job. Everything is falling apart for me." You sat down heavily on the couch. "And I also need to find an apartment and..." 

"Woah, slow down honey. I don't mind your company. You and Lemon can stay with me as long as you need, after all, you know that.... And as for work, I think I have an idea." She smiled slightly at you. You knew that kind of smile from Lina's genre of brilliant ideas. 

"Oh no, why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" You asked, looking at your friend. 

"Don't exaggerate, it's nothing like that.... Besides, we'll both benefit from it." 

"Fine, what's the idea?" You asked, slightly curious. 

"Great... you'll love it!" She clapped her hands. 

After an hour of talking to your friend and her persuading you, you finally agreed to help her with her little project. Lina was a drawing teacher in the art department, and her students were just starting to learn how to sketch real people. They needed a model for this, since the topic was THE FEMALE BODY. 

At first you had a lot of concerns. Lina wanted you to pose nude in front of a group of some of her top students. You had huge objections to this. You didn't feel like showing your body to strangers in their twenties. But you had no choice. The deal was simple, 10 sessions at $300 each, for a maximum of five hours per class. That is, two weeks of work. You were able to do it, right? 

"I don't know Lina, I have to think about it..." You said, glancing at her. 

"Just don't make me wait too long for your answer.... Besides, you have a beautiful body for our age, so what's the problem?" She asked lightly. 

"What do you mean what's the problem? I'm supposed to show off to a group of 20-year-olds? After all, they are children!" 

"Honey, these are young adults. Besides, they are just a few people. I'd rather pay you than some strangers. Think of Lemon. He needs this operation.... And if you prove yourself, who knows? Maybe I'll hire you permanently?" She persuaded you further. 

" Oh, hell no... I'll find a job, eventually." You replied quickly. "But fine. I'll take part in it..." You agreed, sighing heavily. "Just so I don't regret it..." 

"Believe me, you won't and you'll even like it!" She replied excitedly. "We'll start first thing tomorrow morning! Prepare yourself properly, you know, shave and.... " 

"Okay, I'll prepare properly.... Anything else?" You asked in a tired voice, interrupting her sentence. 

"Hm... take some clothes to change into.... And well, put on some nice underwear. Tomorrow we start with the upper body. The students will sketch your torso and breasts above all. Well, and tie your hair in a ponytail, it will be easier to see your collarbones.... But that's at ease, I'll tell you everything exactly tomorrow." She grinned. "Go rest, I still have to finish here." 

You sighed heavily and went straight to the bathroom, following your friend's directions. You still weren't convinced about the idea, but the situation forced you to do so. You felt stress above all. You may have had a nice, fit body, but you certainly weren't used to showing it to strangers. 

After a long and warm shower, you headed to your bedroom, where you fell asleep rather quickly. The next day would be a very long one... 

The next day you got up early, got dressed and did light makeup. You left your hair loose, for now at least. Later you'll tie it up in a ponytail. Your friend had already been bustling around in the kitchen since morning. 

"Good morning! Ready for today's challenges?" Asked a delighted Lina. 

"Mhm, I won't be any more than I am." You muttered uneasily. 

"Oh grumpy... Come on, or we'll be late." Lina didn't seem to mind your dissatisfaction. 

"And breakfast?" You asked. 

"We don't have time... you'll get something on the spot." Your friend waved her hand and pulled you with her to the exit. You left her apartment and headed for the car. The trip to the university didn't take long, but you were getting more and more stressed with each passing moment. No wonder, after all, you will be posing naked.... 

You entered the university and headed straight to the room where the classes would be held. Lina showed you everything inside and once again reminded you what to do and how to do it. Your task was quite simple. All you had to do was show some breasts and sit still on a stool for a good couple of hours. 

The students began to fill the room, and you heard Lina greeting them cheerfully. You sighed quietly. It's going to be a long couple of hours. 

"Dear students, I have a little surprise for you today." You heard your friend's words. "A good friend of mine has agreed to get herself acquainted with us. As I said, you will learn sketching on a living organism.... Y/N come join us and show yourself to our students." 

You took a deeper breath and stepped out from behind the screen. You stressed all over. You stood in the middle, right next to your friend, trying not to catch eye contact with any of the students in the room. 

You quickly swept your eyes around the room. There were eight students in the classroom, three girls and five boys. They looked rather uninterested. You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Lina, who continued her argument. 

"Y/N will be our model today. Please be nice to her, she has never done this before. Today we'll take care of the upper body. Your task is to reproduce Y/N's torso and breasts. We sketch from the neck until we reach this point." Lina showed them exactly how much to sketch. "Y/N honey, take off your top and bra and sit on the stool. Do any of you have any questions?" 

The students did not answer Lina's question. You, on the other hand, with slightly trembling hands, undressed from the waist up and sat on the stool. Your friend even gave you a pillow to make you more comfortable. 

"Great, push your breasts out a little more and..." Lina began to correct your positioning. "Perfect! Okay darlings, you can begin." 

The group of students got down to sketching. You swept your eyes around the room. Everyone was focused to make the best possible representation of your body. Lina walked among the students and glanced at their progress. 

Time passed quickly. The students worked in silence. None of them had spoken a word since they entered the room. They were focused on the task at hand. 

One of the men present in the room caught your attention. You had never seen such a handsome man before. He had noble features, his hair was slightly longer and black. He had an earring under his eyebrow, and a black leather jacket perfectly framed his body. 

You swallowed your saliva. The man looked like a prince, and there was plenty of finesse and elegance in his movements. You honestly couldn't take your eyes off him. There was something about him that attracted you to him, something magnetic that you could not describe in words. 

The man in question noticed your gaze. It was as if he sensed that you were looking at him. He raised his gaze slightly, looking deeply into your eyes, and gently raised his eyebrow. You felt a blush appear on your face and your throat suddenly became dry. A strange feeling welled up in your lower abdomen as he smiled slightly and winked at you. 

"All right my dears. Let's take a break for a while." Lina suddenly announced, breaking the silence that had prevailed. "Let's let Y/N stretch her legs.... Come back here in 15 minutes and we'll continue." 

The students put down their sketches and began to leave the room for the break, and Lina handed you a sweatshirt to cover yourself. She smiled warmly at you in the process. 

"Well? Not so bad, huh?" She asked. 

"It's fine... Although I was stressed." You replied and took a sip of water. "Your students aren't very talkative, are they?" 

"As artists are." 

"I thought there would be more students in the room." You said, sipping water again. 

"Nah, I have a small group. But they are the best of the best.... You could say it's such a VIP class." Lina laughed. "You know, it's an extra class for the more ambitious ones." 

"Oh, now I understand..." You nodded, and your thoughts fled to the mysterious boy with an earring under his eyebrow. 

"Would you like to take a peek at the sketches? The students really sketched your body very well..." Lina took one sketchbook in her hand, belonging to the boy you were looking at. "Oh look, Hyunjin did it the best. That boy can perfectly render every detail.... He's my top-of-the-class student." She smiled proudly. So the boy's name was Hyunjin. 

"Wow... This is amazing." You said, sincerely impressed by the way Hyunjin rendered all the details. He even sketched the delicate birthmark you had under your breast. 

"Right?" Lina asked. "If you ask Hyunjin nicely, he might give you his sketch..." She winked. "He has a real talent, and by the way he looks like Aphrodite herself conceived him. He could be a model, but there's a rule at the university that students can't pose, which is a shame..." She sighed quietly. "I myself sometimes wish I could see..." 

"Lina! This is your student..." reprimanded your friend. 

"I know, that's why I leave some things only in dreams." She laughed quietly. "Hungry? I'll get you something to eat." As she said, so she did, quickly leaving the room.

You sighed softly and your stomach growled. Not eating breakfast before leaving was a mistake. You glanced at your watch. The break was slowly coming to an end and your friend had not yet returned with the promised food. In turn, students slowly began to return to the room.

"Hungry?" You suddenly heard a voice behind you. You turned to look at the owner. In front of you stood Hyunjin, who was a head taller than you. He smiled slightly and handed you a banana. "Eat... you've got another 2.5 hours of sitting ahead of you."

“T-Thank you…” You said, taking the banana from him and peeling it right away.

"You welcome... I wanted to say that you have really beautiful breasts." He said, looking you straight in the eye. "I can't wait for the next few days to see the rest."

"Oh thank you?" You replied slightly confused and blushed slightly.

"Nothing." Hyunjin winked at you. 

"Okay, guys! We can get back to work!" Lina called as she entered the room. "Y/N, please sit down the same way you sat before. Perfect! Remember, there are 2.5 hours left until the end of time. At the end of the day, you should have at least five sketches."

Everyone went back to work. The banana Hyunjin gave you, calmed your stomach for a while. You sighed quietly, sitting half-naked on the stool. Honestly, you were counting down the minutes until the end. 

Every now and then you found yourself staring at Hyunjin, who was working intently on the sketches of your body. You couldn't take your eyes off him. He was too handsome to resist. You didn't even feel that time had passed quickly. 

Lina announced the end of class and let you get dressed. Students slowly began to file out of the room. You watched them leave, saying a quiet 'goodbye'. Your friend approached you after everyone else had left the room."You were great today." She grinned. 

"I'm taking you to dinner, come on! And mentally prepare for tomorrow. We'll show them a little more... Can you handle it?"

"Yes, I think I can... Although I don't know if I want to show them everything." You started.

"Well, tomorrow's plan is legs... you can have a thong, we'll move on to the private parts at the end of the week, and next week we'll have poses... Well, I think you should be able to handle everything easily." Lina continued.

“Mhm, if you say so…” You muttered. The prospect of showing your private parts to students didn't make you feel optimistic, but when you thought about Hyunjin, it didn't sound so bad either...

—-------------------

The week flew by very quickly. The students tried to accurately portray all the details of your body on paper. On Friday, the last day of the first week, there was a class on sketching 'private body parts', as Lina called it. And that meant you had to show your vagina. 

The thought of this did not fill you with any optimism at all. You didn't want to expose yourself so much in front of the students, but Lina forced it on you. To be fair, she did suggest that she would pay you more for the day, so with a slight hesitation you agreed. 

You sat in the room wrapped only in a silk dressing gown and waited for the class to start. Your friend went to talk to the dean, leaving you alone. You sighed quietly and stuck your gaze into your phone, trying to calm your thoughts. 

Hyunjin entered the room, but you were so busy with your social media that you didn't notice his presence. The boy walked over to his stand and unpacked all the necessary items before turning towards you. 

"Hi pretty." He said in a velvety voice, snapping you out of your activity. "What are you going to show us today?" He asked and winked slightly. 

"Ekhm... Private parts." You replied feeling a little intimidated, looking up at him. 

"And you're convinced about that?" He asked. "You look confused and scared." 

"Well, it's certainly quite a step out of my comfort zone.... But I can't back down now." You answered honestly. 

"I understand... If it's any comfort to you, I'll try to replicate everything very accurately." He smiled.

"Thanks I guess..." She grunted. "I've seen your work before. You have great talent," he said. 

"Thank you, beautiful." He smiled warmly at you. "But the credit goes to the model I sketch." He winked, and a blush appeared on your cheeks. "It suits you this colour, you know? I wish I could paint a picture of you. In a red see-through nightgown.... What do you think?" 

"A painting?" You blinked, not expecting such a proposal. "I don't know..." 

"I have to create a portfolio for the final exam.... I've already painted three paintings of my friends, but I still have one left. And you are beautiful. I'll pay." He replied, watching your reaction. 

"I have to think about it..." You replied, but didn't finish the sentence because he walked in on you in mid-word. 

"I understand." He replied and wrote something down on a piece of paper. " Here, this is my phone number, if you make a decision, just text me..." He handed you a small piece of paper with the number on it. "Just don't make me wait too long for an answer, lovely." 

"R-right." You replied and hid his number in a safe place. 

The rest of the students entered the room, along with your friend, who smiled broadly at you. She welcomed the students and gave them the guidelines for the assignment. 

"Well Y/N. Sit with your hands behind your back and push your chest forward a little too. And spread your legs..." She said to you and helped you adjust your position. "My dears, you may begin. "

Sitting apart in front of a group of people has not been one of the most comfortable activities in your life. However, you didn't pay much attention to it yourself. Your thoughts were consumed with Hyunjin's proposal. Should you accept it? He said he would pay, and so far there was no indication that you would find a job.... 

You decided to give it a chance and agree to his proposal. After all, it's just another day's work as a "model." You survived a whole week in front of students, you'll survive being alone with Hyunjin too. 

Before you knew it, the class was over and the students had left the room, and you were free to get dressed. Lina was still talking to individuals while you typed Hyunjin's number into your phone. You made up your mind and as soon as he left the room, you texted him. 

[Y/N]

Ok. I agree.... When do you want to do it? ~ Y/N

[Hyunjin] 

Wonderful news sweetheart! Let's meet tomorrow evening at my place. Remember, red nightgown 😘

 He wrote back almost immediately. You swallowed your saliva. What are you actually doing? 

—-------------------

The next day you went to the address Hyunjin sent you in a text message. You were stressed. You didn't know what it should look like or how long it would take. Your body trembled and your mind wandered into dangerous territory. You felt both apprehension and excitement about the whole situation. 

You stood in front of the door of his apartment. You took a few deep breaths and knocked gently. You waited, listening for the sound of footsteps. After a while, the young man opened the door for you and let you in with a smile. 

"I'm glad you agreed." He said, taking over your coat from you. "Make yourself comfortable... Would you like something to drink before we start? Coffee? Tea? Water? Maybe wine?" 

"Water is enough... Although I won't actually despise wine either." You replied and timidly entered his living room. 

The room was large, definitely bigger than your friend's entire apartment. Not surprising, after all, Hyunjin lived in one of the more expensive neighbourhoods in your city. The white leather furniture, laced with gold accessories, perfectly matched the aura that this man was producing. Everything seemed truly royal. 

"Wow." You gasped in awe. 

"Do you like it? My parents made sure I was comfortable in the city.... Would you like a tour of the apartment?" He asked, handing you a glass of red wine. 

"I'd love to... If I can, of course." You accepted the drink from him and took a sip. 

The boy showed you his entire apartment. He had three bedrooms, but he had transformed one into a studio, and the other was used as a dressing room. 

"Okay, ready for us to start?" He asked as you walked through the apartment.

"I think so." You replied hesitantly.

"Great!" He smiled broadly. "Come on, I'll paint you in the studio... I'll get everything ready and you can go and change in the bathroom. Leave when you're ready. It'll take me a while to paint though... It'll take all weekend, actually. But like I said, I'll pay. $1000 is enough?"

"H-how much?" You were stunned when you heard the amount he gave.

“If it's not enough, just tell me…” He replied, watching you.

"Not enough? I didn't expect it to be so much..." You started. "It's too much…"

"Hmm... I don't think so." He shrugged. "We'll talk about it later... You can go change in the bathroom now and I'll set everything ready here." He said, unimpressed.

“Sure…” You replied and headed to the bathroom.  $1000 to pose? You were shocked. How much money does this young man actually have? 

After a few minutes you were ready. You looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a slightly see-through red nightgown that hugged your body perfectly and highlighted all your curves. You decided to leave your hair down, but you put a small decoration in it. You fixed your delicate makeup and went out to Hyunjin.

"Wow, you look amazing." He said as soon as he noticed you. "Like I said, this colour suits you very well."

"Thank you." You replied, slightly embarrassed.

"Okay, you can lie down." He pointed to a small sofa in the center of the room. "I would like you to lie down comfortably, and if you want to sleep, just close your eyes. The only thing that matters is that you stay in the position I put you in."

“Sure, I can do it…” You replied and followed his directions. You settled into a comfortable position on the sofa and Hyunjin stood over you. He leaned down gently and positioned your body. His touch was pleasant. You felt the nice warmth radiating from his body.

"Perfect." He said and smiled contentedly. "Okay, let's get started. If you want a break then say so." 

Hyunjin began to paint. You lay there without moving, watching his every move. You began to wonder how it was that your life had brought you to the point where you were. 

Hyunjin painted in concentration, and there was silence between the two of you. You didn't seem to mind. You felt your eyelids become heavy and you didn't even know when you fell asleep. 

You woke up after some time and stretched slightly. It was already twilight outside. You looked around the room you were in. Hyunjin was nowhere to be found. You stood up and stretched your stagnant body again. You were curious to see how Hyunjin's progress was going, but before you could get closer to the painting, the door of the room opened. 

"Oh, you're awake already." Hyunjin smiled slightly. "Hungry? Come, I've prepared dinner." 

Only when the boy mentioned food did you feel that you were actually hungry. You followed him into the kitchen, where delicious smells were coming from. 

"You are handsome, you paint and you cook. Is there anything you can't do?" You asked, sitting down at the table. Hyunjin glanced at you laughing. 

"Thank you for the compliment, beautiful." He winked, at which you blushed. He served you dinner and you began to eat. 

"Enough with the painting for today, it's late." Hyunjin said. "If you want, you can stay the night.... We'll start again first thing tomorrow morning anyway." 

"I don't want to get..." You started. 

"But that's not up for discussion." He interrupted you in mid-sentence. "It's late, I don't want you to go home when it's dark outside.... I'll prepare a bed for you." 

"Hyunjin, but really..." You started again but his one look left you unsure what to say next. "Okay. I'll stay the night." 

"Great." He smiled at you. "Come on, I'll give you something to sleep on..." 

" You know, after all, I can sleep in what I'm wearing." You replied while watching him. 

"Believe me, if you stay in this red nightgown, I won't hold back."  He replied with full seriousness. 

"Oh..." You made a sound. " All right..." 

You followed him to his dressing room, which occupied the other room. Hyunjin walked over to a cabinet and pulled out an oversized hoodie and handed it to you. "It should fit." He smiled slightly. 

"Thank you." You replied with a slight smile. "I'll take a shower." 

Hyunjin nodded and you parted the rooms. You went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, and a pleasant feeling once again settled in your lower abdomen. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was in the bedroom preparing a place for you to sleep. 

After some time, you came out of the bathroom in his hoodie. You could smell his perfume lingering on his clothes. You smiled slightly, to yourself. His scent was so soothing. 

"Do you like the smell?" You suddenly heard his voice behind you, at which you jumped slightly. 

"Y-yes." You stuttered, at which the boy smiled. 

"I have to say, no matter what you're wearing, you're every bit as beautiful." He said, walking closer to you. "I like you Y/N." 

"Thank you, I guess..." You took a gentle step back unsure of where this conversation was leading. 

"When I say I like you, I really mean it." Hyunjin leaned slightly over you and brushed lightly against your waist. You swallowed your saliva as you looked straight into his eyes, your back resting against the wall. Hyunjin was leaning with his hand right next to your head and his body was leaning against yours. You bit your lip slightly and gently moved your legs, feeling yourself slowly getting wet. The situation you found yourself in was definitely not on your bingo card. 

"Hyunjin, we don't..." You began, trying to keep up any semblance of a smile yet. However, his closeness and magnetic scent were too tempting to resist. 

"Shhhsh." The boy moved his thumb over your swollen lips. "You don't even realise how sexy you look right now." He whispered in your ear while biting your earlobe, which was met with a quiet sigh that left your lips. You felt his gentle smile as he moved closer to your neck and gently moved his velvety lips across it. "You like it." He stated, observing your reaction to his touch. "I wonder if you'll like this too." He added and moved his hands a little lower, slipping them under the hoodie. 

"Hyunjin, it's not..." You started, but feeling his long fingers glide across your skin, leaving goosebumps on it, you were unable to control your senses. Hyunjin's lips attacked your neck more boldly, and you tilted your head further back so he could have better access. 

Hyunjin glided his lips along your neck looking for weak spots, and once he found them, he immediately started leaving red hickeys in those spots, which was met with your moans of approval. 

You rested your hands on his torso, and the young man delicately lifted you up, grabbing your buttocks. You put your legs around his waist as his lips found their way right to yours. 

"I want you." He whispered, brushing his lips lightly against yours. "And I know you want me too. Say it." 

"Please." You said quietly. 

"You're asking? For what?" He asked backing away slightly which was met with your disapproval. 

"Kiss me, please." You moaned pleadingly. Hyunjin smiled at you and pressed his lips into yours. His kiss was firm and forceful, but that's what you liked best. You moaned blissfully into his mouth as he grabbed your buttocks tighter. Hyunjin took this as a sign of approval and carried you to his bedroom. 

Hyunjin put you on the bed immediately, finding himself above you. His knee came between your legs pressing lightly on your spot. He leaned over a little more and cupped your hoodie with his hands. 

"You are phenomenal." He said, watching you. His hands moved over every bare patch of your body, exploring every inch of it. Following his hands, Hyunjin placed you on the bed immediately finding himself over you. His knee came between your legs pressing lightly on your spot. He leaned over a little more and cupped your hoodie with his hands. His hands moved over every bare patch of your body, exploring every inch of it. His hands were followed by his lips, which also explored your body. He left wet footprints in his path, interspersed with huge hickeys. 

You moaned blissfully when his lips found their way to your lower abdomen. You felt his smile against your skin. Hyunjin gently spread your legs and moved his hand over your core. Your reaction encouraged him to continue. 

He bit lightly on the inside of your thighs, which was met with your slight jump. His strong hands, however, held your body as his mouth took up your pussy, embracing it completely. 

You moaned loudly and slid your hand into his hair. You pulled his hair gently as his tongue penetrated your insides, melting with pleasure. 

Hyunjin drove you to pleasure, and your body arched in an accompaniment of moans. The young man licked and returned his lips to your mouth, kissing you. You immediately responded to his kiss, hungry for his velvety lips. 

Your hands moved over his body. You wanted to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. Hyunjin laughed quietly. 

"So eager, huh? Patience darling, be good and you'll get what you deserve." He said amused and helped you undress himself. Once he was standing naked, you moved your hands over his penis, which was already ready for use. "I don't have condoms..." The boy began. 

" Doesn't matter, I want to feel you, now, right now, please!" You moaned needily. 

"I like the way you are asking." He snarled quietly and slid his full length into you. 

"Oh yes!" You whined loudly and moved your hands down his back as he began to move. 

His movements became faster and less precise. He went deep, perfectly attacking your g-spot. Your and his moans filled the entire room.

"Hyunjin! I…" You started digging your nails into his soft skin.

"Come on baby, cum for me." He groaned loudly. "Fuck!"

"I'm cumming!" You moaned loudly, clenching around him. 

A few seconds later, you felt warmth spreading through your insides. Hyunjin collapsed on top of you after a moment, his head resting between your full breasts. You were both breathing heavily.

“You are my muse." He murmured after a while. "Be my muse forever?"

"With pure pleasure." You replied quietly, gently stroking his back, making him smile.

"You know what? You are the FINE art." He said. "My muse."

And After an eventful night, you both fell asleep cuddling together.

-> Masterlist

[eviesqueezie]

he could’ve left, gone to college and got a degree. got a job and made it out and away from tulsa, could’ve been the one wearing plaid shirts and madras.

but he didn’t, he stayed right where he was. sat on his dad’s recliner, head in hands.

because he couldn’t leave them, not like this. he couldn’t leave ponyboy whose nights are haunted with dreams that make him thrash and scream, who’s nightmares would probably get worse after all this is over. he couldn’t leave sodapop, tears in his eyes every damn day that can never seem to fall. not when darry’s looking, anyways

he was barely an adult, goddammit. barely even lived. all he had to count for the experience of life was his childhood and some wasted teenage years that consisted of a fake personality that earned him awards and a place on the football team.

and god, that letterman jacket. the one his pa had saved up for weeks to get, the one with his name sewed on the back in fancy yellow string. the jacket that matched the rest of the team’s, he was finally one of them. no matter the thick layer of grease in his hair that was slowly dwindling, he was one of them.

daily drives around the soc-y part of town in a blue mustang, one too many people shoved into the backseat. paul always saved him shotgun, so that he could stick his head out the window and breathe in the thick air that seemed so much clearer than the air on the east side. paul knew him, knew him so well. too well. he was the only one of the group who knew that there was mould growing in his bathroom, that there were chips and cracks in the wallpaper of his house. the only one who knew about the fist shaped hole in his bedroom wall.

he’d come for dinner one time, way back. he’d been real polite to his momma, shaken his pa’s hand. he didn’t stare at the walls, or trip over the shakily placed carpet- or turn his nose up at the childish drawings staining the walls, credits to ponyboy.

he’d high fived sodapop and showed ponyboy how to draw superman, saving some kids in his prized notebook. pony had never let darry, or even sodapop for that matter, write in that notebook.

darry wondered, distantly, what was in that notebook now. had pony filled it all up with drawings and writings scribbled in a pencil, maybe some marker he’d found laying around the house? or was it empty, had he erased every word and every sketch? were paul’s drawings still in there?

he lifted his head, eyeing his brothers’ shared room’s door, listening closely for any sign of trouble on ponyboy’s part.

he stayed out there all night, thinking. imagining what he could’ve done differently, what he could’ve changed to make this situation any better.

there were flashes in his mind, of college courses and more letterman jackets. of a mustang of his own, colourful shirts lining his closet.

but those flashes were outshined by the pictures of his brothers, shoved into two separate boys homes. he pictured sodapop, waiting for the moment he turned eighteen so that he could bring his kid brother home. shoot, he wouldn’t do a good job.

that’s why, he didn’t mind so much. sure, he wished this didn’t happen. that college and a house far far away were still in reach. maybe when ponyboy graduated, when he was an adult, just like him, it’d be an option. but for now, he could wait. he could take care of those boys like they were his own, because they basically were now.

his letterman was shoved deep into his wardrobe, gathering dust and moths.

one day, he’ll put it on and it won’t hurt so much. wont burn like a searing pain, a switchblade to his throat or a burn to his back. it’ll feel like peace, like healing- like the white walls and perfect doors of a big house he’d finally have.

some day.

[ivy-elle]

Carry The Moon / Part 3

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: From first meetings to searching your voice in every room, how very intriguing you’ve become to him.

As a spirited adventurer, you’re used to a life of action and impulse, having little interest left for the world of data and deduction. But when you stumble upon a rare mineral, you find yourself drawn to the unexpected warm soul that resides within the logic-stricken researcher Xiangli Yao. And as your practical instincts clash with his world of science, sparks fly in more ways than one.

Part 1 ~~~ Part 2 ~~~ Part 3

When Xiangli Yao enters the Academy this morning, his eyes instinctively search for your presence. Perhaps he’ll catch a glimpse of you in the archives or hear the trace of your voice echoing somewhere in the hallways.

He has noticed your reluctance towards the art of science, and perhaps even the Academy as such. And yet, he finds it – you - amusing, in a way it’s impossible for him to deny. Your presence, along with your effortless humour has brought a refreshing change to his usual structured days and the rigid atmosphere of the Academy.

With one last subtle glance around the Academy’s halls – gathered with people who aren’t you – a certain strange sense of disappointment settles over him, and thus his day goes on in its usual rhythm.

---

Your sole reason for returning to the Academy is to ask Xiangli Yao about the data logs he sent you yesterday morning.

But the moment you reach the archives in the late afternoon, you stop dead in your tracks as you notice the stuffed crowd of people. And up there on the pedestal? None other than Xiangli Yao himself.

Wait, he’s a teacher? Or professor. Or whatever else his fancy title is.

You haven’t been aware. Then again, with his rank and brainpower, it’d be a waste not to have him teach other smarties.

And it’s quiet. Like seriously dead quiet for a class. You can hear the sound of your shoes scuffing the polished floor, that’s how hard everyone is clinging to his every word.

Great.

With no way out that wouldn’t cause a fuss, you’re stuck here for the rest of the lecture. At least you’ve found refuge in the farthest corner of the room, where you can at least breathe normally.

Then your eyes settle on Yao. And as much as you’ve made fun of the zombie-like scholars around you, your words come back to bite your ass the second you start listening to him. It isn’t… it’s not quite what he’s teaching – something about auto-mechanics, or whatever. But it is more the way he is drawing you in. Drawing every one in. An older guy next to you is fervently writing along in his little notebook, not daring to miss a word that leaves Yao’s mouth.

Damn it, he’s good. For a science guy.

He manages to pull the crowd into his world, making it seem like he genuinely cares about the publicum. Which, knowing what you’ve learned about him so far, he most likely does.

Xiangli Yao is standing next to the blackboard, gesturing to a few sketches to emphasize his explanations. “Many times, in your careers, you will find yourself at a dead-end, caught between what seems possible and what feels just beyond reach.”

He circles a particular sketch and crosses out another one. “It is inevitable to face the limits of your knowledge, and research won’t always bring you forward.”

His gaze sweeps across the room, ensuring he makes eye contact with as many students as possible. Then his eyes find a familiar face among the crowd of listeners.

Your eyes meet and you could’ve sworn his expression softens for a second.

“But sometimes,” he continues still holding your gaze, “you will only bypass that blockage with enough dedication, courage and of course a little bit of madness.”

An amused smirk tugs at your lips, knowing full well the subtle nod in his words was directed at you.

Once the lesson has ended, quite the crowd of students immediately gathers around him and starts swarming him with questions and requests for further explanations.

You remain standing a little stand-off-fish-like in your little corner, waiting for him to handle his affairs. Heavens, you hate that feeling of being crammed into a room, even if ‘s a whole-ass lecture hall.

“Unauthorised personnel are not permitted to attend or observe lessons.”

Too caught up in your thoughts, it takes you a minute to realize the man is addressing you. You blink, turning to him. “Hm?”

“These lessons could contain sensitive information or discussions, not yet approved for public dissemination. Please remain outside.”

You take a step back, eyes falling to the name card pinned on his chest that reads Shiyan. But it’s the monocle and his air superiority that outs him as a clearly pompous ass.

There you go. A true member of the Academy. You’ve already started to get worried that Xiangli Yao is messing up your statistics with his unforeseen kindness and all.

You drag your gaze back up to Shiyan’s eyes, which are fixed on you with thinly veiled contempt.

You lift your chin slightly, meeting his stare. “I’m here on commission. Do you want my pass?” You don’t exactly have a pass – just that commission from Mortefi a few days ago. But that should do its job if you use the right words.

But Shiyan, too, is persistent. “I’m sorry, but I must still ask you to wait outside until authorized personnel will retrieve you. This room is not for the common folk.”

Common folk, my ass. What is this? You huff at his arrogance. “This is basically a library. I’m not here to steal your precious knowledge.”

“Mortefi will not be pleased to have a-“

But whatever subtle insult he is about to throw at you next, the words get stuck in his throat.

“Shiyan,” Xiangli Yao’s voice is gentle, but firm. “Thank you for your concern, but y/n is authorized to be here. They are my partner in a project we’re conducting.”

You look towards Yao, grateful for his interference, otherwise this might have ended up slightly awkward. His eyes find their way to you for a moment, before focusing back on his colleague.

Shiyanhesitates, clearly reluctant to have you stroll around his holy Academy halls, but in the end, he complies with a stiff incline of his head. “Please, next time, ensure your guests wait outside the lecture hall, Mr. Xiangli.”

Yao nods in return, and Shiyan finally leaves.

Tipping your head back against the wall, you regard Yao with a blissful expression “Alright, partner. Are you free of duty now?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, making some dimples appear as he turns to you. “Yes. I’m all yours now.”

“Oh, I’m afraid, you shouldn’t say those things, pretty boy.”

---

“Speaking of,” you exclaim a little while later, turning around and leaning back against the counter in his workshop. “I noticed some discrepancies in your notes to what I saw at the Sea of Flames.”

Xiangli Yao leans forward in his seat. “Discrepancies? Of what sort?”

“In your reports, you’ve mentioned the blue kind of Ardores Lapis. But when I went back yesterday morning, I found crystals in different colours. Similar structure, but definitely not the same. I could be wrong of course, and it might be a different species altogether. But… does that ring any bells?”

“A new species?” Yao’s brows furrow in thought. “Huh, I haven’t come across that specific aspect in any of my research. If that's true and there are variations of the crystal…”

His expression shifts into one you’ve become familiar with over these past days. Zoning out, mentally connecting dots, running through the endless data the man has stored in that brain of his. Clearly, the revelation of anomalies has left him quite intrigued.

You let him pounder for a bit, your gaze idly wandering across his workshop. The high ceilings, with lamps hanging low, cast the room with a bluish glow. It should feel stifling, but somehow, you’re rather hit with an unexpected wave of calmness instead.

“Could I ask you for yet another favour?”

You turn to meet his eyes. “Damn, you’re about to be the main contributor to this week’s salary,” you joke. Sort of… “Shoot, prof.”

“Would you allow me to join you on yet another trip to the Sea of Flames?”

You can’t help but raise a sceptical eyebrow. “Um… sure. But as you’ve noted, it’s not exactly an all-sunshine and rainbow place. There are a lot of TDs gathering there.”

“Are you questioning my combat abilities?” He tilts his head and smiles, and the way his eyes look at you makes your heart skip a beat. “I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you, my skills as a resonator and fighter won’t weigh you down. I promise. Besides, I'd like to test out the new update I added to my mecha arm in the field.”

Your gaze flickers to his prosthetic arm, noticing the resonator insignia there for the first time. A true wonder of the stars.

“Very well. But if I have to save your ass, I’m doubling my fee.”

“Deal.”

Being more of a lone wolf, you’re not exactly used to having someone join you on missions - let alone in a fight. And a part of you dreads to be responsible not just for your own life, but also for the life of the damn protégée science guy with eyes deeper than the universe.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated

Part 1 ~~~ Part 2 ~~~ Part 3 ~~~ (Next Part coming soon)

[roryacker]

Tried out a new textured brush and immediately went overboard with the darkness during the sketching phase.

At this point I'm mostly making art for an excuse to write I will not lie. I mean I do like drawing this design it is fun but I get to write something and my brain is so happy it's like a little reward

Simon has it lucky, all things considered. Instead of being put down by an angry man with a rifle or mauled by a pack of wolfhounds, he was picked up and dragged into a home, albeit an angry, snapping mass of fur and blood. He was given something akin to a bed, he was given food and water and had the wound regularly cleaned- Johnny had even tried to brush his fur a couple times, although Simon had simply bared his teeth and growled in return, not keen on sitting still for the human too long. He was a beast- a trapped one at that, left with nothing to do but wander the home while he was stuck in this form. He couldn't afford to be so calm.

He felt a little less anxious when Johnny was gone, left with the older man to roam the town looking for whatever it was that seemed to escape them every time. Then he was able to shift back for a bit- hide out under Johnny's bed until he hears the door open and gets right back to the injured dog act.

He could leave now, technically- monsters like him, they heal fast. He doesn't need to waste the man's time. But as he crawls back out and onto the pile of blankets, one again neatly arranged back into something loosely resembling a dog bed after Simon had messed it up twitching and writhing in his sleep, he can smell something new on the man, sharp and spicy and distinctly herbal- and a greedy, howling part of Simon's mind tells him to stay there and wait until he gets better. Wait until the wolfhunt ends.

So he lays there on his side and forces his jaw tight as Johnny shovels medicine down his throat, trying to keep him from getting an infection as Simon remains as uncooperative as ever, making the man pry his jaws open just to get the unsavory mixture into his mouth. It's not the worst, really, he's just being difficult so Johnny doesn't get attached or something of the sort.

He knows how humans are. Back when he was still a pup he'd sneak into town behind the houses where he could tell kids lived and pout and whine outside so they'd give him scraps of their dinner- until he went feral for a night and broke into a coop, of course. Then the wolfhunts started, the childish tales of a big puppy with a skull face that adults thought were just innocent, wild imaginations turning very real.

Simon won't rely on humans again. Won't let Johnny get attached. He's just biding his time, that's all. It's no good to run from hunters and hounds with a limp, his eye being all the proof he needs not to try that again. It'll heal, but there's no harm in letting it heal a little faster this time.

He bares his teeth and snarls when the human's hand wanders to pat him lightly on the flank once the medicine's down, nose scrunching at the praise that falls from his mouth anyways.

Simon hates it when they treat him like one of their harmless little dogs.

It continues on like that for a long while, then Johnny makes a mistake. The older man startles him this time, early in the morning, bursting into the house without warning and forcing Johnny to all but shove Simon under the bed. They leave in a hurry, though they both smell excited under Johnny's stress and panic- and Johnny leaves the door unlocked and cracked open slightly. Simon wanders into the entryway to sniff at it for a long while.

He could leave. Slip out and sneak away while the sky's still golden. He wouldn't be that easy to spot, and the house is pretty far off.

But he glances back at the bandages covering his leg- proper bandages, now- and huffs, turning right back around and hopping up onto the man's bed just to laze around on it. The floor is hard, and frankly cold, and if Johnny's noticed the black-and-white fur on his mattress he hasn't made it obvious yet.

He's not healed just yet, he reasons. No point in leaving now. It's not like he was trapped before.

When Johnny gets home, he can smell the stress rise again- only to collapse into relief when he finds Simon laid out on the bed. He doesn't even seem to care that the wolf is intruding on his space, just sighing and reaching out to scratch gently at his side, muttering something Simon can't be bothered to try and understand, for now. He grunts lowly, waiting until the man starts to try and get into bed to hop off and back into his blankets, curling up to rest there instead.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writer on Writing: Italo Calvino

Italo Calvino:

A fine thing it is to have a distant friend who writes long letters full of drivel and to be able to reply to him with equally lengthy letters full of drivel.

The poet turns in on himself, tries to pin down what he has seen and felt, then pulls it out so that others can understand it. But I can’t understand these things: these discourses about the ego and the non-ego I leave to you. Yes, I understand, there’s the struggle to express the inexpressible, typical of modern art, and these are all fine things, but I …

I’m a regular guy, I like well-defined outlines, I’m old-fashioned, bourgeois. My stories are full of facts, they have a beginning and an end. For that reason they will never be able to find success with the critics, nor occupy a place in contemporary literature. I write poetry when I have a thought that I absolutely have to bring out, I write to give vent to my feelings and I write using rhyme because I like it, tum-tetum tumtetum tum te-tum, because I’ve got no ear, and poetry without rhyme or meter seems like soup without salt, and I write (mock me, you crowds! Make me a figure of public scorn!) I write … sonnets … and writing sonnets is boring, you have to find rhymes, you have to write hendecasyllables so after a while I get bored and my drawer is overflowing with unfinished short poems.

I’m still too ignorant to write articles and as for my output of short stories, a famous summer of overproduction has been followed by years of crisis. … All the ideas currently in my head are subject to a strange phenomenon: while I work on them and perfect them continuously from the philosophical point of view, they stay rudimentary and barely sketched on the dramatic and artistic side. In my creativity thought has the upper hand over imagination.

When you’re working you get buried, drowned under things. You’ve no more friends nor art. Only when you’ve an evening or afternoon free can you roam the streets or court a girl. That’s all. In short, working is pointless. I mean, from the point of view of education. But it’s essential. I cannot — and I don’t want to — live the writer’s life, that is to say write for a living. The novel I was writing, which for months and months had sucked all my blood (because, stubborn as I am, I was determined to finish it even though I no longer felt it was going anywhere), is dead, awful, full of wonderful clever things but desperately bad, forced, it’ll never work and I must not finish it. And I must not write for some time now otherwise I’d make more mistakes. I hope that Einaudi will publish my short stories eventually, they’re the only thing I believe in and which I believe are useful.

For seven or eight months now I’ve been mucking about with a novel that I began in a moment of weakness and it’s turning out to be very bad, causing me to waste lots of my time. But at least it’ll get rid of my desire to write novels for four or five years, which is what I dream of doing, and will allow me to study kind of seriously and learn to write decently.

To write well about the elegant world you have to know it and experience it to the depths of your being just as Proust, Radiguet and Fitzgerald did: what matters is not whether you love it or hate it, but only to be quite clear about your position regarding it.

My problem today is how to escape from the limits of these books, from this definition of me as a writer of adventures, fairy-tales, and fun, in which I can’t express myself or realize myself to the full.

The fact is that I already feel I am a prisoner of a kind of style and it is essential that I escape from it at all costs: I’m now trying to write a totally different book, but it’s damned difficult; I’m trying to break up the rhythms, the echoes which I feel the sentences I write eventually slide into, as into pre-existing molds, I try to see facts and things and people in the round instead of being drawn in colors that have no shading. For that reason the book I’m going to write interests me infinitely more than the other one.

One should never have taboos about the tools we use, that as long as the thought or images or style one wants to put forward do not become deformed by the medium, one must on the contrary try to make use of the most powerful and most efficient of those tools.

You can imagine how slowly my fictional output has been going this summer, you who know how much labor, dissatisfaction, irritability, uncertainty this work costs … However — and this is the point — it is worth it. Or rather: one does not ask if it’s worth it.

We are people, there is no doubt, who exist solely insofar as we write, otherwise we don’t exist at all. Even if we did not have a single reader any more, we would have to write; and this not because ours can be a solitary job, on the contrary it is a dialog we take part in when we write, a common discourse, but this dialog can still always be supposed to be taking place with authors of the past, with authors we love and whose discourse we are forcing ourselves to develop, or else with those still to come, those we want through our writing to configure in one particular way rather than another. I am exaggerating: heaven help those who write without being read; for that reason there are too many people writing today and one cannot ask for indulgence for someone who has little to say, and one cannot allow trade-union or corporate sympathies.

Even more annoying are those who theorize that the novel has to be like this or like that, that one must write the novel, etc. Let them go to hell! How much energy is wasted in Italy in trying to write the novel that obeys all the rules. The energy might have been useful to provide us with more modest, more genuine things, that had less pretensions: short stories, memoirs, notes, testimonials, or at any rate books that are open, without a preconceived plan.

Personally, I believe in fiction because the stories I like are those with a beginning and an end. I try to write them as they best come to me, depending on what I have to say. We are in a period when in literature and especially in fiction one can do anything, absolutely anything, and all styles and methods coexist. What the public (and also the critics) require are books (“open” novels) that are rich in substance, density, tension.

As a young man my aspiration was to become a “minor writer.” (Because it was always those that are called “minor” that I liked most and to whom I felt closest.) But this was already a flawed criterion because it presupposes that “major” writers exist. Basically, I am convinced that not only are there no “major” or “minor” writers, but writers themselves do not exist — or at least they do not count for much.

I found this letter that I had started to write yesterday evening and I reread it with interest. Dammit, what a lot of drivel I managed to write! In the end it’s impossible to understand anything in it. But better that way: the less one understands the more posterity will appreciate my profundity of thought. In fact, let me say: POSTERITY IS STUPID Think how annoyed they’ll be when they read that!

[alexthebordercollie]

A Rose with Too Many Thorns

“Look, you’re a lovely person but- I know this is hard to hear- it’s not you, it’s me-” Ford was rehearsing for an uncomfortable but inevitable conversation. “No, that's too cliche.” He huffed as he tried to find the right words. He'd been putting it off for too long.

This affair had gone on for several weeks now. It seemed wonderful at first but the magic was wearing off and the reality of the situation finally setting in. When first Stanford met Destiny he was utterly enraptured. Captivated by her beauty and struck with this indescribable ecstasy he didn’t know he could feel. Ford had never been in love before. At least he didn’t think he had. This, this was love, it had to be… or so he thought.

When he’d returned home that day after their first encounter he found himself returning to his journal to write his entry alongside the drawing he had made of her. Looking at the illustration again she didn’t seem quite so attractive. She looked fine. Conventionally pretty, he supposed, but something wasn’t clicking. He assumed at the time perhaps it was a weakness of his own artistic skill. That he simply couldn’t capture her beauty in his drawing. Alas, he’d just have to try again. So he came back. He brought a dedicated sketchbook to try and draw her again. Madly scribbling sketch after sketch as they talked all through the day and long into the night. Cloistered off in the little glave Ford had discovered. Her voice was melodic and enchanting. He wanted nothing more than to be near her. Leaving was a trial but the only gentlemanly thing to do, it was only their second encounter after all.

Again he came home and flipped through his sketchbook. He felt nothing. Looking at his drawings. He couldn’t seem to bottle that magical feeling and bring it home with him. It was addictive. No one had ever made him feel this way before. So he kept coming back. He’d talk with her for hours, come home, and not remember a word of what was said. All he could remember was that feeling. All he wanted was to feel it again. So he brought a tape recorder. He wanted to try and keep track of their conversations. To pull himself through whatever fog made their encounters so blurry. She tried to talk him into staying the night that time. Running her fingers down his chest and slipping them under the hem of his shirt. Ford seriously considered her offer. It was… a very tempting offer…

Fortunately, the tendrils of doubt had already crept in by that point. In the moment something gnawed at him. Some empty sick feeling that was enough to wake him up. He politely declined her advances and returned home with his tape recorder.

Sitting down at his dining table, listening to the recording while eating a microwave dinner, he came to the only rational conclusion he could. He wasn’t in love. Just another victim of the siren’s song. Their conversation had been amicable. He asked her questions about her species that he'd completely forgotten the answers to and she kept playfully reminding him that he'd already asked those same questions before. It sounded like he was just making up excuses to talk. Hearing himself sound so dim-witted and bumbling was embarrassing. All she seemed interested in was learning about life on land. She never asked him about himself. She didn't seem to know him despite all their time together. He didn't really know her. That was it. They managed to waste hours talking about nothing. Hearing her voice Ford felt empty. She was fine. She said things that were nice to hear, but he didn’t feel that rush he did in person. On the upside, it was reassuring to know that the siren’s voice didn’t seem to possess the same anomalous effects on recording.

Ford never felt more alone than he did that night.

He laid in bed for hours listening to this beautiful woman sing him praises on recording. The soft intimate way she spoke. The affection and warmth in her voice. Things he wanted so desperately to hear from someone, only he knew meant nothing. From someone he knew meant nothing to him. He missed the way she made him feel when he visited. He wondered if he would ever feel that again. That feeling he always heard about in songs. That feeling he thought for years surely must have been embellished, surely it wasn’t real. No one could ever feel that hopelessly in love with anyone… could they?

Could he? 

By the next morning, any lingering longing had been successfully quelled. It was a fiction no matter how sweet. So what if he might never be capable of such feelings without some magic intervention? He'd rather know his emotions were his own. Besides, his infatuation with this creature had been distracting him from his work. She was wasting his time and he wasn’t keen on being dragged to the depths like so many sailors before him. No, logic had won out. He needed to end things with Destiny once and for all.

“Stanford there you are!” Destiny’s excitable trill jerked Ford from his trailing thoughts.

Ford had been so distracted trying to plan his speech that he hadn’t even noticed when his feet slowed to a halt near the edge of the glave. This little pond branched off the edge of the lake. Secluded by rounding cliff edges with only a narrow strip of flat ground lining the tributary this pond fed into. The space was lightly furnished with creature comforts Ford had brought Destiny on her request. She was lounging on a pool float when she saw Ford and dived into the water, swimming up the shore to greet him.

“What took you so long? I've been waiting all morning!” She whined. Patting the rock beside her. “Come and sit, take your boots off. Your feet must be so sore.”

Ford anxiously fidgeted with the specialized earplugs he'd put together. Beewax like the ones Odysseus made for his men, though Ford poked holes and lined them with a bit of cotton as well. The intention was still to hear. Distorting sound just enough that the anomalous effects of Destiny's voice would be mitigated. Ford hoped his slightly overgrown sideburns would be enough to hide them. He didn't know yet for sure if they would work. He still felt the heat rise to his cheeks as Destiny beckoned him over.

“Oh no, it's fine. These boots are excellent for hiking.” Ford dismissed, though he still came and sat where Destiny had offered. Pulling off his boots and socks and setting them aside. He rolled up his pant legs and dipped his feet in the water as he often did during their visits. Admittedly magic or not it still felt nice being so welcomed.

“So you claim.” Destiny challenged. “I'll be the judge of that.” She insisted haughtily. Placing a hand over her breasts. She was still wearing the t-shirt Ford had loaned her. Having been naked when first they met, Ford couldn't help covering her up with something. It was just one of his black undershirts. The oversized wet fabric clung to her frame and left little to the imagination, almost defeating the purpose. He really should have gone out and bought her a bathing suit top.

“Oh, so you're a podiatrist now?” Ford questioned playfully. Trying his best not to look at her nipples that were straining against the fabric. He wondered how comfortable that wet shirt could possibly be or if she wore it in an attempt to appeal more to him. Sirens fed on men's desires after all. They were masters of their craft. It was hard to ever know for sure how much of her behavior was genuine and what was part of her hunting strategy.

“I'll have you know I'm a walking expert. I know all about land fins.” Destiny huffed.

Ford couldn't help but snicker. Watching her puff up her cheeks indignantly. Admittedly it was cute. She wasn't the same enthralling beauty now that the spell was broken, but she was adorable, he would give her that.

Destiny scooped up one of his feet from the water and raised it up to inspect it. Jerking Ford's leg straight in the process and nearly knocking him back. Ford yelped and caught himself on his hands. He'd forgotten how much Destiny liked to touch his feet.

“Hmmmm…” Destiny mused thoughtfully as she probed the soft pads of his feet. Massaging sensitive meat with her fingers.

Ford flinched and squirmed as he tried desperately not to laugh. Tears welling up in his eyes. “Ho, oh no, Ha! Stop, Dee, please!” He giggled helplessly. Without her voice's power Destiny seemed harmless and friendly. He knew she wouldn't be happy about the impending breakup, but maybe they could still maintain an amicable relationship. Ford could still use a friend at the very least. 

“I think…” Destiny narrowed her eyes as she seemed to come to a verdict. “Your shoes are acceptable.” She conceded.

“Well, I'm glad they passed your quality assurance check.” Ford laughed. 

“Of course. I have to make sure you're taking care of your precious tootsies.” Destiny chirped. The baby talk made Ford deeply uncomfortable now that her voice was being filtered through his earplugs. Though not as uncomfortable as what Destiny did next. The young siren kissed the arch of his foot sending a wave of squeamish discomfort through his leg and up his spine.

Ford turned red as he struggled to politely pull his foot back. “Oh Dee, that's uhm-” Destiny wasn't listening. She kissed up the ball of his foot before slipping her tongue between his toes. The slimey sensation made him jerk back reflexively. Ripping his foot from her grip and pulling it away protectively to press the sensitive underbelly flat against the rock. His knee tucked up to his chest as he hugged it. “Ok- that's enough!” He flustered awkwardly as he struggled to collect his thoughts.

“Hey!” Destiny protested.

Ford hummed and rocked for a second. Off put by the visceral discomfort and needing a second to shake it. “Hmmm, about yesterday…” He opened slowly. Knowing he couldn't put the conversation off anymore.

Destiny huffed and crossed her arms. “What about yesterday?” She protested.

Ford paused looking for the right words. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he spoke. “You uhm… well you offered me to stay last night and I, uhm… well it got me thinking…” 

Destiny perked up. Seemingly recovered from the personal offense she had taken to Ford's retraction. She pulled herself up further onto the rock to lean against Ford's shoulder and draw little circles on his chest with her finger. “Oh it did? You ready to take things to the next level Fordsy?” She cooed in his ear.

Ford could feel her body pressed up against him. Colder than a human. Wet, slightly slimy. He could feel her breasts on his shoulder and felt like he was going into anaphylactic shock. He could feel his throat closing up and the heat rising in his face. It suddenly felt surprisingly difficult to breathe.

“I uhm… N-not exactly.” He wheezed. His voice came out a decidedly unmanly squeak that he could have sworn he'd outgrown. Ford cleared his throat before he spoke again and gently took Destiny by her shoulders. Pushing her back slightly. “Destiny you're a wonderful woman and I've enjoyed our time together but this relationship has been distracting me from my work and I don't think I can provide what you're looking for in a relationship so I think it would be best for both of us to end things amicably now before anyone gets their feelings hurt.” He rambled off without pausing for breath. Ford let out a sigh of relief once it was said. Briefly proud of himself for putting his foot down and articulating himself so calmly and rationally. Though completely un-self-aware of just how incredibly stilted and stiff his speech had come across.

“You, you're breaking up with me?” Destiny replied in disbelief.

Ford recoiled and held his hands up submissively. “I know, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me.” 

“This is bullshit!” Destiny spat. Ford had never heard her angry before. She wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes darted about as if she was trying to solve a difficult math problem in her head.

Ford rubbed his sleeve awkwardly. “I'm pretty sure this really is just a me thing.” He defended. Trying to make her feel better. She probably wouldn't need her powers to make a man fall for her. She was conventionally pretty and quite friendly. Stanley would've been head over heels if a girl like her gave him the time of day.

Destiny's gaze snapped back to Ford. Her brow furrowed. Her eyes went dark. “You're supposed to love me.” She growled. “That's what you humans do!”

“Well, I-” Ford paused. Backing away. “I guess I'm just… different.” He reasoned. Pulling his shoulders to his ears to try and hide the earplugs Destiny still had yet to notice.

Destiny took a breath to calm herself and invaded Ford's personal space again. Pressing up against his chest. “You're coming with me.” She told him. Gripping his sweater vest and tightly fisting the brown wool. “Clearly you just require a little more, convincing.” She crooned. A melody picked up in her voice as she pulled him close to her lips. Holding him an inch from her face. Ford could taste Destiny's breath on his tongue as she sang to him. Her voice was so beautiful. Even with his earplugs Ford still wasn't completely immune. She sang of fortune and fame, of recognition and love. Of so many things Ford craved so deeply his soul ached. Her song held so many promises, but he had just enough wits about him to know they were false. 

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Ford protested. Attempting to shove Destiny off. “We’re over.” He told her assertively. He never thought wrestling off such a petite woman could be so difficult but Destiny’s tail proved surprisingly strong as it coiled around his legs and refused to let go. 

Ford was flung back by the force with which he shoved her shoulders back. His legs jerked out from under him by her tail. The two tumbled down into the pond. Ford rushed to snap his jaw shut and avoid a lungful of cold mossy water. Destiny grabbed him by his hair as he tried to swim up and slammed his face against the rocks with shocking force.

Ford could see his blood clouding the water for a moment before everything went dark.

When Ford came too he was greeted by the stench of stale air and stagnant water. The blood rushed to his head and made him dizzy. It took a few moments of blinking into the dim light to make out what he was looking at he came too. He was strung up by his ankles. Hanging upside down in some underwater cave judging by the formation of the stelatites.

“Oh, you’re up!” Density chirped.

Ford snapped his head in the direction of her voice and immediately regretted it. Clapping his hands to his temples to try and restrain the spinning. His hands were free at least. His face was slick with something. When he pulled his hand back he found his fingers coated in thin watery blood. Right, he hit his head. He imagined the blood was misleading. He was soaking wet from head to toe. The water was spreading the blood and making the injury look worse than it was.

“Glad to see you’re alright. I was worried that rock might have killed you.” Destiny giggled like a schoolgirl.

“I- I take it you… you preffferrrrr live… live-” Prey … His head was still throbbing and forming words was difficult at first. His jab coming out an unintimidating slur.

“Aw-” Destiny tilted her head to the side like a puppy. Watching Ford from below. Looking at everything upside down like this was not helping Ford’s disorientation. “I hope you didn’t scramble your brains too much. I’d hate to have stupid legs.”

Ford furrowed his brow. “Legs?” He asked.

“Oh yes!” Density’s face lit up. Flashing her sharp teeth with a wide eye-to-ear grin as she clapped her hands together. She gestured towards a glowing cauldron beside her. Ford was just now realizing it was the primary light source in the cave. That and glowning lichen that lined the walls. There were lots of bits and bobs of things littered about that made the space look lived in. Some traps for fishing, some bottles of miscellaneous substances, hair care products. A lot of human things. Many of them were items Ford had brought Destiny on her request. This must be where she lived. “Once I get you in my little bath I’ll finally be able to leave this stupid hole.” She proclaimed proudly. 

“I don’t know, I think this place looks…” Ford tried to sound sincere as he looked around the dank cave Desinity called home. “Cozy.” 

Density crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re a bad liar Stanford Pines.” She told him.

Ford shrugged sheepishly. Or, rather tired too. Gravity was already pulling his shoulders towards his ears anyway. “Well, either way, I don’t see how a bath is going to get you out of here.” 

“Oh, you don’t?” Density trilled merrily. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Uhm…” Ford looked down at the glowing cauldron. Curiosity getting the better of him. “I suppose I could make time for a demonstration.” He conceded. Glancing back up at his bound feet and contemplating how he was going to get out. His trench coat was damp and hung around his head like a curtain but he still had it thankfully. Could probably get to his pocket knife while Desinity was distracted. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” He joked wryly.

“Wonderful!” Density chittered and dove under the water. Ford watched her for a moment. The best he could anyway. Tracking her dark shadow under the murky water. After a minute or two she swam back up to the surface with a crawdad in one hand and what looked like a juvenile catfish in the other.

“It took a lot of time to get the potion just right but I’m sure it’ll work this time.” She announced. Implying she had yet to test this batch. She plopped the catfish and the crawdad into the cauldron with a steamy splash. Plums of glowing blue gas bubbled up from the pot and lit the cave. Density jumped back to avoid being sprayed. 

“I’ve always wanted to live in the human world.” She gushed. “You guys have all the best stuff!” 

Ford frowned and rocked his head slightly from side to side as he weighed her opinion. “I don’t know about that. Human society isn’t that interesting.” It wasn’t very accepting either. Even if Desinity could integrate she’d likely never be accepted. If Ford couldn’t even swing it he couldn’t see how a fish woman could.

“Oh, you have no idea how good you have it.” Density huffed. “I’m tired of sleeping in caves and freezing in the winter and sucking pond scum!” She spat. She wrung her hands together and peered into the cauldron with wide-eyed excitement. “Soon I’ll be able to live in a real house with real food and friends that aren’t fish.” 

Ford felt a faint pang of pity in his gut. He hadn’t seen any other sirens in Gravity Falls. “Are you all alone out here?” He asked.

Destiny waved him off. “Oh, Mommy moved us out here when I was a kid to get away from those nasty mermaids on the coast. I’m not putting up with their trash talk anymore either.”

Ford couldn’t help but wonder whatever happened to Destiny's mother. Did she pass away? Or maybe she moved back to their home town and Destiny couldn’t bring herself to go with. Maybe she’d rather be alone by choice than an outcast. A shame they never talked about this before she felt the need to nearly drown Ford and conduct some sort of experiment on him. Maybe they could still make things work…

“AH HA! It works!” Density howled triumphantly. She grabbed a net and lowered it into the cauldron to scoop something out. She plucked her creation from the net and held it up to show Ford. “Behold!” The half-crawdad, half-catfish creature possessed a fat fleshy tail and meaty claws. Armored scoots ran down its back, its soft underbelly exposed as Desinity held it up to him. “Once I’m done with you I’ll finally be able to walk on land. The whole world will be my oyster!” Destiny cheered.

Ford jerked back as he realized just how much trouble he was in. “Oh, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He advised politely.

“Yes, it is.” Destiny insisted.

“Not it’s not.” Ford countered.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” 

“Look, don’t I get a say in this?” Ford pleaded.

Destiny tapped her lips with her finger. Holding her mutant hybrid out in her other hand by the tail. “Hm... nope.” She told him flatly.

Ford scrambled to pull his dangling coattails up and bundled them in his arms. Searching his pockets for his swiss army knife. “But what if we lose all our memories?” He asked. “What if we aren’t even sapient anymore?” He tried to reason. “We could be two consciousnesses stuck sharing a body, what then? I don’t know about you but I don’t want to have a timeshare on being a person. Or our consciousness could fuse, we might not even be the same person. You might not be the same person.” 

He found his pocket knife but kept his hands bundled up in his coat when Destiny looked back at him. Waiting until her back was turned to try and cut himself free. 

“So?” Destiny asked. As if she didn’t get what Ford was so worried about.

“You might not be you anymore,” Ford warned her. “Destiny as we know her might die!” He stressed. “Doesn’t that worry you at even a little?"

Destiny shrugged and chucked her experiment into the water. Turning back to her cauldron and stirring the pot to settle the bubbles. “Don’t know, don’t care.” She confessed. “I’m going to be something so much better than me.” She seemed almost hypnotized by her own creation. Staring into the cauldron-like her own ambitions were staring back at her. Visions of some grand future she imagined for herself. 

Ford had given up trying to argue at this point. He wasn’t about to become some hermaphrodite fish person to satisfy his ex-girlfriend. He pulled himself up to cut the ropes around his ankles. His head spun again from the strain of lifting himself up like this but he was able to manage. Thankfully he was nearly done cutting through by the time Destiny turned back and noticed him.

“HEY! Where do you think you’re going!?” Destiny barked. She rushed over to him. Kicking up murky cave water as she bolted across the pool. 

Ford cut through the last of his ropes and dropped down unceremoniously on top of Destiny. The both of them plunged under the dark water. Thankfully his weight collapsing on her head seemed to stun her just long enough for him to pull his head back up over the surface and rush over to the edge of the cave where he could find some solid ground.

Just as Ford's hands reached the slippery limestone that familiar death grip latched onto his pants. “Oh no you don’t!” Destiny shrieked.

“Get off!” Ford barked. Jerking his leg from her and trying to shake her grip as he backed against the shore. “Get off me!” 

Destiny only pulled herself up his body. Her hair clung to her face like a curtain of soiled silk. Eyes burning and teeth bared as she glowered up at him. “You’re my ticket out of this dump!” She screamed. 

Ford reached into his coat and pulled out the heaviest thing he could find without thinking. His journal as it turned out. It was the first object his fingers landed on with enough weight for him to slam it down over the siren’s head.

“Let- Me- Go!” Ford shouted between each heavy blow to his attacker’s head. 

With each waterlogged thwack, Desinty’s grip loosened. She hissed and winced until the sounds grew delirious and weak. Finally, after several agonizing seconds that felt like hours, she let go and slipped below the water.

Ford scrambled up onto the limestone shelf and inspected his journal. He kept it in a plastic bag whenever he visited Desinty just to be safe. At some point in all of this, the bag has sprung a leak and his precious research was soaked. Ford whined in exasperation. “No…” He held up the bag and did his best to drain the water out. Inspecting the damage. “It’s still salvageable I think. I can fix this. Dry out the pages, a little fresh glue…” 

He heard a bubbling sound and looked over to see Destiny’s unconscious body bob back up to the surface of the water. She was lying face down. The dead man’s float. 

She was crazy but Ford hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He looked around and found the net Desinty had used earlier and streatched the pole to give her a poke. 

No reaction. 

Ford hesitantly reached a hand out to check her pulse. Pressing two fingers to her neck.

Ba-dum, Ba-dum.

“Thank god.” He sighed. No accidental man-slaughter charges today.

Ford looked around the cave as he tried to think of a way out. He wasn’t sure how he got here. Or how Desinty managed to tie him to the ceiling in the first place. It was impressive really. He looked over at the cauldron and the assortment of glass bottles. Some of them empty. It wouldn’t hurt to bring a sample home with him, would it? A potion like that could have all kinds of curious properties, maybe some interesting uses… At the very least he could come home with something new to study and say his day hadn’t been a total loss.

So context for this. This is part of the Papa Ford au, also cannon to Hand of God for that matter. It's the origin of the anomalous substance that ultimately results in the birth of Nikola and Newton Pines-McGucket. That said I really didn't need to write a whole short story to introduce a magic mcguffin but here we are. Felt like posting this on it's own because it works well as a Ford one shot and the siren named Destiny is very unsubtle foreshadowing for Ford's future relationships. She's a nice foil to both Ford and Bill but it's obvious by the end that this encounter has taught Ford nothing.

[ggomos-maribat]

5 | in which Marinette Dupain-Cheng is behind schedule

Part 5 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Marinette's schedule had become a mess.

She went to the grocery store to do some late night shopping, but when she got to the fresh produce section, the place had fallen victim to a robbery. So there she was, cart positioned in front of her, leaning against the crates after the customers were all told to get down. She tapped on her knees restlessly—Gotham's vigilantes hadn't arrived yet.

If the robber is intercepted in forty minutes, I'll have fifteen minutes to finish shopping and fifteen more to fall in line and pay. Her face twisted into a frown. That's too much time off from work and sleep.

Marinette yawned and peeked through the aisles where the goons were yelling at the poor cashiers. Does it count as work time if I help the vigilante side of my boss? She wondered tiredly. She'd promised not to get too involved when such things happened (she had a cover to keep after all), but the interruption had become an annoyance.

Fine, if they're not here yet after ten minutes, I'm kicking those asses myself, she decided. She opted to scan her surroundings instead to save some time looking for items.

Finally, the sound of grappling guns whizzed in the air, followed by capes swishing. The Bats wasted no time introducing their fists to the criminals. Marinette rolled her eyes. Seriously, how'd they get the idea to rob a grocery store? It's too big of a space for a small group of robbers—anyone can run out and get some help—ooh, wait, is that half-priced lettuce?

Unfortunately for her, the vigilantes seemed to be taking a longer time rounding up all the robbers. She really really wanted to get the lettuce and go back to her apartment. A few more minutes passed and she made up her mind to transfer her items to a basket and crawl through the floor to continue shopping. If I can get to the self-checkout line, maybe I can still follow my schedule, thought Marinette.

She made her way between shelves, grabbing what she needed while laying low without a care in the world about the grunts and punches and kicks she was hearing. She got her precious lettuce, moved on to the frozen section for a while, and then back to the main aisles to fetch the seasonings she needed. Whenever she got a glimpse of Batman, she ducked out of he way, knowing that he'll fuss over her the next day if he found out that she was in the middle of the robbery.

Alas, she forgot to also pay attention to the other Bats. While she was on her knees, ground pepper in one hand, she looked up to see Robin who was staring at her in shock.

She stared back with a straight face.

"What are you doing? " Robin finally spoke.

"Shopping," she said, putting the pepper shaker in her basket.

"What—how—why now? "

Marinette settled for no more than one word. "Capitalism."

The boy cleared his throat, seemingly still puzzled by her actions. "Have you seen other robbers holding customers hostage around here?"

She distractedly pointed to the next aisle over and he took off.

***

Marinette thought she got the stabby Robin off her back, but he came up to her while she was in self-checkout after the robbers were all rounded and tied up.

"What are you doing?" The vigilante asked. "We need your statement first before you leave, miss."

When Marinette looked up, she saw a number of other patrons continuing their business . . . plus Batman speaking with the commissioner. Seriously, he couldn't have asked anyone else?

"What you did was dangerous. You could've been seen by them," Robin scolded.

"I was in a hurry. There was half priced lettuce." Marinette began to shove all the goods into multiple bags as fast as she could.

"You could've waited—"

"No, I couldn't." With a nod, Marinette took all the heavy bags into her arms and ran out of the store as fast as she could.

***

The company didn't require her to work late at night, obviously, but it became a habit for Marinette just like when she sketched before bed. It helped her set things in order for the next day and go over the details she needed to prepare. WE was by no means the perfect corporation and Bruce wasn't the perfect boss, but Marinette was content with her job, especially since it paid well.

She tucked her legs up her chair, reading the files under the yellow light. Yes, WE had its own faults—there were still supervisors from the Marketing Department who'd send interns on coffee runs instead of giving them actual work, and a few execs seemed keen on pocketing money for themselves. Though if she could pick out those issues one by one and bring them up to Bruce, it would be a good change in the workplace.

Meanwhile, as the girl focused on her work, a few vigilantes hung out outside of her window.

"Tt. Father, are you overworking Marinette?"

"What?"

"I found her in the store shopping while the robbers were still active." Robin crossed his arms. "When I asked she only said 'capitalism'."

". . . What?"

***

One office day, Tim decided to stretch and take a walk outside his office for a break. He wandered into the copy room, where he saw Marinette waiting by the printer. He was a little sleepy by that time, but managed to greet her with a quick 'hello' which she reciprocated, followed by: "Do you need anything, Mr. Drake?"

He yawned. "No thanks."

He'd say he needed coffee but he knew Bruce banned him from consuming any more for the week.

After the copy room, he then went to the break room where he found Marinette again. This time, she handed him a cup of what looked like decaf, freshly prepared. "Uh." He squinted at her. "Weren't you just . . ."

"Hmm?"

"You were just . . ." He pointed towards the direction he came from. "Nevermind."

Maybe he was starting to hallucinate.

Not wanting to decline the drink, he took a seat and began taking small sips. He idly watched Marinette heat up pastries for snacks, probably for Bruce. A few minutes ticked by and he excused himself to go to the toilet.

. . . Where he saw Marinette coming out of the ladies' room.

"Weren't—" he sputtered. "You—you were just in the break room! I left you there!"

Marinette's smile appeared forced, but concerned. "No, I wasn't . . .?"

"You were!"

". . . Perhaps you should get some sleep, Mr. Drake," Marinette advised.

"No, I swear! You were there!"

She gave yet another worried smile and went off towards the elevator. Tim shook his head as he went to the bathroom. Had he lost his mind after all? He finished his business quickly and hurried back to his office to gather his thoughts.

But as he passed by Bruce's office he caught someone going out the door.

Someone by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Didn't you go downstairs?!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed. This particular Marinette seemed surprised by his outburst.

"Sorry?"

"You went to the elevator!"

"No, I was here." She raised an eyebrow. "In Mr. Wayne's office."

He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her. " What are you?!"

He was sure he saw her disappear through the sliding doors. He was certain it was her who was in the break room, and outside the bathroom, and inside the copy room. He didn't stop mumbling nonsense until a curse-spouting, stressed Tamara Fox dragged him away from the confused Marinette.

.

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.

.

What the poor Tim Drake didn't know unfortunately, was that Marinette strived to meet deadlines every day. And when schedules were tight, she simply couldn't do all her tasks by herself.

So, occasionally, the assistant would pull off a little Hermione Granger and employ the help of a certain time-traveling Miraculous to be in several places at once.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"DID YOU DID IT TO PROVOKE ME?"

(This is another short story about Logan that came to my mind out of the blue, I hope you like it)

Gaelia was in her class for the youngest mutants, when she felt a powerful presence outside the classroom that made her lose concentration for a few moments. She looked over there to meet Logan's clear eyes, who was watching her intently.

Since they both saved the world when Kitty sent them back in time from the future (it's a bit complicated to explain), Professor Xavier's school for talented young people was going smoothly, as was their relationship. They had both fallen in love on the trip, even though they couldn't stand each other at first.

Now Logan (after much insistence from Charles) was a teacher. He taught metallurgy, specifically explaining the properties and chemical composition of adamantium, which he knew by heart because his skeleton and claws were made of it. He stared at her for a few moments, until she spoke to him inside his mind.

Her mutation allowed her to control plants, as well as having a low level of mental control, enough to communicate with other mutants who also had that ability. In Logan's case, he didn't have it, so he just listened to her.

"You're late for your next class, professor," she stressed.

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, accompanied by a half-smile, as if to say "I know, please continue with your explanation." The young teacher rolled her eyes, laughing lightly, before looking at her students.

Most of the students considered her class boring, but since it was one more subject they had to pass, everyone tried to pay as much attention as possible. She herself had never been interested in botany until she discovered her powers.

-Okay, guys, let's continue, she continued while noticing the weight of Howlett's gaze on her. We were talking about how plants work, she continued. Plants don't have a heart, and they pump chlorophyll, with all the finished compounds for their total nutrition, to the entire plant. They also have a closed circulatory system for their perfect metabolism. They transport food substances, regulating substances and waste materials, and they also have to transport large quantities of water to great heights from the roots to the leaves - he paused - Can anyone tell me another characteristic of plants?

A girl raised her hand timidly. She nodded.

-Diana - he called her to answer -

-They don't have hearts - he answered, she nodded letting him know that the answer was correct, and although she wasn't looking at him, she felt a warm smile spread on Logan's lips -

-Very well, Diana! -she celebrated- plants do not have a heart or mechanical pumps, they have a variety of chemical and physicochemical devices to move fluids and a perfected system of pipes in the form of specialized tissues that allows them to direct the transport of nutrients -she looked at the clock placed above the door- class is over -she announced, the students began to gather their things- Don't forget about next week's presentation!

-No, Miss Floor -they answered in unison, she nodded pleased-

-I like it that way -she murmured-

She approached her table to gather her things and tidy up the classroom before leaving. Logan entered and approached the teacher's table behind which she was.

-You don't need to say anything - she said before he could speak - I know it's been a boring class, I could see it on their faces - she said referring to her students -

-It didn't seem that way to me - she smiled as she walked around the table until she was in front of her - nothing that has to do with you bores me, really

Suddenly he lifted her by the hips and sat her on the table, causing a surprised squeal to come from her lips. He slipped between her legs, at the same time sketching an amused smile at the blush that came to her cheeks.

He loved that despite all the times he showed affection to her, she still reacted as if it were the first day.

-Logan - she whispered alarmed looking through the glass windows - What are you doing? They could see us!

-Shit - he growled - Where's Storm when you need her? -he complained making him swallow hard, he looked away at her eyes, and then at her lips- I couldn't help but react like that, princess -he whispered looking at her lips- you looked so sexy giving class with this dress -he said wrinkling the green fabric with his fingers- Did you think I wouldn't say anything to you?

-You know I don't like dresses -he said- but today the temperatures are going to exceed forty degrees, so I decided to wear it

-Are you sure it's just because of that? -he murmured pushing the fabric up, making his fingers sink into the skin of her thighs- Or did you also do it to provoke me?

-It could be -he ventured making her smile, he leaned down to give her a short kiss on the lips, shorter than he would have liked-

-I don't know if it's silk or It's velvet -he murmured, looking at the garment, while running his finger under one of her straps, making her let out a sigh- What I do know is that tonight is going to end up on the floor of our room- He pulled away with a mocking smile on his face. Good luck with the rest of your classes, Lia.

Gaelia took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She watched him disappear down the hall without looking back, leaving her unsatisfied. When she saw him enter the classroom, she thought he was going to break all the rules and do something improper, but instead he had put her nerves on edge and left her there, hypersensitive with her legs shaking and her heart racing.

Of course, Logan was no stranger to what he had done. An evil smile appeared on his lips when he smelled the sweet scent of her excitement. He walked into the classroom and put his hands on his hips, looking at his students.

-Well, let's do this quickly -he said- I have a score to settle and I'm afraid it can't wait

[espinosaurusrexex]

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

   ~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself. 

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day. 

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind. 

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway. 

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there. 

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous. 

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. 

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground. 

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him. 

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O. 

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films. 

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods. 

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

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