#so cleaning procrastination is a must

[bytesie]

hi . just playing to be honest ! did a sketchy based on this beautiful photography is aw on my dash a few times today + cute birds

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

So Obviously In Love

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: a little bit of smut

Lando knew he was in love with you for a very long time. It didn't even take him long to admit it to himself, but to you?

It took him ages.

One of the problems was that your last name was Fewtrell and that pretty much explains it all.

But even though it took him a long time to tell you outright that he was madly in love with you, he didn't try to hide it much. In fact, he was too obvious with his actions.

Besides the fact that he started spending more time with you than with your brother, or his best friend to be exact, a lot of big little things happened that gave him away.

Like that one time he called you for the first time to check if you got home safely.

You just got back from Lando's after spending almost the entire afternoon at his place and you're pretty tired, ready for bed. Your eyes are slowly closing, but you know you still have to take a shower, so you decide not to procrastinate and get to work. Just as you were about to leave your phone on the kitchen counter and head for the bathroom, it starts buzzing in your hands. Caller ID showing Lan. You must have forgotten something at his apartment, you think to yourself because it wouldn't be the first time. "What did I leave now?" You sigh answering the phone. "Nothing this time, don't worry." He chuckles. "What's up then?" You ask, a little confused considering you were together just half an hour ago. "Just wanted to make sure you got home safely" He says. "I know you said you were tired and you wouldn't let me drive you." Your heart warms at his caring words and you find yourself smiling as you fiddle with the car keys. "Safe and sound, Lan" "Good, good." He really doesn't want to end the conversation, but he knows you just got back from him, so he pauses for a second before continuing. "Alright, well, I'll talk to you in the morning then. Sleep tight." "You too, Lan. Good night.”

Or the way he gives you the last bite even though it's his cheat day

Lando is always on a special, healthy and clean eating regimen because his job simply requires it. Every now and then, once a month, he lets off steam and eats whatever his heart desires. Today was one of those days. Lando had been talking about burgers all week. He was craving a big, fat burger with lots of fries on the side. He was standing behind the kitchen island finishing his burger when you entered the kitchen. "Whatcha doin'?" You asked hopping onto the kitchen island, your eyes following the last bits of the burger. He didn't say anything, not wanting to speak with his mouth full, he just pointed to the burger and made the most satisfying face ever. "Ugh, it looks so good..I've been so hungry all day, I've been going full vacuum mode on everything edible.." You whined putting your hand over your tummy. "Are you pms-ing?" Lando asked and you nodded frowning. "Here, you can finish it if you want to." He offered without much hesitation. "No, you finish it, it's your cheat day. I’ve already eaten way too much today, one more bite and I might explode." "No, come on. I want you to have it. I'm already full anyway." He lied. He could have eaten at least one more burger like that. "But it's your last bite..the best one" You said as he put it into your hands.

He took a kitchen towel and wiped his mouth with it before grabbing his bottle of water and heading back towards the gaming room.

"There's some more junk food and pistachio ice cream in the fridge. Take that with you when you go home."

Or that one time everyone went crazy when Lando's hand wandered onto your thigh on the stream.

When they heard that you were also there, in Lando's apartment, the fans shifted all their attention from him to you. They were calling your name in the chat and pestering Lando to get you on camera. He actually secretly loved the way his fans loved you. "Y/n?" He shouted taking the headphones off. "Yeah?" You shouted back from his living room. "Could you come here for a sec, please?" He asked and soon you appeared walking into the room. "Chat really wants to say hi to you." "Oh, hi guys. How are you?" You smiled as you leaned forward slightly to see what they were typing. Lando’s gaze softened looking at you interacting with them. His smile only grew bigger as he started to read the compliments and funny things they were saying to you. Lost in the moment, Lando got carried away reading the comments and unconsciously placed his hand on the back of your thigh, gently squeezing it. Of course, it took the chat a full two seconds to notice it and go crazy over it. "Okay, that's enough of y/n for you for today." Lando quickly removed his hand and changed the subject, thinking you hadn't noticed the placement of it. But of course you did.

You hated skiing. You hated it because you didn't know how to ski. You tried, but it was a complete, almost fatal, disaster, to say the least. Every time Lando and Max went skiing, you wouldn't go with them, and seeing how dangerous it could be for you, you didn't even have the desire to learn.

But that one time, Lando did everything he could to convince you to go with them. He succeeded, by the way. He even managed to convince you that you didn't need an instructor, but that he would teach you how to ski, using it as an excuse to be as close to you as possible.

"If I break my leg you'll be the one to blame just so you know." You whine while trying to get your foot into the ski boot. "Y/n, stop grumbling and push your foot a little harder." Lando said trying to help you put your boot on. "I c-can't, it's too freaking tight-ugh!" "Take me by the shoulders and just stand up and your foot will fit inside." You put your hands on his shoulders and just as you were about to do what he told you, something suddenly took hold of you and you burst out laughing. This whole situation was becoming too ridiculous for you, the way you were struggling with those stupid boots and the excessive amount of clothes that restricted your movement, you felt as if you were about to go crazy. "Y/n, get serious, come on." Lando warned you while still holding onto your boot, but he couldn't help but start laughing at you too. You leaned towards him, still laughing like a madman, resting your forehead on his shoulder trying to calm yourself. Lando turned his face towards yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek as his eyes darted to your lips. "Alright, that’s enough, you muppet! Let's get that boot on your foot before night falls." When it was time to take the T-bar lift uphill, you froze. It seemed so simple watching others do it with ease, but you just didn't feel confident enough to do it by yourself. "Lando, I can't do it on my own..I'm afraid I'll fall and-" You panicked when it was your turn. "Hey, hey, hey it's okay. I'll do it with you." He took the bar in his hands and placed it between the two of you behind your legs. As the T-bar lift jerked forward, you grabbed on, holding for dear life, hoping you wouldn’t faceplant halfway up the slope. Lando noticed and chuckled wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to him so you feel safer. "It's okay, I got you. Just trust me"

And finally that time after he had already confessed to you that he fell for you, you came to his place and thought you would talk about how nothing could happen between you because of Max.

But that didn't go the way you planned it.

You thought about having a conversation with him, but halfway through he started unbuttoning your shirt slowly nodding his head and pretending to listen to you. "Lan..I'm serious and you're n-not listening.." You struggled to pronounce without moaning. "I'm listening, keep talking" He quietly urged you to continue as he started kissing your neck. His hands wandering beneath your shirt making your head fall back. Your concentration was long gone when his fingers found your zipper. "Lando..." You whimper as his fingers move your panties to the side. "What, baby? Want me to stop?" "No, please, don't stop"

Lando could never resist you. He's always been so obviously, madly, deeply in love with you.

[starboy-97]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

yoongi is the most acts of service man to ever live, but he's subtle about it. he doesn't like to make a big show, he's not trying to get praise for his selfless acts. he prefers to be helpful unnoticed.

it's not like you're a lazy person, some tasks just seem daunting or get pushed back in place of more urgent things, and yoongi takes note of everything.

any chores you've been procrastinating get magically completed just before you muster the energy to attempt them. whenever you get up from your desk, having been working for a while, just to come back to a plate with snacks, a bottle of water and a little note reminding you to look after yourself in that oh so familiar handwriting.

he moves so quietly it almost feels like you have a helpful ghost in the house. you always find him exactly where you left him, in his home studio working on whatever project has been calling to him recently. when he notices you come in he gives you a quick soft smile before turning back to his work, looking like he hasn't moved for hours.

you would've thought it was some supernatural occurrence had you not finally caught him in the act. most tasks he can do quickly, lifting your burdens before you even have chance to notice. this time though, it was something he was unfamiliar with.

you'd mentioned in passing once how you desperately needed to wash your make-up brushes but its just one of those jobs that isn't important enough to take priority in your seemingly endless list of tasks. time passes, they remain unwashed at your dresser, and yoongi notices. he remembers what you said, a new opportunity to show his love for you has arisen.

you're confused when you arrive home to find him at the table, frowning at his phone screen with a variety of supplies around him. it takes a moment for you to realise your makeup brushes are neatly aligned on a towel in front of him, a bowl of soapy water next to them. you finally notice the what he's watching on his phone, the sound of instructions from a youtube beauty guru explaining how to safely clean make up supplies.

he does everything in his power to make your life easier, lifting even the smallest of burdens that you hadn't even realised were bothering you. you never understood what it must be like to be loved so thoughtfully, so carefully, until you felt what it was like to be loved by min yoongi.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[vigilantekisser]

voicemail, vase, vigilante

matt murdock x reader

a/n: i wrote this to procrastinate writing another fic im so sorry dex and finished SO QUICK so here it is : ]

summary: you drunkenly confess your feelings to your boss over the phone, so naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail. easy enough, except there's someone else climbing in through the window, too. (ao3 mirror)

tags: crack, fluff?, lot of swearing, breaking and entering, black suit matt

You shouldn’t be drinking in the office. You know this, it’s against every code of conduct. But fortunately for you, Nelson & Murdock is so piss-poor from all the pro-bono cases that no one can afford to even think about an HR department. So here you are: in Matt Murdock’s pristine little corner, swinging around on his chair at 11:30 PM, on your fifth—no, sixth —leisurely pour of whiskey from the office stash.

“You have to stop leaving this in your desk,” you grumble at his nameplate. “Enabling my workplace mistakes…”

Not that he’s here to argue. You don’t even remember why you’re here. Blah, blah, finishing filing motions? Or pretending to file motions while fantasizing about your hot, way-too-intimidating boss?

Ugh. There it is again. Matt. Your Problem with a capital P. It’s one thing to have a silly little crush; it’s another thing to fall violently in love with a man who calls you “Miss” and listens so carefully when you’re talking about mundane stuff, like your cat’s urinary crystals. Well, he doesn’t have a choice there really, but he’s listening so intently all the same. He told you that, didn’t he? I like listening to the sound of your voice. A smooth fucking line that, undoubtedly, he must use on all the women in his life. 

You’re doomed, like, comically, biblically doomed.

The whiskey is full of suggestions now, so the next thing you know you’re accidentally (accidentally is debatable) pressing and holding his name in your contacts and recording a voicemail with all the restraint and self-control you can muster, which is none.

“Hey, big boss. You like listening to my voice so much, here’s something to listen to. I love you, Matt. I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary but I really, really—hic—love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your... suits ? God, what’s wrong with me? And– and you know that fur on your throat when you haven’t shaved for a while, I kinda want to pet it. Do you think you and my cat would get along? Anyway—hic—okay, bye forever.”

And then you hang up.

“Fuck,” you say, very calmly. Then, “FUCK.”

Panic hits you like a semi-truck. You’re staring at your phone in horror, and you almost throw it against the wall but catch yourself last minute because you realize it’s not even your phone or even your dignity that’s on the line. It’s your paycheck. It’s also still open to Matt’s contact.

“Okay, okay. We can fix this,” you whisper, although your vision’s spinning. You remember—he left early today. Said something vague about not feeling well and forgetting his phone. Which means…

He’s probably asleep. And with luck, he hasn’t heard the voicemail yet.

You stand. The room swims dramatically, but what matters is you know where he keeps his spare key; of course you do. Yes, you occasionally handle his dry cleaning, and you’re the one who suggested switching the key’s hiding spot from his horrible taped-under-drawer idea to the fire extinguisher near the breakroom. 

So naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail.

You tell yourself you’re doing this for professional reasons. It’s about dignity. It’s about damage control.

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’re telling yourself as you find your way out, out of the office then running, less drunk now and more fucking scared, turning streets and streets then stopping, then you’re fumbling with Matt’s building’s security buzzer, then you’re climbing up the stairs and panting, then you’re at his door, then– then– you’re inside.

It’s dark, of course. And tidy and fucking large. There’s a very real chance he’s sleeping out here somewhere, but the bedroom’s to the end of the hall and thankfully, the sliding door’s closed. You try to kick off your shoes so you don’t clomp around like a horse, but your coordination is shot, so you just stub your toe on something—a credenza?—and hiss, “Fuck you,” at it before stumbling toward the kitchen.

“Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail…”

Phone. Where the hell is his phone?

You spot it near the couch—charging, mercifully unlocked. Ha! The tequila gods are shining upon you! You yank it off the cord and open the voicemail app, hands sweating like you’re hacking into the Pentagon.

Except the voicemail won’t play.

It’s lagging. Loading. Spinning.

You jab at the screen repeatedly. “Come on, you little shit.”

You’re crouched like a rat by this thing, hitting buttons and praying for divine intervention when—

CLUNK. A thud. Metal on glass.

You whip your head toward the fire escape window.

It’s opening.

Before your brain can even string together the words oh my god someone is breaking in, it’s already happening. A figure in black, broad-shouldered and limping, swings one leg over the sill like he’s done it a thousand times—like this apartment is his.

“HEY!”

The man doesn’t stop. He’s moving slow, steady, his shoulders heaving. He’s wearing black from head to toe, including a black mask that hides his face. You grab the nearest object (a ceramic vase, very tasteful Matt, sorry it has to go now) and wield it with both hands like a bat.

“The guy who lives here is BLIND, asshole!” you scream, advancing on him with righteous fury. “You trying to rob a blind man? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The man in black holds up a hand. He’s wobbling. His voice is low, hoarse. “No—I’m—don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what?” you snarl, vase now fully raised like a cartoon caveman. “Don’t beat the absolute shit out of you? 'Cause I’m not feeling real merciful tonight, asshole.”

He staggers and braces a gloved hand against the desk. Breathing heavily.

You’re panting too and all sweaty now, and you feel like you have to shit. No really, your stomach is turning sour and it’s probably all the whiskey, and you need to shit NOW, but here you are, possibly about to commit homicide.

But then it clicks.

Your eyes sweep his figure: The black shirt. Heavy-looking pants, boots and gloves. The mask.

You’ve seen him before.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, still stumbling forward, an open hand shot up in front of him as if in surrender.

“You’re that guy in the paper! The one who beats guys up in Hell’s Kitchen. You threw a car tire at that guy on Tenth, I was fucking there!”

Still no answer. He exhales, more like a groan now and you realize there’s blood. It’s from his shoulder, seeping through the suit. You swallow, trying to steel your nerves, but your stomach’s in waves again and your grip on the vase is kind of loosening because fuck, you do not want to be a sequel to Car Tire Guy. But then you think of Matt—oh God, what if you hadn’t been here—and decide that yes, he may never love you back and still yes, yes, you’d die before if you’d let anything happen to him.

“I don’t care if you’re Daredevil or Dork Knight or whatever the fuck,” you bark. “What the hell are you doing in my boss’s apartment?!”

He mumbles something. You don't catch it. “Get the fuck out or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Wait—don’t—don’t hit me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. You frown. Something’s familiar. And then he’s slumping like a puppet with its string cut. He drops one knee to the floor, gripping the edge of the desk harder to stay upright, and you freeze.

“Okay—calm down, calm down, I’m—”

He’s trying to raise his hands. You raise the vase higher, bracing.

He’s peeling off the mask. He’s—

“Matt?!”

What. The. FUCK.

Thirty percent of your bloodstream right now is Jameson, but it’s the first time you’ve known hallucinations to be a symptom of it. Because in front of you is Matt Murdock. Bleeding. In front of his secretary who is very drunk and holding a ceramic vase, and he’s also apparently Daredevil.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Why are you dressed like that??”

“It’s my apartment!” he shouts back, and honestly that’s fair. Matt in his own living room, at least that part’s right. “What are you doing here?!”

“I—uh—I was—” you sputter. “I left you a voicemail—” You drop the vase, and it lands with a thud at your feet. Huh, maybe it was plastic after all. You stomp over to him, clasping a hand under his armpit and dragging him to the couch. He’s heavy and hurt, so he’s groaning all throughout, and when he’s situated, you start pacing around loudly and drunkenly, your mind still reeling. “Never mind. Let’s just say I could potentially get fired for something I accidentally sent to you, but that’s not what matters now. You’re Daredevil?! Does Foggy even know?”

He tilts his head back with a groan, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple, and says, weakly, “Please stop yelling. My head isn’t doing great right now.”

“Sorry. But what do you even expect, Matt?! You’re a vigilante who just came in through a window! Are you even really blind?? Or was all that bumping into shit excuse just bullshit, too?” You slap a hand to your forehead. “Wait—no, you know what? Don’t answer that, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not your wife. I’m just the girl who orders your stationery, ha-ha. Good for me. Fuck!”

“Not just…” he mumbles, incoherent.

“What?”

But then his phone, having apparently built dramatic tension in solidarity, finally decides to play. You whip around just in time to hear your own voice, slurry and tragic, absolutely damning. 

…something to listen to. I love you, Matt…

No. No no no. (Is that what your voice sounds like?)

You scramble for the phone but you’re pretty sure it’s under Matt’s body, which makes no sense because it’s still so goddamn loud, but then maybe he needs it for accessibility. So maybe he really is blind after all. You slap a hand to your mouth and shoot a glance back at him—he hasn’t moved, sitting all pretty on his loudass phone, mask still in his lap, eyes fluttering closed.

…I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary…

That emergency window where he entered from! Maybe you can still make the jump.

…but I really, really love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your… suits?

You clutch the side of your head and hiss through your teeth. “Why would I mention the suits—”

Matt makes a sound—a sordid chuckle at your expense—but it’s cut short as he slouches even further, and his head dips.

“Matt?” you say, all the heat in your chest suddenly plummeting to ice. “Matt.”

You lurch toward him on instinct, catching his shoulders as he lists to one side.

“Hey. Hey. No dying in front of me, okay? I already embarrassed myself once tonight.”

He breathes out against your arm, unsteady. Is this really how he’s gonna go?! Are you that repulsive for him to want to die after you’ve confessed your undying love for him?!

“Okay,” you whisper, bracing him. “Okay, alright. We need… I need to think. You’re Daredevil. You’re bleeding. I broke into your apartment— you broke into your apartment. I don’t even know whose crime this is anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, slumping heavier into you.

Oh my God, he’s going to die and it’s going to look like you murdered him. You’re going to end up on Dateline. You can see the headline: obsessive secretary confesses her unrequited love and beats her boss to death after getting rejected.

You stare into the middle distance. “I need another drink.”

Matt groans, barely conscious. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t drink?”

“Don’t…” He swallows thickly. “…break into anyone else’s apartment tonight… sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You burst into laughter. You want to cry at the ridiculousness of everything. There’s blood on your sleeves and on his cheek. And his stupid hair is all tousled and tragic and soft-looking, and he’s got the nerve to call you “sweetheart” in the middle of all this. 

“What am I going to do, Matt?”

“Medkit,” he croaks out, lifting a shaky finger. “Bathroom.”

You blink. Okay. You need to get it together. Matt is not going to die tonight, not on your watch. But fuck, if you didn’t need that drink.

[starrygazers]

home, or what's left of it.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ I'M IN MY MYDEI WRITING GROOVE (procrastinating on my programming assignment). Also, the food used here is based on Golden Honeycakes, one of the oldest delicacies in Amphoreus history, which was once a favorite high-end dessert among the nobility. (according to the HSR wiki) also he made an ad for this? that's so cute

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : comfort, fluff

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei; minor spoilers for 3.0

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The brutish man ducks his head to slip inside the small entryway. He makes no sound, but his demanding presence in the middle of the establishment is not easy to miss.

You meet his eyes, cloth in hand. Giving him a small smile, you look away and continue wiping the tables. "Normal people say hello, you know?"

Mydei huffs, his hands crossed in front of his chest. The chilly night air of Okhema doesn't seem to bother him, as he's dressed like he normally is. Flashy, royal; befitting of a Crown Prince.

"Take a seat," you motion to the table nearest to the counter. You've put away most of the chairs, as the clock nears midnight, but saved a single one in hopes of your esteemed guest's visit.

He positions himself on the appointed seat, watching you take ingredients out from behind the counter to start cooking.

Mydei is no stranger to being away from home; that's how he'd spent most of his childhood, anyway. Fighting for his life at sea, dying in the hands of giant waves, starvation, or beasts. Even in Kremnos, he never experienced a good night's sleep. It was a kill or be killed world, and immortality doesn't take that away from him; they just have to kill him again and again until he stays dead.

And home was not something to miss, not after what happened. Not after his god fell from glory, dooming his people, and he was forced to make a choice between dying (again and again) for mortals or reign as a deity. So, he chose pain, because that is what's destined for the King who never got his throne.

Home is so far, and he doesn't want to go back.

And yet,

"Here you go!"

You place a plate of Golden Honeycake, topped with fresh fruits and dripping with honey, just like how Mydei likes it.

Home is far, and he doesn't want to go back, but he remembers the same aroma. Of the cooks taking pity in him and introducing him to the sweet delicacy. Of stories in the past by his mother who teased him for having the same taste in sweets as his father and all the kings before him.

He gives you a curt nod, a sign of thanks. You beam at him, watching intently as he takes a tentative bite. It tastes like home.

He takes another bite. Then another, and another, until the plate is a fresh clean slate. You chuckle, picking up the plate.

"You know, most people consider it rude to barge in on closing time," you tease him.

"I didn't mean to disrupt your business."

"You act like you don't drop by here every night, ordering the same thing," you laugh again, and he find himself liking the sound of it. He wants you to laugh again. "You must really like it, huh?"

He chooses not to answer, but he doesn't shake his head either.

You disappear behind the counter to wash the last plate, and he stands in the middle of your restaurant awkwardly.

"Is there ... anything I can help with?" he asks sheepishly.

You stare at him, clearly surprised, before clearing your throat. "Oh, um, you can put the chair away. Please, if you don't mind."

Mydei nods, picking up the wooden chair with ease as if he were handling a feather. At the sight, you allowed yourself a joke, "Closing would be a breeze if you worked here."

The Prince looks away, seeing your apron tucked under one of the shelves, letting his mind wander about a universe where the battles he fought were less gruesome. Where he could patch his wounds and value his only life. Where he would go home, and he'd be proud to call it that.

But in this world, all he had were the scars and the baths.

"You make good Golden Honeycake," he says. "It reminds me of the ones they used to make back in Castrum Kremnos."

Mydei swears he can see the sparkle in your eyes when you stare at him in awe, and thought they rivaled the sight of the night sky of all of Amphoreus.

Then your lips break into a smile, and Mydei's cold, inhumane, non-existent heart melts like the butter on the honeycake.

"I'll have you know that compliments won't suffice as payment," you grin, though a hint of bashfulness is evident in your voice.

"Put it on my tab." the Prince turns away from you, hiding his own embarrassment as he walks to the exit.

"If you had one, it'd be longer than my grocery list," you joke again. "How about this; you come back tomorrow?"

Mydei looks back to you, reads the hope written on your expression easily, and lets out a sigh.

"Yeah, expect me to bother you again tomorrow."

Home is maybe not too far away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[withwritersblock]

Feels Like Part 5

~Feels Like by Gracie Abrams~ Author's Note: Christmas in June I must say is pretty nice Summary: Nico invites Katherine to the Devil's Christmas party Warnings: meh Word count: 4,022 masterlist

She was in the process of cleaning. Rather she was in the process of procrastination. She was laying on her back on the couch where there were at least four blankets beneath her frame. Her phone was held directly in front of her face as she scrolled through her Twitter feed. There was not much that really interested her in the process but she would rather do that then clean the area surrounding the couch.

It wasn’t horribly messy, more or less an opened suitcase that had pieces of clothing poking out of it. Blankets and pillows on the couch and surrounding the floor of the couch.

There was a loud ring from the doorbell, startling her to her feet. She dropped her phone onto the couch as she quickly made her way to the door. She stood up on her tiptoes to look through the peephole. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she saw that Nico was standing outside the door. 

She stepped back as she pulled the door open, a small smile on her lips. “Uh–Hi Nico, the boys aren’t here,” she offered quietly once their eyes met. His eyes widened slightly as his lips parted. He took a sudden breath while trailing her frame for a brief moment. 

“Jack and I were supposed to go on a run at one-thirty,” Nico explained while he subconsciously peeked into the apartment. “And I thought I was running late,” Nico muttered as he ran his hand through his hair. She chuckled softly as she glanced behind her, suddenly embarrassed by the mess on the small area. Swallowing harshly, she stepped aside.

“You can come in and wait for him if you’d like,” she offered as she pointed behind her. He nodded as he followed her inside. Slowly, she shut the door behind him. She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked around him towards the kitchen island. She leaned against it, “I’m sorry about the mess, the living room has turned into my bedroom over the last few weeks,” she offered awkwardly. 

He chuckled as he shook his head. He took a small step towards the opposite side of the kitchen island. Nico rested his hands down as he stared towards his own fingertips. There was an old bruise on his knuckles from a few games ago. He couldn’t even pinpoint the exact time he earned that bruise but it still was causing him aches. He clenched his fists for a moment. 

“I don’t mind,” he offered as their eyes connected. He watched as her eyes squinted ever so slightly, that she probably did not realize she was doing it. “How has it been living here with them, by the way?”

A smile formed to her lips as she glanced towards the picture on the wall directly beneath the wall clock that was off by forty-six minutes. It was a family photo of all of them after the Hughes bowl that took place in Vancouver. The boys were still in their jersey and gear as they were smiling widely.

“It’s been great actually, they’re better hosts than I thought,” she offered as she looked back towards Nico. The corner of his lips curled upward, his dimples were in great view.

“Horrible with time though, apparently,” he offered teasingly. She let out a soft laugh while she continued to meet his gaze. “Where’s Luke at then?” he asked, suddenly shocked that Luke was nowhere to be found. Katherine rolled her eyes dramatically as a scoff fell from her lips. A breathy laugh left Nico’s lips, “What’s all that for?” 

A dramatic sigh left her lips as she absentmindedly leaned towards him. “He’s out with his girl…something and I am not allowed to know who she is,” she said with a scoff leaving her lips.

“Why not?” Nico questioned while raising his hand up and rubbing the bruise along his knuckles. 

“Because I apparently scare off my brothers’ girlfriends. Like I am intimidating or something,” she said sarcastically. He let out another laugh, furrowing his eyebrows harshly.

“You? Intimidating? I refuse to believe that. Protective over your brothers? That I can believe,” he offered. Her mouth fell open while she shook her head slowly. 

“I am not protective, I just have many opinions,” she mumbled. He chuckled as he leaned against the kitchen counter and inched towards her. “I just think that my baby brother shouldn’t be with a girl that leaves hickeys on his neck the night before prom,” she offered, a scowl on her lips at the memory. 

“Ah, so there is a reason why Luke is hiding Carlie from you,” he teased. Her eyes widened as she inched closer to Nico.

“So you met the girl that Luke’s been seeing every night since I got back from Vancouver. And her name is Carlie, ooh! Nico please tell me more!” she offered as she inched closer to him. Their faces were only a mere few inches apart. 

Nico smirked as he slid away from her, standing up right. “I’ve already said too much,” he offered teasingly while he scanned her frame as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I mean, Luke’s bringing her to my Christmas party so you’ll end up meeting her there, right?” Nico expressed.

She rolled her eyes as she covered her face with her hands for a moment before she dragged her hands from her face. She rested them down onto the counter once more. 

“I am not invited. I am still trying to decide if I want to fly to Toronto to visit my dad’s side of the family but I really don’t want to travel again. I don’t know how you boys do that like every day and play a hockey game on top of that. It’s ridiculously tiring,” she explained. Nico furrowed his eyebrows as he stared towards her. She walked around the kitchen island towards the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. She held it towards Nico but he declined.

“What do you mean you’re not invited?” Nico questioned as he tracked her movements around the kitchen island. She met his gaze and took a hesitant breath.

“Jack said that it was a plus one only. He’s bringing his girlfriend and I guess Luke is bringing his girl…friend to meet the entire Devils roster before he even thinks to bring her home to me,” she let out. Nico fought the laugh rising in his throat. “I am not that awful,” she pouted slightly.

“Well, be my plus one then so you could meet her,” Nico said nonchalantly. Katherine furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she looked towards him suspiciously. “I mean it’s my party and I’m not bringing anyone with me so you can come with me. Meet Carlie and then you won’t be spending Christmas alone,” he explained.

Her heart began to beat quickly at the statement. It was so casual for him to offer but her stomach did a tiny flip at the statement. “Really?” she asked while looking into his eyes. He nodded while pursing his lips forward. “Thank you Nico,” she mumbled as she continued to look into his dark yet welcoming gaze.

“No one should have to spend Christmas alone,” he offered quietly while scanning her frame. They remained quiet for a moment before he took a step towards the kitchen island. “Can I ask you a weird question?” he asked. She nodded while taking a hesitant breath. “Do you like being called Katie? I mean we follow each other on social media and none of your usernames say Katie,” he questioned. 

She smiled softly as she tilted her head to the side. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that before,” she offered. A grin formed on his lips while listening to her intently.

“My family has always called me that and has only introduced me as Katie so I guess I never really had a choice. When I lived in Raleigh I had a friend, she’s the one that actually helped me move here. Anyway, she used to call me Kat, but that’s the only other nickname I’ve ever had,” she explained while their eyes remained connected the whole time she spoke.

“So you’re not a fan of it?” he asked quietly. She shook her head as she fought off a grin.

“My family can call me that and I don’t mind but I don’t know, it’s fine. I guess,” she explained.

“Well, what would you prefer?” he asked while shrugging his shoulders. Her lips parted while her eyes widened slightly. 

“Oh, I don’t–I’m not sure,” she said with a soft laugh leaving her lips. “I’ve never really been given the choice,” she offered, a soft giggle leaving her lips. 

“When you decide, let me know,” he offered genuinely. She took a deep breath while nodding slowly. She admired the soft dimples on his cheeks hidden beneath the beard that was getting more full. She felt her heart start to race the longer she looked into his gaze. 

The door beside them was pushed open, “–Lukey, it’ll be fine. Mom will–oh hey,” Jack expressed as he cut himself off to see Nico standing in the kitchen with Katherine standing across from him. Katherine spun on her heel, forcing her gaze away from Nico’s. “Oh shit, what time did I say?” Jack asked urgently. 

“You said one-thirty,” Nico offered with a small laugh falling from his lips, “But uh–Katherine was keeping me company,” he offered. Instantly, she turned her gaze back towards him, their eyes connected as she fought off a grin. 

“Sorry, I thought I said two. And then I ran into Lukey in the parking garage. Sorry, we can leave in like two minutes,” Jack offered as he opened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. 

“Oh, Lukey, I cannot wait to meet Carlie at the Devils Christmas party in a few days.” Katherine offered teasingly as she met her baby brother’s gaze. Luke’s mouth fell open as he looked towards Nico with anger pouring from his eyes. 

“It’s not my fault that you were going to make her spend Christmas alone. Also, it's not my fault that you are hiding your girlfriend from your sister.” Nico defended through a small giggle falling from his lips.

“What’s this about you going to the party?” Jack asked as he rested the half drank water onto the counter.

“I thought it was rude that you two were leaving your sister alone on Christmas, so she’ll be my plus one to my party.” Nico expressed while looking towards Jack before glancing towards Katherine once more. Jack scoffed while rolling his eyes. 

“It wasn’t like we were doing it on purpose, you’re the one that had the plus one rule,” Jack expressed while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Because the last time I didn’t do that, you guys turned my apartment upside down with all the friends you had to invite,” Nico said pointing to the door, “Are we ready to go or what?” he asked Jack pointedly. He nodded and they both moved towards the door. 

“Thank you for keeping me company, Kat,” he offered while raising his eyebrows.

She fought off a grin before she mumbled, “Anytime Nico,” she took a few steps backwards towards the mess in the living room. Quickly, she leaned down and took a hold of a few of the blankets and carried them towards the hallway that had the washer and dryer.

Jack looked towards Nico for a second before he looked towards the hallway his sister walked down. “What’s with the–” he trailed off as his hand pointed towards Nico and then Katherine. 

“Oh, she recruited me to try out a few nicknames for her. You know, for her new chapter,” Nico expressed casually. Jack nodded slowly as he pointed towards the door and the pair wandered out of the apartment, side by side.

~~~

It was Christmas Eve and the party would start at one. Well, that’s when Nico said that they could all show up at. Apparently in the player group chat he said something along the lines of don’t you think about showing up early. 

The only person that was allowed to show up early was Katherine. Yesterday, she asked him if anyone was helping him set up and he said no. She offered to come early to help him out and he agreed happily.

She was standing in Jack’s bathroom, trying to decide if the cherry colored lip gloss was too much. It was hard to decipher exactly why she cared so much. Not that anyone would be staring at the gloss and thinking much of it. A scoff left her lips as she sauntered out of the bathroom. Jack was still sprailed out on his bed. His pajamas still covered his frame as he glanced towards his sister.

“What are you doing dressed already? It’s barely eleven,” Jack observed. She stopped dead in her tracks glancing over to him before she dragged her hands down her frame. 

Her body was covered with a tight blank long sleeve, it was nearly a turtle neck but didn’t quite reach the standard. She was wearing a pine green colored skirt with a pair of black tights. Her hair had loose curls, nearly identical to her natural hair texture.

“Nico needed help setting up, I offered since you boneheads didn’t think to ask,” she offered through a forced giggle. Jack hummed as he nodded slowly. He sat up from his lying position.

“So you’re leaving? You don’t have a car, how are you going to get there?” he asked suspiciously. 

“I’m going to take an Uber, is that alright, J?” she questioned sarcastically. 

“Uh yeah, yeah. Of course, I guess we’ll meet you there,” Jack offered. She smiled towards Jack before she stepped out of his room towards the living room. She walked towards the suitcase that permanently lived beside the couch. She leaned down and took a hold of the two perfume bottles. She stared at the names, the aromas filling her nose in the process. 

She decided on the one that was rose and vanilla and dropped the other one back into the suitcase. Without hesitation she sprayed probably one too many times but she covered her frame with the beautiful scent. She pulled out a pair of black heels that would definitely make her outfit far too formal for the event. But she did not care. 

She never had the opportunity to get dressed up when she was with Trent. There were no events or places that they would attend that required her to feel or look this beautiful. This afternoon, she had that chance. 

She slid the heels onto her feet as she began walking towards the door. Her gaze onto her phone as she began to process the order for the Uber. “Katie,” Luke expressed as he jogged out of his bedroom towards the living room. She stopped in her tracks turning to meet his gaze.

“Can you promise to be nice?” Luke asked quietly, nearly child-like. His eyes were wide as his cheeks were flushed red.

Katherine fought off a grin forming to her lips as she saw the anxiety pouring from her little brother. “You really like her then, huh?” she asked teasingly. He nodded as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. “I’ll be nice,” she offered as she took a few steps towards the door. 

“You can’t be passive aggressive or rude or anything, okay? Please don–”

“Lukey, I promise I’ll behave. My Uber is almost here,” she offered as she pointed behind her towards the door. Luke nodded encouragingly as he awkwardly shifted back towards the hallway that led to his bedroom. 

She urgently stepped out of the apartment and began taking fast steps towards the elevator. Her phone began vibrating in her pocket as she walked. Quickly, she pulled it out to see Nico was calling her. “Hey, my Uber is almost here,” she offered as she decided to take the stairs as it would probably be faster.

“No rush, I was just double checking. It seems that it runs in the family to run a bit late,” he offered teasingly. She let out a sarcastic laugh as she began jogging down the steps.

“For your information, Jack takes the longest showers known to mankind so I wasn’t able to start doing my makeup until ten-thirty. So it’s actually the king of being late’s fault.” she expressed teasingly.

He chuckled on his end of the phone. “Do you like wine? I was going to pop open a bottle but it has to sit for a while,” he asked, switching the subject instantly. Her eyes widened slightly as she reached the bottom floor and walked towards the lobby. 

“I do actually,” she said quietly.

“Good, I only have red. Tyler is supposed to bring the white, is that okay?” he asked.

“I prefer red,” she said while she walked through the lobby. Her heels created an echo of sound throughout the practically silent lobby of the apartment. 

“Good,” his voice rasped slightly as he spoke. She walked through the main entrance and made her way onto the street. The Ford Escape that would be her ride over to Nico’s was sitting out front. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes you will,” she said quietly while hanging up the phone. She walked towards the car as the driver rolled down the window.

“Katherine?” he asked her. She nodded before she opened the backseat door and climbed inside of the car. 

The drive to Nico’s apartment only took fifteen minutes. The drive was suprisingly traffic free and small talk free. She always preferred a quiet Uber, she appreciated the nice conversation sometimes but she would rather sit in her own thoughts the entire time.

She climbed out of the car towards the apartment which seemingly looked more like a Brownstone style home. But Nico repeatedly has used the word apartment, so she took his word for it. She slowly walked towards the front door of the house or apartment. She couldn’t figure out the right word for it. She pressed the doorbell, held it for a few seconds before she let her hand fall to her side. 

It only took a few seconds for Nico to pull the door open. He smiled widely once he saw her. His gaze trailed her frame, his cheeks flushed red instantly while admiring her frame. 

She scanned his body as well. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants alongside a dark green knitted sweater that fit tightly to his frame. He had a gold chain that was peaking ever so slightly beneath his sweater. Saying he looked good was an understatement.

“If you think this is an apartment, you are insane,” she offered instead of a hello. He smirked as he stepped aside. He held his hand behind him allowing her to step inside of the house.

“It is an apartment, someone else lives on the third and fourth floors,” he offered as he shut the door behind her. Her eyes danced around the space, speechless at the decor. There was not a spot of anything modern in the house. The space was very rustic, nearly like a cabin in the woods. Nothing like what she would expect him to have. It was homey and a lovely space.

“I believe that’s called a townhome,” she said through a giggle as she nervously rested her hands onto her stomach. “This place is beautiful,” her voice got quieter the longer she looked around the living space. 

“I guess you’re right,” he offered while running hands through his hair, “The caterers are dropping off the food about twenty minutes before everyone is supposed to get here. But otherwise, there isn’t much else that needs to be done to get ready,” he offered as he pointed towards the kitchen. She nodded as she waited for him to pass her to follow after him. 

“Seems like you don’t need me to do much of anything,” she offered as they reached the kitchen. The wine bottle, which probably costs over five hundred dollars, rested on the center of the kitchen island. There were two wine glasses sitting next to one another next to the opened bottle. 

“Drink with me before chaos arrives,” he offered as he raised his eyebrows. She stifled a laugh as she gladly nodded. He smiled softly as he took a hold of the bottle and began pouring out a generous glass. He handed it towards her, she took the glass from his hand as their fingertips brushed in the process. She smiled towards him as she brought the glass towards her lips. It smelled lovely. 

She watched as he poured himself a similar glass as he rested the bottle down onto the countertop. “I’ve got a few coolers that we need to fill with drinks but I don’t want the ice to melt so we’ll just do that when the caterers get here,” he explained as he stared toward the liquid in the glass. She smiled softly admiring the dimples on his cheeks. 

“Sounds good to me,” she said as she swirled the liquid in her hand before she met his gaze. He brought the glass towards his lips and took a small sip as she did the same. It was marvelous, probably the best wine she’s ever had. “Oh wow, this is–wow,” she mumbled. He smirked as he pointed behind him towards the couch. 

“It’s stupid expensive but it’s great,” he offered as he followed her towards the couch. She carefully sat down, running her hand along the fabric before she watched Nico sit beside her. He reached towards the remote on the coffee table and unpaused the fake fireplace on the TV screen. It was playing Christmas music.

“Did you want to throw this party or is it required because you are captain?” she asked as she met his gaze. His eyes widened as his lips parted for a second. A breathy laugh fell from his lips before he took a larger sip of the wine before he thought about answering. 

“I’d say it’s both, but mostly because I am captain and I am supposed to plan these things–well actually my girlfriend or wife or whatever is supposed to plan it but I don’t have one of those so it’s up to me,” he offered half-jokingly. She tossed her head back and let out a laugh. “Which probably shows in my lack of effort for this party,” he continued to explain with a toothy grin.

“Is that an actual rule?” she questioned while looking deeply in his eyes. 

“Unofficially,” he let out teasingly. She rolled her eyes playfully before she brought the wine towards her lips again.

“There’s a lot of unofficial rules with NHL teams, then huh?” she questioned. 

“If only you knew, Kathy,” he muttered barely above a whisper as their eyes connected once more. 

Her eyes widened, “That is a hell no, take it off your list,” she said through laughter. He smirked as he stifled his laugh while taking a sip of his wine. “You aged me like forty years by calling me that,”

“Yeah, I realized after I said it then it was too late,” he said as he rested his hand onto the top of the couch. 

They fell silent as his gaze admired her frame. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, but she was hard not to admire. His gaze landed on the green skirt that landed barely above the middle of her thigh. He cleared his throat as he glanced down to his own clothes. The colors are nearly identical.

“We’re matching,” she let out as her gaze dropped towards her lap. He chuckled as he dragged his hand across his chin.

“I was just thinking that,” he let out softly. 

“We look good,” she offered as she tilted her head to the side. He nodded as he pursed his lips forward.

“Yeah, we do,” he agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

[harmonyrae]

Inked: Bonus Chapters

Synopsis: What was the first date really like? What revelations about Rafayel will you discover? And what happens when Rafayel gets "art block"? Maybe you can help him through it.

AN: Darlinggggg, guess who’s back from jail!! Sorry, hello. Of course I had to write some bonus chapters for Inked. Especially after @obligatedart collabed with FriskyInk (on the tweet tweet). Sad I had to hide his pp btw... Y’all best follow Obligated & check them out to see the other Rafayel pieces they’ve done. 

Content Warnings: first chapter is pure fluff, second is SPICY, explicit language & sexual content, Masterbation (M), light voyeurism, PiV, genital piercings, half creampie (?), Dom Rafayel coming out to playyyy, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.6k 

FIRST DATE

Don’t overthink it. Don’t. Overthink. It. You’re 100% overthinking it. You should have just texted him this morning and asked what you should wear. It’s too late, he’ll be here in an hour and if you text him now it’ll seem like you didn’t really care about the date and you’re a procrastinator… which you are, but you didn’t this time you’re just…

“Overthinking again…” You whisper to yourself as you slide another hanger over, rejecting another outfit option.

It’s been two hours. Two hours of pacing, redoing your hair, going through every item in your closet at least three times looking for something to wear. You have plenty to wear, but it has to be just right. Spinning around, you dig through your dresser. This is the first time Rafayel is seeing you as, well, you. You had worn super casual clothes to get your tattoo so this is the first time he’ll see what your everyday style is. What if he hates it? Oh god…

Your playlist shuffles and a song you haven’t heard since high school starts to play. Bless you Hayley Williams, you always show up to save the day. You sprint over to your laptop and hit the loop button. Tossing your pajama pants and tank top on your bed, you dance around your room in your underwear. You were 16 again, just trying to find the perfect outfit for the garage party your best friends were hosting. Your nerves melt away as you sway your hips and sing along.

Your hand brushes past the clothes in your closet and as the chorus ends you pull the first thing your eye catches. A purple plaid miniskirt? Okay… outfit ideas loading… Skipping to your dresser you dig out a pair of black tights and knee high socks. Your eyes scan your room and you spot the basket of clean clothes you’ve yet to put away. On top, the perfect top, a cropped vintage band tee. Caleb had been obsessed with Linkon Park in high school and donated all his shirts to you before heading to college. 

“Fuck it. I’m reliving my youth!”

Allowing a silly smile to form, you toss on a cropped long sleeve shirt before the band tee, the tights and socks before smoothing the mini skirt over your hips. You pack your small crossbody bag, just big enough for your phone, house key, a lip balm and your wallet. Just as you lace up your boots you hear a knock on your front door. 

“Oh fuck… oh shit… okay. Everything is fine. This is fine. You look fine. Chill chill chill.”

Scurrying across your living room you stop at your door and fluff your hair once, twice, fuck it, three times for good luck. You open the door and are completely stunlocked. How is he more gorgeous than he was yesterday…? Even in baggy cargo pants, a loose tee and a black denim jacket, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his delicious ink. He’s stunning. He gives you a once over, his smirk blossoming into a full blown smile. 

“Damn, you look amazing. I must look like a bum, huh?”

“No! Not at all. Yo-you look good.” You stammer, swearing at yourself for the fumble. 

“Aww cutie, you’re nervous?”

“What? No of course not…” You pause, staring at him as he gives you a knowing look. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, I’m just very perceptive. But if it makes you feel better, I’m nervous too.”

“Wait, why?” 

“Well, I haven’t been on a date in a while. A long while actually. Shop’s been too busy or I’ve been travelling. But most of the time, I just don’t click with anyone.” 

You smile and stare at your boots. 

“So you’re saying you think we ‘clicked,’ is that it?”

When you look back up, he’s leaning on the door frame and running his thumb across his lower lip, stopping to play with his lip ring before tipping his chin up and smirking. 

“I think so. I hope by the end of tonight, you will too.”

As you walk out of your apartment building you slow a bit to let him lead, when he stops in front of a dark blue motorcycle you clutch the hem of your skirt.

“Shit… Should I change? I didn’t realize… I should have –”

“You’re fine! You’ll be sitting behind me, so I’ll cover you.”

He hops on and offers a helmet to you. You stand next to him while you both put on your helmets. His a dark blue to match his bike with white lines around the visor. It’s a distinct pattern, but you can’t tell if it’s intentional. Yours is all white with a blue tinted visor. He holds out his hand and you hold onto him as you swing your leg over. You adjust your skirt and scoot closer to him, sure enough, when you lean forward you feel completely covered. 

He looks over his shoulder whenever he talks to you, his voice only moderately muffled by the bike engine and wind. You hold onto his waist as he drives at a leisurely pace. He weaves through the city streets with ease and before you know it you’re arriving at the pier. 

“Hope you’re ready to be sworn to secrecy.” 

He tucks his helmet under his arm and offers to take yours, but you hang onto it, instead you offer your hand. His cheeks flush and he drops his gaze as he takes it. He leads you down the pier to a building that has large wooden boards covering the doors. When he turns down a back alley you hesitate.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kidnap you. I’m taking you to the back entrance.”

“Back entrance? To where?”

“Well, it doesn’t have a name yet. I can’t decide. I usually leave those decisions to the last second anyways.” 

He unlocks a thick padlock and pushes the door. The unassuming exterior and covered windows and doors would make you think it’s just an empty shell. How wrong you are.

Gorgeous murals cover every wall. Teal waves with swirls of indigo, cerulean, sapphire, melt into ivory and baby pink mist. The tables are mosaic masterpieces, sea glass and shells encased in resin. Plush chairs that look like clam shells circle each table. A massive bar, lined with tall white bar stools sits against the wall. The liquor case is fully stocked and color coded to perfection. A large stainless steel table at the center of the room serves as the focal point. The shelving unit tucked beneath holds a variety of bowls and plates that would typically hold sushi.

“Rafayel, is this… Is this your sushi restaurant?”

“Yup!” He chirps.

He leads you into the kitchen, which is just as gorgeous as the dining room. Crisp white walls holding framed artwork, counters, stainless steel appliances, open doors showing offices and break rooms yet to be completed. He stops at the counter next to a huge window overlooking the dining room. 

“Is this two-way glass?”

Rafayel nods and you lean over the counter to get a better look. It’s the perfect vantage point to watch the bar and center display table. It would provide extra security too, since you couldn’t even tell it was there when walking through the dining room. 

Rafayel releases your hand to start pulling containers from the cold storage beneath. You watch as he sets out a plate of expertly cut salmon sashimi, followed by plate after plate of other ingredients - tuna, crab, cucumber, avocado, bottles of sriracha, eel sauce and a tiny container of tempura flakes. He slides a bowl of sticky rice over to you, with a rolling mat and sushi nori. You stare at the items like they’re some kind of wild animal. 

“Are we making sushi?” 

He chuckles and turns to wash his hands and grab a pair of gloves from the box mounted to the wall. When he returns you’re looking at each ingredient with your tongue between your teeth. 

“Cutie, whatcha thinkin about?”

“I’ve never made sushi before…”

“Well, tonight you’ll learn. Just pick whatever you like and slap it in there. There’s no rules tonight. The kitchen is ours.”

You wash your hands and don a pair of gloves, returning to his side to follow his lead. You’re fairly daring but you stick with what you’re familiar with, at least for tonight. 

“Okay, rice is down. Salmon, yellowtail, avocado, cucumber, now I just roll it up?”

Rafayel reaches over and points to the small dish of water. 

“Just dip your finger in here and run it along the edge of the nori when you get near the end so it’ll stick. Roll it tight so when you cut it, it’ll stay together. Just like that, damn, you’re a natural!”

“Guess you’ll just have to hire me then.”

You giggle as you roll, glancing at his own roll as you work. Spicy tuna, mango slices, crab, avocado and cucumber. He sets his roll on a long plate and begins layering toppings - choosing mango chili sauce and tempura flakes for his. You try to make a pretty design with avocado, jalapenos and sriracha but it looks like a big mushy mess by the time you’re done. 

“Can you cut mine? I think I made a mess…”

“As long as it’s a delicious mess, that’s what matters, right?”

You watch as he slices your roll with a slow and steady hand. With just as much precision as when he was tracing the lines of your tattoo. Once the rolls are cut, he pulls over a serving cart and loads up the food along with the extra sashimi, bottles of chilled green tea. He leads you to the elevator and your breath is taken away, once again, as you take in the rooftop terrace.

Round marble tables line the balcony, the same cozy shell chairs from downstairs wrap around a fire pit next to another huge bar. Local plants cover the terrace, the scent of flame lilies and ocean breeze is so strong it’s like you’ve been swept away in a tidal wave. The view is insane, the city lights behind you, the ocean and brightly lit pier in front. The fact you’re here alone with someone like Rafayel and he’s pampering you with gourmet sushi? How is this your life?

“You’re eerily quiet…” Rafayel says softly as he places the food on a table with a clear view of the beach and sunset.

“I’m just - I don’t know, stunned? Amazed? This place is gorgeous.”

”Thank you. It’s been a passion project for like, 5 years now? Haven’t been able to get it off the ground with how the whole tattoo thing took off.”

“You mean your well-deserved fame?”

He holds the chair out for you to sit down. What a distinguished gentleman. 

“You think it’s well-deserved, hmm?”

“I do. Your art is… what’s a good word for it…?”

“Bewitching? Exquisite? Alluring?” He teases.

“Special.”

He blinks, such a simple word had such a profound impact. 

“I’m glad you think so.” 

The sound of the waves fills the silence as you eat. As soon as you take the first bite, you moan in delight and proceed to devour the whole thing. Plus one piece of Rafayel’s - only because he begs you to. The spice is absolutely divine, especially with the chilly night air seeping through your thin skirt. The tights and socks really did nothing for you… 

“Would you like to walk along the pier for a bit?”

You go to nod, but are cut off by a shiver. Rafayel immediately stands up and shrugs off his jacket holding it up for you to slide your arms down the sleeves. You don’t even bother arguing, the warmth of his jacket envelopes you, his scent, even stronger than the lilies. He deposits the dishes in the dishwasher before taking your hand and beginning your stroll down the pier. 

The lights along the shore twinkle in the distance, the crashing waves grow louder as you cross over the shoreline and continue to the end. Rafayel leans against the railing, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to let the wind sweep through his hair. You cross your arms and rest your shoulder against his as you lean forward on the railing next to him. 

“Why the ocean?”

He opens his eyes and rests his cheek on his shoulder to look at you, a brow raised.

“I mean, of all the things you could choose as your muse, what made the ocean stand out?”

“The ocean isn’t exactly my muse…” His eyes scan your face, his hand rising to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “But it is a source of inspiration, but more than that, it’s my home.”

“What do you mean?”

“For as long as I can remember, the ocean has been my safe place. The waves would sing to me, the water protecting me. Fish would swim around me, some mocking, some playing, we became friends. Sort of.”  He chuckles, turning to face you fully before continuing. 

“I fell in love with the song of the ocean, how it would speak to people. Providing the message they needed to hear most. The sea doesn’t worry about hurt feelings or context, it just is what it is. No apologies. That’s why the message is so important.”

“What kind of messages does the sea send?”

“You tell me. Close your eyes.”

You raise your brows, but when he straightens to stand behind you you do as he says. His fingers run down your arms, sweeps your hair over your shoulder to gently caress your neck, he finally settles his hands on your hips. His tender touches, the waves beneath you performing a sweet melody, the last bit of sunlight finally fading away leaving you in total darkness. It’s magic. When you hear a soft humming, you open your eyes and look over your shoulder. Rafayel’s eyes are closed, his head tilted forward. You realize his humming is in time with the waves and almost perfectly resembles the tune your mind had invented. 

“Some people need a message of peace. Some a message of destruction. Yours sounds a lot like hope. What are you hoping for?”

His eyes open and he’s so very close. Your breathing falls in line with his and you lean back against him. Suddenly, you’re far too hot. 

“I don’t know yet.” You whisper. 

He doesn’t push, he tilts his head away to give you room to breathe. Lifting his hands from your hips he slides past you and extends a hand.

“It’s getting late, I should probably get you home.”

Following him to his bike, you mount up and feel his heartbeat with your chest pressed against his back. He takes a few turns too quickly and you squeal, making him laugh. He reaches back and pats your knee. His touch lingers and you pout when he returns his hand to the handlebar. 

“I want to show you one more thing.”

He shouts as he speeds up and swerves past a rundown apartment complex. You were entering the rougher part of town. Not as bad as the N109 Zone, but still fairly dangerous. He pulls into a parking lot nearly filled to the brim. When he parks in a VIP spot you can’t help but scoff. Fame privileges. At least that’s what you thought until you saw the front door bearing his name. 

“Artist Playground, sponsored by... Wait, you own this place too?”

���I do. No no no, don’t go inside. Follow me.”

He grabs your hand and drags you to the side of the building. As you shuffle down the narrow alleyway the scent of paint becomes stronger. Bright lights blind you as you enter a large courtyard out back. The lush trees, flower beds and custom fountain take you by surprise. It’s a stark contrast to the front of the building. Vending machines with snacks and drinks line the back fence, as well as a vending machine for what looks like spray paint. A table next to the back wall holds abandoned bottles of paint and small cans and brushes. While the landscape is elegant the artwork that adorns the worn brick walls, the concrete, the tall wooden fences varies in style. From customary spray painted lettering to intricate murals, it’s endless.

“What is this place?”

Rafayel leads you past a group of teens practicing their lettering and carefully sidesteps a young woman creating an optical illusion with chalk on the sidewalk. He opens the gate to an alleyway.

“The Artist’s Playground. It’s a place for everyone to practice their art, no matter what form. We have a photography studio upstairs, a music room with free instruments and recording equipment. There’s a dance studio in the basement. We are building a stage in the lobby for performances. The theater kids are determined to put on a spring musical. And out here?”

He kneels to pick up a can of hot pink spray paint, when he stands he holds it out to you. You stare at him blankly, unmoving. He chuckles before removing the cap and giving it a shake, he turns to the wall. He sprays a fine line, testing the pigment. You watch as he creates a heart shape, you’re about to comment on it being too wide when he bends to pick up a dark pink paint. He outlines the top and rounds out the bottom, letting the paint fizzle out into a fine mist to make a shadow beneath it. When he picks up a can of white you start to see what he’s making. You barely notice how he keeps stopping to look at you, tilting his head and scrunching his nose as he makes adjustments to the piece. 

“I think that does it.”

He braces your shoulders and moves you in front of his masterpiece. He closes one eye and squints, his smile widens. 

“A perfect likeness.”

Looking over your shoulder, you let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. 

“You’re saying those are my lips? You painted my lips on the wall?”

He stoops down to pick up the can of pink paint and offers it to you. 

“You can cover it up, if you want. Up to you.”

You look from his glittering eyes to his paint smeared fingers holding the can. Back and forth until you’re sure he’s lost patience, but he remains steady. His lips curve into a sweet smile and he waits. Finally you take a deep breath and take the can, turning to face the wall. You hear the gravel under his boots creak as he steps back to give you space to work. You’ve never even used spray paint before, but you don’t want to pass up the opportunity to create art with him. 

After a few careful swipes, you step back to examine your work. Rafayel chuckles and moves to stand beside you. You decided to keep his work uncovered, but added your own flare. If they’re your lips, they might as well reflect your personality. Two tiny pink devil horns and a tail with a heart-shaped tail tip sprout out from the piece. Rafayel picks up the white paint again.

“Want to add some dimension?”

“You should do it, I’ll ruin it.”

He shakes his head and takes the pink paint can, replacing it with the white. He points to the wall and crosses his arms expectantly. 

“You can’t ruin it. Just have fun with it.”

So you do. You step up and add a few highlights, even daring to pick up the darker pink to try your hand at a shadow under the tail. When you’re done, you smile and pull out your phone to open the camera. Turning around, you hold it up to get the piece positioned behind you. Before you snap the pic, you look at Rafayel and giggle.

“Well, come on! It’s not just mine. It’s ours.”

He circles behind you and hides half his face behind your head, the spotlights lining the alleyway reflect in his bright eyes. You can just make out the way his brows relax as he smiles. You snap a few pictures and turn to face him. 

“Thank you. That was a lot of fun.”

He nods, lacing his fingers with yours as he leads you through the building for a proper tour. By the time you get back to his bike, you’re exhausted. You cling to him as he drives you home. He doesn’t drive fast, one of his hands covers yours over his stomach for the majority of the ride. You wish the drive was longer, or that you didn’t have to work tomorrow, anything to keep this night from ending. He walks you to your door, you remove his jacket and stifle a giggle as he hastily puts it back on. 

“I’ll bring a jacket next time, I swear…”

“So, there’ll be a next time?”

You blush and he takes the chance, his lips brush against your cheek and you freeze. He does it again and you reach out to touch his chest, his hands finding your waist.

“Are you available Friday night?”

His nose touches yours, his fingers shifting away from the sliver of bare skin at your waist. Such a gentleman… damn it. 

“I am.”

“Good. Same time as tonight? I’ll bring a car this time.”

You nod and laugh. As your laughter dies down, he kisses your cheek once more. You lean into him, but he backs away to straighten his jacket and run a hand through his hair. 

“See you then, cutie.”

As you close the door to your apartment and kick off your shoes, you can’t stop smiling. You flit through your living room and into your bedroom. Falling face first onto your bed, you burst into a fit of giggles. What are you, a teenager who just got asked to homecoming? While you should be embarrassed, you can’t help but kick your feet in the air behind you. You don’t remember the last time a guy made you this giddy. If ever. One thing is for sure, you can’t wait for Friday night.

Post-Talia Party, Before Bike Accident

“Do I risk it?” Tara whispers as she slides up to your desk.

“Don’t.” You lean back and point at her like a stern parent.

She sits on the edge, looking back and forth between the desks. She smiles and you know what’s coming.

“It’s quiet.”

She giggles like a maniac and skips away as you swat at her and nearly fall out of your chair. 

“I swear if a huge Wanderer attack happens in the next 10 minutes it’s your fault!” You scream.

“Are you hoping for that to happen?”

This time your ass leaves the chair and you grip the edge of your desk, you turn to face Jenna who is already laughing at your expense. 

“She’s not wrong. It’s been a slow day. That’s a good thing in our line of work.”

“I know, yeah, it’s good. It’s super… duper good.”

“You’re bored out of your mind.”

Sighing dramatically, you throw your arm over your eyes.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Go home.”

You sit up in your chair and stare at her with wide eyes.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry. I can do paperwork, I didn’t mean –”

“You’ve been doing paperwork the past 2 hours. You were starting to read through old case files for fun. Take a half-day, go home. We’ll call you in if things pick up.”

She pats your shoulder and steals the box of case files off your desk. You follow her advice and pack up your things. Tara waves at you as she skips down the hall to another meeting. Guess that means you get to surprise Rafayel, maybe watch him tattoo for a few hours before making dinner with him. 

The drive to Lemuria Studios from the Association is relatively short. After parking your bike, you stop by the coffee shop on the corner and stroll down the street to the entrance of the studio. As you walk in, several of the artists look up and give you a smile or a nod. You’ve been hanging around Rafayel for less than a week and his team already knows you by name. 

“I brought you your regular!” You chirp as you slide a cup across the counter to Thomas. 

He looks up from his laptop and closes his binder, which is far too full. He should really get a new one, but you know he’s trying to make a statement to Rafayel. They’re overbooked, it’s a good and bad thing, and it gives Thomas an excuse to complain a little. You can’t blame him. 

“You’re an angel.” He eagerly takes the coffee and takes a sip, hissing at the sudden heat, but taking another sip immediately.

You look around and notice Rafayel’s private studio door is open and you can tell it’s empty. You hold the coffee carrier awkwardly and stand on your toes to see if he’s lurking around another artist. When you hear Thomas chuckle you return to the front desk and set the carrier down, propping your hand up on your hip.

“He’s not here?” 

He shakes his head.

“Nope. He said he’s having a bad case of ‘art block’ and…” He puts his fingers up to make air quotes. “‘Can’t work under these conditions’ - so he cancelled his appointments and went upstairs a few hours ago.”

Instinctively, you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip. Do you interrupt him or give him space while he works through whatever ‘art block’ is for him. 

“Does he prefer to be alone when he’s like this?”

Thomas doesn’t look up from the laptop as he types.

“Sometimes. Other times, he recruits me or one of the other artists to join him on a trip to the playground.” He pauses and looks at you. “I realize that sounds weird, you know about the Artist Playground he owns right?” 

You chuckle and nod and he sighs in relief, returning his focus to the screen.

“He didn’t ask for that today, so I don’t know.”

You pick up the carrier and adjust your bag on your shoulder.

“I’ll go up and check on him. At least give him his coffee.”

Thomas waves without looking up and you weave your way through the studio to the back door. You climb the stairs to reach the exterior door of his apartment and use the key he gave you to let yourself in. How you’ve kept getting that key a secret from Tara, you have no idea. She’d never let you hear the end of it. She already damn near deafened you when you told her about the party. 

Creeping into the studio apartment you glance around, when you don’t see him you quietly close the door and kick off your shoes. He might be in the bathroom or up in his loft where his bed was. After putting the coffee cups on the kitchen island, you set your bag and coat on one of the stools. 

His home art studio - basically just his living room - was a mess. When you left this morning there was an unfinished painting on the easel, but all his paint supplies were tucked into their bins on the metal shelves. Now there was a paint-stained sheet on the floor and cans of paint and brushes on a table he’d dragged over. You stare at the painting, nothing’s changed. 

As you make your way up the staircase that leads to his loft, you pause half-way when you hear a soft moan. You wait another moment and when it’s followed by ragged breathing that’s unmistakably Rafayel’s, you cover your mouth. You have a pretty good idea what he might be doing, the question is - do you interrupt? Of fucking course you do. 

Tip toeing up the rest of the stairs you peek over the banister and see Rafayel on his bed. The floor to ceiling windows let in the afternoon sunlight, filling the room with a warm glow. You step closer and hold your breath as you fully take in the sight before you.

His clothes are tossed on the floor near his bed, where he lays, his head tilted back, eyes closed. His body glistens, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with his hand stroking his cock. He hesitates, running his finger along the tip to catch his piercing, the sound he makes almost makes you announce your presence. So needy, desperate, beautiful. When you spot a trail of what looks like blood on his cheek you wince, quickly looking around to see if there was something you missed when coming in. The sudden shift of your feet makes the wooden floors groan, you freeze and stare at Rafayel with a ‘caught in the headlights’ expression. In an instant, his eyes fly open and he finds you, his hand stalls and he sits up to place a pillow over his erection.

“Cutie, I… didn’t hear you come in…” 

Oh, his low breathless voice is going to undo you right here, right now. 

“So, is this how you cure ‘art block’? You snicker as you approach the bed.

He shifts and attempts to roll his eyes, his lips form a pout that doesn’t stick.

“I figured if I could blow off some steam, you know, relax a little, maybe it would help.”

You sit next to him.

“Did it?”

He looks down at the pillow and shakes his head. 

“What happened here?” 

You brush his slightly sweaty hair away from the trail of blood only to realize it’s paint. He chuckles and lifts his hand to wipe it away.

“I was trying to paint, guess I got a little messy. But I can’t even do that…”

You run your hand down his arm and he shivers lightly at your touch. So he needs to reignite his creative inspiration? Hmm… oh! Lightbulb moment! You almost wish you had a lamp you could hold over your head for dramatic effect. 

“I have an idea. How about I help you?”

He gives you a cheeky grin, but you shake your head. You hold out your hand and he stares at you with trepidation. 

“What are you planning, cutie?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

He takes your hand and follows you to the staircase. When you look back and see he’s still holding the pillow over his dick you laugh loudly, grabbing it and tossing it onto his bed. He gasps and gives you a ‘scandalized maiden’ impression, which only makes you laugh harder. You pull him down the stairs and skip over to his painting set up. 

“Paint me.”

Rafayel crosses his arms and squints at you. A small smirk tugs at his lips.

“Like a portrait or…”

“Like my body.”

His eyes light up and when your hand dips to unhook the button of your pants his mouth drops open. He watches you strip, tossing your clothes onto his couch. You attempt to make it sexy, but getting your boots off proved to be tricky and your bra was not cooperating today… Rafayel steps up and circles behind you, unhooking the claps and slowly guiding the straps down your arms. He tosses it onto the pile before running his hands down your sides, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. 

“Paint me. However you like…”

Stepping away from him, you lower yourself onto the floor and lay on your back. He steps around you, eyes dragging down your body to take in every detail. He looks away just long enough to pick out a few cans of paint. He kneels beside you, pours a dollop of pale green paint onto a worn palette, he wets his brush and dilutes the color. Just as he’s about to make contact, he pauses, the brush hovering over your stomach.

“Raf, stop thinking.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, lowering his hand so the bristles glide over your skin. You gasp at the chill of the paint and slowly release his wrist one finger at a time. His breathing steadies as he moves the brush in small strokes. You close your eyes once he settles, his hand stops shaking, his strokes more confident. 

You peek at him occasionally during pauses when he changes colors or brushes. His brows drawn together, lips parted, shoulders relaxed. He seeks out every beauty mark, adding color to each, stretch marks become vines for the flower garden taking over your torso. He moves down to your thighs, switching his method to carve out lilac scales which taper out to a pastel pink at your ankles. You sigh as his hand grazes the skin of your calf, guiding you to move your legs. He settles in between your thighs, spreading your knees further apart. A hand comes down beside your shoulder and he looks down at you, his brush dripping ivory onto your collarbone. 

Closing your eyes once again, you surrender to the sensations of his brush. The slow drag down the center of your chest, fanning out the color to connect with the flowers adorning your stomach. A moan escapes your throat as he turns his attention to your breasts. What was first unhurried touches become more erratic and wild. You’re not sure what he’s creating, but your mind is fuzzy, your desire spiraling fast. 

He glides his brush over your nipple making you shiver. He does it again and you bite your lip to control yourself. When his lips meet yours you flinch and as his brush crosses your sensitive skin again you gasp into his mouth. He slides his tongue inside to begin a feral dance with your own. Soon his brushes are abandoned and his hands become the primary source of contact. You feel paint slide and melt under his warm palms, but can’t bring yourself to stop him. When his chest meets yours you stop holding back. Your hands reach up for his face, fingers sliding through his hair and digging into his scalp. 

“My beautiful little muse…” He whispers.

His lips trail down your neck allowing your unfocused eyes to examine your surroundings. Your search is a quick success, your hand flattening against the palette abandoned next to you. As your hand smears the paint along his back he groans into the hollow of your neck. He pries your bodies apart to reveal the wild streaks of paint covering his torso. Your hand braces against his chest and descends, turning the mess into distinct handprints. Your clean hand stroking his cheek, thumb teasing the corner of his mouth. Rafayel sighs, his voice low and ragged.

“Keep touching me.”

Your lips form a wicked smile. Your hand moves from his face to his cock, he’s so incredibly hard, his tip flushed and weeping. As you stroke him, he throws his head back, his eyes rolling back as his eyelids flutter closed. You tuck your other hand behind his neck and pull yourself up just enough to kiss the center of his neck. He grunts, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow the sound. You latch onto him, sucking in tandem with your strokes, as if you’re suckling his tip. You play with his piercing and he trembles. You sink your teeth into him and he whines loudly. Pulling away, he slams his mouth down onto yours. His hips roll as he fucks himself into your hand. 

“Use me baby.” You manage to say between sloppy kisses.

Lining him up with your desperate pussy, you slide his tip inside. His hips jerk, sheathing more of himself inside of you. Strangled moans fill the apartment as he takes you. Your hands are finally free to explore his paint-covered body. His pelvis slams into yours and you shout, his hands reach down to direct your legs up and over his shoulders. You get a good look at the delicate scales he meticulously painted getting blurred as his hands grip your flesh roughly.

“You’re a work of art. No paint required…”

He can barely speak, but his words make an impact. Your pussy flutters at his compliment and he swears under his breath. With another snap of his hips you’re coming, hard. Your breathless whimpers make Rafayel move with reckless abandon. His climax hits and his warmth fills you, but he suddenly pulls out, his cum spilling onto your stomach. You look down and watch as his cock twitches. Your legs fall apart as he leans forward to lower himself onto his forearms over you. His lips ghost your jaw as he finishes.

“Thank you… thank you thank you thank you…” He repeats it like a prayer.

Before you can say a word he sits up, his eyes darting around to find his canvas. He crawls off of you to retrieve it off the easel and sets it beside you. His fingers glide over your stomach, gathering his cum and remnants of paint. Your mouth falls open as you watch him add the mixture to his canvas. Fingers tapping and swirling to add dimension to the chaotic ocean scene he’d created. He cleans one of his hands on a towel draped over the table and scooches back over to you.

“May I?”

Without thinking you nod, his hand lowers between your legs and he tucks his fingers into your tender cunt. He removes them and smiles as his fingers drip with your combined release. Watching him mix it with paint and add it to the canvas nearly makes you come again. Rafayel leans back and admires his work… both of his works. Sitting up, you rest your palms on the floor behind you. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted to hang that in the studio?”

He stands to place the canvas on the easel again. He returns to your side to offer his hand, he helps you stand and brings your body against his once more. His hands hold your hips as you sway back and forth.

“It's going to, yea.”

Your shocked expression brings on a fit of laughter, and his laughter is so damn contagious. You laugh with him, thinking he is joking. 

“Does it bother you? A painting with our cum on the wall? And no one knows… only us?”

He kisses your ear, your jaw, relishing every tremble you try so hard to contain.

“I think you like it. Our little dirty secret.”

When he kisses you again, it’s sweet and soft. His hands running down your arms to lift them over his shoulders. He lifts you and your legs wrap around him. He stops to wipe his feet on the clean edge of the sheet before making his way to the bathroom. 

“Looks like your art block is cured.” You giggle into his ear.

As he carefully scrubs away the paint from both of your bodies, his lips barely leave yours. The steam from the shower creates a little safe haven, a world apart, where only soft touches and affectionate kisses exist. 

“Cutie, I think you cured more than my art block.” 

His sudden confession brings tears to your eyes, you grab his face and kiss him as they quietly spill over. It’s not long before he’s got you pinned against the shower wall mumbling praises in your ear as he pounds into you. Beyond all logic, you know you’re falling for him. You feel like you’ve known him your whole life, not barely a week. As you come undone you stare at the ceiling, surrendering yourself to the fall of a lifetime.  🐟𓆩🖤𓆪‎🏍️

Inked Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @klmpun @ariallaisawesome @spidy-spider01 @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @bubbleteakittyy @spacegrotesk @namjoonseuphoria @celestialforce @rafshottestgf @oxamarok @zaynessbeloved @animecrazy76 @yournextdoorhousewitch @addiglessthanthree @4ttack-ur-heart @moonberry69 @pandoras-rabbit @cookiesaresquishy @hamnaalien @needlewandandthimble @brekkers-whoreais @goddexxluv @satansdaughter123 @poisonf0rest @darkalleycat1987 @morrigan87 @never-justforever @ericherries @lev-berryz @aishasylus @altair718 @yuhuahuaaa @lazypostfandomer @chloepluto1306 @dummiebunny @3fingersofscotch @freddy-2002-blog @sylus-hunter @yourlocalcatscammer @beaconsxd @stellar-seas

AN #2: Secret authors note woo woo! With how extensive Vow is becoming, I would have made Inked a bit more in depth. I may write a few more chapters, BUT my priority is the sequel & future stories for the other boys. I will say this, I have the individual plots for each boy planned & the overall plot that involves all of them. The "final book" will be INSANE. Thank you for the support and I hope you stick around for more tattooed, pierced, smutty goodness.

[izuglazer]

no body asked for this, but here's a little fic i made where alex from stardew valley finds the mermaid pendant

-male farmer

-fluff

words: 4,717

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

Another hot day for the farm, the summer sun beating down as the faint sound of the cows and chickens kept the place noisy for the poor farmer who was stuck cleaning out the jam containers for new fruits.

A huff and a sigh the farmer leaned his elbow on the barrel, sweat beating off his forehead from the heat. “Sometimes the city sounds nice again..” He looked off to his cat sitting there on the fence next to him, just cleaning itself with low purrs.

The sound made the farmer crack a smile. “Ah but then I wouldn't have you.” A small meow came from the cat as he petted it with his clean hand.

Before he could get back to cleaning out the big jar he could hear faint sounds of shoes scuffing against the rocks and dirt at the entrance. Being on the farm must have given him super hearing, he could even sometimes hear mice scurrying under the floorboards in the winter.

When he turned he could see that all too familiar face of his boyfriend. “What brings you out here, sugar?” He threw the dirty rag across his shoulder, landing behind him next to the jar as he walked to the fence to meet Alex, seeing him roll his eyes at that name with his southern accent.

“Haven't seen you in awhile, thought to check in on you. Feel like I never see you enough.” Alex leaned against the fence on the other side, sliding his hand onto the farmers but recoiling it when he felt the old sticky jam.

“Ew, why are you sticky?”

The disgusted face he made just made the farmer let out a giggle. “It's just jam, I've been cleaning up everything that's been sitting over the winter. Should have gotten it done in spring but just.. procrastinated.”

There was hesitation at the end of his words, Alex noticing but not sure enough to comment.

“Right, well at least you're getting it down now.” He looked at the jar, grimacing slightly just thinking about how sticky that is. He may roll around in dirt for practice but sticky stuff was hell to him.

“Can I pop into the house and wash this off?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” The farmer waved him off, Alex humming a thanks as he went towards the house. Stepping in he felt that same warmth the farmer always gave him, the small scent of hay and fruits lingering from the wood.

Alex walked towards the sink in the kitchen, turning the faucet and coating his hands in soap to get that blasted jam off.

After he searched for a hand towel of sorts, rummaging through the drawers, finding one and just snatching it out.

But when he grabbed the towel something fell out, the item landing at his feet. Instinctively he bent down to pick it up but stopped mid way when he saw what it was, that familiar blue of the shell made his heart drum against his chest.

The mermaid pendant. Why did.. the farmer have this?

He grabbed it right when the front door opened, seeing the farmer's face drop when he saw Alex holding the pendant.

“Hey.. where.. ehah- where'd you find that?” The anxious pitch in the farmers voice filled the room, both of the boys faces red from this new discovery.

“Um.. I found it in the drawer, in the towel.” Alex held the towel up, still holding the pendant in his other hand while feeling his heartbeat in his feet. Was this real? Everyone knows what this is for, there's no way he could have stumbled upon this randomly and not known.

“Look- You see, I can explain. Y-you weren't supposed to know yet, I had a whole plan of asking you, I was just trying to find the right time- Though you don't have to say yes, obviously. I won't force you. This is.. uh a big thing. Just-” Alex muted out the fumbling words of the farmer, clutching the mermaid pendant in his hand.

There was no doubt he liked this guy- no, loved. Would it.. be so bad..?

Taking a breath Alex steadied himself. “y-yes..” The words stopped the farmer mid sentence where he was still anxiously fumbling his words.

“Yes?” Just a puzzled look across his eyes, his face red and his palms sweaty from the heat and this whole interaction.

“Yes, yeah.” Alex was firmer this time. “That's my answer.” He clipped the pendant on his neck, his eyes darting between it and the other man.

A moment dropped before it the farmer realized, his shoulders relaxing and a smile sliding onto his lips. “oh.. oh my god.”

Without thinking he ran into Alex, wrapping his arms on his now fiance. “This wasn't how I planned it to go.” Though it was obvious how happy he was.

Alex huffed, feeling his nerves still shooting through him from this new step. “Maybe find better hiding spots.” He hugged back with a smile, feeling the farmer jab his side playfully making Alex grunt out a laugh.

Everything felt calm, nothing mattered in this moment as the two simmered in each other, until something clicked for Alex.

“You just hugged me with sticky hands.”

[glowettee]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚maintaining your academic glow-up (forever!) - part 5/5˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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posted by: glowettee

hey academic angels! ♡

we've made it to the final part of our grade recovery journey! now that you're back on track, i wanna talk about how to keep that academic glow permanent. because we're not just trying to fix one grade - we're creating a whole new you! and we want it to last as long as possible <3

♡ creating your prevention system

catch problems before they happen:

early warning signs:

feeling confused in class more than usual

taking longer to complete assignments

procrastinating more than normal

losing interest in subjects

feeling overwhelmed easily

skipping study sessions

quick intervention steps:

review your notes daily (even if just for 15 mins!)

keep a confusion log for each class

schedule regular check-ins with professors/teachers

maintain your study buddy system

track your understanding weekly

stay ahead of readings

♡ building sustainable study habits

because we're in this for the long haul:

daily non-negotiables:

review today's class notes (make them pretty but useful)

preview tomorrow's material

update your planner

check for upcoming deadlines

organize materials for next day

celebrate small victories

weekly must-dos:

deep review of tough concepts

organize notes and materials

plan next week's study schedule

check assignment progress

connect with study group

reflect on what's working

♡ maintaining your academic aesthetic

looking cute while studying actually helps:

your study space:

keep it clean and organized

update inspiration board regularly

maintain good lighting

rotate study locations when needed

keep supplies stocked and cute

create seasonal study vibes

your materials:

color code consistently

update planners weekly

maintain digital backups

organize notes beautifully

keep supplies aesthetic but functional

create pretty study guides

♡ long-term success strategies

thinking ahead like the queen you are:

grade monitoring:

track all assignments and tests

calculate grade scenarios

maintain grade goals

document improvement patterns

celebrate progress milestones

adjust strategies as needed

knowledge building:

connect concepts across subjects

create master study guides

maintain concept maps

build on previous learning

develop deep understanding

share knowledge with others

♡ emergency preparation

because life loves to throw curveballs:

your emergency kit:

quick review sheets for each subject

backup study materials

digital copies of everything

contact list for help

stress-relief techniques

backup study locations

preventive measures:

stay ahead in readings

maintain good notes

keep organized files

build support networks

practice self-care regularly

maintain work-life balance

♡ mindset maintenance

keeping your academic confidence high:

daily practices:

positive study affirmations

progress appreciation

growth mindset exercises

self-care routines

gratitude journaling

visualization exercises

long-term mindset:

view challenges as opportunities

celebrate all progress

maintain high standards (but be kind to yourself)

focus on growth, not just grades

build academic confidence

stay curious and engaged

maintaining success is like maintaining your favorite aesthetic - it needs constant care and attention, but it's so worth it!

final thoughts:

trust your systems

stay consistent

keep things cute but functional

maintain your support network

celebrate every win

keep growing and glowing

thank you for joining me on this journey! remember, you're capable of amazing things, and one bad grade doesn't define your academic story. keep shining, keep studying, and keep being absolutely amazing!

stay brilliant and beautiful!

xoxo, mindy 🎀

[gladiatorcunt]

- UNDEAD UNEARTHED !!

you’re too sweet for me

cw: 18+ mdni, goth reader, reader is lowkey mean but not really on purpose, mentions of reader wearing makeup & a skirt, dubcon due to alcohol use and taking advantage of a vulnerable person, ambiguous intentions/ending, reader has a pussy, friends!pope & reader, one line of vomit kink & puppy reader talk, unprotected sex on the beach, feet kink, mentions of animal hunting & implied bone collecting, arguable intox (?) kink, unedited, title inspired by hozier but not directly from the unreal unearth album (subtitle is), experimental style, one usage of the word ‘daddy’, piss kink

wc: 1.5k

1k event. / consider commissioning me!

You’re out at night hunting a gator that some jackass threw into your family’s lake on a whim. It’s not a body of water that beckons the upper class to visit, large parts of it swamped with algae and fervidly humid as any circle of hell. But it’s yours, and you’d hate to get your foot bitten clean off because you procrastinated taking things into your own hands. An annoying job anyway, guess the bones rumored to be buried in the marsh will have to wait.

You’re just minding your business when a boat pulls up. Standing tall behind like the wheel like a captain is your one night stand from a few days ago, John….. C? Or maybe B, whatever. To his right is your longtime acquaintance Pope, someone who you probably would be a lot closer to if you didn’t resign yourself to being the world’s youngest hermit. You bonded over math and reading and you were glad to feel normal for once, to have a normal near-friend and do normal things.

He was the one that made an off handed comment about a party going down at the beach. Nothing special on this sinkhole in the shape of an island, but in theory you can appreciate a casual offer to hang out. You made the decision to only be there for half an hour since the drive back to your trailer was long and winded. You must have looked lonely, because John B (though you didn’t know his name at the time) had sought you out 15 minutes after your arrival and pats your back while you throw up the cheap liquor. Fuck you for trying out the nauseating neon colored liquids in those cheap red solo cups.

You can’t be mad at Pope, you squirreled your way to the pebbled trail leading to the beach soon after exchanging small talk.

“You’ll feel better when you get it all out, okay?” The brunette guy holding your back softly smiles, chomping at the bit to take care of something other than everything else he has to deal with. “Just lean on me and try to relax your throat.”

You’re admittedly embarrassed but you felt something warm stir within you, if you were sober you’d have batted his hands away and all but hissed and bared your teeth. You could almost purr like this, a heavy hand settled on your head and another petting your flank to soothe your trembling. The crosses on the black jacket you’re wearing shook in the breeze, a soft chorus of jingling sounds ringing through the air. Eventually you empty your stomach, he squeezes your shoulder and tucks you into his side as you calmed down.

Your heavy eye makeup and dark lipstick are smudged, your mascara left little trails down your face due to your tears. Having a gag reflex really was the worst, you decide.

“So, do I have a name to call you?” He asked “Can’t think of you as the pretty stranger I saw puking their guts out forever, y’know?”

Your cheeks heat up and you really wish a random tsunami would sweep you out to sea, but you give him your name and hoard the sound of him repeating it in your skull. A part of you between your legs hopes that he does the same when you wrap your lips around the simple syllables of his name, first and last. John B. Routledge is more attractive than he has any right to be, but you know he doesn’t need you to tell him that.

He tilts his head and the moonlight shifts to frame his face. It makes him look like the kind of guy you‘d go to a Lovers Lane with and makeout in his car past any reasonable hour. Someone normal, and you’re a recluse but that doesn’t mean you don’t get lonely. You stumble away from the partygoers, led by his firm grip to a private-ish area of the beach.

He smiles at you again as he pulls his t-shirt off and lays it down on the ground.

He takes a seat and pats the spot beside him, “You need some peace and quiet, some fresh air too. Come sit with me, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave you alone right now.”

You bite the inside of your cheek but sit down anyway, and you let him rest your head against his shoulder. You sit in that position for a while, watching the full moon shine on the ocean below. It feels nice, and you weirdly don’t want to leave, so you sink into the embrace and allow the distant cheers and yelling to fade into the background.

The world is fuzzy when he kisses you for the first time, there’s an airbrush filter over everything in your field of vision. You throw caution to the wind and clumsily kiss back, enjoying the glide of your lips together and the reoccurring pecks that bookmark every brush of skin.

You slur that you really never do this, have sex with somebody the night you meet them. John B chuckles, assuring you that he never thought you were the type to do that anyway. You keep to yourself too much, it’s a wonder you’re even allowing him to peel off your studded skirt and lace panties. He kisses down your leg and when he gets to your strappy sandal, he directs your foot to his bulge and grinds against it while he undoes the straps.

Your right shoe is promptly tossed over your head. Your top joins it, but the sickening clang your jacket makes is close to taking you out of the moment.

Then he groans, and you boldly move your toes up and down the shaft, giving what seems like a sizable cock a sloppy footjob. Your foot keeps slipping, but it makes him harder watching you struggle to regain your footing and keep up your pace. You press your heel into his balls, judging the heft of them and how they swell. You only stop when you skirt your big toe around the head of his dick, and John B clamps a hand around your ankle, chiding you for being so greedy already.

He repeats the process with the other shoe and suddenly your legs are spread and he’s kneeling in front of your exposed pussy with the strangest look on his face. Like it’s what he’s been waiting his entire life for but never knew he needed until he saw it in the flesh. He teases your clit with a few uncoordinated touches, messy circles with the tip of his thumb that leave you wanting.

Your limbs wade through water on the way to wrap around his neck, your anchor in the dizzying sea of lowered inhibitions. You grow wet disturbingly quickly, and the sticky sounds of his fingers playing with your folds, delving deeper up your slit and into your cunt sound louder than gunshots.

You’re so out of it you don’t notice the golden droplets falling on the pads of his digits. He wears them like luxury rings.

He coos and grins, “That’s it, you’re a messy puppy, huh? ‘S okay, I think it’s sweet.”

Your throat spasms and gargles around a watery reply, something about agreeing and thanking him and begging. You think you call him Daddy when the pleasure starts to rewire your brain.

He’s… caring, adjusting his shirt under you so you don't get too much sand sticking to your skin and stroking his thumbs down your thighs whenever you tense up. A tad too sweet for your liking, without the bitterness you’d expect from someone else. It feels right, and you guess that’s what causes you to whine and paw at the waistband of his shorts. John B pants into your slack jawed mouth and nods, licking your teeth and freeing his dick.

You don’t pick up on the lack of alcohol that should be permeating his breath, all you can focus on is how softly he taps the fat tip of his cock on your hole. Like it’s shy but going to do whatever it wants regardless, mold your guts around his length and leave anyone else without being able to fit into the lock he’s custom made.

In the present, your grip around your shotgun loosens considerably and that’s the sign he needs.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I forgot to get your number, so I…I just couldn’t wait anymore.” He says as if that explains everything, as if it seems perfectly fine that he dragged his friend out onto his boat to find out where you lived.

You don’t remember the specifics of the night, but you recall bits and pieces. How his cock stretched your walls and left you clenching around nothing, his necklace smacking the inside of your chin as he thrust inside of you with expert precision, his tongue cleaning the dried vomit off the corner of your mouth and forcing you to taste it. You don’t really remember the individual actions, but you can’t forget the sensations, so you watch the barely there ripples in the water as the boat moves farther into the distance. Your number on a torn piece of paper clutched in John B’s fist.

The gator better not have been scared off.

[princesskaulitz]

New Boy (Part One)

✮ bill is the new cute boy at your school.

✮ 2008 bill kaulitz, fem! reader. this is also kinda au where the he doesn’t have a band. reader is in a group with popular girls at school but is starting to realize that it isn’t what she wants…. TW?: super toxic friends.

✮ A/N: i’m going to make this a couple part thing and it’ll be a lot longer than my other fics. this is also a tiny bit of a slow burn so if that isn’t your type of thing and you don’t have patience for that, this probably isn’t for you lol. 🖤 also this like skim proofread but I didn’t pay that much attention so if you see a typo, my bad. 💀

(vid from unendliichkeit on tiktok)

friday you nearly slept through your alarm. the sound blending into whatever nonsense your brain was dreaming up. blindly, you reached over to hit snooze, your fingers fumbling across the screen– tapping everything but the actual button. the frustration built up until you resorted to smacking your phone, which only resulted in it tumbling off the nightstand and onto the floor.

with a groan, you shoved your blankets off and dragged yourself up, snathing your phone and finally silencing the damn thing.

then you just… sat there. letting the dizziness pass. letting your body catch up.

three hours. that’s all the sleep you got. three.

you stayed up all night catching up on homework, completely loosing track of time. now, you were paying for your procrastination addiction. thank God it was only a half day and double thank God that next week you had that school amusement park trip and you would get a bit of a break. that’s one thing that all your hard work last night would pay off for.

forcing yourself to your feet, you shuffled to your closet. you had no clean school clothes. at this point, you didn’t even care about wearing your uniform, one dress code violation isn’t going to ruin your life. you threw on sweats and a hoodie that hadn’t seen the inside of a washer in weeks. you didn’t even brush your hair. this is never how you dressed, you always dressed to impress, to fit in, to feel noticed or less invisible. you were in a friend group with the rich popular glamorous girls at your private school and you couldn’t afford to look this much like shit, couldn’t afford to look like you didn’t care what others thought but today you were just too exhausted.

but at the same time, something about not having to do your makeup and hair felt like a day off for you. this almost felt… comfortable.

the walk to your bus stop was a blur, along with the walk to class and whatever drama that your friends around you were babbling a mile a minute about, your so called friend melina making comments about how shitty you look.

“oh my gosh, isn’t that a chocolate stain from like last month?!” she says all obnoxiously, making a couple of your other undeniably fake ass friends laugh. “ew y/n when was the last time you even washed that?”

usually it bothered you but friday just wasn’t one of those days. you didn’t even have the emotional energy to let her hurt you.

that’s when it happened…

your eyes locked onto one person in particular… a guy. a very tall, skinny guy. oh he was so fine.

he had on a pair of adidas, some black and white striped pants, and a studded belt, and a black band tee on. there was a leather bracelet on one of his wrists and he was wearing a choker that looks like it could double as a belt. (pretty much the outfit he’s wearing in the video above). he also had dark eyeshadow and hair styled like a hedgehog to complete the look. his eyes were such a pretty brown, he had pale skin, perfect nose and… was that an eyebrow piercing?

you couldn’t pull your gaze away from him. you thought he must be a new boy– you’ve never seen him before, of course you haven’t, i mean how could you see that pretty of a face and not remember it?…. and how the hell hasn’t he been dress coded?

before you could even process what was happening, he was walking right in front of you. he glanced at you for a second, making brief eye contact, before looking ahead again as he continued walking… oh fuck. you did a double take. did he just look at you? shit. you looked like absolute shit and that cute ass guy saw you?

“oh my gosh did you see that guy? what the hell was he wearing?” melina comments judgmentally.

“and what is going on with his hair? embarrassing.” lena comments.

“oh he probably just thinks he’s david bowie but he wound up looking more like he stuck some scissors in an outlet instead.” lilly adds in. they all giggle except for you. not only was that simply the most unfunny shit ever but you just didn’t hear it, you were too busy looking back at him as he disappeared around the corner like some kind of hot goth mirage.

you really hoped he didn’t hear them giggle and think you joined in… hope wasn’t going to do shit for you though.

then monday came. you came to school looking a lot more put together, hair done flawlessly, you even trimmed it yourself as you were good at it, you also had on a freshly clean uniform skirt and shirt, cute expensive heels that made the other girls jealous, you were wearing perfume, had your makeup done, fresh manicure and lash extensions you just got the day before.

funny how you’ve spent so long trying to fit in, believing it would finally bring you peace. but the effort it took—the constant adjusting, the quiet shrinking of yourself—never felt like joy. it felt like labor. and now, in the quiet moments, you’re starting to question if the approval was ever worth the cost… why weren’t you happy?

you had come in a little late, some tall guy with dreads, a lip piercing and baggy clothes bumped into you so hard that it was blatantly purposeful, he didn’t even bother to help you pick up your fallen things– even seemed to have purposefully kicked one of your books across the hallway. damn who pissed in his cereal?

in class, your friends were gossiping about the news that had made it’s rounds in town over the weekend. there was new twins at your school, alleged notorious trouble makers and punks. lilly mentioned that their mom was engaged to the recent appointed assistant superintendent who was super loaded and doesn’t make the boys follow the school rules. you put two and two together, the hot emo guy and the guy with dreads were probably the twins, obviously because they were the only people in the school at the moment that didn’t wear uniforms.

your mind drifted as your friends started saying a bunch of stuff about how arrogant and spoiled they must be to think they can walk around with special treatment like they do, giggling about something about how they’re step dad is probably just letting them do whatever they want so he can keep getting laid by their mom, calling the boys pathetic, already making assumptions that they’re probably going to pass with flying colors without having to put any work in because step daddy will make a way for them. they even go as far as to say that boys like them didn’t belong here, that they’re not even smart enough to go here, that they’re making the school look trashy, less professional or pristine, pretty much that they’re embarrassments.

you’re looking out the window– what a pretty cardinal you see on the tree branch. then you glance around the classroom. your eyes lock with the guy with dreads from earlier… he looks pissed about something… did he hear your friends talking shit?

he didn’t keep eye contact with you for long before he just looked back down at the worksheet in front of him, bringing his pencil up to continue writing which reminded you that there was only 15 minutes left of class and you should probably finish your work too.

lunch time rolled around and you were putting your salad together. you hated salads if you were being honest but you were pretty much called a fat ass by melina for eating anything else.

melina looks you up and down slowly, a half-smile playing on her lips. “trying to redeem yourself for friday?” she asks, tone light but laced with something sharp.

“um… well, i wouldn’t say that,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. you feel your hands automatically tug at the hem of your sleeves.

“did you get eyelash extensions?” she asks, raising her brows like she already knows the answer.

“yeah, i did,” you say, barely louder than before.

“yeah… i can tell,” she replies, dragging out the pause just long enough to make it sting. her smile widens, but not in a kind way.

you blink, hesitating. “do you… like them?”

she tilts her head, feigning thoughtfulness. “well… i mean, they look fine or whatever. but when you go to your lash tech, you should probably ask for something more natural next time, because i can definitely tell you have eyelash extensions. and like… the point is for people not to be able to tell, you know what i mean?” she lets out a small, performative laugh, eyes flicking to lena and the other girls.

you open your mouth, trying to find something—anything—to say in response, but before the words can form, she’s already continuing.

“and also, your foundation…” she trails off, her voice dipped in mock concern. “babe, you really need to clear your acne first. otherwise, you just end up looking… cakey.”

“and you look kind of orange, don’t you think, melina?” lena adds with a giggle, glancing around for approval.

they all laugh. it’s not loud—but it’s pointed. the kind of laugh that’s meant to echo.

you blink again, a dull pressure building behind your eyes as their voices begin to blur. one of them says something about how “boys don’t like catfishes,” but it sounds far away. you stare down at a scratch on the cafeteria table in front of you, willing yourself not to react, not to feel how red your face is getting.

“um can we help you?” a bit of a change in melina’s tone catches your attention as you look up to see who she’s talking to.

you see the guy with the dreads again. he had a soda in his hand.

he stops, shrugs. “nah, just wanted to give you something.” he had a deep voice, german accent.

he holds up the soda. they blink at it, confused, suspicious.

“what is that?” lena mutters.

he unscrews the cap slowly, and just as they realize he’s dropped something inside—

foomph.

a volcano of foam shoots straight out, splashing across the table. shrieks erupt. melina tries to scramble back, but it's too late—her top is drenched, so is lilly’s. lena’s phone is coated. your salad goes flying as your skirt gets ruined, soda getting in your hair. the whole table is in chaos.

he just grins and walks off like nothing happened.

“what the hell!” melina exclaims.

after a few seconds of grabbing every napkin in sight and desperately trying to wipe the soda off your pure white skirt, you look up and see him smiling and laughing with his twin, the cute guy you saw the other day.

great. just great. they know about your friends talking shit and they think you were a part of it… worstly, that emo cutie thinks you were a part of it.

the next day came, the school trip for the little mid semester break that all the students who made themselves eligible looked forward to. it was at an amusement park, there would be a good couple days off school, free hotel stay, free food, skip-the-line wristbands. it was exciting.

you were late. per usual.

your mom took forever—always did. dropping you off wasn’t just a task, it was a performance. she had to get done up like a victoria’s secret angel, just in case any of the other moms happened to see her. just in case they didn’t look their best, and she could make them feel like shit by comparison. blending in with the moms who looked way too good for this early in the morning. usually when she was too tired to doll herself up, that was when she made you ride the bus.

what an influence.

no wonder you ended up the way you did.

you barely made it to the fancy charter bus. inside, it was already alive with chatter and laughter—snack wrappers crinkling, chips being tossed from one seat to another. you scanned the rows, searching for your friends.

you spotted melina. relief hit—for a second. but as you moved to sit next to her, she quickly slid her bag into the seat before you could.

“what? what are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“that spot’s for lena,” she said flatly, not even looking up.

you glanced behind her. lilly was already sitting with her little boyfriend, all smiles and no intention of noticing you.

“you—really? you guys couldn’t save me a seat?” you asked, the question coming out smaller than you meant it to.

melina shrugged. “well, the bus filled up fast. you should’ve been on time. i don’t know what to tell you.”

no apology. no space made.

“just go find another seat. hurry up—we’re about to leave,” she added, waving you off like you were the problem. “you don’t want to be that person holding everyone up, do you?”

you sigh. lena was even later than you yet you’re the one getting the speech and no seat? pretty typical.

you head toward the back of the bus.

the only open seats left? the twins.

and judging by the way they’re both spread out like they own the place, they have no plans of making room.

the one you like is lost in his own world—earbuds in, chewing absently on the cord. legs stretched across the seat, taking up as much space as possible. he doesn’t even glance at you.

his brother, on the other hand, does.

he meets your gaze without shame, holding it just a second too long. there’s not a hint of concern in his expression—just a lazy smirk, like he finds the whole thing funny. like he’s rooting for you to get rejected twice in one morning.

you glance back at the one you like. he must feel your stare, because he finally looks up—but only barely. he gives you that classic what do you want? face. the one that makes you feel like a total idiot for even standing there.

“move your legs and let her sit, bill,” one of the chaperones calls from the front, voice light but firm.

he exhales through his nose, rolls his eyes at the ceiling like it’s all so inconvenient. his jewelry clinks softly as he shifts, dragging his legs off the seat with a quiet clatter of chain and metal.

he doesn’t say a word.

you sit and situate your things. fuck he was so close you could smell him. he smelled like musk, sandalwood, iris and leaether. you almost forgot for a second that you weren’t necessarily his favorite person. he had his hair down today, not in his usual crazy style. you also noticed he had his nails done, they were black with white on the tips.

then you feel something small hit you on the side of your head, getting stuck in your hair. you pull it out, a gum wrapper. you look across at the other twin who’s just smirking, putting his pack of gum back in his bag.

you sigh, throwing the wrapper elsewhere. you look over at bill next to you, you had to tell him at some point that you weren’t like your friends. you admire him for a moment as he looks out the window. his side profile is so damn perfect and those lips look so soft. you get so distracted by them that you don’t even notice him side eyeing you.

“what?” he asks, not at all hiding his annoyance.

“nothing.” you quickly look away.

you pause for a moment before speaking again. “i swear i’m nothing like my friends. i’m sorry that they talk about you guys the way you do.”

“i heard you laughing with them on friday.” he says, not buying what you’re saying whatsoever. he has a soft voice and the same german accent as his brother.

“i wasn’t, i swear. i thought you looked cool, i really did.” you try your best to tell him but it doesn’t seem to be getting through.

“then why do you still hang out with them? clearly you want to be like them. if you truly didn’t care about them or like the way they act, you’d drop them so don’t hand me that shit, you still wanted to sit next to them a few moments ago even after the way they talked about us.” he says.

man he was right. why do you still chase them even after you see the way they are? even after they’re so mean to you. they were mean to you but even just hanging out with them filled something within you… or at least you thought.

but chasing people like them put you right down on their level and it was apparent now more than ever that maybe that isn’t truly what you wanted. you couldn’t possibly live without chasing little moments of approval where any other time, you were made fun of or given back handed comments though, it was even that case with your own mother. it was like some kind of dopamine chase.

where else would you get that fulfillment from?

you look at bill again. how the hell did he do that? how did he dress the way he dresses and do his makeup like that and not care what anyone else thought? like how does he live like that? you realized that it was a pathetic question.

you get lost in your thoughts for awhile. you and him don’t speak anymore. you loose track of time, even falling asleep when suddenly a voice wakes you as you get nudged.

“can you move?,” it was bills annoyed voice.

you open your eyes to see all the students getting up, then look up to see bill looking down at you, waiting for you to move. you quickly get up to see that the bus has made a pit stop at a fast food restaurant to get some lunch. you check your phone. damn how long were you out?

bill watches as you get off the bus and walk right past your friends this time who don’t even notice or seem to care that you hadn’t joined them.

you get yourself a chicken salad and choose to sit by yourself today.

bill and his brother watch you from afar where they’re sitting.

“i saw you talking to that girl, why?” his brother asks.

“she was telling me something about how she wasn’t like her friends and she swore she wasn’t laughing at me the other day. i didn’t buy it though because if she truly wasn’t like them, she wouldn’t be hanging out with them even after they talked about us the way they did and i told her that too.” bill explains.

it wasn’t that he cared about if you were laughing or not, he just hated people like you and your friends who think they’re better than everyone, he and his brother always sought out to humble and embarrass people like that. they had been tortured for years of their childhood by people like that and one day they just up and decided they weren’t going to take that shit anymore and they were going to fight back.

“well i don’t know, maybe she thought about what you said, she’s sitting by herself.” his brother notices.

bill glances up at you as he takes a sip of his cola. “i don’t think that means anything tom. she’s probably just mad at them because they wouldn’t let her sit with them.” he says.

tom doesn’t speak. he looks a bit pensive as if not fully agreeing with what bill is saying. almost like he can see more through you than bill does.

of course you’ve noticed by now that your friends don’t seem to give a flying shit if you’re sitting with them or not. as much as you wanted to pull yourself away from them, it still bothered you that they didn’t care. why did it fucking bother you? it was beginning to frustrate you.

you all were back on the bus soon. you sat in your same spot next to bill but still, neither of you talked.

it was a long ride until you guys finally arrived at the amusement park. there was a hotel there and that’s where the students were directed to first. teachers handed out key cards and let the students make their way to their hotel rooms to put their things away, put on sunscreen and whatnot and everyone was directed to meet back in the lobby in 20 minutes.

your class was huge and was taking up the entire small hotel.

students were to make groups of two’s or three’s for their room, of course melina got her card and her, lilly and lena all got a room together, not even caring to invite you.

melina’s excitement had mere seconds though before it was ruined as she was soon bound to discover the gargantuan wad of gum tom stuck in her hair when you guys got off the bus.

you got your key card but didn’t even bother to try and find a roommate, knowing that you probably wouldn’t wind up with one anyways so accepting the fact that you might be alone, you just made your way up to your hotel room.

you slid the keycard into the slot. the green light blinked, the lock clicked, and you pushed the door open.

then froze.

bill was already inside—back turned to you, bent slightly as he rifled through his duffel bag on the bed. he paused too, sensing you. when he turned around, the look on his face was pure confusion laced with irritation.

“what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, brows raised.

you blinked. “um… this is my room.”

he stared at you like you’d just grown two heads. his expression flatlined into disbelief, eyes narrowing slightly as if you were trying to pull a joke he had no patience for.

without a word, he stepped over and plucked the keycard right from your fingers, flipping it over to check the number. then he pulled his own from his pocket. compared. same number.

room 483. (hehe)

of course.

“no. nope. you’re gonna have to get another room or something because this?”—he motioned between the two of you—“this isn’t happening.”

he practically tossed your card back at you. you fumbled, barely catching it.

“there are no other rooms,” you said, trying to stay calm. “our class took up the whole hotel. everything’s booked.”

he scoffed. “then go stay with your little friends or whatever. not my problem.”

“i can’t. their rooms are already full. please—don’t make this harder than it has to be, there must have been some kind of mix up. i won’t be a burden. i’ll sleep on the floor, you can have the bed, seriously. you won’t even notice i’m here.”

his jaw clenched a little, the gears clearly turning behind his eyes. for a long second, he just stared at you. you could almost see the resistance softening at the edges.

finally, he let out a breath. not quite annoyed, but definitely not thrilled.

“…fine.”

part two here

[vitaminseetarot]

Pick a Card: Full Moon in Leo 🌕😸🌞

Hey, y'all, what's going on? I apologize for not being on as much in the last month and a half. Life is starting to get into crazy season (that's not even accounting for the current US political landscape, my personal life just always seems to get frantic in late winter) and for the last few weeks I've been especially busy finding work along with appointments. I wanted to post a reading in January but here's hoping I can make up for it at some post with more clustered PACs like the last two.

I felt a strong urgency with this full moon PAC which has snapped me back into my tarot flow in order to get this out as soon as possible. Some of the messages feel very time sensitive. I also have a timeless Yes or No reading coming up shortly and also want to do a Valentine's themed reading, so we shall see if February is more psychically jam packed than January.

This reading is cat themed so I decided to add a playing card deck with random cat facts for each pile. (Random: are some of you planning a fun Mardi Gras? I just noticed the color selection lol.) Choose whichever image calls you most:

Pile 1 - Green Spring Rabbit 🐇 Pile 2 - Violet Starlight Sage 🔮 Pile 3 - Yellow Fire Phoenix 🐣

Pile 1 - Green Spring Rabbit 🐇

7 of Swords, Knight of Swords, 8 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles; Full Moon Eclipse - Conclusions are within reach; Libra Sun - Harmonize; "I am deeply connected to the earth and rooted in my own life."; Q♦: "Cat whiskers are the same width as their body."

Hello, pile 1. Your cards are emphasizing that you need to get to the truth of some matter. A need to clear the smoke and make sense of things. Level things out so each thing can be managed in its own time. Push through to complete tasks. Coming soon to a realization about something. Finding important answers to help you move forward. It will all make more sense when the little things are tended to so your mind can find peace. Cats use their long whiskers for balance, and above is Libra reminding you to maintain equilibrium in all areas of life right now. With the red roses, I'm getting that security and material concerns are particularly important to this pile, and this errand is something that must be done in the physical world, like gardening, cleaning the house, filing paperwork, or mailing a special letter, as examples. The messages are coming through very blunt; perhaps this pile prefers cutting away the unnecessary bull and getting to the heart of the matter.

Things may seem difficult right now but if you're able to stay on the ball within the next two weeks, then the time closer to new moon in Pisces will feel a lot more easygoing. Knight of Swords on top of 9 of Pentacles is saying, "bite the bullet and get the thing done so you can enjoy games and rest later". This work may even result in an external reward or validation, but overall it will bring a sense of balance and relaxation in the days to come. The Full Moon can feel odd at times because despite its magical properties, it often brings up come "foe" from the night that needs to be confronted with and ultimately be-friended. In this case I'm getting that you have dealt with procrastination on something that's important to you, but the time is better than ever to get this done.

I felt an urgency getting this pick a card out when I got these cards so this pile's message could get out when it needs to. Don't be late for your important date, like the white rabbit! Remember that procrastination isn't your enemy, though it may seem that way at times. It's merely asking you to draw some strict boundaries between work and play as procrastination fears the idea of never getting rest. But in following the fear, the task gets put off until it's uncomfortable for longer. So it draws out the pain and increases it over time in an attempt to secure what it needs. But if you're able to draw the line and respect it by getting the task done when necessary, then procrastination will turn into a friendly party animal when it's finally time to relax and receive.

Pile 2 - Violet Starlight Sage 🔮

Knight of Cups, Ace of Cups, King of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles; Waxing Crescent - Have faith in your dreams; Taurus Rising - Enjoy; "I flow naturally with greatness and grace."; 9♠: "Cats are crepuscular, which means that they're most active at dawn and dusk."

Hi, pile 2! I'm getting Trine energy especially while looking at the pyramids behind the King of Pentacles. Notice prominent trines in your natal chart and transit, especially grand trines, as they can reveal important details about your current life path if you're into astrology. They may reveal the area of your life this reading is affecting most as it may be different for all of you. For those who aren't into astrology, trines represent flow or harmonious relationships between different aspects. Your pile was the smoothest energy of the three like clear running water. Before I drew your affirmation card with the amethysts, I heard "flow" like "smooth flowing" or "smooth sailing". There's something you've been looking for to fulfill some part of your life, like a degree or a car, something that is needed to function. This is something practical that will make you feel as though you've leveled up. If you're on that path now, this reading is a confirmation that you are in alignment with what you're seeking.

An interesting thing I see in this pile is this theme of day and night. We see it in both the "crepuscular" card as well as the light and dark contrast of your tarot cards. So I'm reading this in many different ways since it seems like an abstract theme: for some of you, this may involve a creative project or study that you do either in the morning or evening hours. Like a hobby you do in the morning, or a class at night, could be coming through. You may be moonlighting and working two jobs at once or school and job depending on the time and person. For others, your manifestation abilities are running high over the next week or two, meaning that surprises that could be part of your alignment could come up overnight. Like you submit an application and hope to hear back only to hear it the following night or day.

I'm not seeing fast moving cards here, so if this happens, you're still being advised with sobering amethyst to take it easy and not rush into anything, especially if the opportunity makes you uncomfortable in any way. All these cards suggest that you're on the path to getting that which will make your life easier, not harder, so rushing may only bring struggle and strain when a graceful approach may do more good in the long run. You are meant to enjoy what it is you're receiving as this gift will keep you on a proper path towards self development. It will come when the time is just right. My headphones moved as I typed the last sentence so "hear" for signs. Spiritual signs may come as music, audiobooks, podcasts, or from overheard conversations. Pay attention to these synchronicities for insight.

Pile 3 - Yellow Fire Phoenix 🐣

7 of Wands, VI Lovers, 3 of Wands, 2 of Cups; Full Moon in Capricorn - The end of a tough cycle approaches; Aquarius Moon - Invent; "People want to hear what I have to say."; 8♦: "A group of kittens are more commonly called a litter, but they can also be known as a 'kindle' of kittens."

Hey pile 3. During this full moon time, an important decision must be made regarding an ambition very close to you. I'm getting for many this pile will involve a relationship with a person but it could be also be something close to the heart like spirituality or a cause you strongly believe in. These cards are rather vague as to what kind of decision is being made and how to exactly weigh these options. Mostly what's coming through is that it may involve difficult but absolutely critical conversations with others. This could be an important meeting or review coming up, where feedback on either side may be required. There could be some kind of situation or confrontation where teaming up and strategizing with others will benefit you. These conversations may not be easy, but it's a vital step in whatever goal you're looking to accomplish.

There are two sides to this pile. For those who are wondering if they should communicate, and usually don't, the cards are advising to go for what you want. 7 of Wands suggests needing to be brazen and bold to a degree, so it may be you who needs to reach out first even if it feels like a struggle. 3 of Wands is a card of progress, so even if the call somehow ends in a "no", it will still be a stepping stone in the path for what you desire. Speaking your truth will give you experience points no matter the outcome. For those who are always reaching out and communicating, the cards are asking to lean back and trust a little more and let them meet you half way.

If you're looking to start or re"kindle" a relationship (or something within the relationship), it's time to get real with what you're after. Your voice matters a lot in this situation. This full moon can indicate progress in a goal that you've been aiming towards for a long time, and it's possible that collaborating with others may be a big factor in moving this objective along. A cat can't have kittens by itself, you know what I'm saying? It's okay to need working with another person or people on something dear to you, and there's a good chance they see you as the leader type by waiting for your initiative. Either you must take the initiative or set intention so the universe can initiate for you, it will be the opposite of your default behaviors. By setting the goal and leading the way, you can help others to help you. That's the power of teamwork, yeah! [climbs out of motivational poster] Ahem.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2025, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[sapphosscribe]

Great answer about how you manage to write consistently. Um, just one question - how do you write with ADHD? Maybe it's just me, but sometimes when I try to write it just comes out unnatural, I don't know where I'm going with my thoughts (even when I know exactly what I want to describe sometimes the words just won't come together) or I'm just describing without putting emotions in. And after like 20 minutes of doing so I MUST switch to a YouTube video, preferably a MV/performance video.

Also a huge issue for me - I feel like if I just sit down to do it then I'll forget that everything else around me exists and I just... Won't do the "necessary shit" (aka school/job, chores, etc.), but I still procrastinate on Necessary Shit™ and end up doomwatching YouTube. It's like I'm afraid to live my life to the fullest just to do this exact thing, but if at least feels safer??? Hate it!

This is SOOO relatable 😫.

Honestly trying to do ANYTHING with ADHD is not for the faint of heart.

Planning, planning, planning. I CANNOT stress enough how insanely helpful it is for me to have not only a plan for the story, but a plan for each individual chapter.

I try to aim for the sweet spot between planning so intricately there’s no room to let it breathe and just allowing the characters to do whatever to the degree I’ve completely lost the plot 😂😂.

I’d say the issues you’re having with describing without emotions or rambling is something I resolve in two different ways.

1) I look to my characters. Just like real life, no one in the scene is just standing around existing. They have their own thoughts, feelings, and motivations about what’s going on around them. I refer to this in my head as letting the story breathe. The characters often have a mind of their own. Sometimes I’ll realize that, based on something already established about their background, they’d be acting in a certain way or do something different then what I have planned and it helps make it feel more authentic. Keeping in mind what your characters want and what they’re actively trying to achieve in each scene can help with descriptors.

2) This might be a hot take but, honestly, let yourself ramble. Sometimes I’ll think I’m saying way too much much stuff in a chapter or the pacing is off, then I’ll go back and read it and it’s perfectly fine. I think of it like cooking food. It can take over an hour to bake something and it feels exhausting and like you’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way, but it’s just because you’re standing there measuring things out and adding ingredients. When you actually TASTE what you’ve cooked it all blends together into something much simpler.

No matter what you say, you can always clean it up in editing. The first draft is just you telling yourself the story and even if some of it turns out not to be usuable, you’ve probably learned something about your characters that will help you write them better later on.

This might also sound really weird but the way I structure my chapters and story follows the formula you might use to write an essay 😂😂

Before I do anything else with my story. I pick a theme, something that I’m trying to say/prove, the point of the whole thing, and I treat the rest of the story as evidence for that theme.

Each Act is a big piece of ‘evidence’ to support my theme and then each chapter in the arc follows emotional and plot beats to create that evidence.

Since Act 1 is already over I can use it as an example, though I’m not giving away the story’s overall theme. You can figure that out.😉

My big piece of evidence in Act 1 or my ‘big thought’ that connects to the main theme is “Bill’s current moral bankruptcy isn’t from a place of outright malice, but unprocessed trauma”. Then I planned out the structure to prove it: Bill crashing out spectacularly while trapped in human form by self harming, his relationship with Mabel forming transactionally, Bill trying to control Ford because Bill feels like he needs that to feel secure rather than having an equal partnership, The Axolotl and the first few flashbacks giving context to some of Bill’s actions, and closing out with the big moment between Ford and Bill at the party where he admits he cares about Ford for more than just what he could get from him.

Once I’m satisfied that I’m building the story toward what I’m trying to prove. I move on to the next section. So that’s my wild scientific method approach to big writing projects or even small ones!

As for the “forgetting to do necessary shit”. I set timers for how long I’m going to do what I’m doing and, once they go off, I give myself a few minutes to finish up whatever I’m working on and switch tasks. You can also use this in other areas of life. It’s been super helpful for me when balancing out work and leisure, but if it doesn’t work for you that’s fine too. Everyone’s different.

Procrastinating on “Necessary but unpleasant shit” I try to minimize by making it fun somehow. I plan my schedule a day in advance so I know what’s coming and if it’s a task I find difficult I try to add some element of fun to it. I turn on music or an audiobook when I clean and cook or wear an outfit that makes me feel good. I personally HATE exercising, so I bought a tiny treadmill and instead of sitting watching tv in the evenings, I put the tiny treadmill down and walk on it while watching something I like.

I also try to reframe thinking about the things I don’t want to do in a positive way. Folding the laundry means I get it out of my chair I like to sit in and read books. Vacuuming the floor is getting rid of bad energy and making the carpet soft again. Try to approach things as an adventure rather than a chore. Some stuff can be harder than others to grapple with, but, to quote the jogging Monkey in Bojack Horseman “Every day it gets a little easier, but you’ve got to do it every day. That’s the hard part. But it does get easier.”

Not to get all philosophical, but we only do have this one life. Even if it’s quiet and ordinary or hard sometimes, it’s better to try not to hate it or see just going through your day as something to dread. I’ve found that there’s actually a lot of tiny little things to love around every corner if you go looking for them.

If new things are making you uncomfortable, try what I like to call ‘safe spontaneity’. If I get unsatisfied with what I’m doing I’ll do something small that’s new and adds variety. Try out a new restaurant or a new type of food for one meal. Take 30min-1hr to learn about something that interests you outside of what you normally look at (I say having just finished two documentaries about Oceangate 😅😅). Find tiny ways to switch things up so you still have predictably and structure, but you add something new and grow your world a tiny bit more. Even if you end up hating whatever it is, at least you know you don’t like it and not to do it again! Allow yourself to grow and change at your own pace 🥰💗💗.

This was REALLY long and probably too much information, but I hope it helped!

@anon-22866634

[mehkers]

Our Special Day Together~

Summer break just started for me, and boy am I going through the worst burnout episode ever. I'm also sick on top of that, so I decided to write smth with cute little Asmo <3 (Asmo has never been one of my favorites, but I decided to let him take the spotlight cause sometimes we all need our self-loving king to show us a good time)

Contains: fluff, silly Asmo, platonic or romantic relationship (however you want to see it), asmo x reader fanfic, comfort, mentions of sickness and feelings of burnout/exhaustion

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

"Cutieee, your favorite demon is here~!" His soft honeyed voice was hard to miss, especially by his soft and delicate fingers covering your eyes.

"Asmo!" You smiled and tilted your head back to see the silly demon. His soft strawberry blond hair brushed your forehead, and then his lips followed. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, 5th of the 7 seven demon brothers, is usually touchy so you got used to his impromptu kisses. He's never gone further than your forehead and cheeks thankfully, unless you've given permission.

He smiled at you and spun your chair around. "Come on! We're finally done with RAD, and I want to have a self care day with my cutie. We'll have to hurry before Lucifer catches us and makes us clean the gardens." He pouted and looked down at his perfect nails. "I can't have mud and dirt in my nails!"

You chuckled lightly, watching Asmo fix his hair and scarf. Thinking about it, you didn't have much planned. With RAD over, your studies stopped as well. No more assignments to worry over, no more tests to procrastinate for. It was abnormal to say the least. The first few days of break was bliss. Going out with the brothers, cooking with Luke, partying every other day, but then the appeal slowly faded. On top of that, you've come down with a terrible cough and throat pain that makes you want to tear out your esophagus. Simon said he wouldn't assist you in doing that, so that was out of the picture.

You looked at Asmo who was going on another monologue about how a demon (or human) must always keep their appearances well even if they aren't going out much. It felt kind of directed at you since you've slightly neglected taking care of yourself for the past few days.

"What's there to think about? Hurry! We don't have all day," Asmo crossed his arms and looked down at you with an impatient look. Whatever, no one could fight against Asmo when he set his mind to one thing. You let him grab your arm and drag you out of your slump.

Asmo took you to the best spa in Devildom, making sure you were pampered and cared for. Even though you thought you were good at hiding your initial discomfort, Asmo had a keen eye. He could tell you were slinking back into your mind the past few days when he barely saw you around anymore. You were almost always in your room, occasionally coming out for some snack and for meal times, then roaming the halls looking for something to do, which inevitably led you back to your room. The rest of the brothers got caught up in whatever they wanted to do now that they had more time on their arms, which he knew left you feeling lonely and needy for attention.

It was a bit hard getting used to the sudden pampering, but you slowly relaxed and took in the enjoyment. Now, the two of you was in a bath house sharing a warm tub made just for your comfort. Asmo preferred it warmer, but he didn't want your skin to melt off your body. He loves you just the way you are. With all your pieces put together and nothing missing.

Asmo scooted closer, observing your relaxed look with a satisfied smile. "Are you feeling better now, dear?"

You opened one eye, and nodded. You adjusted the towel around you, mainly for decorum purposes since Asmo scooted closer. You've watched enough bath house scenes with Levi to know where this might end up to. Asmo simply chuckled and reached over to caress your cheek. "You're so pretty, my sweet. I hope you enjoyed our special day."

"I couldn't have asked for a better day," You murmured and leaned into his soothing touch. There was something about Asmo that always put you at ease. At least when he wasn't being a mischievous little freak. "Thanks, Asmo. You always seem to know the right time to swoop in and save me."

He laughed and patted your cheek before sitting back. "Your my master, of course I'd be in tune with your emotions! Our pacts aren't one way, you know? And it doesn't take much to guess our lovely human was feeling lonely al by herself."

He reached for your hand inside the steaming water, and let out a soft sigh. "I'll do anything to keep a smile on your sweet face. You can always trust your little Asmo~ <3"

It's hard to hold onto all the angst building up inside you when he was being all sweet. You instead made a mental note to cook Asmo's favorite the next time it was your turn to prepare dinner. For now though, enjoying the present with Asmo seemed much better than dwelling on the past or preparing for the future.

The sly demon knows exactly how to make his little human happy.

[majorasnightmare]

i finally did it. character relevant sex lore for the party bicycle YAHOO

this post fucking fought me every step of the way. thats what i get for writing character analysis while violently ill and dosed to the moon on meds. enjoy in detail content on how bhaals favorite gore baby straight out of pottery barn fucks his way through the sword coast

content warnings for below the cut for sexual content and references to past sexual abuse 👇

so dirges relationship with sex is kind of... intense? ironically its at its simplest in his bhaalist years but that baggage gets carried over into experiences post tadpoling

bhaalist!dirge did... NOT have a good relationship with sex. the act itself was to be done for procreation, to seed the world with spawn to help fulfill Bhaal's goals, and to that end Dirge was coerced via duty into having sex with volunteering priestesses to try and conceive. Those efforts never bore fruit, and Dirge unconsciously tried to avoid that particular duty whenever possible, and it contributed greatly to his compulsive need to prove himself fit and worthy as Bhaal's vessel to avoid having to conceive an heir. the pleasure was embodied in the ecstasy of murder, a sensation somewhere between a full body orgasm and an addictive drug high, an instictive kill response triggered by Bhaal's blessing, and a sign that Dirge was the favored child. the desire for sex, for intimacy with another living person, was a sin, a sign of weakness. if you wanted the feeling, all you had to do was kill, and kill well. if you didnt want to kill, then it must be because you desired to spread your seed and incubate another heir to the throne of blood. what else could you possibly be looking for?

so dirge more or less avoided sexual encounters as a whole during his bhaalist years, up until meeting gortash, where gortash was an intimate human connection dirge WASNT going to kill (for the sake of bhaals schemes), and furthermore gortash was a connection that encouraged dirge to view himself as a person with desires outside of bhaal. things snowballed, and dirge fell into a cycle of sleeping with gortash that looked something like this

-be overwhelmed by the crushing weight of being a living religious idol

-feel soul destroying amounts of guilt for not living up to the standards set for you by yourself and everyone you interpret as a voice of authority on the matter

-refuse to go home because you hate yourself and your procrastinating on the inevitable routine of self flagellation and overwork until you feel youve earned the right to exist again

-end up at gortashs because you dont know where else to go

-seriously consider killing gortash and freeing yourself of this final piece of connection tying you to the material plane and potentially keeping you from killing the world. avoid killing gortash for exactly that reason

-let yourself be talked into making use of your time here by working on your schemes and projects together. be completely unable to focus and emotionally distraught

-be convinced into letting gortash relieve your stress. let things get carried away and take your clothes off. finally indulge your desire to be close to another person. >not your fault >banite talked you into it >youll kill him about it later

-you dont want to be responsible for your own desires or actions but you want to be guided by someone who knows how to make this work, so now that youve already shot yourself in the foot, might as well deepthroat the barrel. go completely submissive in bed and give gortash the thrill of a lifetime being the dom for a murderbeast that only tames itself for him

-have a genuinely really nice enjoyable time having sex

-wake up at the crack of dawn before gortash wakes up, feel completely disgusted and ashamed with yourself for succumbing to the weak desire for social connection, use his bathroom to clean yourself up, leave through his window without saying anything.

-promise yourself your never going to do this again, find someone to kill on the way out, crawl back home in disgrace to get started on that routine of self flagellation (literally)

-rinse and repeat.

and that cycle more or less stayed stable entirely up until dirges lobotomy. but dirge got to carry alllllll that unexamined guilt and trauma with him into his second go around

Post tadpoling, Dirge doesn't retain the old religious values that punished him for connection seeking, though he DOES retain the effects it left him with. Topping triggers traumatic memories of feeling coerced into trying to conceive at the temple (though he only recalls the intense discomfort, bereft of context or reason), and the years of religious guilt means hes so consciously present in his body that he struggles to finish. He also just takes a long time to climax overall. The discomfort doesnt start fading until a good bit into his relationship with Minthara. Generally this means his preference is to just treat his body as a tool his partner can use to make themselves feel nice, and Dirge derives a LOT of pleasure from watching his partner climax because of him. Its usually enough to satisfy him even if he doesnt cum, just as long as his lover does. This was one of the main sticking points in his relationship with Astarion, and one of the reasons Astarion eventually transitioned their relationship away from sex.

Dirge post tadpoling doesnt project any particular meaning onto sex and mostly sees it as a way to enjoy yourself physically, and is very open to casual and platonic sex. He sleeps with Astarion off and on throughout act 1 very casually when giving Astarion blood, he sleeps with Gale to reaffirm to Gale that he IS desirable and attractive, Dirge just cant reciprocate the exact kind of relationship Gale wants, and Dirge sleeps with Karlach after her engines fixed cuz he told her hed stay open to the idea and shes been pent up for a decade. Its something thats enjoyable to do, and Dirge takes to the role of attentive seducer quite well, lavishing affection on a partner over and over and over again, so he doesnt see a reason to abstain from it when its so fun, and it can do nice things for the people hes sleeping with. dirge very much is the kind of guy you can fuck without changing literally anything about your relationship to him, and he makes that clear before you blow his back out.

while dirge CAN be dominant in bed, he enjoys himself the most when hes being submissive. the dom/sub dynamic has more of an influence on how "into it" he gets than any other particular kink, because for dirge the relationship of power, potential for violence, and the physicality of his body are all intrinsically linked together. dirge is a killing machine that receives pleasure from inflicting death, and finds peace in receiving pain, and he is constantly aware of those facts. if someone isnt making him submit, hes doing the work of taming himself for them, and thats going to contribute to his difficulty losing himself in the experience. its easier and more enjoyable for him to pleasure a partner unwilling or unable to dominate him, because he can divert most of his attention off of himself onto intuiting the noises and motions of their body to pull the strongest reactions out of them.

when it comes to actual sex acts, dirge is a MASSIVE fan of oral. dirge typically seeks to satisfy multiple of his senses at the same time, and burying himself between his partners thighs ticks multiple checkboxes for him. its a reliable way of pleasuring a partner that rewards attention to body language and patience, it brings him close to multiple erogenous zones on his partners body (inner thighs, lower stomach, behind the knees, all within easy reach of his hands or easily manipulatable to bite, kiss, or otherwise mark), it satisfies multiple senses at once (nuzzling against his partners thigh, indulging the taste of them on his tongue, savoring the intensity of their scent so close to their heat, being able to look up and make eye contact), its something he can happily do for hours at a time until his partner wants him to stop, and above all its something one sided he can give to his partner without having to receive anything. dirge is free to take pleasure in the act itself and what it does to his lover without worrying about his bodys own reactions to things his lover might want to do to him, and in a d/s context its a blatant act of fulfilling devotion and worship that is its own reward. dirge is a very worshipful submissive, combining aspects of pet play with religious kink, needing a dominant to domesticate and take charge of him, before he rewards their efforts with service, devotion, and worship as thanks for going through the efforts of taming his more unruly urges. to that end, once minthara and him agree on their romance, she collars him as part of their initial courtship so that she has a means of restraining him on hand at all times.

dirges understanding of interpersonal power, autonomy, and self control are all tied up with his desires in social relationships and intimate connections, so because hes a bhaalspawn, because hes specifically an instinctive killer, the concept of indulgence itself carries inherent risk, and furthermore it carries the burden that he is not an infallible paragon of restraint. if dirge wants to be fully present in a relationship, he needs an external vehicle of control that isnt centered within his own capabilities of restraint, because otherwise he'll betray himself and act out against his own wishes and cause harm when he doesnt want to. dirge NEEDS someone to leash him so he can fully let go, but the responsibilities and risks of something like that are too much to reasonably expect out of most people. so far minthara and gortash have been the only ones willing to step up to be his self control kill switch

anything that plays into or around dirges power dynamics will typically be received well. bondage and restraints are enjoyable for him, alongside most forms of painplay. he has a huge thing for blood, and letting him draw it or drawing blood yourself and letting him catch the scent of it will sharply increase the intensity of the experience

generally dirge enjoys spoiling his lovers, dedicating the entire night to them with barely any focus on himself, lavishing affection on them, and using his own body to pleasure theirs, or letting his partner use his body themselves. intense scenes push dirge into subspace where his tendency to worship a lover gets emphasized, and he has a much easier time finishing like that and is prone to overstimulation. because he usually focuses so much on his lover, dirge tends to be quiet in bed, but gets increasingly vocal the deeper hes pushed into subspace

the only thing dirge possibly enjoys more than having sex with someone, is the aftercare afterwards. dirge gets incredibly soft and sweet after sex, and is a very big cuddler. aftercare is another oppurtunity to spoil his lover, to service and attend to them, and he enjoys the feeling of winding around them in the afterglow of it all. typically, the night has gone on long enough to thoroughly work through most of his visceral cravings for intense sensation, pain and blood, and with the Urge cowed through dominance and satisfied through intensity, whats left is shameless affection. hes very much an acts of service+physical contact love language kind of guy

it probably goes without saying but there isnt much that dirge wont experiment with, as long as it turns his partner on. hes also very openly a monster fucker, and the potential for dramatic violence holds deep erotic appeal for him. chimeric hybrids of monster and man scratch an itch meant to be soothed by the rejected slayer form for him, and his "hear me out" cake features bloodbornes ebrietas, daughter of the cosmos and the moon presence, and would almost certainly include several of MtG's phyrexians if i knew more about them. hed happily solve the lament configuration to fuck a cenobyte ala hellraiser, and he almost definitely found several of the necromorph transformations in dead space remastered viscerally satisfying

overall dirge is a submissive bottom who prefers being able to focus almost the entirety of his attention to servicing his lover, as his own pursuit of pleasure requires a lot of time investment and intensity that has to be increased either physically through stimulation or emotionally through domination, but finds plenty of satisfaction and enjoyment through his effects on his lover. the act of sex is very casual for dirge, with the d/s dynamic being more emotionally charged and the relationship standard for dirge. hes very open to polyamory, but wont seek out another dom if hes already leashed to one, but will happily share a partner so long as everyone is satisfied with the arrangement. he has a very high stamina, owing to his particular collection of cult traumas and bhaalspawn traits and how they more or less ensure he takes a while to satisfactorily finish, and he will gladly suck the strap like his life depends on it and eat out his lover like a starving man graced with his last meal. he adores all the attention aftercare provides, and it means that if anyone plans on actually making a night of sleeping with dirge thats more than a quick roll in the hay, it WILL be a multi hour affair so dirge can propely indulge in all the physical stimuli their body can offer. he is, also, super big on terms of endearment and if you dont give him something to call you, hes going to invent his own and itll probably be something morbidly sweet.

all in all, probably a rewarding lay for anyone who can make it past all the cult trauma spike traps and dark urge murder scares! or at least the post coital snuggles would be