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whatifitis · 4 months ago

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♡ I watched it begin again - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You've moved on and found happiness... when Lando reappears and tells you something you truly never expected to hear, but something you had also wished for for so long.

Author's Note: this is the much awaited part 2 to 'i wish you would've stay'. i wanna say a quick thank you to those who read part 1 and shared your thoughts on it, it really made me feel so special 😭 this part would not have been written without yall <3

WC: 2415

CW: fluff, maybe a very little amount of angst? pettiness, if you squint there's a sort of thrupple, or whatever the 4 count of that word is, hinting, overuse of song references

“Okay, I think it’s done.”

“Yay! I can finally see this masterpiece you’ve created.” you smiled.

“Eh, masterpiece is a bit of a reach. But I definitely tried my hardest to capture your beautiful soul.”

“Ohhh, shush you. Flattering me so much.”

“It’s so you don’t hate me after you see this monstrosity.”

“Okay, enough yapping. Show me.”

You watched as he took a deep breath and turned the sketchbook towards you.

“Oh. My. God.” you try to stifle your laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Gabe chuckled.

“I’m not laughing. It’s beautiful. Oh my- Where were you when it was time for senior photos?”

“No. Fuck off. That’s rude.” you watched as Gabe tossed a pillow at you and tried to refrain from laughing as hard as you are.

You were laughing so hard it was getting hard to breathe and tears were rolling down your face. Being with Gabe always felt so high school in a way. There was no pressure or drama within this place. It was just love.

You and Gabe have been dating for a little over a year and it’s been the greatest time of your life. When the two of you met, you really weren’t looking for anything. You were focused on work and getting your life in line when he happened.

Since he’s come into your life, it’s like everythings brighter. And while that may sound cliche, it’s true. He makes everything feel miniscule, like as long as he’s there at the end of the day, everything will be okay.

He was something new as well. For so long, you had spent your time around boys and their expensive cars like range rovers and Aston Martins, but Gabe is just Gabe. He’s a real person who enjoys the same things that you do and he truly loves you for you. And he loves spending time with you. On your first date, he wasn’t ready for the date to be over, so he asked you to walk around Kohl’s with him. And still, to this day, he asks if you want to walk around Kohl’s together, just for a few more moments with you.

He was the king of your heart.

“Oh shit, I gotta get going. I have that meeting with Matt tomorrow about working on that album.” Gabe said as he stood up from the couch and stretched, “Can we meet for lunch? I don’t think I can wait all day to see you again.” pulling you closer to him, softly gripping your waist.

“Definitely, I might be a bit late cause I need to talk to Marjorie about letting me in on that case.”

“Amazing.” he said as he pressed his lips to yours, feeling your soft lips on his and pouring himself into you.

The two of you pull apart and you walk him to the door of your apartment.

“See you tomorrow, my love.”

“Call me when you get home, please.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gabe jokes, “At home, I’ve got to greet the most demanding and most precious person in my life. She deserves all my attention.”

“Olive is a cat and she is far from precious.”

“You’re just jealous she prefers lying on me rather than you.”

“We’re girls! There’s a girl code and she’s not sticking to it.”

“I’ll see if I can talk some sense into her then. For the love of my life.” Gabe says, pecking your lips one final time before walking off.

“Save some time for me.” you called out.

“All my time is yours, my darling.”

He turns the corner and once he’s out of sight, you step back into your apartment and close the door. You turn your back to press against the door and you couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face. Even after all this time, he still makes your heart skip.

You started to get ready for bed and had just settled into your bedsheets when your phone started playing your ringtone for Gabe, ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ by Rick Astley. You don’t remember exactly how it became one of your songs, but it somehow made its way there. You’d even joked with him how if the two of you ever broke up, you hoped that Rick Rolling would become a thing again so that he would be tormented with the thought of you.

You picked up the phone to hear some shuffling on the other line. “Hello?” you call out.

“Hey, sorry. I was just taking off my jacket. I made it home.”

“Amazing. How’s home?”

“It’s okay. Would be better if you were here with me.”

“You just spent all day with me. Are you not sick of me?” you half-joked.

“I could never be sick of you. You’re my favorite thing the universe gifted us on earth.”

“Stop. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I don’t like making you cry, unless it’s from laughter. Ya know, you’re really pretty when you laugh.”

“Only when I laugh?” you poke.

“Nuh uh. You’re always pretty. So pretty that it almost kills me. But I really like it when you laugh. Especially when I’m the one making you laugh.”

“I like it when you make me laugh too.” you are practically melting at this man's words. He always has you wrapped around his finger and you think he knows. But little do you know, that’s how he feels about you.

You turn to look at the clock by your bedside and sigh. Even after having him all day, somehow you just want him more.

“I gotta go to sleep now, my angel. If I sleep now, I can get at least 7 hours of sleep.” you huff.

“You should really sleep earlier so you can actually sleep well. We both know you’re not sleeping 7 hours with your sleeping habits.”

“Yeahhhh. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”

“I’ll be waiting, love.”

The silence sounds after the beep. Was this what true love felt like? Is this how it feels to be loved? How long has it been since someone made you feel like this? For a while, you thought the plane was going down. But someway, somehow, Gabe turned it right around. He would literally break his back to make you break a smile. For the first time ever, you were falling in love with someone who was falling in love with you.

The next morning, after some strenuous phone calls and exhausting meetings, you excitedly made your way to the restaurant you were meeting Gabe at. You were running a bit early so you decided to take the scenic route to the restaurant, knowing Gabe wouldn’t be there for another 20 minutes.

You were enjoying the afternoon sun and the fresh air that came with it when you heard something from behind, “Y/n?”

Why does this person sound familiar? He sounds like… like someone but you can’t quite place your finger on it.

“Y/n, is that you?”

When you turn to see who it is, you’re met with them. Those eyes, the eyes you used to dream of. But now they look different, they look so dull and tired. His frame looks lighter and his smile looks torn.

“Lando?”

“Wow, you look, I mean you look beautiful. You haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you.” he says, giving you a soft, shy smile.

“Yeah. It’s been quite some time.” “Sorry. Uh, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Really good, actually. How about you? How’s Hannah?”

“I’ve been okay and ehm, Hannah and I broke up last year.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear. But I’m sure you’ll find someone. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, as they say.”

“Yeah. I’ve actually been thinking about you recently. Like, a lot.” he softly huffs.

“Oh.”

“I’ve been meaning to reach out but I wasn’t sure how. I’m actually glad I ran into you now.”

“Lando, I think you-”

“No, please. Let me explain myself, please.”

You stood there for a beat, not knowing that to say. You couldn’t get a single word out. Why? It was just Lando.

He watches your face, trying to study it and read what you’re thinking, but he can’t, “I have a lot to get off my chest. I won’t take long. Please.”

“Okay.”

With a deep inhale, Lando begins “I fucked up. Big time. I never should have, essentially, ghosted you. All you ever did was love me and care for me. But I just went off and dated another girl cause I didn’t realize it at the time. Y/n, if we’re being honest, I’m still in love with you. And it took a long time for me to realize. Everything is nothing without you. I’m nothing without you. I miss you so much and I regret ever letting you go. Can we start fresh, please? I won’t let you go this time. I’ll hold you closer than I ever did before.”

“I can’t. You hurt me a lot. It took me so long to realize I was going to be okay without you. It took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t my fault for you leaving. That I am good enough and capable of being loved. I’m happy now. I found someone that I love and who loves me. Like, truly loves me. He made me realize that nothing was wrong with me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. But, does he really make you happy? Happier than I ever made you?” there are tears brimming his eyes.

“Yeah, he does. I don’t get it, Lando. I was happy for you when you met Hannah, why can’t you be happy for me?”

“Because I know you still feel something for me. And I truly believe that the universe brought us here today for a reason. Our story isn’t over, y/n.”

“It is over. You can say we’ll be together someday, but things have changed. We’re not the same people we were before and I found my person.”

“So why can’t I stop feeling this way?” he says, a tear slipping down his face. “Because you’re human.” you say, reaching your hand to cup the side of his face, but you don’t. You stop yourself before your fingertips can feel his skin beneath yours because it isn’t fair to him.

“Do you regret me?” he asks through a wavering voice.

“No, I don’t regret you. You were one of the most beautiful chapters of my life and you taught me a lot. You know, I used to look for you in a sea of people, knowing you weren’t there. It’s kinda stupid cause we never really existed but-” “We did exist. Just not in the way we should’ve. The way we could’ve if I wasn’t a massive fuck up.”

“You’re not a fuck up. Listen, there was happiness because of you and there was happiness after you. That’s just the way life goes. So there will be happiness after this.’’

“I don’t want there to be an after you. I’m trying my best. I pray that you’ll come back to me one day. And if you do, I’ll give up my hopes and dreams in F1 cause I’ll have my biggest dream of all. You.”

“You can’t change things by loving someone harder. I used to wish you would’ve stayed. But this isn’t a fairytale where you’re my knight in shining armor. I found someone who actually treats me well. And the cost of trying isn’t greater than the reward of having me, to him. He actually loves me and wants to be with me. I used to be so naive and I would get so lost in your eyes, I didn’t realize that being in love wasn’t fighting to have the upper hand.”

He’s near sobbing when he tells you, “I want to believe I haven’t lost you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. But I can’t be with you. It’s too late, Lando. My heart doesn’t soften to your name anymore.”

“Do you think there’s even a slight possibility that you could fall in love with me again?”

You look at him. This was the boy you once loved. The one you would’ve done anything for, even after everything he’d done. You used to wait for him to love you again. But now all you see is the boy who broke your heart and left you bereft and reeling.

“No. I hope you find love, Lando. I really do. But it won’t be me. Not anymore.”

With that, you turn your back to him and walk away. It might’ve been harsh, but you couldn’t stand there any longer. The result wouldn't be different if you’d stayed longer and comforted him. You’re happy with Gabe and he has never given you a reason to doubt him. You’d been hurt enough by Lando. But every little moment led you right to where you should be.

When you finally arrived at the restaurant, Gabe was already there. When he sees you, it’s like he saw you for the first time. There was a sparkle in his eyes and the toothiest grin spread across his face.

He stands to greet you with a kiss that could heal every wound that might have reopened today. He pulls a chair out for you and takes his seat right at your side.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late. It’s a long story and I can tell you all about it later. Right now I just want it to be us. Let the world fade away for a bit.”

“Sounds like a plan then. I already ordered your Coke with a lime. It should be on its way.” Gabe says as he plants a thousand soft kisses on your hand. He’s been doing it a lot lately, now that you think about it.

“You’ve been kissing my hand a lot recently. Why?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Because whenever I kiss your hand, you hold my face.”

Gabe is a daydream and you’re the one he’s walking to. You think he’s the one thing you got right.

You hear your phone ping on the table. You quickly open it to mute it for your lunch date but the text on the screen catches your eye.

Oscah: So should Lily and I meet you guys at your place or ours? 😉

Those who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @f1fantasys @jxnellat @hoeforsirius @nina-or-anna-or-nora @sturmatt @hurtblossom

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starlostseungmin · 11 months ago

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husband!hyunjin

✰ notes: here concludes my husband!skz series with hyunjin. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing everyone! not proofread and not edited. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix（ hyunjin ）

ꔛ

Husband Hyunjin whom everyone expected to make a grand proposal, prepared a simple candlelight dinner in your shared apartment and cooked your favorite meals. You thought it was just a usual dinner date at home which you’d do sometimes. He suddenly got down on one knee and opened a small box with a diamond ring, “Will you be my everlasting muse? The one who would love to spend the rest of their life with me?”

Husband Hyunjin who cried and hugged you tightly as he thanked you for saying yes.

Husband Hyunjin who was the happiest and got emotional during the weddingーmentally screaming, hair-ripping, toe-curling, exaggerated excitement (sincere), and deeply in thought about how he would spend an eternity with you.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to stare at you while talking, especially on your lips thinking how much he wants to kiss you. His kisses start with innocent, soft, and warm then later change into intimate, hot, and intoxicating which makes you get addicted to them.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to be babied and cuddled when he’s tired or just wants to be a small spoon whenever he feels like it. He’d refuse to go to work just to stay in bed all day with you.

Husband Hyunjin whose dates consist of visiting art museums, picnics, watching musicals or movies, evening strolls, and road trips. Sometimes it gets over the moon when he decides to take you to (country) because you’ve been dying to visit the place. He giggled nonstop when he surprised you that he bought the tickets.

Husband Hyunjin who would always bring his sketchbook and camera on dates just to take a picture of you or make his hand busy sketching a portrait of you just because he finds you beautiful every time. He will show them to you when he’s done. The pictures or sketches will be hung on your shared apartment's wall for safekeeping and memories.

Husband Hyunjin who drives you crazy when he’s just doing normal things like simply unbuttoning his polo, rolling up his sleeves, taking off his jacket showing his bodybuild especially when he wears a tanktop inside, brushing his bangs upward, dancing? It would add fuel to the fire when he kisses you like a man starved from your touch.

Husband Hyunjin who brings you food and medicine when you get sick. He will probably take his day off from work depending on how fast your recovery is that it would take days for him to sit there and take care of you. The type to make sure that you won’t die since he would end up grieving so hard. “It’s just a mild flu, Hyunjin.” “Are you sure?”

Husband Hyunjin who is loud and dramatic whenever he realizes he got betrayed, lost a game, or is just being dumb (lovingly). He and Jisung are a perfect match and you’re the one who actually gets in between.

Husband Hyunjin who gets shy whenever you compliment him but sometimes he would feel a blast of confidence that he gives you a wink as a response and becomes flirty.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to make a fool of himself, vocabulary just consists of memes (you can blame Han and Felix for that) cringes at his own cuteness and regrets it later just to make you laugh.

Husband Hyunjin who lets you play with his long hair. He loves it when you do pigtails. You often tease him that he looks like Boo from Monsters Inc.

Husband Hyunjin whom Kkami wants to disown.

Husband Hyunjin who tries his hardest to comfort you as best as he can whenever he sees you being vulnerable in trying times. Promised not to leave you alone until you feel better, crack a dad joke he got from Chan to lift the atmosphere (which is effective by the way) and take you to his arms, whispering how he is proud of you.

Husband Hyunjin who made a playlist filled with songs that make him think about you, scream your vibe, and the ones that would portray his exact feelings. Sometimes he would write down lyrics about how lovesick and hopeless romantic he is. All songs and melodies are heavily inspired by you.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to send you selfies, videos of him taken by the members that serve husband material, and voice messages whenever he’s abroad because he misses you so much that he cries himself to sleep and can’t wait to go home. It’s also necessary to send you short vlogs and pictures of sceneries of the places he went without you because of work and leave messages like, “This reminds me of you.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Let’s visit this place together soon!” “I’m sure you’d like these souvenirs I got you!” “The food out here is great! Treat me here soon!”

Husband Hyunjin whose love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch, gift-giving, quality time, and acts of service.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to spoil you even if you tell him not to spend a lot of money on you but he won’t listen and insists on accepting them.��

Husband Hyunjin who doesn’t admit his mistakes during the first few minutes of the argument but later apologizes over and over again and promises never to do it again. He’s also the type that is hard to make up with but he can’t keep it up for hours and just cuddles you whispering “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

Husband Hyunjin who gets jealous easily and is possessive whenever he sees you having a good time with his members. “I’m yours, Hyunjin. Don’t worry.” You’d say but you know that is not enough for him so he’d show you to whom you belong (affectionately, or depending on how you both want it).

Husband Hyunjin who refused to get a divorce when you felt that your marriage was falling apart because he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He won’t let go of you easily and you didn’t even make any attempts to leave him.

Husband Hyunjin who is careful whenever in talks of having kids because your decision matters in this relationship but he would reassure you that if you ever wanted to have one, he will be the best dad your kid could ask for.

Husband Hyunjin who is the most precious, kind, and pure to your heart that you wouldn’t even want to live a life without him. He is the moon and stars to your night, the sunshine after the rain, the rose amongst the thorns, and the pretty shells you find on a beach where no one knows.

Husband Hyunjin who holds your hand and intertwines your fingers as he kisses your knuckles saying, “I love you.”

Husband Hyunjin whose wedding vows are not enough to show how much he would love to spend his entire life with you. “I fucking love you so fucking much and we’re married, you can’t leave. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not!”

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

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yummyrevivalfluid · 2 months ago

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Don't Look At Me With Those Eyes

Senku x Artist Reader Pt.3

Summary: Senku doesn't seem to understand what it means to be an Artists Muse, specifically yours. (Senku doesn't understand love)

Word Count: 1,355

Tag List: @maria-trisha @xtfhtfrj @markerelll @minimissmelody

I think that is everyone that requested to be tagged! If it didn't work please let me know so I can figure out how to fix it!

HAPPY VALETINE'S DAY!!!!

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My muses are my love

He couldn’t stop the words chanting in his head. No matter what he did, your voice flooded his thoughts.

My muses are my love

Just the thought of you invaded his mind. He’s been lying awake for the past twenty minutes, trying to fall asleep but to no avail. Every time he found himself closing his eyes, visions of your flustered face appeared.

‘Are you thinking of me’ Senku wondered.

‘Is that what it means to be your muse?’. Was he on your mind as you were on his. He wondered if you were also in the same predicament as him…or maybe you’re drawing? Painting? Were you blowing glass? Or whatever crazy art medium you found yourself exploring…

My muses are my love…

Why did you have to plague his mind? What do you mean about your muses being your love? Why did you look so vulnerable as you said it? More importantly why HIM? Is it as Byakuya said before, “opposites attract”. Is it because he’s so different from you, you find him appealing to be your muse? What is he supposed to do with this information?

Torn and confused about what he needed to do with this newfound information, what the information even meant, and what it meant to him, Senku stepped outside to the balcony and watched the stars.

What does it mean to be an artist’s muse?

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Something has changed, that much you were aware of. But was Senku aware? Since the day you asked him to be your tutor, something has shifted between the two of you. You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. As far as you were concerned, you treated Senku the same way you have always done…

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t catch the way Senku was staring at you from his desk. Something that he’s been catching himself doing more than he’s meant to. He’s been catching himself staring at you from his desk, in passing at the school halls, even at your home as you studied beside him.

God, I feel like a creep, Senku cringed. It wasn’t your typical space out staring, he’s been watching your expressions, studying your features, getting lost in your eyes…

Wait what!?

He wasn’t sure how long you caught him staring but you were flushed. You quickly averted his gaze and fumbled with your bag and pulled out a sketchbook. The same one he was snooping in. He watched as you begin to scribble your pencil onto the paper…your eyes were shimmering, Senku noted.

Senku was studying you again, and he wasn’t being subtle. Forgetting or ignoring the fact that you caught him just a mere seconds ago. Unfortunately for you his staring didn’t let up for the next few weeks. Every time you cross paths with him, you can see him looking at you. His eyes were softer than what you were used to seeing. His brows still furrowed slightly, but his gaze was gentle as you felt him examining you. Whatever he was doing, you let him. You just assumed he was doing some weird scientific research, and you were his victim.

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

Tutoring you had become a new routine for Senku. After all the after-school clubs have ended, having cleaned up the lab, Senku met up with you outside of the school’s art studio. He was waiting patiently for you, resting his back against a pillar as he thought of the material, he was going to be tutoring you. After ten minutes had passed, concerned and curious about what keeps you late, he makes his way inside the studio and finds you cleaning up.

“Did you forget the concept of time, airhead?”

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!” you huffed, as you carried a can of paint back to its proper storage. “I lost track of time! I was in the zone. I got new inspiration for my muse!” you laughed.

Muse

The word that’s been haunting Senku’s mind. A word so foreign to him that he doesn’t understand what it means to be someone’s muse. What it means to be your muse.

Senku walked closer to a canvas with a big drape covering the art underneath. He’s assuming it’s yours. It must be. It was the only one out, the only one with cans of paint underneath it. Curious of what you’ve been painting, he begins to lift the edge of the drape. Before he can even process the bits of the painting he can see, he feels your touch on his wrist. He looks at you and he find himself again studying your expression. Studying the look in your eyes.

He doesn’t believe he’s seen this look before. Was it fear of what he was going to find under the drape? Are you embarrassed of what you’ve spent so long painting? Is it the feeling of vulnerability? Showcasing your muse to others but the muse itself.

“It’s not done yet…”, you said softly, almost a whisper to his ears. You watched as he let go of the drape. Hiding your painting.

Hiding your feelings from him.

“What is it?” he asked, as he continued to study you. Watching your expression turned to something he’s been seeing so often. The averted eyes, the flush to your cheeks, the slight stutter to your words. He felt the touch on his wrist fade as he watched you pick up cans of paint from the ground and begin to walk from him.

“…my muse.”

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

Muse…

Never has a word frustrated him this much. Seeing the word? The paper suddenly crumbled under his hand. Hearing the word has his eye twitching. A simple four-letter word is haunting him. Teasing him for not understanding. Frustrated that you don’t seem to know the effect the word has on him. Not aware of the feeling he gets when you throw the word around. Not understanding that uneasy feeling in his stomach that seems to get amplified every time he studies you.

“I don’t understand this….” You groaned. You dropped the pencil in your hand as you laid sprawled on your bedroom floor. You waited for Senku’s response. Waited for him to tell you off. You waited for him to call you an airhead. You waited and yet nothing. You turned to look at him and found his eyes already looking back at you. “Senku…”

“Hmm?” he hummed back. His eyes never leave yours.

“Umm…is there a reason why you’ve been…staring...” you asked nervously, unsure what to do under his gaze. You watched as his gaze hardened. Not being able to handle anymore, you finally break away, retreating your eyes to the white ceiling.

“It’s a bad habit.” He replied, as he crawled to the space beside you and laid beside you. You both laid in silence, enjoying the presence of the other. You closed your eyes and listened to Senku’s breathing, until that feeling came back again.

“you’re staring again, aren’t you?” you asked quietly. You were afraid to open your eyes, you don’t think you can handle him being so close to you, his eyes on you…

“Yeah….my eyes bother you that much?” he teased, taking joy as he heard your breath hitch.

“It…flusters me…” you whined, “so stop looking at me with those eyes…”

“What eyes?” he questioned. Has he been staring at you in another way he wasn’t aware? He gets up from beside and crawls over you, he ignores your gasp and looks down at you. Staring at you, studying you, your expressions, your noises. His body hovered over you, his arms caging you in, leaving you nowhere to look at but him. “These eyes?”

He waited for your response, his eyes flickered between your betraying eyes, exposing your vulnerability, and your lips, waiting for your words. Instead, you raise your hand to his face, your fingertips slightly brushing his lips as you cover his eyes with your palm. He feels your body pressed against him as you sit up on your elbows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body. You lean to his ear and whisper, “yeah, those eyes.”

----

A/N: So I'm thinking of breaking away from my original plan of doing only 4 parts to this series. I'm not sure how many parts there will be...I'm also thinking of rewriting the 1st chapter, sort of build more of the frenemies relationship.

Anywayssss can yall guess the song inspo? Theres two! One based on the title and one named dropped. Would you guys be interested in a song playlist for this series?

Mini spoiler for the series?!?! Theres a lyric I want to include in a future part, angst approaching!! Hehehehe

I, I loved you and I still do

Just wanted passion from you

Just wanted what I gave you

I waited and waited

-The Greatest Billie Eilish

....requests open?

#dcst senku #dr stone senku #ishigami senku #senku #senku ishigami #senku x reader #senku x y/n #doctor stone

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dragon-kazansky · 11 months ago

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Nineteen - Together again

You had sat your mother down when you got home. She called for tea, and you sat down beside her, wondering how you were going to tell her the news. Your poor mother had been stressing out since she revived the letter from your uncle, your father's brother, about taking back his money to support you both while in London.

"Mother, I... Our situation may have come up with the Bridgerton's earlier, and I have recieved a very generous offer from them." You start slowly.

"Are you to wed one of them?" She sits up in her seat, looking at you eagerly. Of course she would assume that.

"Um, no."

She looks rather deflated with your answer. "What is it then?"

"The Viscount has offered to take me under his wing and set me a dowry aside. We don't need to rush to find me a husband. Anthony will look after us. Violet had offered to help find a suitor."

Your mother now looks elated. "Oh, darling, that'd wonderful!" She hugs you.

You smile. You feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Oh, this is wonderful! I must send the Dowergess something in return. My gratitude to that family will be forever endless."

You chuckle at how excited your mother is. You haven't seen her this cheerful in quite some time. It felt good to see her smile again.

"Flowers! I shall send her an abundance of flowers!" Your mother rises from her chair and goes off in search of a maid who she can send down to the flower shop. You roll your eyes with a smile.

Things were looking up again.

A couple of days later, you're at the Bridgerton house. It's as lively as you remember it being last year. Eloise was practising some dancing with Gregory while Violet watched on. Gregory didn't seem to mind dancing with his sister, but Eloise seemed to mind quite a lot. You knew how she felt about this whole thing.

Benedict was sitting on the couch nearby. You were sitting opposite him, watching them the two siblings dance.

"I do not think she is very good," Hyacinth says, coming over to sit with you.

"I believe she can hear you," Benedict says to her in response.

"I can hear you," Eloise confirms.

"Ow! Watch my feet!" Gregory looks up at his sister after she steps on his foot.

"Might we be done?" Eloise asks.

"If you are to catch the queen's eye after that interruption, you must be perfection." Violet states.

"I believe it was the interruption that was perfection," Eloise sighs.

"Shocking that Eloise Bridgerton was not named the season diamond, was it not?" Benedict says casually.

At that exact moment, Anthony comes strolling in. "Was anyone else aware that dear Colin has decided to add Albania or some such place to his itinerary as he gads about the world?"

"How wonderful it must be to travel," you say softly.

"I rather prefer the comfort of the countryside," Benedict comments.

"I do miss the country."

Benedict looks up from his sketchbook, of which he has been working very hard on, to look at you. "Then you need to come to our family estate."

You find yourself looking away shyly. He's still disappointed he didn't see you all summer.

"How lucky for him that he can simply decide to do that," Eloise remarks.

"Joining us for tea, Anthony?" Violet asks.

"Uh, I'm afraid I must pass. Too many calls on my funds today. Now that the season has started, I need to fill your coffers at the modiste and oversee the hiring of extra staff. And your ring. When you get the chance, I need it."

You look at Anthony silently. He was serious.

"The fields by Ferryhallow. I was thinking we might hold off on leasing them due to the hard frost." Anthony continues.

"I beg your pardon?" Violet looks at her eldest son.

"The frost hardens the soil, saps it of nutrients," he explains. "That is very well, but you requested my ring?"

"Father's betrothal ring."

"Did someone catch your eye at the presentation, Brother?" Benedict asks with a grin.

"I thought all the young ladies looked beautiful," Hyacinth chimes in.

"Not particularly. And all the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies. I'd simply like to be prepared for when the opportunity presents itself," Anthony clarifies.

"The opportunity?" Violet asks.

"I've already compiled an index of the season's eligible misses and arranged interviews."

You look at Anthony in disbelief. He was serious. Those poor ladies.

"Interviews!" Violet chuckles. "Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Besides, it is in safekeeping at Aubrey Hall."

"Very well."

Violet slides up to the sofa Benedict is lounging on and looks at him. "See that he is quite well."

"Me?" Benedict asks, looking up at her.

"I'm not in need of coddling," Anthony says from across the room. "I assure you all, everything is in order."

Anthony checks his pocket watch and then takes his leave rather quickly. Everyone watches him go in silence. You turn to look at Benedict once Anthony is gone, and he just sighs, looking back at you.

Anthony Bridgerton was a stubborn fool.

Later that afternoon, while Eloise went to the market with Penelope, an endeavour you were not invited to take part in, you spent the hours with Benedict in his makeshift studio. He called it a studio, but it was merely a room he came in to sketch quietly away from his family.

You liked that about Benedict. The way he finds comfort in his own little bubble. He cared very little for society and all its trails. He was more tranquil.

You watch him sketch away, his attention deep into the pages in the book. Last year, he granted you the privilege to come see his hobby. He shared his work with you, and you complimented it. Even now, you had had no idea just how much you had impacted him and his art.

He rubs gently at the charcoal on the page, smudging it carefully. You watch with great interest as he examines his work. He pulls a slight face. While he decides if he likes it or not, you admire him.

Benedict Bridgerton is handsome, kind, funny, and gentle. He has an eye for detail and a smile to charm any lady who is lucky enough to witness it.

He would have no trouble finding a wife of he wanted to.

The thought makes you look down at the table quietly. It would be so easy for him to find a perfect match. Someone who compliments him and would look after him. You are not so lucky.

Though you hope to catch someone's eye at the ball tomorrow night, you won't hold your breath. You're not a pretty Bridgerton.

"Are you alright?"

You look up and meet his beautiful blue eyes. You swear you've never seen a shade like them before.

"Yes. Sorry. I've just been thinking."

"I can see that," he chuckles.

You smile softly and turn your eyes back to his book so you won't have to look at him again. "Do you ever plan on getting married?"

"Has mother put you up to this?" He teases.

"No, I just... You'd make a good husband."

"Is that what you've been thinking about?" He chuckles. "If I can help it, I'll remain a bachelor."

"I see." You sigh softly. You shouldn't be surprised. You won't mention marriage again to him.

Benedict watches you for a moment and then turns the page in his sketchbook. He sketches away quietly, glancing at you every so often. You don't even notice, too caught up in your thoughts again.

You were so beautiful when you were loat in your mind. No. You were beautiful all the time. Benedict hoped you knew that.

He did the best he could in a short span of time, taking in as many details as possible. You were a vision in his eyes. When he was sat fired with the sketch, he put his book down on the table and slid it over to you, nudging you out of your thoughts.

You look down at the book and see the sketch of you looking back.

"Benedict... you're so talented."

He chuckled softly. "I just want you to see yourself the way I do. I know how important it is to you that you find a husband and look after your mother. You'll find someone."

You look into those beautiful blue eyes and for just a moment with that he would be the one.

You look away. "Thank you."

Benedict also finds himself looking away. Perhaps he had been a little too forward there. However, he doesn't regret telling you what he thought.

You only sit there a few moments more before excusing yourself and heading home. It felt a little strange staying there for any longer.

Benedict sat alone in that room, unable to draw anymore. His mind was preoccupied now.

He wished you had stayed.

When you got home, your mother noticed how quiet you were. She watched you retreat upstairs alone. You wanted to call out to you and check you were alright, but she didn't.

You stayed up in your room for the rest of the afternoon. Only coming down for dinner. Your mother didn't ask why you had become so quiet. You would tell her if you wanted to.

It wasn't until you finished dinner that you spoke up. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm going to make you proud. You know that, don't you?"

Your mother smile. "You always make me proud."

You smile back. You knew she meant it. Despite everything you and she had been through with losing your father, losing the country house, your uncle backing out of looking after you, you still had each other and you would make her proud. Every single day.

"I'm going to look after you," you tell her.

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I always do."

You both smile at each silently.

You swore to yourself there, and then that this year, you would do better. This year, you will find your place in the world.

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #female reader #Bridgerton #dragon writes #season two

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woso-lover · 1 year ago

Text

Home is, whenever I'm with you | Lena Oberdorf

Lena Oberdorf x german!bayern munich!reader

Summary: Lena suprises you with her move to your childhood club. To finally be with you properly.

Warnings: a bit of angst, fluff

English is not my first language

Masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Girl, I never loved one like you

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You grew up in Munich. Everything you know is there. Your famil. Your friends. Your bestfriend, Sydney. Your club.... Everything you loved was in one place. Exept your home, your lover, Lena Oberdorf. She plays for Wolfsburg. That wouldn't be the problem, even trought its the rival, but Wolfsburg is too far away from Munich, to see each other more then once in a month. And its slowly infecting your realationship.

It's started when you both grow out of the honeymoon phase. That doesn't mean you're stopped being smitten about each other. But the distant made it worse. A 6 hours drive or a one hour flight. It started to come to much.

It wasn't because of the lack of trust you have for each other. You trust each other very much. But you missed the closeness, the cuddles or the kisses. The things you would only get, if you play each other or in the german camp. It was rarely that one come to visit the other. To caught up with training for your clubs.

So everytime the national break started, you follow each other like lost puppies. It's mostly Lena, who follows you everywhere. Her Wolfsburg teammates will tease all the time, when the break is going to start or gets closer. But she doesn't care. She only cares about being close to you.

But you follow her everywhere too. And your teammates tease you about that too. Like obi, you don't care either. You're just happy being with her again.

To the problem is only one solution. One has the move clubs. But you both are too stuborn.

"I'm not moving away, liebling. (Darling) I have everything here."

"I change would look on you, baby. You can't always stay in the same place your whole life." Obi argues back on a face time call. It wasn't a fight. More like a discussion, in wich you both bring the same arguments over and over again.

"You know i can't handle change. And it would be a change for you too."

"I know you can't. And i already had a change. I moved from Essen. There wouldn't be so much change. You know half of the from national and you got friends with Lynn."

You look away, to the wall, feeling defeated. "Ha Gotcha, Schatz. (honey)" Obi said happily. "If you move to Bayern, you can play with and see Lea more often." You knew what the Lea card would do. You know that Lena misses to play in the same team as Lea, like in Essen.

"Didn't you wanted to show me your new tattoo idea?" Obi distracts from the topic.

You knew Obi wants to distracts from the topic. She was a bad loser and she knew how right you were, Obi just didn't want to admit that. So you played along.

"What do you think of something like that?" You showed her a page from your sketchbook.

Since then none of you dared to bring up the topic again. In the meanwhile Obi has gotten an offer from bayern munich. She didn't know what to do with it. Should she tell you? Should she ignore it? These question were toturing her mind.

Her solution: She's going to ask on national break what you would say if she got an offer from your beloved club.

But unfortunately the right time wouldn't come to Lena. Everytime she was close of telling you something happened. So she finally decide to say it to you no matter what.

She walked into the chill room, wich she knew you mostly are. You were there but you talked with Sydney. She didn't mean to overhear, but she stayed as she heard her own name out if your mouth.

"I love Lena, but i don't know how long it's going to work" Obis face fell. She doesn't want you to think like that. She wants to be with you forever. With sad face she walks away. She talks to you after your conversation with Sydney. But she stopped as she heard Sydney speaking.

"Don't say stupid shit like that. It's going to work out. You both are so smitten and follow each other like lost puppies. It makes me love sick. It's getting to the point to become disgusting."

"Yeah because your Single" you chuckle and on Obis face a smile grows.

"But i'm serious. If you leave, then there would be nothing much different. You still have me and Klara. We still be friends and pull pranks on camp or annoy Laura. Okay? You still got us and the team. We're a big family." Sydney hugs you.

'That's why' Obi realized. You're scared that if you move, your friends will turn their back on you. Obi walked away with smile. Knowing what she's about to do, calling her agent.

You were more then suprised as Lena said she will be visiting for a few days, but gadly take it. With Lena being in Munich you were happier. Sydney and Klara took notice of it and asked themselves why. But they got the answer, when Lena picks you up from training.

"Hope it wasn't too boring, being alone." You kissed Obi. After you two broke apart, you hugged her. Behind your back Sydney, Klara and Georgia made gagging faces. Lena rolled her eyes at them.

"No it wasn't, Liebling" It really wasn't. It was exhausting. She was talking with the club, her agent and the Bayern coach. All to negotiate her move to Bayern Munich.

The day she signed the contract she had mixed feelings. The tought of leaving Jule behind haunted her. But the blonde told her to go, to get her girl. It made Obi feel a bit better about it, but not fully. The other side was excitment. To be near you. To kiss you everyday. To cuddle with you. To cook with you. To do everything with you.

Before the national camp in february the romurs of Lenas move spread over. You saw it too, of course. You didn't know how to feel. There was hope, but you knew to not trust rumors. And Obi wasn't a help either. She only said that she didn't know how or why there are rumors. It broke her heart to see your face fell, just to cover it up quickly with a smile.

On the 14th february her move to Bayern will be officinal. She came to munich for the day, because of valentines. She knew you had a came on the evening, so she took you on a date for lunch. The whole day you weren't allowed to look on your phone. You wondered why and asked her. She only told you it would ruin her suprise.

After lunch in your favourite restaurant she took you to your favourite park, in wich you finally were allowed to look on your phone. You looked confussed at her but did anyway.

"Now go on insta"

"Obi what have you done?"

"Nothing" she smiles at you.

You looked on your phone your confussed look turned into shock. You looked up at Obi, who smiled slyly at you. "Suprise?"

"You fucking idiot. I love you" You run to Lena and hug her. "But why would you do that? You didn't had to"

"I know. But i love you. And Bayern didn't Sound that bad." With that she kisses you. Happy play with you next season and to in with you

#woso #lena oberdorf #vfl wolfsburg women #fc bayern frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen #fc bayern munich #dfb frauen #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #lena oberdorf x reader

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gardengnosticator · 2 months ago

Text

kiss me through the phone

pairing: ellie williams x abby anderson

warnings: sub!abby, dom!ellie, phone sex, shameless masturbation, MEN AND MINORS DNI

To Abby, the gym was her sanctuary. A place not of rest, but of grit and sweat and pain and punishment, and it was where she felt a deeply affirming sense of peace within herself. When the weight of the world, of life itself could be reduced down to a select few exercises and weight allocations of meticulously recorded sets and reps. Friday was a particular favorite day of her week, “Legs”, the archetypal despised body part of every gym bro and yet Abby felt a deep, masochistic enjoyment in torturing every fiber of her thighs, hamstrings, calves and glutes. Partly because she got to spend the entire weekend nursing and recovering her still shaking lower half and partly because she knew how her girlfriend just absolutely adored her legs.

Ellie Williams, the perpetual ass-woman.

So Abby’s day progresses with its usual determined, militaristic pace. Squats first of course, the rack providing solace as Abby worked her way through every single set with the kind of grit one might muster to slay a dragon or other beast. Hamstrings curls follow, each movement paced, controlled, absolute sheer-focus and then… hip abductors. A cruel machine in which one would seat themself, and proceed to squeeze their legs together in a movement Abby affectionately referred to as, “the good girl/bad girl” motion. Due to its embarrassing nature, 99% of gym goers avoided this movement like the plague, but for Abby, it gave her a sense of territorial control that she could stroll over, strap herself in and “rep out these sets” like no one’s business since no one else had the guts to do so.

It’s such a painfully dull exercise that Abby tends to relish this chance by scrolling through her phone and it’s a good thing she did as she catches a text notification from none other than Ellie.

“babe where r u at??? ive been warmin ur spot on the bed for like an hour”

Abby snorts, fingers already grappling with the screen of her phone as her legs continued their effort in contracting against the devastating weight stack she had opted to use.

“So all you’ve done since I left has been roll over to my side of the bed huh?”

Ellie is fast to respond.

“nuh-uh! i had some of the coffee u left and i stared at a page in my sketchbook for 30 mins. then i went back 2 bed”

“You know eventually you’re going to have to complete that piece, I’m not sure you can ask for an extension due to creative block.”

“theyll give me one on compassionate grounds cuz im like a widow back here waitin for u to return from the war.”

Ellie’s clinginess was something Abby adored. Ellie’s unfettered, unabashed and unironic appreciation of her existence definitely made Abby’s day most of the time. She shakes her head, squeezing one more rep out before texting out her response.

“I’ll be finished up in 20 minutes and be home as soon as possible babe, you know how busy this place gets on a Friday.”

The text is sent. Is seen. And Ellie’s response… takes a little longer than Abby expected. So long she had already decided to continue on with her second set. It’s a little shameful how quickly she checks to see who it was, as if it would be anyone else.

“big day yeah? legs rite? u kno thats my fav <3”

“Only your favorite because you refuse to admit that your groping does not count as therapeutic sports massage.”

“nah its my fav cuz ur always so jittery n sensitive when u get back. lookin forward 2 sittin between ur thighs when u get home ;)”

Abby thighs slam together with so much force the weight stack within the machine rattles loudly. Not loud enough to draw attention within a gym environment, but loud enough for her to become conscious of just how hard her heart was beating in her chest. She gulps, tongue nervously darting out to drag against her lips as she tries to regain her composure and finish up her set.

“u always get home so tired n drained its cute. u never seem 2 turn me down as well so i guess u enjoy it 2?”

Abby’s heart is beating against her ribcage like it’s an under-engaged zoo animal longing to tear apart a particularly bothersome toddler. She looks around, as if someone here could read her mind and delve into the part of her psyche that’s already imagining that beautiful lop-sided smirk dancing on Ellie’s lips as she descended between her legs and-

SLAM!

Once again, Abby has decided to forgo the gym rule of not slamming the weights and has found herself with thighs tensed and firmly clamped together, yet the usual sensation of burning quads has been replaced by that of an aching hunger within her core. Her tongue darts itself out to drag across her lower lip, head turning to take note if anyone was staring. They never do. People here know better than to stare at Abby when she’s in the zone, even if right now the zone was decidedly not focused on working out. At least… not in this particular sense.

Abby scrambles her way out of the machine, her set long forgotten and her gym bag firmly being tugged along as she makes a quick walk to the showers, thumb already hurriedly grazing near Ellie’s contact on her phone screen.

–

Abby has absconded to one of the gym’s many shower stalls, the water running but not with the intent on scalding off her sweat and cleansing her for the walk home, no, merely trickling in the background to hopefully obscure her true reason for being in here.

She waits, with her gym shorts around her knees and her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear as she bites her bottom lip. It rings. And rings. And rings until finally, relief, a drawl on the other end of the line to soothe Abby’s thoughts.

“Sup..?” Ellie croaks out, the after effects of a sleep schedule to rival even the laziest of felines.

“You’re callin’ early. Lemme guess, some asshole is curling in the squat rack again huh?” She giggles, good lord her giggle. Abby can picture Ellie now, eyes scrunched shut with a lopsided smirk as she snorts. It’s gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact Abby can’t help the way her free hand finds itself snugly compressed between her thighs, two fingers drawing their way back and forth through her folds as she stifled a groan.

“I-I just wanted to check in. See if you wanted me to get anything to eat on t-the way back? Abby’s doing her best to remain stable, trying to keep her voice quiet and in check as she debauches herself in a public shower stall.

The line stays silent for a few seconds before the distinct click of a tongue can be made out.

“That so…” Ellie’s voice is low, so low Abby can barely hear her, but she relishes every syllable escaping Ellie’s lips and Abby just melts. “If that’s it you coulda just texted y’know…” Abby wants to slap herself for making such a weak excuse. No, that’s not it. She wants Ellie to slap her, put her in her place like the bitch in heat she was being right now.

“Jus’ wanted to hear you…” Abby whines out, eyes shut tight, her cheeks a bright pink as her fingertips ever so daringly push their way inside of her, breath hitching. Hitching so loud Ellie can hear her.

“Poor baby missed me that much she just had to gimme a call huh? Cute.” Ellie’s tongue rolls the last part of “cute”, popping it out with such sultry venom Abby feels her knees tremble. She bites her down hard on her bottom lip to stifle another lewd moan, nodding her head furiously against her phone.

“M-Missed you a whole lot…” Abby’s voice is defeated, her eyes just barely open enough to watch her hand continue to caress between her thighs, the tip of a finger just barely parting her lips to push inside of her as the rough skin of her palm found itself compressed against her aching bud. It’s enough to garner another whimper from her, back arching against the cool tile of the shower stall.

“Missed me or missed my tongue, that’s what I’m wonderin’.” Abby can hear the shifting of sheets over the phone, Ellie must be moving from the bed right now and that hurts. Abby wants nothing more than to be right there under those covers with her.

“Put me on video. Now. I want to see you Abby.”

It was rare for Ellie to break out into that tone. That commanding, domineering nigh-snarl that only ever seemed to come out when she was admonishing Jesse for hogging a joint or when Joel’s phone calls to check in on the pair got a little too frequent. It made Ellie sound so much bigger than she actually was, it made people respect her authority, and most importantly it got Abby so fucking wet she was sure she had just tumbled back into the spray of the shower faucet.

Abby does exactly what she is told, chest heaving as the hand that wasn’t busy pleasuring herself scrambled to grasp her phone, holding it at arm’s length as her thumb shakily finds its way to switch the call to video, and the sight that unfolds in front of her makes her body freeze. Ellie has not gotten herself out of bed, merelypropped herself up enough for the screen of Abby’s phone to present an immaculate picture unto her.

Ellie is kneeling atop the mattress, her phone propped up on their shared bedside table, probably thanks to the copious amounts of half-read comic books Ellie leaves up there. For once Abby is grateful for the bedside mess, because now she gets to gorge herself on the sight of Ellie resting on her splayed out knees, clad in only a pair of black boyshorts and a gray tank top that so perfectly frames her toned waist. Abby whines like the bitch in heat she is and Ellie sneered.

“Oh yeah. You certainly missed me.” Abby nods, completely undone by Ellie’s mere presence, the knowledge she was watching her do this, in public too, it only fuels the heat within her stomach, the aching between her thighs and the speed of which her two fingers curl against her gummy inner walls.

Abby’s eyes are almost glazed over. She inhales sharply as she watches Ellie’s onscreen figure move slightly, leaning herself back so those slender fingers can rake their way up and down over her torso, tugging and toying with the hem of her wife pleaser. Abby’s mouth parts, her words all but falling from her throat as she begs, “P-Please, please, please Ellie… I wanna see so fucking bad…”

She begs and she receives, the way Ellie begins to hike her top up and over her stomach, fingertips agonizingly slow as they trace their way over the defined muscles of her abdominals. If Abby was 5% less restrained right now, the poor girl would be straight up licking the screen of her phone in a desperate effort to taste Ellie’s pale skin. All she can do pump her digits inside of herself, the accompanying wet squelching sound of Abby’s sex as she continued to ride her own fingers.

Even through the screen Abby gorges herself on Ellie’s most subtle movements, the way those bushy brows come to furrow on her forehead, the way the corner of her bottom lip rolls itself back as she chews on it, dark green eyes staring right through Abby’s soul as Ellie brings her top up to teasingly reveal her chest. Abby lets out a guttural moan, almost doubling over on herself.

“Bet you wish you had stayed home today huh…” Ellie huffs out, her voice slightly muffled due to her distance from her phone, and yet its as if Ellie is right up against Abby’s back, and that combined with the way her palm was grinding right up against her quivering bud, slick with the drizzling shower, her sweat and the juices oozing their way from her folds causes Abby to grunt out Ellie’s name with each primal thrust of her hips down to meet her hand.

“Fu-fuck… God I wish you were here Abs, you’re always so good when you get home from a workout. Just so fuckin’ soft and tired, love how you just let me treat you as my toy…” Ellie’s head is tossed back. One of her hands comes up to cup at her breast, the other pushes itself under the waistband of her shorts, a wonderful bulge emanating from her crotch as she rides her own fingers in tandem with Abby.

“There ain’t nothin’ better than having you laying on the couch and letting me ride those thighs of yours.” Abby’s eyes are shut tight; if she stares at Ellie any longer she might pass out from the sheer lack of blood flowing to her vein as all sensory motivation focuses on curling her fingers right against her g-spot. Her breathing is ragged, her body coiled so tight she felt like she was either going to climax or perhaps burst a damn blood vessel as Ellie’s sultry drawl once again meets her ears.

“Cum for me baby.” All Abby can do is obey, is crumble, give in to every firing synapse in her brain and ride herself out. She heaves with effort, every muscle contracting as the slick white ring of her arousal pools over the knuckles of her hand, body doubling over as she rides out her high. Eventually, after sinking to her knees Abby collects enough of her strength to open her eyes. Ellie had once again shifted, her face filling up Abby’s phone screen as a very smug, very pleased smirk grows on her lips.

“Wash up and get your ass home, because unlike you, I haven’t had my fill yet.” And with that, the call ends and Abby just breathlessly laughs to herself, rolling her neck as she opens the stall door to see if she can safely put her phone away before properly showering. She huffs proudly to herself; looks like she's in for a very long night.

#ellabs #abby anderson #ellie williams #ellie smut #abby smut #ellie tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us 2

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mochatsin · 1 year ago

Text

When MC can Draw (Dateables Version)

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the dateables react when they find out you’re a great artist?

Wow my first dateables version of my prompts. Hope i’ve written them all well. This version is requested from my tumblr :0 thanks for reading!

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Diavolo

Diavolo took notice when you saw your eyes lingering among the paintings during your tour around his castle. There were portraits of prominent figures from Devildom, from old kings to spearheads that shaped their history. He explains how there’s one royal painter for every royal king, thus the similar styles in every portrait. Since you’re an exchange student then it’s essential you learn about these demons, and Diavolo is happy to tell their tales for you.

He was taking a stroll around RAD before going home when he spotted you in the school’s gardens, seemingly preoccupied. He wanted to call on you but he was more curious to see what you were working on. Diavolo watches you closely from a distance, afraid that you might hide from him if you spot him like how the others do.

To his surprise, he saw you working on a portrait of him in a style that’s similar to the ones he’s shown you. The way your eyes lingered on those paintings when he toured you around before, it clicks to him now that you were trying to study the art style itself as well. It’s almost identical, but with your added personal touches to make it unique.

His towering size doesn’t hide him very well when you immediately spot him at the corner of your eye. The pillars don't do justice to how large Diavolo is as a demon. You try to conceal the art you were making, it’s embarrassing when the subject of your art is actually a few feet away from you. But he quickly smiles as he walks over to you. Now that his cover's blown, he definitely wants to see everything up close now.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and spy on you like that. But you don’t need to hide anything! Even from a glance I could tell you’re talented. Would it be alright for me to see what you were working on?” You can’t really turn down such a polite request, but you most certainly can’t turn down the volume of his voice that’s booming with excitement as he flips from one page to another.

When you finish your portrait of Diavolo, expect it to be treated like a national treasure. A beautiful artwork of the young prince made by the human exchange student? It deserves the best frame that Diavolo can get his hands on. Expect Barbatos by your door the next day with high quality art supplies. He’ll treat you like one of the finest royal artists to ever live in Devildom.

Barbatos

He invited you for some afternoon tea at the castle as thanks for lending him a hand in his duties the other day. Though there were some other matters around the castle that Barbatos needed to attend to, he asked for you to stay put first and help yourself to some of the treats he had prepared beforehand.

You always admired the intricate designs of the tea set Barbatos always prepared whenever you came over. Since you’re a bit bored, you took out your sketchbook and decided to draw the fancy little tea cups while you wait for Barbatos to come back.

The tea sets that Barbatos prepares always have beautiful pattern designs that range from dainty floral prints up to sets that look more expensive than the Mammon’s weekly bills due to how much the patterns are embedded in gold. If you look closely, you could probably spot little devils on it and it’s cute in its own way.

Little did you know he’s been actually observing you for a while now. He finished his last minute duties rather quickly since it would be rude to keep a guest waiting and that’s when he spots you keeping yourself busy by drawing, your glance going from the tea set to the paper. He wanted to admire that look you have whenever you concentrate for a little bit.

He lets out a small chuckle which gets your attention, a gentle smile on his face as he approaches you. “You’re quite the talented one, aren’t you?” Barbatos says as he takes a seat next to you, glancing at your sketchpad. “Maybe you can tell me more about your work while we enjoy some tea together?”

Barbatos wouldn’t push for you to show anything, but he’ll be happy once you do. He’s impressed at how well you can make patterns that range from something simple to ones that have intricate details. He likes how you can make a portrait of the tea sets he’s been preparing, and secretly he grabs his finest sets to see if you’ll be inspired enough to draw it as well the next time you visit. Maybe he can also pull some strings to put your own pattern designs onto an actual tea cup and serve it to you next time.

Simeon

Sometimes you go to Purgatory Halls to get away from all the constant nagging and chaos of the demon brothers. It’s nice to find that peace and quiet you needed to do your daily tasks or just laze around since you felt like it.

Simeon lets you stay in his room for today while he tries to focus on writing for his novel. He plans on introducing a new character soon and since he trusts you, he starts talking about the character itself. How they compose themselves, what they’re like, the possible role they’ll play in the story, you get all these details before the chapter is even written.

Once he’s done talking he lets you get back to whatever you were doing while he continues trying to figure out how to write the next few parts. Though he soon hears the sound of scribbling pens and wondered if you were doing some homework? He could’ve sworn you were done with those already.

He turns around and to his astonishment, you were sketching the character he was just discussing with you earlier. Given his detailed accounts of the character, you were able to design it well. It’s an understatement to say Simeon is happy. He is ecstatic. You brought this character to life in just a matter of minutes all for him, and that brings Simeon more ideas on how to proceed with writing.

“You never told me you actually knew how to draw. Your talent at visualizing is exceptional.” Simeon would listen carefully while you talk about your journey to the arts and how you honed your talents while he looks through your other works. Afterwards, he starts to praise your art like a professional critique, telling you what he loves in each work.

His heart skips a beat whenever he finds your old works that’s dedicated to his novels. Learning that you’re also talented with the pen like he is, just in a different element, makes him feel a little bit closer to you. If you’re not busy, he may ask for your help when it comes to visualizing something he’s having a hard time with. He’ll treat you to something nice as thanks!

Solomon

Being Solomon’s apprentice means that there are times he’ll require you to assist him with his research. There’s a few spells and potions that he wants to work on, though they all require a lot of preparation work. You both agreed on doing a bit of divide and conquer on those tasks so that it won’t be too time consuming to finish.

You managed to do a lot of chores for him which is quite tiring, though Solomon is grateful for your efforts and he has one last request from you which he said is essential to the potion he’s making. There’s a delicate Devildom flora that Solomon harvested recently, and you have to make sure the flower stays fresh because it can wither very quickly if not taken care of and the potion would fail if that happens. He’ll take it off your hands once he’s done preparing everything else.

Normally, one would’ve kept it in a vase full of water and called it a day. Though you decided to not only put it in a vase, but draw up a summoning circle that would keep it fresh. It’s something that you learned from Solomon’s notes, and the sorcerer is astonished you drew the circle so accurately enough to work on your first try when he came to check up on you.

“Now how did my little apprentice actually manage that so quickly? That would’ve taken me several tries to get the patterns done.” Solomon says with an amused smirk, staring at the circle in awe. Getting one line wrong would’ve instantly killed the flower but right now, he sees that not only is it very much alive but it looks more vibrant than ever. The magic is more potent, Solomon is sure that any potion he makes with its petals would be very effective.

While he was waiting for the potion to boil over in the cauldron, he decided to learn more about this hidden talent of yours. He makes you draw some summoning circles from one of his books, already starting out on the difficult types to draw. All of it is perfect somehow since you’ve had a history of drawing, so your hand is quite steady and you act like it’s no big deal. Solomon will definitely want to see your works in the future.

“A lot of sorcerers can cast magic, but not everyone has the talent to make summoning circles as quickly and accurately as you do.” That’s big praise coming from humanity’s strongest sorcerer. Though that means he’ll want to exploit that talent and call you over every time he needs it in his experiments, it’s a win for him either way because he gets to spend more time with you.

Luke

There’s a new event in Devildom where the angels and you were teamed up to open a stall that’s focused on selling sweets and pastries. Luke appreciates your input when it comes to taste testing his sweets since none of the demon brothers are able to give proper critiques like you can, Simeon tends to be a little too nice to Luke, and Solomon is never allowed near the kitchen. Ever.

Your company is always welcomed and Luke would gladly add any of the sweets you recommended onto the menu. You always come back to the House of Lamentation with a bag full of samples you both baked that day, which always brings a smile to the brother’s face.

You come back to Purgatory Hall only to find Luke seemingly having a dilemma. He reassures you that it’s not because of the batch of sweets and pastries since you helped him perfect the menu. It’s the fact he needs to make a logo and design for the stall. If it can’t attract any customers then all the effort you both put into baking this would go to waste.

You sat down with Luke to brainstorm with him, watching the angel stare blankly at the paper with frustration while you ask him for what ideas he’s already had so far. Luke had to go back to the kitchen to pipe some frosting on the cupcakes, though by the time he came back you were already done with the sketch.

Luke is awed at the design, seeing as how you incorporated both his and your idea for the stall in a way that still blends well together. “Y-you’re incredible! How’d you do that so fast though? You know what, let’s show Simeon first!” If Luke had a tail, it would be wagging from sheer joy. He’d be so excited to get the decorations and paint for the stall that he almost forgot about the cupcakes in the oven.

By the time the stall is finished and running, Luke would definitely flaunt your talent not just for helping him bake but for also designing the stall. “You like the design? They did that!” He would say with an excited grin on his face before pointing at you. Luke enjoys working with you that you both barely notice the brothers getting jealous over the amount of time the angel gets to spend with their human.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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naffeclipse · 2 years ago

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I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud)#The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

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martyfive · 1 year ago

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i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

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luna-the-bard · 2 months ago

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Uhhhh so I’ve been. Drawing a lot lately.

I think last time I posted was like over two weeks ago? So yeah there’s a bit of a backlog.

I’m honestly not sure what else to say as an intro so I’m just gonna. Dump a bunch of art here real quick and if it doesn’t all fit then maybe I’ll make two posts or something. There WILL be rambling. Anyways-

I spent like 6 hrs last night studying one of my Boothill screenshots because I’ve been meaning to learn how to draw him.

Little did I know I was gonna go back to it today again to fix his legs. I can’t believe that asshole took 6+ hours of my life how dare he (I want to draw him again)

I took a break from drawing him somewhere in the middle there only to draw him in my sketchbook instead lol. don’t look at that gun it’s not there shh.

There’s also a new oc I’ve been working on. (Don’t mind the ref screenshot in the bg this is a wip lol)

Playing around with the idea of a princess who slays her own dragon, so when the rescuers come, their job is already done (it’s okay, they can be her getaway drivers instead). Named her Lady Eithel, although her full name and title is “Princess Eithelmira of the House of Thorns”, since she is part of her planet’s/kingdom’s royal family.

Im also putting her on the path of Beauty, because it makes more sense for her than any currently playable paths in hsr, and we know that even after the fall of an Aeon, their paths can linger (as seen with Trailblaze, Order, etc). Also, it not being a playable path means I can do whatever I want with it, and boy am I gonna have my fun >:) She’s gonna be finding Beauty in all kinds of things, folks. I’m gonna throw her around the universe into all kinds of situations (probably).

Eithel’s home planet, Struna-5, are worshippers of Idrila, and it’s said their the planet’s moon was a blessing from THEM. Struna-5 is divided into several major kingdoms, like Pelionore (that Eithel hails from) and their neighbor, Aurora. My vision for the planet overall is a combination of scifi and fantasy/medieval aesthetics. (Not unlike what Nimona did with their worldbuilding, you should go check out the art book for that film, it’s online for free)

Eithel’s been incredibly challenging for me to draw, despite having the same old traits I usually tend to give my ocs. But there’s a certain vibe I’m going for with her and it’s been hard to capture, I suppose.

Some more art of her:

She is 5’2 so if you’re over 6ft tall this is probably what you see any time she talks to you x)

I also really like the sketch I had for that wip from above.

There’s also a few earlier studies of her, including the first time I managed to capture her face/feel right:

I’ve been studying MsLeeSketchbook ‘s (on twitter) art a lot for her, I really enjoy how they paint.

I think I’m getting to the image per post limit, so have this alt lighting mockup from the wip:

I’ll put the smut and other stuff in a separate post, ig.

#luna draws #oc #digital art #sketch #original character #boothill #hsr fanart #hsr boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail boothill #fan oc #hsr oc #oc x canon #but not really bc all the shipping is going to a separate post lol #should I have a tag for Eithel? ig I should #lady eithel #art wip #Boothill’s arms killed me btw. there’s so much going on there.#his body is both hell and heaven to draw

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yelspyder · 2 years ago

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˚‧⁺.- Nah, just killing the boredom

↳summary: basically Miles having a (big) crush on his classmate (you ofc)

↳characters: Miles Morales

↳Gn! Reader

↳notes: i finally posted something after so long 💪 im not posting as often here on tumblr because of my lack of motivation, but I promise to try to post as much as possible 😼 i swear i'll try to avoid disappearing again and work on my asks. this one is short but i hope you like it

MILES peeked to the side, seeing the book you were reading hidden from the math teacher, which he didn't blame you for doing since this class was super boring.

You were a transfer student who recently joined the school. The first time he saw you in the halls, Miles froze for a few seconds. It wasn't his fault you were pretty. Since then, Miles has tried everything he can to interact with you, but to no avail. He absolutely hated his shyness in those moments when he was prevented from having any interaction with you.

Miles tried to recognize the book by its cover, only to read the title and stumble upon a book he's never heard anyone talk about. Tearing a piece of paper from his notebook, Miles quickly grabbed a pen, writing the name of the book you were reading. Just in case, he thought. He then took the piece of paper and folded it, putting it in his pocket so he don't lose it.

Also bored with all the equations the teacher was writing on the blackboard, Miles surreptitiously grabbed his sketchbook and opened it to a blank page, making sure the teacher didn't see him. Pencil in hand, he began making small squiggles on the page. Absentmindedly, Miles ended up being quite entertained with the drawing, detaching himself from the class while focusing on drawing.

This didn't last long, until the bell rang, indicating the end of the last class of the day. Miles didn't take long to pack up his stuff and get up, ready to go home.

Three days later, again in math class, Miles spied on you. He felt his heart flutter, watching you absently chew on the tip of your pencil as you looked around the room, looking for something to entertain yourself with. How can someone look beautiful without even trying?

Miles then gathered all his courage, and threw a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. Your attention returned to the crumpled piece of paper on your desk. Looking at Miles, you could see him nervously motioning for you to unfold and read the paper. As soon as you opened the paper, you saw impeccable handwriting on it.

I see that you like to read books, and that book you've been bringing to school recently is one of my favorites! The protagonist is definitely my favorite character, even more so after chapter 20, not to mention that the turnaround in his personality in the third book of the saga is incredible 0>0

When you read what was written, you smiled, without delay to scribble something on the paper and crumple it up again, throwing it to Miles' desk. He eagerly unfolded the paper, and read what you wrote, before writing back - in a not-so-pretty, more hurried stroke this time - and throwing the paper back to you.

At the end of the day, Miles had the dumbest smile on his face as he read and reread the notes exchanged during class.

Little did you know that he had spent all of his allowance and the last two whole days dedicated to reading those books to get a good first impression.

#across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse x reader #atsv #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #atsv miles #miles morales x you #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #atsv pavitr #astv hobie #miles molares #spider man #spiderman

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bless-my-demons · 2 years ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for like one cuss word

Notes: Hot off the press - I just spent my day packing my house up to move tomorrow and I’m up past midnight to get this out... You guys have been so freaking supportive and I’m excited for this story to pick up!

Word Count: 3158

Series Masterlist

• March 11th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Emotions.” Jasper says by way of greeting, placing his backpack on the picnic table that no doubtibly contains his art supplies.

“Everyone has them, yes?” I reply, my forehead wrinkling in confusion at his peculiar single-word statement.

“I can control them.” He answers, visibly nervous as if he were afraid he just opened a can of worms.

I watch him pull out his well-worn sketchbook and pencils as I decide how to respond to this new bit of information.

“Say something, doll.” Jasper looks almost pleading, worry setting in on his face.

“How does it work?” I question him, I’m in shock that he volunteered such important information in the middle of a school day at lunch as if it were a typical topic to talk about.

“Well, it started off as just being able to sense the emotions of humans and vampires in my vicinity,” he lets out a sigh as he begins shading whatever it is he’s working on. “Then I quickly figured out I can influence them. I can either enhance what someone is already feeling, take away their emotions altogether, or replace them entirely and give them something completely different.”

“W-wow,” I stutter, “that’s honestly impressive.” I raise my eyebrows as his eyes meet mine.

“I can also do small things since I’ve had time to hone my power, like it’s easy to find people I’m familiar with in a crowded area, within a reasonable distance. As long as I can get to know the person, orient myself with their emotions, it’s quite easy.” He glances down at his drawing as he finishes his explanation.

“That has to be rough, feeling everything everyone else is feeling all the time. You can turn it off though, right?” I muse out loud, I can’t imagine having a power that doesn’t come with an ‘off’ switch.

“Unfortunately I can’t, my family is usually pretty good at regulating the intensity of their emotions when we’re gathered at home. At school though… Sitting out here alone with you during lunch is a welcome reprieve.” Jasper turns back to his sketch as he admits that last tidbit of information.

“Do any of your other siblings have super powers like you?” I tease him, not ready to dive into that nugget of information about how spending time with me makes him feel.

“Rosalie and Emmett don’t, neither do Carlisle and Esme. Unless you want to count the staggeringly strong self-control my adoptive father possesses.” Jasper pauses, “Alice can see the future, subjectively though - she has to be searching for that person’s intent and as long as they make a decision, she can see it and the immediate effects. Edward on the other hand, can-“ but he’s interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the lunch period.

“You’re not off the hook now that you’ve enlightened me, I expect to finish this conversation.” I tell him as I stand and meet him on the sidewalk leading towards the school building.

“I would never leave business unfinished with a lady.” He says rather cheekily, trying to get a rise from me, but all it earns him is a huff of a laugh as we walk in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you for sharing that information with me, I promise not to tell anyone.” I vow soberly, meeting his eyes as we stand outside of my next class.

“I was never worried.” Jasper replies, backing away as students finish milling about in the hallway. “See you in History, darlin’.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood in front of my open locker, quickly shuffling through the books I needed for my last class of the day. It’s almost like his gaze seemed to burn me alive as I felt it travel across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rose due to my heightened state of awareness I had towards this gorgeous man. Does he know the effect he has? Is he even aware that I am utterly at his mercy? I hate to fall in line with all the other girls that must throw themselves at his feet, most of them much prettier than I, so why me? Why does he want to take me on a date?

I glance over my shoulder in the direction I know his own locker is in and sure enough, liquid gold is locked onto its target. A steady unwavering gaze stares back, so solid and intense that it constricts my chest for a moment with the pure force of it.

I turn back to my locker and grab a pen before slamming the door shut, the warning bell signaling one minute before everyone still occupying the hallway is tardy. As I turn to hurry my way to History, Jasper has made his way to stand right behind me.

“Do you like baseball?” He blurts out quickly, as if to not lose his nerve.

“It’s probably the only sport I understand, so yeah. Why?” I counter, tilting my head in question.

“My family and I were thinking of playing a game Sunday. Would you like to tag along and spectate? Bella Swan will be there, I’m sure she would love your company.” Jasper tacked on the last part as if I needed more reason to go than just spending time with him.

“As if I could say no to you and your family.” I tell him with a smile.

“Good, so you’ll want to meet them tomorrow?” He asks with more confidence than the last request, slowly taking steps backwards down the empty hall and I gravitate with him.

My mind blanks, not prepared to be sprung with such a big step in… whatever is happening between us. First he tells me he wants to take me out on a date, now I’m meeting his family? Is this some lucky alternate universe where the insanely attractive boy falls for the incredibly average girl?

No-no way, friends bring their friends over to meet their entire family before a family outing, right?

“I-I-uh-“

“Noon tomorrow, they’ll love you.” Disappearing around the corner of the hallway with a smirk in place, probably because I was gaping at him in the middle of an empty hall.

I glance around - an empty hallway! I’m late for class! I can’t even be mad, Jasper Hale has effectively monopolized my weekend and I’m more than happy about it.

• March 11th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, mom?” I ask, poking my head in her open bedroom door.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Putting down the book she was reading and pushing up her reading glasses, my mother sits up in bed to give me her full attention.

“So,” I take a seat at the end of her bed, “Jasper Hale invited me to his house tomorrow, to have dinner with his family and just hang out I guess.”

“Oh?” My mother sounds intrigued, eyebrows raising. “A date with a cute boy?”

“Not a date!” I immediately correct her, “it’s just dinner, or whatever.”

She laughs as I pick at her bedspread. “Honey, of course you can go, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” She questions.

“He also asked if I wanted to play baseball Sunday with his fa-“

“You? Play baseball?” She blurts out, incredulously.

“Mom!” I draw out the word. “He’s invited me to hang out with his family this weekend - you’ll be cool, right? When he picks me up? No interrogating?”

“Me? Interrogate the cute boy stealing my daughter for a weekend? I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you.” She teases me with a wink.

I stand and begin to leave, “You are insufferable, woman.”

“I love you, sweetheart!” She yells after me as I round the corner to my room. Flopping onto my bed with a smile, I’m both giddy and equally nervous for the next two days.

• March 12th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

“This is my adoptive father Carlisle and his wife Esme.” Gesturing to the two beautiful adults patiently waiting in the foyer as we walk in their home.

Thankfully my mom was at work when Jasper picked me up, giving me another day to prepare myself for the potential train wreck of them meeting tomorrow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.” I give them a smile as I shake their hands.

“Trust me dear, the pleasure is all ours!” Esme responds excitedly, her smile wide and beaming.

“The others are in the living room, beware of what you’re throwing her into.” Carlisle warns Jasper with a smile.

Throwing me into? I glance up at Jasper with my brows furrowed, a little concerned.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you.” He jokes with me, I must be missing the punchline.

As he leads me to the living room in his house, I gape at the beautiful artwork spaced throughout. “This is gorgeous, Jasper.”

“Esme is pleased you like it.”

Not having heard his mom speak, I turn from where I was ogling a painting that appeared to be ancient. “But she-“

“Can hear you from her study and I can feel her emotions, remember?” He winks at me, show off.

Finally we walk into the space where his siblings are and I realize what Carlisle meant: Mario Kart.

Alice and Emmett are sitting on the edge of the couch, deep in concentration while Rosalie seems bored from her perch in the corner by her significant other.

“You’re fucking cheating!” Emmett bellows, frantically mashing buttons on his controller.

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing someone that sucks.” Alice taunts him, a wicked grin on her face.

“You can see the future Alice, cut him some slack.” Jasper chides his sister as he leads me to an empty section of the couch.

My eyes widen in amusement as I observe the small dark haired girl, “That’s right! You can-“

“See everything I try to do!” Emmett yells, frustration setting in as his character is hit with a shell.

It’s almost laughable, Emmett’s character Bowser and Alice as Princess Peach. I sit down next to Jasper, a few inches between us as I cross my legs and he lays an arm behind me on the back of the couch. I try to keep my breathing even as I sit here, but the excitement to be spending time with him is almost overwhelming.

I watch as Princess Peach zaps the other players into miniature size and Rose reminds Emmett not to throw yet another remote at the ground, when Jasper leans in close.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asks in a whisper, creating goosebumps down my arms.

“Yes.” I respond, probably sounding breathless, but he’s standing and offering his hand before I have the chance to feel embarrassed.

“And this is my room.” His tour coming to an almost close, since I’m still patiently waiting for a peak at all their cars.

I walk in the doorway he pointed to, stopping just inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite of the floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to be a theme throughout the house. His room was much darker than all the others, warm and inviting with the shades of black and dark wood tones. Stepping closer and skirting the immaculately made king size bed, my eyes close in on some familiar titles on the shelves.

“I always see you reading and since I have quite a bit of free time, I thought I’d pick up a few.”

I turn to look at him with my mouth parted in surprise at his thoughtfulness, his hands are clasped behind his back like he’s bashful for getting found out.

“Jasper-“ but he interrupts me.

“The garage is next.” I watch him turn on his heel and disappear down the hallway.

I look down and brush my fingers on his black comforter as I smile to myself before following him, so Jasper Hale isn’t immune to his own feelings - he just doesn’t like to show them.

Walking into the garage, my eyes skip over the beautiful cars and land on a sleek little thing in the back. A Ducati 848 to be exact, it draws me in like a magnet. Immediately I knew it had to belong to Jasper, no one else seemed like the type. Rose had her red convertible, Emmett had his Jeep, and Edward had his mom-car. Alice and Esme didn’t bother with vehicles and Carlisle had a reasonable, albeit expensive, commuter.

“Wow,” my voice quiet as my fingers brushed the gas tank, “I’m impressed, Hale.”

“You know bikes?” Jasper asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Not really, but I know enough to know that this Ducati is basically a rocket and that it must’ve cost you a pretty penny.” I replied, eyes still glued to the beautiful machinery. “Why didn’t you tell me you drove a motorcycle?”

“Not many parents let their ‘teenager’ drive death traps around.”

“Touché.” I pause, “Take me for a ride?” Swinging my leg over to straddle the beast, I lean over the tank and glance at Jasper.

I know I’ve successfully distracted him by the amount of time it takes for him to respond. Grinning, I sit back and look at him expectantly.

“Absolutely not, darlin’. No way I’m risking-“

“You have safety gear, don’t you?” I tease him as I get off and walk behind him to snag the helmet placed on the counter along the back wall.

Jasper groans and tilts his head back in mock-frustration as he fishes the keys from his pocket. I squeal as I pull the helmet on and hop excitedly towards the bike.

“You’re wearing my protective gear or no deal, sweetheart.” He lays down the law as he stalks over to a cabinet, retrieving a thick coat and gloves.

I almost protest, but he’s pulling the jacket over my arms and zipping it up my chest leaving me breathless before I know what’s happening. Even with the helmet covering my face, I’m sure he senses the heat in my cheeks as he finishes checking me over.

“You sure about this?” Jasper asks, finding my eyes under the visor with his supernatural vision.

“Are you sure about this?” I counter, the unease floating around is practically choking me in this enclosed space before it vanishes in a snap.

He flips up my visor, “Riding with someone requires trust-“

“I trust you, Jasper Hale. Completely and without any reservations or doubt in your abilities to keep me safe.” I swear my words stunned him, his mouth parted slightly as I blurted the confession. As if he realized the doubt that was flowing earlier was from him and not me.

“You are…”, he mutters his response low enough that I can’t hear as he swings a leg over the motorcycle and turns to me seriously. “Number one rule, don’t let go of me. Lean with me on turns and stay tucked in. If you need to stop, tap on my chest. Any questions, doll?” Jasper asks.

“Where are we going?” I climb on behind him and scoot close enough to wrap my arms around his waist lightly, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to be this close to him and it’s amazing. I let out a small gasp when he grabs the backs of both knees to tug me closer, bracketing my hips around his to tuck me in close. He then grabs my arms and places them over his chest, the side of my helmeted head coming to rest on his large back.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, ready?” I feel a teasing chuckle rumble in his chest, so I simply nod, excitement tingling all over from where my body touches his.

The Ducati roars to life in the enclosed space and I feel it lean to the right as Jasper taps the garage door button on the wall to open our exit. My arms squeeze him a little tighter as we launch forward down the driveway, I’m tempted to wave to Esme smiling from the porch, but I decide against it remembering his number one rule of not letting go.

This is single-handedly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Jasper

This girl will be the death of me, I know it for certain.

She could ask me to bring her the moon and I would have it in her hands in a heartbeat. Taking her out on my motorcycle? Easy in theory, extremely difficult in practice. I’ve never felt as I do right now with her arms around me, her completely pressed against my back and squeezing me at every jolt and turn I make.

Heaven and Hell, having my greatest temptation in such close proximity.

She trusts me. Completely and without doubt - her fucking words. I’m positively speechless, I’ve never had someone to myself that trusted me so wholly without needing any kind of explanation or-or proof-

And her leaning over my bike in the garage? I nearly swerve us right off the road thinking about the arch in her back, the way her chest pressed against the tank, her toes barely able to touch the ground… it took nearly every ounce of control to remain rooted while she was seated atop my motorcycle.

My only regret is not showing her the garage sooner, that image of her will forever be seared into my mind. On second thought, I’m sure my mental images were extremely loud and clear in the garage - it’s a mystery how Edward can manage to be around the couples in our family. For me at least, the emotions get too much sometimes and I need breaks.

I’ve noticed that I’ve needed them less and less since Y/n literally slammed her way into my life - breaks from everyone else that is. She not only elicits a physical reaction that no one else has ever managed to coax out of me, but she has also become a mental safe-haven. Being around her energy is as easy and mindless as breathing, if only I could breathe around her without inhaling molten lava. Everything about her completely consumes me, tears me apart and builds me back up, unmakes and makes me over and over, infinite bliss and unending torture. My singer, her blood is a symphony and I am her rapt audience hanging on to every beautiful note and praying for an encore.

My singer.

The revelation clangs through my soul and grants my body with a new purpose; her. She is mine to protect, from this day onward. My left hand reaches up to anchor myself where Y/n’s hands rest on my chest, her arms not quite long enough for her fingers to meet in the middle. I smile to myself, maybe I can allow myself this one bit of happiness, to let her in.

#twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale #redamancy series #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #female reader insert #jasper hale twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #slow burn #romance

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eldritch-nightmare · 2 years ago

Note

Had smth in mind based on those Jeff Headcannons you did,,,,,What about The Doll Maker or Bloody Painter(or both idk I’m indecisive) yandere Headcannons but with a willing reader,,,Thought abt that while listening to Ayesha Erotica, idk how

a/n: your wish is my command. going with the bloody painter since i haven't really written much for him here yet. this one got away from me a bit. sorry if it's messy, but i hope you find enjoyment from it nonetheless <3

yandere bloody painter with a willing s/o.

warnings: gn!reader, yandere content, puppeteer cameo bc why not, crush at first... smile?, reader goes to an art school, reader has some questionable morals, stalking, possessive behavior, murder, blood, breaking and entering, the public nor authorities doesn't know that helen is the bloody painter in this btw, morbid painting, a brief description of gore, idk art so sorry if i describe it incorrectly.

Oh, man. I can see him behaving in two different ways. One is the way he'd behave around you if you were there in his childhood and the other is if he met you after everything happened. For this, we'll focus on how he behaves after everything happened.

Helen is very emotionally reserved and pretty apathetic, to be honest with you. It's very difficult to get close to him. I like to think that you two met while he was getting some more art supplies.

He saw you struggling to pick between two paints and, being the artist that he is, he decided to do something a little nice for once and help you out.

And, a little bit to his surprise, that led to a rather lengthy conversation about art as you detailed to him the art project you were working on and how you really weren't sure what direction you wanted to take it because the prompt given to you didn't give you any ideas.

And as we all know, Helen is nothing if not an artist. So, obviously, he listens to every little detail you provide him and offers some advice that may help you out before you two go your separate ways.

And--

Huh. Why'd his chest suddenly feel all warm at the sight of your smile?

He finds himself drawing your smiling face later, thinking that maybe the warm feeling in his chest was just a random burst of inspiration. I mean, he is an artist after all. Inspiration tends to strike at the most random times.

His dear friend seems to think otherwise.

"Aw, does Helen have a little crush?" -> "If you don't have anything of value to say, then please keep your mouth shut."

He doesn't have a crush on you. Not that he knows what it's like to have a crush, I mean he's never been in love before, but he doesn't. No way.

Then he sees you again, and damn. I guess The Puppeteer was right. He does have a crush. Oh well. He accepts this revelation immediately and comes to terms with this newfound feeling rather quickly.

It's just a small crush, one that he's sure will go away soon. But he's never felt this way before, and the feeling leaves him curious, so he finds himself actively seeking you out.

He doesn't consider it to be stalking at first, just... studying. But then he follows you home one day, and he realizes that maybe these feelings of his aren't as small as he thought they were.

Does he feel bad for stalking you? I think, momentarily, he questions why he's doing this but... he's not a great guy in the first place. He does kill people and use their blood as paint, after all.

And you're aware that someone is watching you. You can feel eyes on you most nights. You should be scared, you know that, but... for some reason, you don't. If anything, you start leaving your blinds open more often.

Helen will sometimes even sketch you while he watches you. The way you hold yourself and the way you move around... it just makes him want to capture every moment he can in his sketchbook. He even briefly considers picking up photography as a hobby the longer he watches you, but he decides to just stick with his own form of art.

But he really likes it when he gets to see you make your own art.

And that's when he breaks into your home for the first time. You were out with some friends, and when you came home, you noticed your door was unlocked. At first, you didn't really think much of it, but when you went to your room, you couldn't help but feel as if something were off.

It took you a while, but you soon discovered that some of your drawings were missing. Thankfully, none of the ones you drew for class were missing.

You had no means of contacting your stalker, which you suppose is a good thing, so instead you just wrote on a piece of paper and taped it to your window.

'Glad you like my drawings.'

And the next day, taped on the outside of your window was a little doodle of a smiley face.

You didn't give this odd relationship much thought, to be honest. You thought it was kinda cute that this random stranger seemed to derive some type of joy from watching you. He hasn't done anything to hurt you, and his intentions don't seem malicious, so you honestly had no problem with it.

Of course, your friends definitely thought it was weird. They think that you need to report your stalker to the police, but you choose to ignore their concerns. You reassure them that if you ever feel as if you're life is in any danger, you'll inform the authorities about what's happening.

So, it goes on like this for a while. Helen would mostly stick to watching you from afar, but sometimes he'd break into your place while you're sleeping just to get a closer look at you. Sometimes, you'll wake up and there will be a drawing of you on your nightstand. You keep those drawings tucked away safely in one of the many empty sketchbooks you own.

Then a... domino effect of sorts took place.

You started going to a new café since it was closer to where you lived and closer to the school you attended. -> There's a cute barista there who always flirts with you whenever you buy a coffee or get yourself a treat. -> You humored their behavior because you thought it was cute, so you would flirt back sometimes. -> It became routine, and a couple weeks into the routine, the barista just up and vanished.

You thought they had quit, but you overheard some of the other employees at the café whispering about how they hadn't heard anything from them.

Something that should have been completely unrelated, you lose your red paint. You can't find it anywhere.

Continuing on with the domino effect, a day or two goes by and you hear on the news that the barista you had been flirting with was found dead in their home, drained dry of their blood. The police believe this to be another victim of The Bloody Painter.

You wouldn't have thought much of it, but then you notice a note taped to your window.

'There's a gift for you in your kitchen.'

And when you went to your kitchen, you saw a container resting on the counter. It wasn't translucent or see-through, so you couldn't see inside of it, but there was another note resting on top of it.

'I saw you were out of red paint, so I got you some more. We should meet up this week and paint together, don't you think? I'd love to see what you can create with this.'

And the note wasn't signed with a smiley face this time. It was signed with a name.

Helen Otis.

You set the note to the side and one quick look inside the container told you that he had given you blood to use as paint.

It didn't take you long to piece together what was going on here. The blood he had given you was no doubt the blood of the barista who had been murdered, which means... your stalker was that serial killer that's been all over the news these past few months.

The person who has been breaking into your home and leaving you those drawings was a serial killer. And he... he trusted you enough to tell you his name?

Holy shit, that's a lot to take in.

You should be panicking. Hell, you should be calling the police to let them know about all of this. You'd be doing the world some good if you did that, and it would save a lot of lives.

But your gaze drifts back to the note, and your mind wanders to all the drawings he's made of you, and... this was just so...

Cute. It felt romantic, even.

He killed a person you had been flirting with and gave you their blood as a gift. That has to be his way of letting you know that you were his.

You didn't even think about what you were going to do. You took the container of blood and you took it to your room. It didn't take you long to set up a tarp on the ground since it was no doubt going to drip onto your floor and you really didn't need blood stains in your carpet.

And you searched up a reference of what you wanted to paint, and you immediately got to work.

Later that night, while you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, Helen was breaking into your home for the nth time.

The reason why is because you had left a note for him to see on your window, one that had certainly caught his attention.

There's a gift for you in the kitchen.

You've never left him a gift before, so his curiosity was certainly piqued.

He made sure to be quiet as he made his way to your kitchen, not wanting to wake you up. He wasn't ready to meet you. Not yet.

When he gets to your kitchen, he certainly wasn't really expecting to see a canvas resting on the counter, a white sheet covering whatever was painted on it. A sticky note was placed on the sheet as well, and Helen stepped closer to it to read it.

This is what it looked like, right?

p.s. I'm willing to take you up on that offer.

And on the corner of the sticky note, there was a small smiley face doodle. How cute.

With the note read, Helen wasted no time carefully removing the sheet from the canvas, a subtle excitement coursing through his veins.

And... oh. Oh, you're as fucked up as him, aren't you?

What he sees is a downright devastatingly beautiful piece of work.

The painting was completely done with just the blood he had given you, with a few pencil marks for shading, and it depicted the murder he had committed just a few days prior.

He imagines that it was rather easy to find a photo of the crime scene online, but you were somehow able to capture the scene perfectly and you weren't ever there.

From the way the body was hanging upside down from the ceiling, a few buckets underneath it to collect the blood dripping from it. The way lifeless look in their eyes that you had done with a pencil... the gashes all over their body...

You had passed the test he had set up for you.

He took this as a sign of acceptance. A sign that you wanted to be his. You wouldn't keep the blood and make such a masterpiece with it if you didn't, right?

A slight smile formed on his face at the thought, and he stood there and admired the art you had made for him.

Hmm... maybe he'll stick around until you wake up...

#tanuukiiii #the bloody painter x reader #the bloody painter x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #yandere x reader #yandere bloody painter #yandere bloody painter x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader

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junocandraw · 3 months ago

Text

JEFF THE KILLER REWRITE 1/4

Hey freaks!! Its here!! I’ve tried to post this like 100 times, but I’ve had MAJOR TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES every time. Lets hope that this is the one!

Big thanks to everyone who helped me proofread this and make it all nice and pretty. I’ve worked REALLY HARD on it, so your help was appreciated to the fullest extent.

CW: Blood, Gore, Knives, Seizures, Slenderman, ED, being lit on fire, bullying, if i missed anything please let me know.

DISCLAIMER: This is my first time putting my writing out for the masses. As you can imagine, I’m a little bit frightened. PLEASE be kind. I will take criticism as long as it is VERY VERY nice, and actually helpful. I know commas are gonna be in the wrong place sometimes, I’m human.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, ENJOY YOUR MONSTER ENERGY AND YOUR LOW CALORIE POPCORN AND READ MY AWESOME REWRITE!!!

The Move

Jeff leaned his pale forehead on the car’s window. It would fog up under his nose as he breathed in and out. The glass was chilly, a testament to the harsh Wisconsin wintertime. The car moved past the bland dairy farms and trees in a blur. The snowy ground contrasted harshly against the dark needles of the pines. The dull weather seemed to punctuate Jeff’s mood.

Jeff was 17, and had been since last April. He was around 5’11 in stature, with dark hair and pale skin. His eyes were light blue, just like his father’s. If you looked at him too quickly, it almost looked like he had no irises. He adorned a disgruntled expression, and his signature smudged eyeliner, both of which were things his parents hated.

“Jeff, how many times do I have to tell you not to touch the windows?” His father, Mike Woods, glared at Jeff through the rear view mirror. Jeff rolled his eyes, and slouched back in his seat dramatically to avoid his father’s gaze, “And don’t get smart with me.” His father threatened without conviction.

Jeff’s father was a short and stout man, less than desirable to look at. He stood at 5’6, head and shoulders. He was balding on the crown of his head, and his face was shaven. His bright blue eyes matched that of his eldest son. He looked grimey. Like someone that you couldn’t trust. This feeling that he emanated matched perfectly with his career in law.

Jeff became bored at sight-seeing, and turned to look at his half brother. Liu Woods sat in the backseat adjacent to him. He was 15, two years younger than Jeff. His bold, green eyes stared out of his own window. They matched very well with his light brown hair that he had inherited from his mother. He wore a black tee shirt, a green cardigan, blue jeans, and Doc Marten boots. His precious sketchbook was situated neatly in his lap. He played music in his headphones, lost in his own world as per usual.

”Are…are we at the town limits yet?” Jeff’s dull Stepmother fiddled with the phone in her hands, glancing between it and the signs on the road. Jeff’s father gave an annoyed sigh, as he answered,

“Not yet. We’ll get there when we get there, Nicole.” His Canadian accent reeked of privilege. Because of their bickering, Jeff turned his attention to his stepmother. She was a real trophy wife: A stay at home mom with bleach blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes. She was blessed with beauty (Though, it had all but faded with age), but not brains.

“How far are we from Milwaukee?” Jeff asked, having just woken up from a nap a few minutes ago. He had asked this question without ill-intent, but his father didn’t see it this way.

“Jeffery, if you bring up Milwaukee again I’m going to lose it. We’re putting that behind us. No more, do you hear me?” Jeff didn’t reply. He knew his father wouldn’t take a minute to slow down the route, so there was no point in playing his games. He instead sighed, and opened his IPod to a Black Veil Brides playlist. He decided letting his anger fester would be wiser than letting it out while his parents were agitated from the move. The move that didn’t have to happen.

Jeff was angry when he realized he had no say in the matter. It wasn’t fair. He was angry when he was packing his stuff, angry when he said bye to his friends, angry when they loaded the U-Haul van, and angry when they said goodbye to their old house. Jeff had always been angry, even when he was a little boy.

Once, when Jeff was in fourth grade, and Liu was in 2nd grade, a couple of 3rd graders had started to call Liu names from the top of a tall play structure. Jeff, protective of his younger brother, stormed up to the top of their tower and pushed both of the bullies to the ground beside Liu. It was around a 10 foot drop, and both boys went down chest-first. One of the boys broke his arm, and the other one had a nasty fractured wrist. To make matters worse, Jeff then took a sharp woodchip from the ground and pinned one of the boys to the earth with his knees. He used it to cut into the face of the boy, ignoring all of his pained screeches that only a frightened elementary schooler could emit.

Jeff was suspended for 2 weeks, and both injured boys were hospitalized. Desperate to protect their precious public image, the Woods parents paid for both of the children’s hospital bills to avoid a lawsuit. When they spoke with the Elementary school counselor, he pointed out lots of previous issues Jeff had with other children. He then suggested that they seek professional help, because their son may have anger issues. This idea was shut down immediately, and the counselor was given Mike Woods’ classic No-Son-Of-Mine speech. Jeff’s parents hated the idea of any of their children being different.

“Elmerville, established 1849.” Liu read the town sign, taking his headphones off.

“Are we almost there?” Jeff asked, fiddling with the arm cuffs of his light blue crew neck, “I’m hungry.”

“You’ve been hungry for the last hour, Jeff.” His father sighed, and moved his hands to the 10 and 2 position on the steering wheel, “Like I said, we’ll get there when we get there, and when we do, you guys can order pizza, or something.”

“Pizza? Really?” Jeff’s mom whispered through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on, it’s just to tie them over until dinnertime.”

“It’s not proper. What will the neighbors think?”

“Of us ordering pizza?” Jeff raised an eyebrow at his silver-spooned stepmother..

“Jeff.” His father growled, glaring at him through the rearview mirror again. Jeff, for once in his life, wasn’t in the mood to argue. He instead looked back over at Liu. He was now drawing, headphones back over his ears. Jeff glanced down at his sketchbook to see a person in a paisley patterned suit, with a description written in blue ink beside them. Jeff figured it must be one of Liu’s characters that he had created.

“That looks awesome.”

“Thank you.” Liu gave an appreciative nod at his brother, his biggest art critic, and fan. Just then, their father turned into a subdivision, and started down a row of large houses.

“Boys, welcome to your new neighborhood.” Their father stated, pleased with the neat array of houses ahead of them.

“It's very…minimalist.” Liu was disappointed at how much character the subdivision lacked, a new trend that he often complained about to his brother. He scratched his neck, and stuffed his sketchbook into his tote bag, saving his current drawing for later.

“Yeah…whatever that means.” Liu’s mother added under her breath.

“It’s perfect, just what the Woods family needs.” Jeff’s father gave a smug smile. The car slowed down, and turned into a paved driveway. Jeff and Liu stared at the house in front of them. The outside was white brick, with a black roof and shutters. The lawn was neatly manicured, completed with bushes that had snow piled on top of them.

The four car doors popped closed in unison, and the family stepped out to examine their new house. The moving van pulled up to the curb behind them, stopping with a high pitched squeal and a hiss.

“Welcome home, everyone.” Mike smiled proudly, fists balled on his wide hips. He walked up to the front door and began to unlock it with the key that had been provided.

“This isn’t home.” Jeff muttered to himself under his breath next to Liu, as the two boys went to grab their boxes from the moving van.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Jeff’s furniture had been unpacked, he laid out on his bare mattress. His sheets and blankets were still in the van, but he didn’t feel like getting them yet. As he was thinking about unpacking, he heard knuckles wrapping on his new door,

“Jeff? Can I come in?” Liu asked timidly. Jeff gave a grunt of approval, and Liu opened the door. He saw his half brother laid out on his mattress like an emo starfish, his room only half decorated.

“What's wrong?” Jeff asked, rolling over so Liu could sit beside him.

“Everything.” Liu answered.

“Yeah. This place is awful.” Jeff’s shadowed eyes narrowed, “It’s so – fake – if that even makes sense.”

“I bet the people are too.” Liu frowned, looking out of Jeff’s window onto the unfamiliar backyard.

“No kidding. Mom’s probably gonna start to bitch at us about everything we do so that we can, ‘Make a good first impression with the neighbors!’” Jeff scoffed, mocking his stepmother’s shrill voice. He then flopped back down onto his bed with a groan. Liu followed,

”Everything is so fake.” Liu sighed, staring up at Jeff’s new white ceiling, “What do you miss the most?”

“I miss hanging out with the team at that one gas station next to our school. A group of us would always go there and get slushies after practice. I miss Stanley too. Losing him was like losing an arm.” Jeff felt choked up describing his home town, and his hockey mentor whom he missed dearly. Stanley Waterbury introduced Jeff to his favorite sport, and trained him from his youth to his adolescence,

“I miss the art room. I miss my oil painting that I never got to finish. I miss Noah and Jacquelyn.” Liu added, kicking his feet that hung over the edge of Jeff’s bed.

“I miss Milwaukee.” Jeff whined, face in his palms. He was ready for his father to be standing behind the door, waiting to strike him for mentioning his beloved hometown. The name of the city they once lived in had become taboo– something that couldn’t be so much as uttered. It hurt Jeff a great deal that a place he once cherished was now nothing more than a hush-hush topic.

No sooner than Jeff had thought of him, he heard his father’s voice booming from downstairs,

“Boys! Come put the rest of these boxes away!” Jeff groaned at this, wanting to take a break from unpacking and reassembling his possessions.

”Coming!” Liu yelled back, “C’mon, if we do it fast we can eat pizza.” He offered Jeff a hand to pull him up.

“Good. I’m starving.” The pair exited Jeff’s new room, and began to descend the stairs together. Their father was putting cushions on the expensive beige couch that they had just purchased. Nicole Woods set up a shabby chic sign over the mantle that read, ‘Home is where the Heart is’ in Rae Dunn font. Jeff found this incredibly ironic, as he felt his heart was back in Milwaukee.

Liu opened the front door, and Jeff followed him outside. They had to avoid the two moving guys who worked together to carry a coffee table into their house. Jeff held the door wide open for them, for which he received an appreciative nod. Liu stood on the steps of the house, waiting for Jeff to follow him outside. They spent the next hour or so bringing their items into the house, unpacking them, reassembling furniture, and dusting. Lots of dusting.

When everything was said and done, the Woods family gathered at a cards table on foldable chairs. They ate their pizza for dinner, much to Nicole Wood’s protest. It was quiet, the only sounds being chewing, and Mike Woods obnoxiously slurping his lukewarm beer.

“So, did you boys get everything unpacked?” Jeff’s stepmom broke the silence, forking at her pizza instead of eating it with her hands like a normal person.

“Mhm.” Liu answered with a mouth full of pizza. Jeff nodded silently, which angered his father for some reason.

“Jeffery?” He looked at his eldest son,

“Yeah.” He answered, without breaking eye contact with his food. However, his father didn’t find his answer sufficient,

“What is your problem, young man? Why can’t you show a little bit of gratitude? Why can’t you sit with your family and have a good time?” Jeff’s head tilted upwards to meet his father’s glare. His eyes were ice, even lighter than his fathers. They were shaded by his messy, dark bangs.

“My family?” His eyes narrowed, “Liu is my brother, but that homewrecker isn’t my mom.” Jeff’s stepmom clutched her hideous, chunky necklace, and turned to her husband to see what he would do. Liu sat silent, staring down at his half-eaten pizza, waiting for the pot to boil over. His father slammed his fist on the table, causing Liu to jolt. He stood up in an attempt to strike Jeff, but Jeff ducked backwards with ease. He pushed his chair out aggressively, leaving his stepmother and brother behind. His father would have none of this. He followed Jeff through the arched doorway and into the dark living room.

Jeff reached the banister of the stairs, but not before his father had caught up to him. He yanked him off the first step by the back of the shirt, and pulled him down to his level. Jeff landed on his ankle and winced with pain. Now he was fuming.

“YOU LISTEN TO ME NOW, BOY!” Jeff was 4 inches taller than his father, so he looked down on him. Jeff loved this. It gave him a sense of control. His father barked in his face, embarrassed that his son had evaded his hand so easily just moments before, “IF YOU THINK FOR A MOMENT THAT YOUR MOTHER AND I ARE GOING TO TOLERATE ANYMORE OF YOUR…DISRESPECT, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!” Jeff felt glee coursing through his veins at the sight of his father; he knew that Jeff was getting too old to push around. Jeff could see it on his pudgy face. He was terrified.

Jeff narrowed his eyes at his father, challenging him. He wanted to hit him. To hurt him. But he wouldn’t hit first. Jeff’s father accepted his son’s challenge, and swung at him with a weak right hook. Jeff ducked, but not quite in time. He got the top of his head knocked pretty good, inciting a new feeling inside of him.

Jeff felt something unfamiliar triggered in his brain. He was reminded of the countless years he had dedicated to his passion: Hockey. Jeff was one of the best centers in the state of Wisconsin. He had always loved to fight, and had never taken a knee in his entire career, something he constantly bragged about. However, there was something sinister to this fact. Whenever he fought on the ice, he always felt some kind of excitement at hurting other people. He wasn’t sure why, it had just always been like that. It was just who he was.

However, what he was feeling now was different, something he hadn’t ever felt before. All of the sudden, there was a strange ringing in his ears. He looked into his father’s beady blue eyes. He felt irked at the sight of him. Pure, unbridled hatred. Rough as sandpaper, and hot as flames. This, mixed with the aforementioned pleasure blended into something entirely new: Bloodlust.

Suddenly, Jeff lunged at his father, grabbing his thick neck with much force. Jeff’s father stumbled back, and landed against the wooden front door. A family photo fell to the floor with a “Crash!”. Jeff’s father tried to pry his son’s hands off of him, but it was to no avail. Jeff had an insane look to him, something evil swirling within his frozen irises. Just as Jeff was about to really get violent, he heard his stepmother’s shrill voice to the right of him.

“STOP IT, YOU TWO, STOP IT!!!” She cried, pulling them off of eachother, “WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!” It was like a haze had been waved out of Jeff’s face. The ringing was gone, the rage was gone, and the pleasure was gone. Jeff’s father moved away from his son, coughing and gasping for air. He did his best to hide the terror he felt. It wasn’t working.

”Jeff, go to your room. Now.” His stepmother held her husband’s arm. Jeff stood for a moment, unsure of what he was actually going to do. He looked to the arched doorway that led into the kitchen, and saw Liu’s silhouette beneath it. All eyes were on Jeff.

”NOW!” His father screamed. Jeff gave one last glare at his father, before growling with frustration. He stormed up the wooden stairs to his bedroom, and violently slammed the door behind him. He sat on his bed, neatly made with his black bed sheets and his comforter. He looked at his shaking hands, feeling his surging adrenaline begin to fade.

“What…what was that?” He asked himself, startled by how fast he had resorted to strangulation. He turned his head upwards and began to look around his room, “A lamp…a poster…highlighters in a cup…my desk…and my water bottle.” He said all of this to himself whilst taking deep breaths, just as his therapist had instructed him. He felt sick to his stomach.

He laid back on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling, just as he had done with Liu a few hours earlier. He turned over with a sigh, and hugged a pillow close to his body. He watched how the moonlight shone through his blinds onto his bedroom floor in horizontal lines. Soon, he drifted off, anger lingering deep within him.

The Hallway

Jeff’s family moved into their new house during the school district’s winter break. The break came to an end in early January, and Jeff and Liu began to attend their new High School, Elmerville Catholic United, on a Monday. This was an adjustment for the both of them. They had previously attended a public school in the North of Milwaukee. Despite it being underfunded, and the building not being the newest, Jeff and Liu loved it.

Jeff was actually fairly popular. He had friends from all walks of life. He spent most of his time with his hockey team, and he even had a few girls that he had been talking to. Jeff’s academic efforts were never grand, but he had received countless scholarships from colleges for hockey.

Liu, on the other hand, had exceptional grades. He was a sophomore with a steady 4.0. He took lots of AP classes, and did well on his ACTs when he took them. He spent most of his time in the art room. Liu had a small group of friends that shared similar interests, and similar music taste. Being more introverted, he preferred this to a larger friend group like Jeff’s.

Their parents had constantly begged him to switch to the nicer private school in town, and almost forced the boys out a few times. Jeff always bent over backwards for both him and his brother to make sure they weren’t ripped away from their beloved routine.

This new school was like hitting the reset button. The campus had a big library, a huge gym, the newest technology, and had been built very recently. Jeff and Liu would take the asbestos ridden basement and mediocre food at their old school anyday if it meant they could be with their friends again.

“Room 114.” Liu stared down at his schedule card as the pair walked out of the front office, “What about you?”

“Room 212. Damn! I’ve got biology first!” Jeff groaned, science being his least favorite subject.

“That sucks, I’ve got creative writing.” Liu smiled at the paper in his hands,

“How’d you get mom and dad to sign off on that?” Jeff asked, knowing how much his parents despised Liu’s interest in the arts.

“I…uh- didn’t.” Liu whispered sheepishly.

“You got away with that?” Jeff grinned, impressed with his younger brother.

“I guess.” Liu responded absent mindedly.

Jeff didn’t pay attention to any of the lectures. He instead spent his time counting down the minutes until school ended. He felt isolated. He felt like a Freshman again as he aimlessly wandered the halls with no one to talk to. There was a ban on phones and IPods in the building, so Jeff wasn’t able to communicate with his brother. What Jeff hated the most was the school uniforms. Stuffy crewnecks and ugly khakis were all the eye could see, leaving no room for any sort of individuality. Jeff felt like he was being strangled to death by the arbitrary rules.

At last, the final bell rang out. After the afternoon prayer had been concluded, Jeff collected his homework on the way out of his 8th period class. Just as he was about to walk through the doorway behind his teacher, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and was met with another boy around his age. He was just a little bit shorter than Jeff, with a sleeper build. He had fox colored hair and eyes like cobalt. His face was vaguely freckled and he had a scar on his chin.

“You’re the new kid?” He questioned Jeff, leaving no room for pleasantries.

“Yeah...” Jeff answered hesitantly, disliking the feeling that he was getting from this kid.

“And you play hockey?”

“Yeah...”

“Did you play for Stormbreaker Elite?” The boy asked, his head tilting slightly. Jeff was surprised

“How do you-“

“I guess you’ll be playing here then? I’m the team captain.”

“Yeah. I signed up for the team way before I got here.” Jeff answered coldly.

The boy nodded, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Just then, two other boys appeared from the dimly lit classroom behind him. One of them was a skinhead that had a chip in one of his canines. He was lanky, all knees and elbows. The other boy was the opposite. He was pudgy and slow. Jeff could hear him breathing out of his mouth, which grossed him out. He would occasionally toss his greasy brown hair with a flick of his head.

“Did you actually commit to Wisconsin?” This kid was starting to get on Jeff’s nerves with all of his questioning.

“Sorry, who are you?” Jeff shifted his weight onto his other foot.

“This is Troy,” Randy tilted his head towards the fat kid, “and Keith. I’m Randy. My dad is Mr. H.”

“Who?” Jeff raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

“Mr. H? The AD? Are you slow?” Randy sneered. His friends chuckled at this comment.

Jeff began to piece the situation together: This was an attempt at intimidation. Jeff tried not to let his short temper control him, and instead attempted to salvage the conversation,

“So…do you all play hockey?” The question was both a peace-offering, and a way to gauge how often he would have to encounter these douchebags.

“Yeah?” The skinny kid scoffed, eyeing Jeff up and down. Jeff took a deep breath, telling himself that he wouldn’t be controlled by his anger.

“Well, I just moved here. I live over in Clairmont.” Jeff explained, pretending to be blind to their malice.

“I don’t remember asking you.” Randy sneered, sizing Jeff up with his cerulean eyes. Jeff felt like throwing his fist at Randy’s mouth as hard as he could, but he refrained.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Jeff challenged, “I don’t even know you.”

“The problem is that you think you can just waltz in here and join the team halfway through the season without even trying out.” The skinny kid narrowed his eyes at Jeff, and the fat kid glared even harder.

“After all, I’m the best center in our district, so don’t think you’ll be getting any playing time.” Randy spoke with a pompous tone.

“Does your skill get you your minutes, or your Dad’s job?” Jeff watched Randy’s smirk disappear. It was clear that he had never been stood up to before.

“Look at my stats and ask me that again.” Randy shot back, his feet moving to a fighting position. Jeff knew that he could absolutely wreck Randy if he wanted to. The problem was his goons. Randy was protected, which only frustrated Jeff further.

“How about you look at my stats? You seem to know everything about me already, right? Do you like digging through your Dad’s shit when he’s not in his office?” Jeff also moved his feet to get a better stance. All of the sudden, a voice broke the tension between the boys,

“Mr. Woods?” When Jeff turned around, he saw a man he didn’t recognize. He had the same fox-colored hair as Randy, but it was grayed from age. His eyes shone a lighter blue. His face was weathered, but he wore a pleased expression. He held a clipboard, and had a whistle around the neck of his red polo shirt. The same haze of bloodlust that had been over Jeff’s consciousness during the fight with his father evaporated. Jeff hadn’t even realized it was there to begin with.

“You’re definitely the older one.” The man whispered to himself, biting on the end of his pen. He brought the ink down to the paper and scribbled some notes down. Jeff turned slowly to side-eye Randy and his goons. They all glared at him, but none spoke a word. It amused Jeff how quickly the boys had lost their macho attitudes once the administrator had arrived.

“Hello?” Jeff’s eyes darted between Randy’s crew and the adult, who he assumed was Randy’s father. The man looked up, and smiled at Jeff. He tucked his clipboard under his arm, offering Jeff a hand to shake.

“I’m Peter. Peter Hayden, but you can call me Mr. H. I’m the athletic director here at ECU.” Jeff shook his hand firmly, and then shoved his hands into his pants pockets. For some reason, he felt that Mr. H’s tone was laced with insincerity. Jeff had only known Randy for a little bit, but he was certain that this was his father.

”I’m Jeff. We spoke over Email last month about me transferring here.” This comment made Mr. H chuckle a bit.

”I remember. So, you’re going to Wisconsin?” Jeff nodded, his eyes widening a bit, “That’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve had a D1 recruit on our hands.” Mr. H turned his attention to the group of boys,

“You boys can go home. Practice is cancelled today because of the weather.” Randy gave one last glare at Jeff, before leaving the classroom with his punk friends. Mr. H wrote a few more things down on his clipboard, before turning his attention back to Jeff,

“Well, you wanna come see the rink?” He offered Jeff another pretentious smile. Jeff nodded, and began to follow Mr. H out of the classroom.

The two walked together through corridors and hallways that Jeff recalled being lost in earlier that day. The layout of the school was finally starting to make sense in his mind. Eventually, they wandered through the gym where the girl’s basketball team was practicing free-throws in groups. Jeff hated the awkward silence, and decided to strike up a conversation with Mr. H,

“Is that your son?” Mr. nodded, followed by a sigh,

“Yep. Did he give you any trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Jeff responded coldly as Mr. H waved to the coaches across the gymnasium. The Athletic Director sighed again, and shook his head.

“My son, Randy, is…territorial…if that makes sense. When he feels his control is threatened, he tends to lash out at others. I’m starting to regret talking about you so much with my wife. I’m sure when he heard “Wisconsin University,” He took that as a threat to his power.” Mr. H was being way too honest with Jeff, another red flag.

The administrator pushed open a double door at the end of the gym that opened into a dim, concrete hallway. At the end of it, Jeff saw the ice rink. The pair walked up to the boards, and looked out onto the ice.

The rink was very nice, and in good shape, a testament to the Catholic school’s wealth. There were sponsorship banners all across the ceiling, including, of course, Jeff’s father’s law office. Hanging directly over the court was the American flag, the Vatican Flag, and the Wisconsin state flag. There was a huge scoreboard on the wall at the other end of the rink, adjacent to the 6 state championship banners from past years.

“Wow…” Jeff couldn’t lie; he was impressed. At his old school, they rented a rink in town for practice and for games. He hadn’t been informed that this one would be attached to the school.

“Yep. It's a real pain to keep it cool in the summertime.” Mr. H sighed. He made a sudden left turn and continued walking. Jeff had to jog a little to keep up with his long strides. They went under the concrete bleachers and to a red door that read, “Boys Locker Room.” In navy blue letters. Mr. H used one of the various keys on his keychain to unlock the door, and Jeff followed him inside.

Once they entered, Mr. H flicked the lights on. The locker room was very spacious, and very spirited. Both walls were lined with alternating red and blue lockers, and, “HARD WORK” was painted on the wall above them. All of the lockers were labeled with the players' names. Mr. H pointed at a blue locker towards the middle of the left wall,

“This one’s yours, kiddo.” When Jeff got closer to it, he could see his name engraved on a metal tag. Mr. H got his clipboard back out and scribbled on it for a moment, before handing Jeff a detention slip. Jeff was confused for a moment, before noticing it was blank. He turned it over and found a locker combination. He looked up at Mr. H, who laughed at him,

“Did I scare ya? Go on, open it!” Jeff messed with the combination lock before finally managing to open his locker. He was taken aback at the sight in front of him. A white helmet, two brand new home and away uniforms, a reversible practice jersey, and a backpack were situated neatly inside, along with a bag of new stick wax, grip tape, a few stickers, and a keychain ice skate sharpener. Jeff felt as though he had just opened a present under his Christmas tree. Jeff turned back to Mr H, who had that phony smile again.

“As long as I get some playing time.” Jeff thought, returning a fake smile to Mr. H.

“I assume you have a stick, skates, padding and all that stuff, right?” Jeff nodded, and turned to his locker full of gifts, then back to Mr. H,

“Thank you so much!” Jeff cheesed, milking his situation dry.

“No problem. If you need anything at all, come visit me in my office, and I’ll be happy to assist you. Welcome to ECU.” With that, Jeff grabbed the small gifts and put them into his new backpack. He left his uniforms so that they would be ready come game time.

Jeff said his final goodbye to Mr. H at the front office, and left through the front doors of the school. He found Liu waiting beside his car, clutching his body, and shivering. He was shaking like a leaf from Wisconsin’s bitter cold.

“There you are! I called you like 7 times!” Liu complained, his bright green eyes standing out against his red face. Jeff shrugged, and unlocked his car,

“My phone died. Sorry, man.” Jeff opened the door behind the driver’s seat and threw his belongings on the floor of the vehicle. He offered to take Liu’s, who politely declined.

“It’s fine.” Liu sighed, climbing into the passenger seat beside his brother. Jeff stuck his key in the ignition of his white Santa Fe, and warm air began to flow from the vents. Liu noticed Jeff’s new red and blue backpack in the back seat. Jeff struggled to plug the car charger into his phone, “What’s all that?” He asked, as Jeff put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking spot.

“The athletic director found me in my last class and took me to the rink. I got a bunch of goodies and stuff too. He’s totally fake just like everyone else here, but hey, at least I know I’m getting some playing time.” Jeff smirked, turning onto the main road and out of the high school.

“Dang.” Liu criss-crossed his legs up on the seat, “How was school?” Jeff noticed the change in Liu’s tone. He almost sounded sad.

“Dumb.” Jeff sighed, “I almost got into a fight at the end of the day.”

“Jeff, what?! It's your first day!” Liu buried his face in his hands and shook his head, “What is wrong with you?!”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t serious.”

”Jeff, any fight you almost get into on your first day is serious.” Liu panicked, wondering how his older brother could be so calm.

“Relax. The athletic director intervened, and I got away unscathed.” Jeff fondly recalled how lucky he had been.

”How?”

“Well, I was about to leave class, and this kid named Randy came up to me and started telling me to bitch and moan about me joining the team. He plays hockey too, and he’s the team captain, or something. It was pretty stupid.” Jeff watched as a bad driver changed lanes ahead of him without signaling.

“But you didn’t fight him?” Liu narrowed his eyes, skeptical of his half-brother.

“I didn’t. Believe me, I could have broken his twig ass in half. He’s okay because I let him be.” His turn signal clicked quietly as he spoke. Jeff neglected to tell Liu that Randy was the Athletic Directors son, because he didn’t want him to worry.

“Was he blond?” Liu asked, turning away from his brother towards the window.

“No, why?” Liu went quiet, “Liu?” Jeff felt the atmosphere change as he made a left turn into their subdivision.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Liu looked out of his window, trying to ignore Jeff’s questioning.

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie to me, what happened?” Jeff gripped his steering wheel tighter, trying his best to push his feelings down.

“You know how it is…moving to new schools…” Liu paused again, trying not to set his older brother off. Jeff felt that intoxicating haze return. It was even stronger than before. anger, it was something stronger. Something scary. Even for Jeff.

“I’ll kill him…” Jeff whispered. This phrase fell out of his mouth. He didn’t even know where it had come from.

“Jeff, it wasn’t that bad. I promise.” Liu sighed, setting his hand on his brother’s shoulder as he put the car in park on the street outside of their house, “Really, it's not a big deal.”

”Did he hurt you?” Jeff asked. His voice wasn’t normal. It was different. Only slightly, but it was different.

“No. I’m fine.” Liu answered honestly. Jeff paused, his eyes fixed forward on the street in front of him. That ringing had come back, like an angel singing in his blood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay.” Jeff muttered, and switched the keys off. Before Liu could exit the car, he felt his brother’s firm grip on his shoulder. He looked back to see Jeff with a strange look, one he had never seen before, “Promise that you’ll tell me if something happens. Okay, Liu?” Liu gave a slight smile, and pulled his older brother in for a tight hug.

“I promise. I love you.” He patted his brother on the back firmly.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Jeff had a strange dream. He found himself walking through a forest against his will. He wasn’t sure where he was going, or how he got there in the first place. He just kept walking forward, unable to stop. He felt tired, as though he had been walking for hours. The night was chilly, but not unbearable. The sky above him twinkled beautifully, an unmatched dark blue spotted with glowing stars. The smell of wet earth and pine permeated the air. The wind would sometimes blow and sting his face, yet he persisted in his walking.

He reached a clearing in the forest, and he finally stopped walking. He fell to his knees, too exhausted to feel the scrapes and cuts all over his body from the tree branches he fell into. All of the sudden, there was a faint ringing in his ears. Nothing significant, but still noticeable. He looked around. The space was illuminated by moonlight that shone through the opening in the tree canopy.

All of the sudden, Jeff felt a sharp pain in the front of his head. He winced, and touched his face. When he opened his eyes, his hands were stained with blood. He gasped, and looked up. Standing there in the clearing was a man. Jeff was perplexed, as no one had been there moments earlier. That's what Jeff thought, but the more that he looked, the more inhuman the figure seemed.

It was only shorter than the trees around it. It stood as still as a statue. Its arms were long, reaching all the way down to his knees. Its fingers were long too. Boney, and pale. Strangely, it wore a suit completed with a black tie. An odd outfit choice for the middle of the woods. Jeff’s eyes widened in horror when his eyes fell on the top half of the creature. The creature lacked a face entirely. Its features were replaced with smooth white skin, indents where they should have been.

Jeff gained control of his body once more, and began to scramble backwards. The creature didn’t move its body, but it did move its location. It was like every time Jeff blinked, the figure would be in a new location even closer to him. The ringing in his ears grew louder. Before Jeff could get away, inky tentacles reached out from the creature’s back, and grabbed his ankle. Jeff was pulled back, and his body was raked across the forest floor. His chin scraped against rocks and roots, and his hands were red from trying to to grab hold of the forest floor.

Jeff’s body was lifted off of the ground by his ankle, and pulled up into the air. He was stopped abruptly. Jeff was too frightened to open his eyes. When he did, he was face to face with the creature. Jeff screamed, but he was too frozen to do anything. Just then, the creature spoke to him,

“Jeffery…” It breathed, barely audible. Its voice sounded like the wind through the trees. Blood poured down Jeff’s face from out of his nose and into one of his eyes. The ringing grew even louder by the second. He couldn’t see, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His hands were limp, and he couldn’t move them no matter how hard he tried. He watched helplessly through the one eye he had left as two more pitch black tendrils emerged from behind the monster.

He felt one of the tendrils slip into his mouth, and then the other. They tugged harshly on the corners of his mouth, growing stronger with every second that passed. Then, they started ripping. Jeff felt an excruciating burn in his cheeks as the monster’s tentacles tore through his flesh. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn’t even blink. He felt more crimson blood spurting out and trickling down his face. Now he was blind in both eyes. All Jeff could do was hang limply by one of his legs and bleed while the monster laughed at his suffering.

Jeff woke with a start in his bed, his chest heaving and his eyes wide. He wiped the sweat dripping from his brow with his hoodie sleeve. He loosened his grip on the bedsheets, and began to come back to his senses. He touched his face with his fingertips, and found that his cheeks were perfectly intact. He gave a deep inhale, and dropped his shoulders as he exhaled.

“Man…What was that?” He thought, recalling the nightmare he had just had. Never before had he experienced a dream so vivid in his life. He tossed his covers off and sat on the edge of his bed. He pulled some fuzzy socks over his feet. The glow from the moon outside illuminated the end of his bed, and his floor in stripes from the blinds. He stepped quietly to his bedroom door, and turned the knob. He snuck down the hallway to the bathroom, and shut the door before flipping the light.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was relieved to find no blood on any part of his face. His fluffy, black hair was a bit tousled from his active sleep. He had forgotten to wash his eyeliner off the previous night, and black circles wrapped around his eyes like a racoon. Upon inspecting his complexion, he found an odd red tint to his skin. The welts started at the corners of his mouth and ended right beside his sideburns, almost in the shape of a smile. The two lines were directly where the tendrils had cut into him in his nightmare. Jeff touched his face. The welts felt feverishly hot, but the rest of the skin on his face was clammy and cold. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, running his fingers through his hair.

“I was probably…scratching or pulling on my face or something while I was sleeping. That’s why it looks like that…That's why I had that dream.” He gripped the roots of his hair, trying his best to self-soothe. The more he woke up, the more he felt embarrassed at the thought of an external force causing him harm. He turned the sink faucet on, and splashed cold water onto his face. When his gaze fell back on his reflection, the marks went away, and he had black lines running down his face from his ruined eyeliner. He took a makeup wipe out of the pack in the vanity drawer, cleaned his eyes, and tied his hair up into a low bun. He then snuck back to his room and returned to peaceful sleep for the rest of the night.

WOW YOU MADE IT THIS FAR YOU TROOPER!! GO TO PART TWO!!!

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