#that i heard a bit back and jotted down as an idea to draw

[moeblob]

Was Nines with both Gavin and Chris and that's why they were side eyeing earlier? Or do they have more hours in Mario Party/were also playing MP with Nines?

(if this seems strange I have never interacted with this fandom I just follow you)

Oh gosh I really wasn't planning to elaborate but uh I added them in the background originally because it was from a conversation I heard of four streamers. One of them - who had under five hours - said "wait, you have 40 hours?" to one of the others who immediately replied "yeahI'mavirgin" and there was a slight pause then the guy (who I drew as Connor) said "oh. well." with another pause and the other two just kinda had "damn/oof" vibes but didn't really have a comment I remember distinctly.

So I'd like to consider it a side eye of either "wow that's a lot" or "shh, don't talk about the hours we've crammed into games in the past" considering Gavin and Chris are both Gen Z. It's very likely they're thinking "how is 40 in a week offensive" based on that alone!

Or, the other option I briefly thought about to make it more different than the streaming answer was having Chris say "wasn't he activated like a week ago"... which would be the side eye of "when did he have time to play 40 hours of Mario Party" instead.

Also thank you for following me and not interacting with the fandom prior ;w; I know it's a bit different from other things I've drawn for (FE haha) so I appreciate you sticking around/following even with no context!

[mammomlette]

OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3(WIP rn)]

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

[msbhagirathi]

Word Prompt "Colly wobbles" for the IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta by @arshifiesta.

Character: Kaveri Khushi Gupta, Arnav Varun a.k.a AV

FF: A River Runs Through It

Author: meera30

Reason: Coz I am in love with this ff right now. Now stop finding reasons and read on.

Khushi didn't know how did he do it. It was freezing cold outside in Detroit and here was the man in question giving out a presentation which he had prepared ~in merely five minutes~ before the meeting had to be started urgently.

Clad in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the angry gash visible just as a slip of cut, the jacket and the waistcoat already lying on the chairback. Tie hanging a lil bit loose from its usual place. Shiny charcoal colored trousers hugged his legs like a second skin. Yet, he looked as fresh and energetic as ever.

Illegal.

How can he be so perfect?

Why did I of all people had to fall for him?

She knew that her being physically bulky had nothing to do with who she fell in love with. And yet she felt a bit wretched for having fallen for such a personification of perfection.

Sometimes, she didn't know which one was more comforting? To have been immune from his charm and just keeping to herself in college or having badly fallen for him strong enough to keep away all the strangers she had met just so she could forget that one man. And yet, the 'date other men to forget him' idea was as terrible as it sounded.

As she could go no further then two minutes of looking at them and instantly comparing them to him. She knew she was being horribly desperate. But then anyone would be if the man in question was the subject of discussion...

She started scribbling an insignia (for the umpteenth time) in her notepad which she had used earlier to jot down the good points.

"Ms. Gupta. Its good that you are at least concentrating on something but I would much rather that something to be nothing but this presentation."

Arnav Varun was looking at her with that knowing smile as if he had found a key to a mystery puzzle he was looking for. His glasses gleaming at an angle.

Embarrassed at being in the wrong side, Khushi immediately changed the page and looked up at the projector screen.

"Sorry sir."

Did he know?

Had he seen her drawing his name initials in her notepad with such an interest?

What was with that smile?

And yet now he continued with his presentation as if nothing had happened. Voice unflinching and firm. Emanating an authority. An air of importance.

Hey shivji! Why do I have to be the one target that you are never tired of playing with?

The gravel in his voice still used to send chills down her spine in a good way of course.

"Okay everyone that would be it for now. If I happen to have something else I would be calling all of you back. Please be ready for more impromptu meetings this week. If anyone has any questions please do ask or you're free to leave, thank you for your attention."

Khushi gingerly raised up from her chair praying to let her go to a certain someone sitting in the Kailash parvat with his wife who loved creating sweet troubles for her in situations like these. She quickly wanted to slip away along with the rest of the others.

But, Arnav Varun didn't let that happen. He looked up from his laptop at her.

Please don't tell me to stay back.

Please tell me the one thing I am yearning to hear from you for half a decade now.

Please let me go.

Please stop me and kiss me.

Hey shivji! She might have as well become a lunatic by now.

She was about to leave when..

"Khushi.."

She turned back only to find him sitting at his chair relaxed. All tension and seriousness gone with everyone else from the room. He sipped his glass of chilled water.

There was something in this man that made her feel at peace and nervous at the same time.

"Yes sir."

She heard the sound of her voice which shivered slightly.

Don't get the wrong idea okay? I am DEFINITELY NOT scared of you.

"No 'sir' please, just AV, when we are alone."

"Okay.. AV.'

He smiled.

"Show me your notepad once Khushi."

NO. PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

'Uhh.. I am in need of it urg-"

"Yeah yeah I know you need it I had seen you noting down points in it. But please I assure you I don't eat paper and I would return it within a few sec. Please?"

Khushi very hesitantly held it out and before he could open it to her eternal mortification and second hand embarrassment, Arjun's name came flashing out on her mobile screen.

A whole wave of relief hit her whole being as she excused herself to pick it up as an important call, leaving behind all her things in the room.

After fifteen minutes when she came back to her cabin she realized she had left all her things in the meeting room. She was about to sprint back to the room. When she spotted her things: her laptop bag, her water bottle and her notepad neatly sitting in the center of her desk.

At lunch break, she entered the cafeteria and already found the whole team along with (of course) AV himself sitting at the corner-most booth. She walked up and sat at the chair two seats away from him. She saw his phone lying on the table.

Suddenly it came alive with a notification and she saw the lock screen. A sprawly drawing. Careless strokes of blue ball point pen. Carved into the paper on a ruled page which seemed familiar.

An insignia, which she had scribbled on her notepad, out of boredom, sitting in the meeting room, a few hours ago. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Heat rushed to her ears and a slow blush crept onto her face and refused to go away. She couldn't believe the fact that Arnav Varun had taken a click of her drawing and set it as the lock screen on his phone.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him check the notification and quickly closed off the screen, checking if anyone else noticed it or not and went back to the conversation going on.

Khushi couldn't pull out the image of her insignia on his phone screen. Her mind kept replaying the image and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. Her body had gone into over-drive. Her heart was fluttering. Her hands and legs felt shaky. Her palms felt clammy. Warmth surrounding her face and neck and the rest of her body. Her stomach was in colly-wobbles.

Hey shivji, please, I must be looking like an idiot. Please help me staaaap this blushing, my cheeks are hurting now. Uff. Stupid AV. Stupid me.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [5]

chapter five, act one: antichrist

October 15th 2012

Tommie sighs as she drops herself down onto the old crooked chair at the table, rubbing between her brows, her glasses on top of her head. George looks up from his laptop where he’s working on a demo and Ross glances from the work he’s looking over.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, drawing shapes into the wooden table, stained with cups rings and cigarette burns, “Just… long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Ross mutters, adjusting his glasses on the edge of his nose.

“Hey, how come us two are the only ones with jobs and you three get to roam around all day doing nothing.”

George pauses looking up, “Us three are making music.”

She shrugs, “Ross and I make the music too, I help with lyrics, he does bass all alone.”

Ross nods quickly, “Yeah, we go to work, slave away all day, then come home to have to put up with you lot.”

“Yeah.” She echos, nodding as they both sit side by side staring at George across the table.

“Well, look at it on the bright side, we have a month before the album is finished, then a further two months until it's out, then we’re touring for months, you two can quit and live off the money of the people.”

The pair slowly look at each other, “Three months?”

“Yes.”

“If any old ladies come in and shout at me the way they did today, I’m quitting on the spot.”

“Okay.”

“If she quits, I quit.”

“Then we won’t have an income.”

“We’ll sell pictures.” Ross shrugs.

She nods, “Of our feet.”

George rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his grimace, “Just, three months. Okay?”

She nods slowly, “Okay.”

Ross subtly high fives her under the table, as if they didn’t plan this over text ten minutes before she got home.

Out of the five living in the house they’re the only two left working, Matty and George quit almost two months ago, and Adam, a week ago so he could start focusing on helping with the last bits of the album.

Right now, both Adam and Matty are going over the new album design with an artist and Jamie, who has now taken on the role of manager for the band.

“When’d you get that?”

She looks down at her arm, the new tattoo staring back at her, it’s a little pair of cowboy boots.

“Yesterday. Roddy and I got bored.” 

“How many is that?”

“Nine.”

She looks across her arms taking note of the little ones she can see, a quote from her poetry book, ‘I love you, don’t you mind?. Arctic Monkeys humbug logo, an old vintage looking frame on her left arm, the exact same spot that the box sits on her right just above her ‘the 1975’ tattoo. She also has a ‘the strokes’ logo on her left arm, 505 on her wrist, with three little stars on her waistline, dipping just below her underwear.

“You two have an issue.”

“Talk to the penguin, Ross.” She mutters, turning back to her little leather book and jotting down some ideas.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 2nd

“Baby…” There’s a pause, and she blinks into the darkness thinking she’d heard it, “Tommie…Tom!”

She stumbles out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she opens her bedroom door, “Roddy, what’s wrong?”

He tosses a hoodie from a pile of pillows and blankets he’s holding then steps into her room, “What are you doing?”

“You have the fire escape room, we’re going outside.”

“You could’ve just gone out if you wanted a smoke, don’t wake me-”

“No, come with me, please.”

She sighs leaning over to check the time on her phone, 1:02 am. 

She follows him out as he goes outside but pauses when he starts moving up, “Where are you going?”

“To the roof, we can see the stars better.”

“We’re in the city, Roddy, you can’t see the stars, dead remember?”

“Just,” He sighs, reaching a hand blindly behind him until she grabs a hold of it, “Come on.”

When they get up there he drags two deck chairs to the one wall and wraps a blanket around himself, passing the other to her when she settles down.

He plucks a joint form behind his ear, showing it to her with a grin as he fishes in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms for a lighter.

“Want some?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never…”

He shrugs, placing it between his lips as he starts lighting it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out away from her. 

He tilts his head back to stare at the dark sky, she’s right. There’s not a single star in sight, just the moon.

“Okay.”

He turns to look at her, “Okay?”

“Give me some.”

He raises a brow and shifts his deck chair closer to hers, holding it out to her, she goes to snatch it but he brings it back, “Don’t be so eager.”

She sends him an unimpressed look and he grins as he leans over, his other hand holds the back of her neck, angling her head towards him as the other presents the joint to her.

“Inhale.”

She wraps her lips around it, breathing in deeply, when the smoke hits her lungs she coughs and he laughs rubbing her back, “You Hanns. Adam reacted like that too.”

She shoves him away when he teasingly pinches her arm and takes it from him to try again, this time it’s much easier and she turns to blow the smoke in his face, still coughing a little as she giggles.

“I can’t do it.”

He looks down at it then back at her again, “Come here.”

“What?”

“Just, come here.”

She scoots her chair closer but he shakes his head, “No, Tommie, come here.”

He pats his lap and she raises a brow, he leans over catching her hand and tugging it slightly.

She doesn’t give him the complete satisfaction of sitting in his lap, she forces herself into the tiny gap on the big chair, forcing him to close his legs that were once laying open.

“This’ll be easier.”

“What will?”

“To take it down,” He says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “But if you don’t want to, you don’t- you don’t have to do it. If-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs then nods, “You guys, you do it all the time. And Adam never lets me, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

He nods quickly, lifting the joint back up between them, his free hand playing with some strands of her hair. Wrapping the red hair around his finger then letting it unravel again.

“Do it, Matt.”

“If you don’t feel-”

“Just do it.”

He nods, dropping her hair and cupping her cheek, using his thumb to tilt her chin down towards him. His other hand lifts, breathing in the joint and then cupping her face, the rolled up joint brushing her cheek as he brings her mouth to his.

He taps her cheek with one finger and she breathes in slowly, his free hand travels back to her neck, massaging the nape slowly as he pushes her closer.

She finally moves her hands from where they’d been folded in her lap, one threading through his hair the other fisting his hoodie.

She shifts when his tongue meets hers, straddling his lap, when he presses forward with a groan she pulls back, hand sliding through his to snatch the joint from him and take a long drag.

She giggles when she sees his face, eyes wide and lips red, he tries following her lips for another kiss.

When she tries pulling back he reaches up for another kiss, hand on her neck pulling her down as she blows the smoke into his mouth.

It continues like that for almost an hour, sharing ‘kisses’ under the stars, passing the joint back and forth until eventually they’re quiet. 

Tommie is curled up beside him, tucked under his arm, his pinky brushing across her forehead and down her nose, her legs curled over his lap.

He starts humming under his breath and she groans, “Please, stop-”

“What?”

He laughs knowing they both aren’t the best fans of the singer, “Look, it’s a shit song-”

“It’s about his dead son.”

She shrugs, “It’s still shit, isn’t it though?”

“If I was Clipton,” He breaks off in a giggle, “If I was Cl-A-pton, right here, what would you say to me.”

She sits up and turns to him then clears her throat, “Sorry that your kid’s dead, but work on your music.”

She falls back against his chest, “It’s not a good song, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t like it. Besides, he’s an arsehole, he’s a bad- a bad person. He’s like,” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “A racist.”

Matty giggles suddenly as he stares at the moon peeking through the clouds, “If you-” He pauses and groans as he adjusts in the chair, hand settling on her calve, rubbing up and down through her Star Wars pyjama bottoms, “If you could have anything in the whole world- no universe what would it be?”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Garlic bread.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, “I really want garlic bread. But like, the little dough ball cheese ones,” She turns her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder, “What about you?”

“The moon.”

Her hands run through his hair, scratching at his scalp causing him to let out a content sigh as his eyes fall shut, “Mmm, that’s nice.” He leans further into her, “Nana used to do that.”

Her hands move slower at that, and he relaxes even more mumbling out an ‘i miss her’.

She smiles, head awkwardly leaning on his shoulder from her position, “If I could give you the moon, Matty, I would give you the moon.”

“Well,” He stands, stretching his arm, “We can’t get the moon, but we can get garlic bread.”

“Right now?” He nods, tugging her up by both arms, “It's two in the morning.”

“Don’t care, let's go.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 27th

Tommie rolls over in bed, she watches the time change, slowly the number one changes to a 2 and then there’s the familiar knock.

1:02am.

“Baby?”

She grins to herself, every night at one Matty gets out of bed, gathers himself some blankets and hoodies, and forces her to the window and up to the roof with him.

She opens the door, acting as if he’s awoken her for the third week in a row and not that she’s been lying away for the past three hours waiting.

“No wait,” He grabs her arm before she can push open the window and stops her from walking over, “Don’t wanna smoke today,” He looks down, cheeks tinting slightly, “Can we just… stay here?”

She hums, sleepily rubbing her eyes and falling back onto her bed, he stands there awkwardly, his usual bundle of fluffy blankets in his arms.

She lifts her head to look up at him, “You getting in?”

He nods quickly, kicking his slippers off and throwing the blankets on top of her. He folds his glasses up, placing them besides her on top of the closed record player she uses as a bedside table. He smiles as he looks at the two pairs, his squared frames and her curled ones side by side on top of books, notebooks and a mess of other things.

Then he lays down on his back, looking over at her as she adjusts to sleep on her right side. “You wanna watch a film?”

“Hmm?”

“A film?” He asks again, “I can get the DVD player in here. Instead of dragging the tele in in the middle of the night.”

She nods, “Sure.” Her face pressed into the pillow, eyes closed as she sighs.

He jumps back out, runs to his room and slows down when his ears are met with the snores of his roommate. He quietly creeps back in, pulls the box out from under the bed then grabs the old DVD players and a DVD.

He runs back, closing the door softly and smiling even softer when he sees her spread across the bed.

“Tommie.”

“Hmm?”

“If you want to sleep we can just do that.”

She shakes her head, “I’m awake.” She sits up on her elbows a little, “But a fag might wake me up a bit.”

He smiles as he moves to crack the window a little before getting in under the piles of blankets and digging into his pockets for his cigarette packets.

He takes one out and she looks up, opening her mouth and he twirls it around to place it between her lips. He takes the lighter out of the almost empty packet and then lifts it up, cupping over the cigarette to light it.

“What film you got?”

“True Romance.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don't roll your eyes at me, you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, but I know what happens from the amount of shit you talk.”

He smiles sheepishly then leans back against the pillows as he sets the player up, “Just… watch.”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at him in the corner of her eyes. Smiling as she watches him quote the few opening lines, his mouth moving but no sound actually coming out.

He feels her gaze and looks over, “What?”

“Nufin’.”

“Nothing?” He asks and she nods, smiling to herself again, he raises a brow and reaches to steal the cigarette from her hands, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, shifting to slide further under the quilt.

“Like that.” He says quietly, passing the cigarette back to her.

“Watch the film, Matthew.”

And watch the film they do, she stays quiet for the rest of it, and he looks over everytime a good part comes on to see her reaction.

When it finally ends, the credits rolling, at least three cigarettes now in the dr pepper can she uses as an ashtray, and the window has since closed.

“What did you think?”

“It was good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah, it was good. I didn’t hate it.”

He scoffs, “That is the best film ever made. It has everything, romance, action, drugs…”

“You want a good movie?” He nods, “Barnyard.”

“The cow film?”

“It's good.” She defends, pushing his shoulder when he raises a brow at her.

“It's a cartoon.”

“Still good.”

He shakes his head, muttering about her terrible movie choices as he gets up to put the DVD player away, by the time he does the twenty second task and returns to the bed she’s curled up on her side, blinking up at him lazily.

“After a good movie,” Matty says quietly, turning his head to look at her when he finally settles again, “Usually I kiss the pretty girl I’m with, you know, kind of a tradition I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His word is whispered quietly as his hand moves to push some hair from her face.

She lets her eyes drift around his face, taking in every little freckle, every little scar and indent on his face.

“You want some pie?”

She giggles but pushes herself forward to meet his lips, hands threading through his curly hair at the back to bring him closer.

He moves closer, sliding on top of her, pinning her down with his weight, hands either side of her head.

He lifts his thigh between hers, one hand moving to cup her jaw, pushing her face upwards with his thumb so he can kiss down her neck.

“Roddy?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t move, pulling at the neck of the jumper to kiss down to her collar bone.

“Can we-” She swallows and avoids looking down at him, and at his lustful eyes that watch the way her chest stutters when he kisses the right spot, “Can we stop?”

His head is lifting immediately, thigh moving to give her space, “Y-Yeah, Tommie, I never-”

“No, no, don’t think it’s your fault, Matt. I’m just too tired. It's three in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He asks quickly, moving so he’s laying on his side beside her, “If I did anything to make you uncomfortable-?”

“No,” She shakes her head and moves over to cuddle into his side, “You make me comfortable, Roddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans back into the pillows, letting her lean her head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around her, “I’ve never-” She breaks herself off with a yawn, “Never kissed anyone before.”

“Liar.” He declares quietly into the darkness of the room.

“I’m serious.” She tiredly giggles, “Never even held hands with a boy.”

He lifts his other hand to play with her hair, twirling it around and tugging softly, “You’re a very good kisser.”

“Mm?”

“Mhhm.”

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, leaning his head against hers, nose brushing her hair line, smelling the shampoo from the shower she’d had just before bed.

“I sleep better here,” Matty mutters as he wraps her red hair around his finger, “With you.”

He lets the hair unravel before picking a new strand to do it again, “My mind doesn't have to work as hard. When you’re here I just… just focus on you. Just you.”

taglist @thereisaplaceintheheart @indierockgirrl

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[nattyluvs]

CAFE CUTIE - chapter 4

you approached the all-so familiar spot on the corner of the street. the drawings on the window of the menu items for the week visible.

unfortunately, it was basically rush hour for the cafe, even though it was later in the day on a weekend. beomgyu, the barista that was pretty much there every single time you visited, happened to not be there today.

it was weird, now it was rush time and there wasnt anybody to make slow conversation with behind the counter. you quickly ordered something from the unfamiliar barista, and sat down at the last table empty.

you reached into your bag, about to pull out your notebook, just to vent, jot down ideas, write literally anything. you just needed something to get your mind off everything going on.

"um, is it okay if i sit here? there isnt any more tables open" you heard a voice mumble

you looked up from your urgent writing in the notebook, a young guy appeared, though apperance barely shown. he was wearing a mask and a hoodie, hard to figure out why he looked so familar.

"yeah, its fine dont worry." you smiled, continuing to write. you only got a auick glance at him, but he was definitely cute. his eyes were an obvious giveaway.

but, he just looked so familar, you couldnt quite put your finger on it. deciding to speak up, you asked,

"do we know eachother? sorry if this is weird, you just seem familar, like ive seen you before."

"no, i dont think we do...sorry" the guy mumbled again. you thought, maybe hes shy? or maybe his voice is soft? but its not. he has a sort of deep voice, its just barely spoken, almost not even audible.

"i see... do you perhaps go to decelis?"

"umm...no i go to jyp...the other school in town"

"ohh i see, our schools are rivals huh" you smiled again, hopefully getting some more words out of him.

"yeah, haha" he laughed a bit, "also...not to be nosy but whats the eyepatch for?" he quietly spoke

you scoffed, followed by a sigh, "at school we had our rally, and during the senior game i got hit by a dodgeball by this popular dude named jake or something. the worst part is, he didnt even apologize! or acknowledge that he hit me!" you explained, hint of anger in your voice.

"i see...he's kind of an asshole for that, he shouldve apologized." he whispered, but just loud enough so you could hear."

"right! now i have to wear an eyepatch for my homecoming photos, and nobody is going to ask to go with me..."

"dont say that, im sure somebody would take you, your pretty and you have a nice personality, dont doubt yourself."

"thats alot of compliments for someone you just met." you questioned, but also embarassed at the sudden praise.

"anyways, i didnt mean to dump all my problems onto a stranger, whats your name?"

"umm...my name is..ethan"

"okay...ethan. you seem interesting, give me ur phone."

without hestitation, he quickly handed over his phone, no seccond thoughts.

"ive got to go now, but i'll see you another time, yeah?" you gathered your things, flashing another smile before walking out the door.

the boy sat in silence for awhile, drowning in his own thoughts until he checked his phone, seeing the new contact added as "yn"

previous masterlist next

a/n: sorry for not updating i came back from my trip on sunday and then i had a fever !!!

taglist

@16luver @junebug032 @zuyairus @bluxjun @iadorethemskz

click here or send a note to be added

[tacthescribbler]

Hey, saw your reblog on a post about writing, and since I had a creative block that lasted about a decade and kept me from writing or drawing, it resonated with me. A lot of things happened to finally get me out of that block, including changing meds, but a big one was just that stupid Comic Sans trick. (And this coming from someone who also loves writing in notebooks!)

Have you heard of it? You just write in Comic Sans, and it makes it impossible to take your writing seriously, so all the dread of the expectation of truly ~writing~ is lifted from you. I amplify the effect by using Notepad++ (no fancy formatting to distract me), using a theme with candy colors (even harder to take seriously), and keeping the window small (just a little things to ramble and jot notes in, not a big important writing document, goodness no, but if some writing should *happen* to happen...).

I also just don't worry about writing a story linearly. I write scenes as they pop into my head, however short, and then I stitch them together later.

As it is, my story still isn't finished (in part because it's the script for an animated series I'm working through animating at the moment)... But, counting all the AU tangents, I've gotten a Moby Dick length corpus out of it and counting, and I've had a hell of a lot of fun. Writing is back to being fun!! And that's all I could have hoped for.

Hey-o! I'm sorry it took me so long to respond. I drift from one thing to another sometimes and I was hyperfocused on Minecraft for a bit there!

I've heard of the Comic Sans trick, but haven't yet tried it. I tend to use Arial myself, since that's the Google Drive default. Might try it on my next story attempt, though, since I'm moving back to Word and pulling my writing off of Drive. (I want to keep my own backups and not worry about what's synced where.)

I also snagged an app on Steam called Nimble Writer that I want to try out. It apparently has some neat features to help with focus, but I haven't really played with it yet beyond booting it up and checking out the UI.

In terms of trying to write, I often find myself in brainstorming documents where I half-outline, half-brainstorm ideas. I get a lot of character backstory by doing that, and a lot of them have turned into full-blown worldbuilding with magic systems and descriptions of fantasy races, geography, weaponry, and so on. So it's not like I don't write anything, but it's not the prose I'd really like to be writing.

There are some other factors. My sibling is living with me. they're only 22, and they're still figuring things out, but there are also a lot of things they could be doing to be a better roommate. I prefer living alone and I knew I would only be able to tolerate them living with me for a little while, but this has gone far beyond that. I won't write that novel in this post, though. Suffice it to say I'm looking for my own place, and I know my creative productivity will vastly improve once I have a space where I can actually decompress after work.

On the linear writing thing: I used to be a panster. I wrote linearly, but I wrote what was fun. I've never written out of order before, but that has more to do with my ability to keep track of what's happened, and it's easier when I do it chronologically. I think I'll try an out-of-order story just to see if it breaks the block, though. Maybe if I break my own mold, I'll find another shape that fits, to follow the metaphor.

One trick I've been tempted to try is to pick one of my very old fanfictions, from back when I was a wordy teenager who had to describe everything in exacting detail, and copy it all down word-for-word until my writer's brain kicks in and diverges with it. I'm not the same person I used to be, so I'd like to think my old self would drive me just crazy enough to force me into action writing something new. Or maybe the same thing but better. Who knows?

On that last point: You're writing a script?! Am I allowed to ask about it? And animating! I've been wanting to relearn how to draw, but animating seems so daunting! I wish you the best of luck!

Thank you for the ask, and for the chance to get some thoughts out. I'll put some of your suggestions to the test and see what happens. :D

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Good Boy

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, a bit angsty but not too bad, the tiniest bit of fluff… maybe.

Warnings: Talk of bodily harm, death, not too bad this time around since it’s our calm boy Namjoon. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: After interviewing an unhinged Yoongi, talking to Namjoon seemed like it would be a cake walk… Oh, how wrong you were.

Notes: Yay! Finally a deeper look into Namjoons character! This takes place the day after Jump Rope, I hope you all love it ♥️

This is the 11th part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

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

“Good morning Namjoon. I won’t keep you for too long this time around but I do have a few questions I need to ask.” It’s at times like this you’re thankful that you’re only responsible for three Nightmares. Questioning Yoongi yesterday night hadn’t been nearly as bad as you thought, but you’re still feeling adrenaline course through you even now.

Walking further into the room to sit down, you note that Namjoon sits almost stiffly, eyes blinking up at you but void of any emotion. A curious thing, he’s got to be the calmest Nightmare you’ve come across, but then again, this is normal behavior for him. Pulling out your notes, he nods his head in understanding.

“Whatever you need doctor. Ask away.” Opening his file, you glance at it quickly before looking back to the Nightmare in front of you. The only one that didn’t try to make a run for it, you recall him telling you to be safe of all things while others were actively trying to tear you to shreds.

“First off, let me thank you for not trying to escape when 061309 initiated his… riot, let’s call it. But I must ask, did you know that Yoongi was going to cause an uproar?” A question the other doctors want to know, but somehow, you doubt it. Namjoon seems truthful enough, has made it apparent he has no reason to hide anything. The man cocks his head to the side, face just as blank as it’s always been.

“I might have heard a whisper or two, but it happened so suddenly, even I was surprised. He’s never been one to hesitate though, the man doesn’t play well with patience.” Yoongi had slaughtered at least a dozen men, if not more… and still, he didn’t touch you. Had acknowledged it would be a terrible idea because he knew it would make Hoseok upset… But you’re not here to ponder over them. You jot down a few notes, making sure to put that Namjoon had nothing to do with it.

“That’s become abundantly clear in the last day or so. Another question for you, why didn’t you leave your cell? The opportunity was right there and you didn’t take it.” It was obvious that he could have walked right out. His door was unlocked, but he kept himself seated right where he was, not even twitching in the slightest as you got up to leave for the blood stained halls.

“I didn’t feel like it.” The answer actually makes a chuckle burst out of your lips, one you poorly try to hide. He said it with such a straight face, but then again, Namjoon is a bit of an enigma from what you’ve noticed so far. Glancing quickly through previous notes and writing a few new ones, you address him again while trying to control your grin.

“I suppose that’s a enough good answer. In your history reports, there’s a note that you’ve never tried to break out of your cell, never caused the doctors any issue… I can’t help but to wonder why that is.” He’s been down here for quite some time, it’s a little shocking he hasn’t shown any kind of anger or at the very least annoyance. But nothing is noted and it makes your brow crease just a little. How odd…

Namjoon let’s out a sigh as the silence continues, and that’s more than enough to draw your attention. He looks… Thoughtful for once as he looks at you. Licking his lips, he shrugs his shoulders as his eyes narrows fractionally.

“Doctor, it’s simply more trouble than it’s worth. I see no positive to being trapped in isolation for days and days. And so, I’m a good boy.” The wording of it is almost cheeky and his tone unusually bright, and you have to stop your mouth from hanging open. The way the corner of his lips upturn, the small indents on his cheeks become apparent, all surprise you to no end. He tilts his head back just slightly, and just as quickly as you see his eyes flash red, it’s gone.

“That would make perfect sense… Except, most other Nightmares tend to lose control of themselves, they can’t help but to cause chaos or violence. You had the perfect opportunity to do so and didn’t…” Your words start to slow as you watch him closely, noting the way his face crumples for a time and then nothing. The blank mask is back as you finish your thought, a completely emotionless Namjoon sitting in place of the ‘good boy’.

“They call me broken. You just explained why perfectly, and still they keep me down here. For what purpose, I do not know.” Broken…? You suppose he doesn’t act like the other Nightmare’s but surely that can’t be a bad thing. Namjoon is the most docile by far, you can’t imagine why him being complacent with the other doctors would cause issue. Differences doesn’t mean that something is broken, what a terrible comparison.

“Being completely honest, I’m unaware as well. Your notes don’t indicate that any of the other doctors think that of you… then again, people seem to like to hide things down here, hm?” A slip of the tongue, but you don’t think it’ll hurt you. You’ve read through all of your patients notes multiple times, and never once had you seen anything about Namjoon being ‘broken’ by their standards. To be honest though, it’s rare you even hear the other doctors talking about the Nightmares. Instead, they like to discuss cheating on their wives or going out to the bar after work.

Namjoon leans in then, a little closer to you than before. He doesn’t smile again, no, but you see his lips twitch ever so slightly as he peers straight into you. You raise a brow in turn, tapping your own against the paper on your lap as you wait for him to speak.

“Hoseok wasn’t wrong when he mentioned you being intuitive. I think you’ll find there are a lot of secrets hidden in these halls doctor.” It should be more surprising than it is, but it’s really not. With the limited access you have on the floor mingled with how the other doctors treat you… You know. You know you’re in the dark, you’re just not sure how much light you have to guide you yet.

Scribbling down a few more notes, you can’t think of anything else to ask, not after that statement. You had gotten what the other doctors wanted anyway, it’s very clear that Namjoon had nothing to do with Yoongi’s need to be free. But, it has become clear that Namjoon is more of a puzzle than you thought. Definitely more of one than the other asshats down here think.

“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss? This was just a quick check in after yesterdays events, but I’m more than willing to listen if you have more to say.” You’ll give him the opportunity just like you gave Yoongi the opportunity. As truthful as you think they’re being, that doesn’t mean they aren’t hiding a mountain of lies they might want to share.

“I have nothing else to say about yesterday.” Nodding your head, you stand up from your spot and close your notes up. Williams had mentioned something about leaving new doc runners in your desk, and you can only begin to guess what they’re for.

“Alright, Namjoon. Remember, if you need me for any reason I’m just a call away. I hope you have a good rest of your day.” Giving him a small wave, you make your way over to the door to signal that you’re ready to go. Before you can knock fully, Namjoon’s deep voice echoes through the room lowly.

“Hmmm, Doctor? One more thing… I advise to keep your guard up. I fear your enemies are slowly growing day by day…” Turning you head to look, it’s then you note that Namjoon is fully standing now. He’s so close to the wall of his cell, practically squishing himself against it as he stares though it. You stare back, a feeling of unease rising in your stomach as his eyes flash red again.

“An intuitive mind doesn’t last long when it can only bounce off of blank walls. You’d do well to remember that.”

[modernamericangirl]

🎮 and ✊️ for the drabble ask, please!

Ok, so the prompts were "games" and "protecting." It took me a bit to settle on something to suit them both, but I think I got there in the end! Thanks so much for the request!! 😊

The drawing room at Duneagle with its pale blue walls and masses of gilded frames glittered on the late November evening. Unseasonably cool winds nipped at the windows hidden behind the heavy brocade curtains, and dark clouds blocked out any moonlight. But the room still glowed—the candles and oil lamps flickering conspiratorially as if making merry along with the guests crowded around the pale marble fireplace.

Robert, having returned from the corner of the room with another whiskey, took in the scene before him. Rosamund and Marmaduke were acting out some incomprehensible riddle in the midst of a rather competitive game of charades. Uncharacteristically, it had been Susan’s idea to play. She did seem more subdued as of late. Welcoming little James in late July had seemed to take a weight off his cousin and her husband. And the baby was a pleasant enough little chap. Robert had said so himself to Cora when she’d insisted on dragging him over to coo at the lad when he was presented in the library just after tea.

He took another sip of his whiskey and grinned as Rosamund pantomimed some sort of invisible club hitting her husband over the head. Even his parents laughed and clapped and cheered when his Aunt Roberta shouted out the correct answer. Don Quixote. But it wasn’t his parents or his sister or his aunt that his gaze sought out in the small crowd. No, no. He was looking for Cora. She’d excused herself just as he’d stood to freshen his drink and had waved off his concern with a promise to return in just a moment. And return she did—for there she was, seated in a small wooden chair against the wall, furthest from the fire, watching the game unfold with a look of vague amusement. Or perhaps concern.

Cora had avoided playing all night. Of course, her turn would soon inevitably come. It was a ritual, he supposed. For a family so concerned with appearance and restraint, Robert had always found it odd, the enthusiasm and vigor with which they played the silly game. But none of that mattered just then. She looked so beautiful in the candlelit room that ever other minute detail seemed to fade into the periphery.

He’d not seen her all day. They’d come up for the grouse, later in the season than usual, and he’d been out on the grounds all day with the other men. He had endured the japes and innuendos as the men congratulated Shrimpie on the birth of his son and teased Robert in equal measure. But he did not care. No—looking at her, he did not care a jot what any of them said. He’d promised her, after all. Promised not to say a word to anyone. But since they’d been at Duneagle nearly nine months earlier, at the start of their honeymoon, everything had changed. He loved her desperately, and so, yes, everything now was altered.

Robert would have been content to sip his whiskey and watch Cora from afar all night. But after a pause, he grew more aware of the laughter and chatter only a few paces away. Though his back was turned to them, Robert listened intently now as he heard Agatha’s husband George release another guffaw and clap his friend, some local he’d invited shooting, on the back. He’d hardly spoken to the men all day. But now, as he tuned out the sound of his father shouting out clues and his mother’s sharp voice chiming in, he heard the men laugh again and—

“…no, no…the American’s next…here, give it here…write it down like this…”

He turned and watched them scribbling something onto a scrap of paper, laughing all the while, before returning it to the top of the small gold plate that held the riddles for the next participant to draw.

Surely, they weren’t serious. Surely not. But then—

Robert watched in some disbelief as his parent’s concluded and won their round and the two snickering men waved a hand at his wife—at his wife!

“Surely…” George paused, and Robert knew the inebriated man had likely forgotten Cora’s name.

But he did recover.

“Surely Cora wants to take a turn?”

And he watched, momentarily fixed in place, as his wife, wide-eyed, drew her lips together and scanned the room before settling her gaze on him. She smiled, nodding her assent only at him, and stood carefully from her chair.

“I suppose it is my turn,” she agreed.

But when she took a step in their direction, to the proffered plate topped with their doctored riddle, he moved into her path before she could manage to cross the room.

“No, it’s my turn,” he heard himself say.

“You’ve already had your turn,” Rosamund complained from afar.

She was sat on the settee nearest the fire, her hand resting on her husband’s knee. The lateness of the hour, and the alcohol in all their bellies, had perhaps made everyone looser, less aware of propriety. But, oh, when he turned from his sister back to those smirking men, Robert felt his own stomach burn with hot, prickling anger.

He snatched up the hastily folded paper on the top of the pile before they could protest and unfurled the little thing to see what precisely they thought might be amusing for his wife to act out. They had enough sense to look decently ashamed as he balled up the paper and pressed it into his pocket.

He could not look back at her, could not let her see the rage plain across his face. She had spent weeks planning for this visit. She had asked him question after question after question about the appropriate clothes and activities and schedules. Each morning when he would return to her after breakfast, she would have some new scenario or concern. He answered everything, as best he could, as she struggled to keep down her toast and tea. All she’d wanted was for the trip to be a triumph. For his family to approve of her. To not put a foot out of step. I want your Highland idyll to be a success, she’d teased, her voice soft and warm against his ear in their bed the night before they’d left Downton. But these men, these idiot men with their dull, unkind wives, wanted to make a fool of her. And the knowledge of that made him furious.

“—Robert, you’re holding up the game!”

His sister’s voice interrupted his violent imaginings and drew the attention of the room.

“Darling, is everything alright?”

Cora’s voice, much gentler than Rosamund’s, sounded out behind him.

“I—that is.”

“Son?”

Even his father, who had been laughing about something with Marmaduke, questioned his odd countenance.

His hand still in his pocket, Robert felt the tiny wad of paper and wished he could hurl it into the fire. Followed quickly by George and his imbecile friend. But he knew as he looked down at his shoes and traced the pattern of the intricate carpet beneath them that to expose what they’d done would be to humiliate his wife. And so, he swallowed, sucked in a sharp breath of air, and wrenched a half-smile onto his face.

“I’m not feeling my best,” he answered slowly, nodding down at his half-full whiskey. “I may go up.”

“Spoilsport,” he heard his sister say. Agatha, Louisa, and Susan laughed too.

“Can we get you anything?” Susan asked.

Robert shook his head. Finally, he turned to Cora who was looking at him with such concern that it made his throat catch.

“No, I think I’d just like to go to bed.”

“Alright. But Cora must stay and play,” his aunt called out.

He smiled at his Aunt Roberta, who was kinder than his mother by leaps and bounds, for he knew she meant it genuinely. She had made conversation with his wife all weekend. He’d caught her smiling at him a few times, across the table at dinner, and in other quiet moments, and he wondered if Cora had told her.

Aunt Roberta had been kind to Cora, but they’d all teased her. It was their nature: his mother and Susan and even Rosamund teasing her for being cold on a walk through the frost-covered glen in the morning; smiling and teasing over the way she clapped with delight at baby James’s gurgles; and teasing her, too, for the way she needed to rest in the afternoons. American blood, they’d laughed. And Cora had laughed politely along with them.

But by some miracle, Cora spoke up then and promised to return downstairs to the game only after seeing him safely to bed. She’d pretended not to hear them all snicker and see them smirk as she followed behind him out of the drawing room, down the long hallway, and up the stairs to their bedrooms.

Neither spoke again until they stood at the door to her room. It was, amusingly enough, the same room they’d honeymooned in last winter—the imposing red walls and solid wood furniture more than enough to call to memory their fumbled first attempts at making a marriage work.

“Do you want me to call for Carson? I have a pitcher of water in my room. But I suppose I should go back down in a moment.”

It was generous of her, he thought, to still show such concern when he’d only pretended to have overindulged in drink. But of course, she was generous. Most of all when it came to him.

“No. Could we go inside?” He nodded toward her door.

“Robert.” Cora blushed. “Is that why you…”

“No! No, of course not. Well–not that I wouldn’t. If you wanted to. But—”

He paused, reached around her, and turned the small knob so that they could both enter the dimly lit bedroom. Cora’s lace-trimmed nightclothes were already laid out on the bed, and a fire cracked and popped to welcome them in. He closed the door behind them before continuing.

“I didn’t want to play any longer,” he explained. His voice was soft, and it made Cora frown.

“Do you really feel unwell?” She pressed a soft palm against his cheek and then to his forehead.

“No, I’m perfectly well.” Still, his voice was quiet.

Cora exhaled, her hand still searching for signs of illness. “You’re not warm.”

“Just a bit tired. The shoot took it out of me.”

“Well.” Cora hesitated. “I know I should go back down.”

Robert shook his head, the gesture casting off her hand. His gaze returned to the floor.

“Please stay.”

“Your family won’t like it,” Cora answered lightly. “They’ll tease me tomorrow.”

“Oh, let them,” Robert grumbled, nudging a toe against the wooden floor. “The whole miserable lot of them.”

He watched her posture straighten then.

“Has something happened?” There was an undercurrent of alarm in her voice. “Has someone upset you? Have I—”

“No, of course not,” he interrupted, pressing his lips to her forehead in an uncharacteristically chaste gesture of affection.

“Are you certain?”

“Quite certain. It’s just—I pulled my shoulder out there today,” he found himself saying, “and it’s been nagging me ever since. And I couldn’t bear to have Rosamund lord another win over me.”

Cora looked up at him, her brow still heavy with concern. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He pulled away from her and moved to shrug off his dinner jacket. He dropped it onto the stool at the foot of the bed and started working on his cufflinks. He rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and pocketed the metal fixtures.

“I’ll go call for Carson now. I know you need your rest, but will you wait up for me? I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Cora grinned, the blush from earlier returning in high color across her cheeks.

“I wish you’d stop fussing,” she murmured.

Closing the space between them in two quick steps, he reached for her hands and squeezed them in what he hoped was a gesture of affection. In some ways, it all seemed so new between them still, so unsteady. Yet at other times he felt he’d known her and loved her for all of his life.

“You’re carrying our child,” he said quietly. “Please, let me fuss a bit.”

Before she could protest, he took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly.

“Heavens.” Cora blinked up at him in some surprise.

And looking at her, her eyes bright, he could feel nothing other than joy: pure, unfettered joy.

He could not find it in him to care any longer what his distant relations thought of him and of his wife and marriage. For years, he’d listened to them all drone on about their wives, their estates, and about the many awful burdens in their lives. But marriage was nothing like they’d described and nothing like he’d imagined it would be. To love her—to be loved by her—they would never understand. So, with a slight shake of his head, he tossed it all from his conscious thought.

Leaning down, he kissed his wife once more. He pressed his lips against her cheek, against her ear. “Do wait up for me,” he implored, and he felt his stomach twist and flip when she hummed his name in reply.

No, they would never understand, he thought as he strode down the bachelor’s corridor to dress for bed. But perhaps that was alright. For he understood. And, as he had begun to realize, that was more than enough.

[write-r-die]

A Man’s World

Enemies to Lovers - After a solar flare ended the world as we know it, former spy August Walker becomes the most terrifying of the many warlords who pop up across the US. He leads his militia from town to town, taking what he wants and all killing those who resist him. Now he wants Lilah. And one way or another, she’ll belong to him. 

Masterlist

I wake with a splitting headache.

I’ve got no idea where I am or how I got here. I’m in a tent, I think - one of those hardcore ones they have in the army. My vision won’t focus, so I can’t see any details, but I know there are other people in this tent with me. Some of them are talking, but I can’t process their words.

Pain stabs through me, originating in the back of my head and I raise my hand to it. There’s dried blood in my hair and it feels like there are staples in my scalp. Someone cared enough to stop the bleeding but not to clean the blood.

I hit my head. Yes, yes, I remember! There was an explosion and it threw me backwards and I must have hit my head.

I was running when the explosion happened. Running through the city. Running away from . . . something. Someone. I remember being afraid but I can’t remember exactly why.

I try to push myself up on my arms but it makes my head spin. I fall back onto the thin palette beneath me with a groan.

A blurry person shuffles into view. The only thing I can really make out is her dark skin, short hair, and heavy red earrings that dangle by her shoulders. She says something I can’t understand.

“Huh?”

She says it again but I still don’t understand. She makes an annoyed sound and reaches for something beside her and then she’s flicking cold water onto my face and neck. 

My vision sharpens the slightest bit. I feel a little more awake, but not much, like after chugging a glass of water when you wake up with a hangover.

I must not be awake enough because the woman starts tapping my cheeks not-too-gently. “Stop,” I groan, weakly pushing her hands away. 

That seems to satisfy her that I’m conscious enough. “What’s your name?” It’s not a friendly question.

I blink my eyes several times, forcing them to focus. “What happened?”

“August Walker and his war band raided your town,” the woman says. “I guess somebody decided you were worth keeping.”

“August Walker?” The name sends shivers down my spine. Since the solar flare two years ago fried the electricity, scorched the earth, and threw us back into the dark ages, warlords have popped up all over the place. Most of them are ex-military. August Walker is the most terrifying. “The August Walker?” I ask quietly, as though saying his name too loudly will draw him to me.

The woman nods. I can tell by the bored look on her face that she has this conversation all the time, probably with all the other captives Walker and his warriors bring back from their raids. 

Some war captives are tradesmen that keep the warlords’ camps running. Others are people recruited as soldiers. Others are pretty girls for the victorious warriors to enjoy. 

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name.”

I must have a motherfucker of a concussion because it takes me a long time to register what the woman is saying. “Oh. Lilah.”

“Full name.”

“Um, Delilah Reid.” At least I remember my own name. That’s a good sign.

“Age?”

“I’m . . .” It takes a bit longer to recall that bit of information. It feels like my brain is sloshing around inside of my skull. “Twenty-three.” I notice the woman is jotting down my words in a notebook. “What’s that?”

“Intake forms.”

Intake forms? In a war camp? “What?” 

“We need your information to figure out your assignment in camp,” she says impatiently.

I have to repeat the words to be sure I heard them correctly. “My assignment in camp.” They’re going to give me a job? What would it even be? Soldier, laundress, prostitute . . .

The woman snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Focus.”

But I can’t. Things still look fuzzy and the wound in my head throbs in time with my heartbeat. I need to lie down. “I don’t . . . I don’t think I’m okay.” I slip down under my covers. The woman says something that I don’t understand. “Is there . . . can I get a doctor? I don’t feel right . . .”

I slide my hand under my bangs to rub my forehead. I shut my eyes again.

***

I remember someone carrying me away from the fiery buildings. The explosion must’ve set them alight. Whoever it was was walking, jostling me with each step, which made the pain in my skull flare. 

“Let go,” I tried to say, raising one of my dangling arms to push my carrier away. I’m too weak for it. My hand just lands on a solid chest. “Let go.”

“Shh.” A man’s voice. He doesn’t try to sound gentle or soothing. He’s just telling me to shut up.

“Let go.” 

I can’t see much of his face from this angle, and either way his features are swimming too much for me to make sense of them. I do see a mustache. That much I’m certain of. 

I try to tell him that I don’t feel well but I can’t find any words. My eyes fall shut.

The mustache guy doesn’t say anything else, just keeps moving. I groan every time he jostles me but he ignores it.

“New toy, Boss?” someone - a young man, by the sound of it - called out. 

“She’s off-limits,” is all the man says. 

“Wait,” another young man says. “Isn’t she the one -”

The mustached man carrying me doesn’t reply, instead plopping me in the younger man’s arms. I manage to open my eyes long enough to watch Mr. Mustache mount a large horse. He opens his arms and the younger man hands me back to him. 

I let my eyes close again. The last thing I remember is the mustached guy settling me onto his lap.

***

I feel better when I wake again. It’s nighttime, I note. I must’ve been out all day.

They bring over a doctor with a full brown beard - most men don’t shave anymore; most of them don’t have the time or supplies for it - who crouches down to be at eye level and shines a flashlight in my face. He’s dressed like a soldier in camo pants and a fitted black t-shirt. The only thing that identifies him as a doctor is the stethoscope around his neck.

“You’ve definitely got a concussion,” he says, rising to his feet. “You’ll be fine, but you should take it easy for a while.” He turns to the woman from before who stands beside him. “Give her an easy job to start with. Laundry or something. Keep her in the med tent another night or two. And try to keep the boys away from her once she’s moved.”

“Won’t be hard,” the lady says. “The boss brought her in himself. Said she’s off-limits.”

The doctor raises his eyebrows. He addresses me. “Well, kid, you’re either very lucky or very fucked.”

The woman snorts a laugh and the man moves to tend to the person on the palette next to mine. The woman looks down at me. “All right. Laundry it is. When you’re up to it I’ll probably give you something else. Unless the boss wants you for something else.”

***

A twentysomething man also dressed like a soldier comes in a few hours later while I’m nibbling at a protein bar. My vision has cleared up a bit, so I can see that he’s too young to grow a beard. 

He looks me up and down, frowning, before turning to the woman. She’s seated at the center of the tent on one of those folding metal chairs, her papers spread on the small desk in front of her. 

“Good evening, Miss Ally,” the boy says to her with a smile. 

“Jack,” she replies. She seems pretty sour so far, but she gifts the bubbly young man with a smile. “What can I do for you?

“Boss wants an update,” Jack says. His hair is the same shade of dark brown as mine. We must be the same age. He might even be younger than me. Still a kid. 

Miss Ally sighs, looking through her papers. “Brought back nine people this time. One of them died from his injuries, and Doc says that lady in the corner probably will, too.”

I look at the woman in the palette beside mine. She’s deeply asleep, covers pulled up to her chest. I can’t see anything wrong with her. 

“Jobs?”

“One mechanic, two janitors, a middle school teacher, a tailor, and an exotic dancer,” Miss Ally reads. Jack perks up at that last one. “Don’t know about the dead one or the goner over there.” She nods to the woman beside me before looking me right in the eye. “Haven’t gotten anything from that one yet. Too concussed to tell up from down.”

Jack turns to me and the pair of them just stare for a moment. I should probably feel uncomfortable being scrutinized like a piece of fruit at a market, but honestly, right now, I don’t feel anything but tired.

“Name?” asks Jack. 

“Delilah Reid,” Miss Ally says.

“Lilah,” I reply at the same time. He obviously wasn’t asking me, though. I may not know up from down right now, but I at least know that.

“That’s the one the Boss brought in,” Ally adds in a low voice.

“What happened to his last one?” asks Jack.

Last what? I know in the back of my mind that this is a simple conversation but I can’t follow it. Everything is so confusing right now. 

Miss Ally shrugs. “Beats me. My money’s on a nervous breakdown.” She leans back in her chair. “I’m circling one of those myself.”

Jack’s smile returns. “Don’t say that, Miss Ally.” His Southern accent has come out. “We’d all be lost without you. The Boss may be the boss, but we all know who runs this camp.”

Miss Ally smiles ruefully, shaking her head. “Boy, if you were twenty years older and two inches taller . . .”

“If only,” he says, throwing her a wink. “Good night, Miss Ally.”

“Good night, Jack.” She looks back at me after he’s out of the tent. “Back to bed, girlie.”

***

I think I remember now. The soldiers rolling over the town, dragging people from their homes and forcing them to their knees in a line along the street. I remember a mustached man standing behind them. There was a gun in his hand. He asked them each a question and then shot most of them in the back of the head. He must not have liked their answers.

I remember holding something heavy as I watched from far off. I lifted it and set it against my shoulder and fuck. 

It was a shotgun. And it was pointed at the shooter. The warlord. 

August Walker.

I don’t remember pulling the trigger, but I remember the noise and the pain of the kickback as it threw me on my ass. I knew the shot went wide without looking. 

Fuck, Lilah! You idiot! I should’ve used my bow and arrows. I still probably wouldn’t have killed him, but I would be able to land an arrow somewhere on that massive body.

There was shouting. Men raised their guns and leveled them at me, but the mustached man that was executing people held his hand up to stop them.

He took a step toward me and I fucking ran. I ran and ran and ran until I was out of breath. He was still following me. He wasn’t slowing down.

I didn’t even get the chance to turn around before the bomb went off in the building next door.

***

“Wake up. Delilah, wake up.” It’s a man’s voice with the slightest Southern lilt.

I force my eyes open and immediately shut them again. The sun must barely be up but the tent is already flooded with light. 

I caught a glimpse of Jack’s face as he leaned over me.

“It’s the concussion,” another man says as I hesitantly reopen my eyes. The doctor. He pulls something out of his pocket and crouches beside the palette. “Here.”

The sunglasses he offers me look like the shit you get at the optometrist after they enlarge your pupils enough to swallow up your irises, but I put them on without question. 

“Thanks.” My voice doesn’t sound nearly as bad as I expected it to.

He nods, pulling a rubber band out of his pocket, which he then offers to me. I take it gratefully and use it to pull my dark hair back into a ponytail.

I take stock of my surroundings. I’m still in the same tent as before - the medical tent, I guess. Miss Ally is nowhere in sight. In fact the place would be empty if it weren’t for me, the two soldiers, and two bandaged patients sleeping on the other side of the tent. 

“Time to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Boss?”

Jack turns to the doctor in exasperation. “Is she a goddamn canary or is she just stupid?”

“Fuck you,” I snap. The insult is reflexive.

Jack looks back at me and he seems somewhat pleased.

“It’s the concussion,” the doctor says to him. 

They each grab an elbow and lift me onto my feet. I’m wearing the same clothes as I was the night they attacked - white tee, flannel, jeans - only they’ve all been singed at the edges. My canvas and leather boots are nowhere in sight. They don’t provide me with an alternate pair - not even some flip flops - before Jack leads me outside into the light.

My first glimpse at camp is overwhelming. 

Tents of all shapes and sizes are arranged like pieces on a chess board. A handful of them, like the one we just walked out of, are made from green canvas treated with some kind of chemical to make it water repellent. A lot of them are just plain old LL Bean models like the ones we used at summer camp. Some of them aren’t even big enough for a person to sit up in.

There are also larger tents that I can only assume were originally created for “glamping,” not actual camp life. 

Frankly, I’m surprised there’s so much order to it all. Then again, from what I can tell, most of the men here were once in the military if their tattoos and fatigues are anything to go by, and militaries thrive on organization.

Jack pulls me along through rows and rows of tents. They all seem to be fully occupied. There are people everywhere I look - mostly men, but a surprising amount of women, too  - and I’m genuinely surprised to see a couple of kids kicking a soccer ball around. I stop short when I see a woman in a fold-out beach chair nursing her baby as she supervises the children playing.

Jack stops for only a moment to see what I’m looking at before pulling me forward by the elbow again. He doesn’t offer an explanation for why children and babies are in a war camp and I can’t find the words to ask for one. 

We turn this way and that, weaving through rows and columns of tents until we come to a clearing. At the very center is a big round tent - I think it’s called a yurt - which is clearly the command center of this whole operation. 

A guy about Jack’s age with an automatic rifle strapped to his chest patrols the perimeter. “Ayyy, Jack!” he calls as we approach. The two bump fists in greeting. “Who’s this?”

“Boss’s girl,” Jack says. 

The other soldier studies me. “Wait, is this the girl that shot at him? Gotta be, right? Nobody else has bangs anymore.”

I want to say something snarky in defense of my hair but it takes too long to pull the words together. Someone ushers us into the tent. 

“Boss,” Jack calls. 

Everybody looks up. There must be two dozen people in this tent, but I know right away who Boss is.

At the center of the tent is a heavy wooden table covered in maps. Mr. Mustache’s hands are flat on the surface as he studies the images. He slowly raises his eyes to look me over and fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was too stupid and concussed to put it together before now. Just like no women have bangs, no men have mustaches. None but the fabled August Walker.

The warlord takes a long time to look me up and down before he straightens up. He crosses his arms over his chest and walks over to me, and I fight the urge to run in the other direction. 

He stops less than a foot away from me and I have to tilt my head back to meet his blue eyes. “Do you know who I am?” he asks after a moment.

I try to say yes but a weird, grumbled affirmation sound comes out instead. 

“Concussion,” Jack explains. “Miss Ally says she’s been like a deer in the headlights since she got here.”

Mr. Mustache - Walker? What do I call him? - tilts his head to the side but otherwise doesn’t react to Jack’s words. “Do you know what happened?”

I don’t try to answer this time. Even under normal circumstances I don’t think I’d be able to speak when he’s looking at me like this.

“You tried to shoot me,” he says simply. “And people who try to shoot me end up dead.”

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Dumb as a rock

Tags: female reader insert, smut, oral (female receiving), humiliation kink.

Rating: M/E

Word Count: 1517

Author’s note: I had this idea and had to write it. The fandom normally writes Col as the dominant one (which is kinda understandable), but I thought this could be fun, and it was very fun to write. So yeah, here he’s the one with the humiliation kink.

Also, I don’t think you need a higher education to be smart but... it kinda fit the story.

Colson and you have been in a relationship for over a year now, and he’s slowly opening up. Before you began dating, you knew what any other fan could know, but he’s told you so much stuff now, so many secrets, it’s like you have known him for years. You didn’t expect this, though.

“Babe?” he called you, one lazy Saturday morning.

The alarm clock had woken you up fifteen minutes ago, but none of you wanted to get out of bed. You were on your side, with one of his arms around your waist, while his other hand draw patterns on the bare skin of your back. It was so soothing you were feeling like falling asleep again.

“Yeah?” you turned around to look him in the eye. He seemed worried. “Is something wrong?”

He bit his lip and looked at you.

“No, I… I wanted to tell you something… but you have to promise me you’ll keep an open mind, ok?”

“Yeah, sure, I promise. C’mon, tell me” you encouraged him, smiling at him.

He took a couple of deep breaths before speaking.

“Okay. I… haveahumiliationkink,” he finally said, speaking very quickly.

“You what now?” you asked, confused.

“I have a humiliation kink,” he said, slower this time.

Oh. So you’ve heard him right the first time.

“What does that mean exactly?” you asked.

“I sometimes like women to be mean to me, call me names and stuff,” he said.

“Like during sex or…?”

“More like foreplay, but also during sex. I don’t know why, but having someone like you, that is normally so kind and gentle, being mean to me, really gets me going,” he confessed.

“Oh.”

There was a bit of a long pause while you were processing what he has just said.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course I’m not mad at you!” You assured him, caressing his face. “This is just… unexpected. I wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years,” you added.

“I know it’s not something you’d expect of someone like me,” he admitted, “but it’s kind of very specific, you know? Only certain people in certain contexts.” He made a pause. “Would you… would you do it?”

“What? Be mean to you?” He nodded. “I suppose I can try, but… Colson, you know that’s not how I naturally behave.”

“I know. But I’d be very happy if you at least tried,” he said, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“You really want me to insult you, huh?” you asked, amused. He nodded enthusiastically. “What, right now?”

“You could practice,” he suggested.

“Okay… You’re an idiot, Colson Baker, you’re dumb as a rock!” you said, but you couldn’t contain a laughter at how silly your words sounded. He pouted, disappointed. “Sorry! I… this is ridiculous.”

“At least you tried,” he sighed, rolling over so he was resting on his back.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you said.

“I’m not mad at you, but you’re not taking this seriously,” he said, looking at you.

“How am I supposed to insult you, Colson?” you said. “Tell me, how? You’re taller than me, stronger than me, more talented than I’d ever be…”

“You’re smarter. You went to college, have a degree and all. I barely graduated from high school,” he said, interrupting you.

“Yeah, well… I can’t do this on command. You’ll have to say or do something very stupid to get me to call you an idiot.”

“Fair enough,” he said, hugging you and kissing you. “I’ll think of something.”

 &&&

The following days, you almost forgot about the kink humiliation stuff, but then Colson began to say some stupid things on purpose. You knew it was on purpose, but that didn’t make it less stupid or funny. They were so funny you began jotting them down on your notes app.

Friday night, you were watching a TV contest to unwind and he was very invested on one of the contestants, getting all frustrated and worked up at the answers the dude gave, only for them to be correct most of the time. You laughed, seeing him practically jumping in his seat.

“What?” he asked, looking at you.

“You really are lucky you’re pretty,” you said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I doubt you would have gotten this far if you weren’t, seeing you are not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you said.

He looked at you, mouth open in awe, which only made him look dumber. You had to remember yourself he wanted all of that before continuing. You sat on his lap and gripped his chin.

“Look at you: not thoughts, head empty.”

“You’re mean!” he said, albeit with difficulty.

“Mean? How can the truth be mean?” you asked.

“I’m not dumb!” he protested.

You felt him growing hard under you, which prompted you to keep going.

“But you are! Dumb and pretty. Some more pounds of muscle and you’d almost be a himbo,” you said, your hand letting go of his chin and running through his hair. You kissed him, running both hands now through his hair. “Fuck, I must really be attracted to morons, ‘cause you got me all hot and bothered,” you whispered into his ear, grinding your hips against his erection.

“M-maybe you should drink some cold water,” he suggested, stuttering. “It’d make you feel less hot.”

“You really are clueless, huh?” you said, turning around on his lap. Now your ass was against his crotch. You rubbed against him like a cat in heat.

You heard him swallowing. He put one hand on your hip and his other arm around your waist, his thumb going under the hem of your top, tracing soft lines on your skin.

“But you said you were hot… cold water helps you combat the heat,” he said, faking confusion.

“Careful there, smooth brain, or you’ll say something smart,” you mocked him.

“Fuck, babe! I… I need you!”

“To do what?” you asked. “C’mon, say it, dumbass!”

“Fuck me! Fuck me right now!” he begged. “If you keep going like that I’ll cum in no time.”

You got up of his lap and turned around to look at him: his erection was very visible under his sweatpants.

“Clothes off, you fool. Wait here,” you ordered.

While you were going to get a condom, Colson did as you told him and stripped down. Feeling a bit exposed in the cold air, he covered himself with a cushion. You came back with the condom in hand and only the long t-shirt you had been wearing. He couldn’t see it yet, but you had ditched your underwear.

“You know what this is?” you asked, shaking the condom.

“Is it gum?” he ventured.

You laughed and took off your t-shirt. Before he could protest, you grabbed the cushion he was covering with and threw it across the room. Opening the foil packet, you rolled the condom over his length, and kissed him, rubbing your core alongside his erection, spreading your wetness all over. He let out a throaty moan, and you guided his tip to your entrance.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out so hard I might make you smart, moron!” you promised him, lowering down.

You started slowly, taking your time, despite him trying to make you go faster.

“I lead, you follow,” you told him. “Morons are no leaders, understood?”

“O-okay.”

His hands were all over your body, your hands all over his, and while you were having a really good time, as soon as you tried to pick up the pace a bit, he was coming.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “You really got me worked up.”

“But you’re gonna finish the job, right?” you asked, getting off him.

“Finish the job?” he asked, still playing dumb.

“My orgasm, you idiot!” you replied, playfully pushing him.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He kneeled down on the carpet. Licking his lips, he positioned between your thighs and proceeded to do what he did best, make you come using his lips, tongue and fingers. Less than ten minutes after, you were coming hard on his fingers.

“Well, I suppose having a huge cock and this talent makes up for not having a brain whatsoever,” you told him, breathing fast.

He smiled at you.

“Do you wanna come to the shower with me?” he asked, getting up.

“Yeah, sure.”

After a quick shower you two laid on the bed, still naked, comfortably resting on your side. Colson traced your curves with light fingers.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Yes. Though I think I went a bit overboard with the rubbing against you.”

“Little bit,” he laughed. “But I liked it a lot, and you know I don’t mind finishing by other means.”

“Babe, you know I don’t think you’re stupid, right?” you asked cautiously.

“I know. But you said you couldn’t insult me on command, and that I had to say some pretty dumb shit to make you, so I did. And it worked pretty well.”

“It worked very well,” you laughed.

He kissed you.

“We should sleep. Good night, babe”

“Good night.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He  takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus  back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster  nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it  closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over  the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

[spookyhalloweennights]

The Patterns of You (Artaruk: SFW)

First place fic for @featherednutcase featuring a minotaur doctor! I hope you love it! <3 If you like my work and want to read more, check out my Masterlist! As always, requests and matchups are open!

You had just moved into your own house, excited to have finally been out on your own in the world. The job you had snagged provided you with enough income to live comfortably, and the city that you were in was practically perfect. As your friends would say to you, you had everything going right and it seemed as though nothing could tear you down. However it had seemed that your good luck had run out, after moving completely into the house, you had gotten sick which had forced you to take a day off of work which was something you hated doing. 

After taking some over the counter medication, you had felt good enough to return to your job the next day. Only for you to wind up in bed again with the sniffles and a raging headache, you had called the doctor’s office that was closest to your home while idly drawing patterns on your skin with a pen cap. The small flower disappearing quickly as you did so, which made a smile tug at the corner of your lips. Your friends had spoken positively of their soulmates, each one having already found their partner after scribbling down where they had lived on their skin. But you, you had received nothing back when it came to the drawings, not even an inkling as to if you actually had a soulmate. If you did, they may not have cared as much about the drawings as what you did. 

The thought caused a frown to cross your features and for a moment you didn’t hear the receptionist speaking on the other end of the line. When a long sigh came from the other end of the phone, you were jolted back into reality. Apologizing quickly, you had scheduled an appointment for later that evening with a relatively new doctor. You hadn’t paid close enough attention to what his name was, you just wanted to take a nap before the appointment. Once everything was scheduled, you hung up the phone and curled up under your blanket with a box of tissues next to you. 

When the alarm on your phone went off a couple hours later, you shut it off with a quiet groan, almost annoyed that you had been disturbed from such a peaceful sleep. For a brief moment you could’ve sworn you saw something written on the back of your hand but you dismissed it for the time being as you got up. Making yourself at least somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt you grabbed your keys and headed out to your car. 

The drive to the doctors office was a short one, about ten minutes at tops and you had managed to find a parking spot close to the door. After you had checked in, you had waited in their waiting room, idly messing with different games on your phone. You paused in your game, getting an idea as you began to draw little flowers all over your arm, hoping for some sort of response from your soulmate as the image you had drawn with your nail lightly disappeared in the blink of an eye. When nothing came back, you sighed softly and returned to your game until your arm had become itchy, you glanced down at your arm with a smile. Finally you were getting a response. 

“They’re beautiful.” Was the simple phrase scrawled in sloppy cursive read. You couldn’t help but giggle at the words on your skin. 

“Thank you, it took you long enough to respond.” You wrote back, adding a small smiley face at the end of the statement. It only took a few moments before another phrase was beginning to rise up on your arm.

“I’ve been busy… I love the little notes you give me, my name is Artaruk. I may not be able to respond back, I have an appointment coming up. The work never ends.”  Was the reply, you laughed quietly, looking up as the nurse had come out into the waiting room and called your name. You stood, stuffing your phone back into your pocket as you followed the nurse back into one of the exam rooms. 

She had gone over the basic information before jotting down the symptoms you described to her. After promising the doctor would be in shortly, you began to trace little patterns along your arm, something to amuse yourself in the meantime. Finding out that you did in fact have a soulmate made your day about a thousand times better. 

There was a gentle knock on the door before the doctor had walked in, you had nearly gasped in surprise. He was a huge black and white Minotaur with small horns, smiling at you, he greeted you warmly. 

“Good evening, I am Doctor Trevino.” His voice was soothing with the hint of an accent that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. “I see you have been having symptoms akin to a cold, no?” He questioned as he looked over your file and the notes the nurse had written down. 

“Correct, it’s been going on for awhile now, I just want to get better so I figured it was time I came in.” You answered honestly, watching as he typed on the too small keyboard carefully as if he was going to break it if he pressed down on the keys any harder. 

“Since it’s been going on for awhile now, I’ll send some medications over for the pharmacy to fulfill, you should be better in no time.” He gave you a charming smile that no doubt would have other girls melting. But not you, you were just grateful that whatever it was you had going on would go away soon. 

“Thank you doctor!” You chimed, slipping off of the table that you had been sitting on in the exam room and making your way to the receptionist desk to pay for the visit before you drove to the pharmacy. 

The medication that the doctor had prescribed had worked for a short while before it went right back to square one. And the process had repeated itself several times before Dr. Trevino had made a suggestion during one of your visits. 

“Have you had the house you moved into fully inspected? Sometimes things are hidden and aren’t caught right away, like mold, if you have allergies that could be what’s making this cold linger so long.” He had mentioned to you offhand, the more you had thought about it the more it had almost made sense. 

You had called an inspector out, and it had turned out that the house did in fact have mold in it. It had put a damper on things and your wallet would take a hit with the removal fees, but that was all worth it once the house was cleared. 

In the meantime, you had finally managed to get a number out of your soulmate, finding yourself texting them at all hours of the night when they had gotten off of their shift. While you had drawn them flowers and little notes throughout the day, they had hastily scribbled down reminders that made you laugh. Your soulmate had even gone as far as to ask you to text them every so often to make sure they had indeed done the thing they needed to. 

You had asked them several times to meet up with you, and each one had been blown off as they couldn’t get off of work and you were starting to think you’d never meet them. Until they had texted you out of the blue one evening asking if you had wanted to go on a date with them the following day as they had a day off from work. You had eagerly agreed to it and he had suggested a nice café in town that you swore had the best drinks on the menu. 

What you hadn’t expected was to see Doctor Trevino sitting in a booth. You had glanced around before texting your soulmate, asking where they were sitting. When you heard Doctor Trevino’s phone go off, you grinned as he responded back to the text you had sent him. Shortly after your phone had vibrated with the new text, you walked over and slid into the booth seat across from him. A look of surprise had crossed his features momentarily before he smiled at you sheepishly. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you but this is a pleasant surprise.” He began with a quiet laugh, you nodded in agreement. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you Doctor Trevino, or should I call you Artaruk?” You asked teasingly, the waitress swinging by your table to take your orders. 

“Artaruk please.” He answered with a smile. The waitress appeared a few moments later with both of your drinks in hand. 

The date had gone over really well, and you had left the café in high spirits. You had talked about everything and anything that had come to mind. But the main thing had been why he hadn’t bothered to respond to any of your other questions that you had written on your skin for your soulmate to, he had soothed your worries, explaining that he had seen each and every question. But he was a bit of a scatterbrain and would forget to write an answer back, or at times he was too busy to respond. He was a doctor that traveled from one practice to another, wherever they needed him he went.

Enough so that you had eventually agreed to go out with him a second time, and then a third. But eventually, you had managed to get yourself sick again. Catching a cold from one of your coworkers had you bed-ridden for a week. Artaruk had even used some of his days off to come take care of you despite you being rather needy at times. It was worse this time around, and it almost seemed as though as soon as you had started to feel the slightest bit better, it immediately got worse again. Artaruk had scolded you multiple times as you would do things that you shouldn’t be while you were sick. 

“It’s still not going down.” He huffed, checked your temperature for the tenth time that day, a deep frown covering his features as he retrieved the bowl of soup he had made you. You hadn’t been able to keep much down other than the soup and saltine crackers that he had crushed up and mixed into the soup. 

“I’ll be fine, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You croaked out, your throat sore from all the coughing you had been doing, the cough drops he had gotten you weren’t helping much either. You had figured that all you would need to do was ride the storm out. 

You had propped yourself up enough that you could take the bowl from his hands, shooting him a thankful smile as you began to eat it. While you didn’t eat much, it was enough to satisfy the minotaur when you had said that you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you making me food.” You sniffed, the Minotaur playfully rolling his eyes at you.

“Probably not make it through these trying times.” He huffed a laugh before reaching down to ruffle your hair lovingly. 

You smiled and shifted, scooting over in your bed so that he could join you. “Snuggle me?” You asked innocently.

For a moment it had seemed as though he was debating on if he should or not before he finally sighed in defeat. Climbing into the bed next to you, he held open his arms and you had instantly snuggled right against his chest. His fur was short but still really soft and you never got tired of messing with it when you could. He had pressed a kiss to your forehead as you finally began to drift off to sleep, the first time you had felt comfortable since getting this sick. 

With Artaruk taking care of you, considering that he was a doctor after all, you were feeling better in no time. A couple of days after he had started taking care of you, you finally felt well enough to go back to work which was something you were grateful for. Although a couple of nights after you had started going back to work, you had come home one evening to find your minotaur sprawled out on the couch with a dozen tissues scattered around the floor. He had glanced up at the sound of the door opening and merely gave you a half-hearted wave before laying back down with a groan.

“Not feeling so well?” You asked almost teasingly, setting your bag down by the door as you walked over to him and placed your hand against his forehead. He felt warmer than he normally did, so you had begun to set to work. “I told you to take the day off, call in sick and rest up but no, you didn’t want to listen to me and instead had gone into work to help them out.” You huffed at the bull who had dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

“At least I wasn’t interacting with patients, it was just organizing the files and stuff that day since they heard me sniffing.” He sighed, reaching for a bottle of water that was on the coffee table right beside him. You could only laugh in response to his excuse. Remembering how the two of you had bickered about whether or not he should go to work, you walked into the kitchen and began to make soup for him. 

As the smell drifted throughout the small house, he gave a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” He hummed, climbing up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, only to rest his chin on your shoulder. You laughed in response and playfully nudged him. 

“Hey now, back up there mister, I don’t need to be getting sick again, I just got better and one of us needs to be bringing in the money for this house.” You teased, Artaruk merely huffed in response before sitting down at the table. It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar itching of your arm, glancing down you noticed there was a little heart and all you could do was smile in response to it. 

“I love you too, but I think you need to listen to me better next time. Especially since I’m the one who gets sick the most.” You chided, the bull laughing in response to the statement before coughing. 

Plopping a bowl of soup down in front of him, you sat across from him at the kitchen table. He eyed the bowl warily before taking a spoonful of soup. You were going to treat him exactly how he treated you when you were sick, and you were going to enjoy  every second of it. When he was done and you had felt he ate enough, you had cleaned up before motioning to the shared bedroom. 

Once inside, he had plopped down on the bed before tugging the covers up over him. Closing his eyes and drifting off into a light sleep, you ran your fingers through his soft fur. “Sleep well Doctor, I hope this passes quickly for you.”

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Paintbrush (Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader)

Summary: You’re an artist in DC, and a serial killer has started using your artwork as inspiration for his murders.

Warnings: Mentions murder (duh) but doesn’t go into detail

Notes: This is way longer than I planned lol. I based the chaotic-artist vibe that the reader has going on the tiktoker @/artistkatiesmall so y’all can watch her tik toks if you like chaotic energy and paint as much as i do. Oh also I tried to keep this gender-neutral but if there are any pronouns in here that shouldn’t be let me know and I’ll fix it!! I use she/her so sometimes it just comes naturally and i don’t notice. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

You were in your studio, listening to music as loud as physically possible. Your art studio is like a safe haven; the only place you feel completely yourself. Right now you’re working on your latest piece. Your art style is very “splattered paint that ends up looking like something”, which your mother had told you on multiple occasions. She had meant it as an insult, but you ended up taking the term and making it your own. She’s not wrong; you typically start your pieces by throwing some paint on a canvas and letting it take you somewhere. So here you are, slapping paint on a canvas and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song.

As the painting began to take form - you hadn’t decided what it would be yet, but you’re excited with what you have - you heard some pounding that didn’t match the beat of the song. Grabbing your phone, you turned down the music, and the pounding could be heard much more clearly now. “Y/N Y/L/N! FBI!” You quickly paused the music and rushed to the door. As you opened the door, your paintbrush (still covered in paint...oops) was tucked behind your ear. At your entrance was two men, one tall and skinny, and the other older with graying hair. “Y/N?” The younger of the two asked, his voice considerably softer than when he’d yelled through your door. You only nodded, and each of the men showed you their badges before the older of the two spoke.

“I’m SSA Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You opened the door wider now, allowing them both to step inside your small studio. “Um, sorry about the mess, I’m not exactly the most conventional artist.” You apologized. You would've offered them a seat, but you only had two chairs in the place, and they were both occupied by piles of your various art supplies. “What is this about?”

Dr. Reid held a file in his hands, which he passed over to you as he spoke. “Do you recognize any of these paintings?” You open the file to find 4 pictures of your own artwork; portraits of various different people. One short blonde woman, one ginger man with an impressive beard, and a hispanic woman with a pixie cut. 

“Yeah, I painted these a while back...Why does the FBI care about some random commission artwork?”

“Someone commissioned you to do these?” Dr. Reid spoke quickly, causing you to look away from the pictures and back towards him. “Uh, yeah. He calls me every once in a while and asks for weirdly specific portraits.”

“What do you mean, weirdly specific? You don’t base your work off of pictures?” SSA Rossi asked you.

“No, he’s never given me pictures to work from. He just describes the person he wants me to paint. Like about two weeks ago,” You paused as you walked over to your cluttered desk, and grabbed your notepad, which was still open to the page you’d jotted down your notes on, “He asked for a portrait of a short, Asian man with bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and one pierced ear.” You handed the notepad to Dr. Reid, who scanned it quickly. 

“What’s his name?” He asked, before handing the notepad to his partner.

“Tanner. I don’t know his last name, he always pays with cash. What’d he do?”

The two men looked at each other briefly, before Dr. Reid spoke again, “We believe Tanner has been killing the people that you paint. He left the paintings at the crime scene.”

Your heart dropped. Not only had you been in constant contact with this psychopath, but you felt like you’d inadvertently helped him. You took his money, and he killed the people who looked like your paintings. 

“I know this is shocking, but have you painted anyone else for him?”

“Uh, no, this was the most rece-” You cut yourself off, remembering something from the last time you’d spoken with Tanner. “He bought a painting of me.”

“When?” Dr. Reid asked.

“When, uh, when he picked up the last painting. I had a self-portrait sitting over there that I'd done for fun. He asked if he could have it along with the other one, he paid me extra for it-”

“What day, Y/N?” Dr. Reid placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You felt like you might pass out.

“3 days ago.”

Again, the two agents looked at each other, and their faces didn’t make you feel any better.

“Y/N, why don’t you come with us to the police station, you’ll be safe there.” You could only nod in response letting them lead you out of the studio. Before you exited, Dr. Reid grabbed the paintbrush from behind your ear, placing it on a table before you made your way out to the car.

~~~

Sitting in the police station was like torture. First of all, you were wearing your normal painting outfit: a paint-stained t-shirt an ex had left at your place, jeans that were so ripped up you could barely call them jeans anymore, and of course, socks and sandals. The cops were either completely ignoring your presence, or asking you the same questions you’d already answered dozens of times. One top of all that, they wouldn’t let you do anything besides sit and wait. You had managed to find a paper pad and a pen, so at least your doodling could help pass the time.

You’d been at the station for over an hour already, which meant your doodle was nearly perfect; you ended up drawing one of the agents, Dr. Reid. From where you were sitting, he was in clear sight, and one of the only people who was actually sitting still enough for you to draw. And, y’know, he’s the only person you want to look at long enough for you to draw. 

“Is that me?” His voice startled you; you’d been looking down at the paper and didn’t notice Dr. Reid coming towards you. You dropped the pen immediately, and moved the paper out of his sight.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I was just, y’know, bored and-” You tried to put together a sentence, but your embarrassment was getting the best of you.

“I don’t mind, I, um, think it’s kind of flattering. Can I see it?” Dr. Reid asked, and you reluctantly handed the paper over. You’d been an artist for so long, you were almost never nervous for people to see your work anymore; you have a very “if they like it, great! If they don’t, I don’t care,” kind of attitude when it comes to your artwork. But Dr. Reid was making you nervous. “You don’t have to call me Doctor by the way. Reid is fine. Or, uh, Spencer. You can call me Spencer.” He had a light blush on his face as he spoke, which calmed you a little bit. At least he’s just as nervous as you. Suddenly, as if he was snapped out of his train of thought, Spencer handed the paper back to you and cleared his throat before speaking. “We used the phone number you gave us to find Tanner, but he doesn’t have any listed addresses. Did you ever deliver paintings to him?” Behind him, another one of the agents who’d talked to you, Hotch, walked up.

“Um, no. I’d just call him whenever I finished a painting and he’d come to me.”

“Would you be willing to call him again?” Hotch asked. Your eyes widened at the idea. You’re already terrified at the notion that you may be a target for a serial killer, but calling him? Hotch must have noticed your fear, as he began to explain further, “We can track his location with a phone call, but we need some time to do it. If you’re the one speaking, he’ll probably stay on the line long enough for our technical analyst to find him.” 

You took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Y-yeah. I can do that. Can you guys give me a minute first? I need some air.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the police station. Once you got outside, walked to the end of the building and leaned against the side wall. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. You couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility over those people’s deaths. Tanner had taken your artwork, your passion, and ruined it.

“Are you ok?” You looked up to find Spencer standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“Not really.” You played with your hands as you spoke, not making eye contact.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” He asked, as he moved to lean against the wall next to you. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside? Y’know, you’ve got a serial killer to catch.”

“You know there are a lot of signs that someone feels guilty. Avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, lack of an appetite...I noticed you didn’t eat the snacks JJ got for you.” He was right, Agent Jareau had gotten you some snacks that you left untouched back in the station. When you didn’t say anything, Spencer continued, “Usually when I see people acting like this, they have good reason to be guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

“I inspired him.” When you looked up at Spencer, he gave you a confused look. “When I saw him last, when he wanted to buy that painting of me, I asked him why. He said that my artwork inspires him. If...If I hadn’t painted those people, they could still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? You can’t say for sure that he would’ve killed them anyways, can you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment, confirming your fears. Eventually, he spoke up. “He may not have killed those exact people, He would’ve killed someone. He’s already killed before.” Your eyebrows shot up at this, so Spencer kept talking, “We think we can connect him to two murders from a few years ago. If he had never used your art as part of his signature, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find him. He may have even gotten away with it all together.” Spencer’s words did give you a little relief. You still felt bad for the way your art had been used, but it was a good reminder that you weren’t the murderer. That Tanner’s actions had nothing to do with yours.

“Thank you.” Spencer nodded in response, giving you a small smile. “I guess I have a phone call to make.”

~~~ a week later ~~~

You were back in your studio, getting ready for a new painting. Just as you placed your canvas on the easel, there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Spencer Reid on the other side. “Spencer?”

“Hi.” There was an awkward moment of silence before Spencer spoke again. “I, uh, saw your mural. It’s beautiful.” A small smile formed on your face at the mention of the mural. After you helped the BAU catch Tanner, you reached out to the family of the victims. With their permission, you painted a mural that was put up at the memorial down the road. The mural had been featured on local DC news channels, which is probably how Spencer had seen it.

“Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for you.” As you spoke, you moved over so that Spencer could enter the studio space. “Back at the police station, I wanted to quit art. Figured I’d finally put that communications degree to use or something.” Spencer lightly laughed as you continued, “But you made me realize that I can still do something good with my art.”

“I’m glad.” Spencer paused, and took a deep breath, and a step towards you, “Do you, uh, think we could go get coffee sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee, we could get tea, or um, lemonade, we could get lemon-”

“Spencer!” You cut him off, with a light laugh. You found his nerves to be both flattering and cute. “I’d love to get any beverage you’d like, as long as you’re there with me.” You ran your hands through your pockets, looking for the sharpie you’d had in your hand before you’d opened the door. “Where is…” you mumbled, looking down at your pockets. Suddenly, you felt Spencer’s hand at your ear, where he pulled down the sharpie you’d placed there.

“Looking for this?” He was now standing close enough to you that he only had to whisper. 

“Yeah” You responded, at the same volume he’d used. You took the sharpie from his hand, but before he could pull it away, you grabbed it and wrote down your phone number. When you finished, you looked up to Spencer’s face, which had turned pink. “Call me whenever.”

Neither you or Spencer said a word, you just stood there, staring at each other. You couldn’t help but try to memorize every feature of his face. Your staring contest was interrupted by Spencer’s phone dinging. He took a step back, much to your disappointment, and looked down at the text. “I, uh, I have to get to work. We have a new case.” You could tell he was disappointed too.

“Ok.” You whispered. Spencer looked at you for one more moment before he did what you least expected; before you even realized what was happening, his hand was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on yours. Your hands found their way to his collar, pulling him even closer to you.

You two didn’t pull apart until Spencer’s phone went off again. “You better call me.” You said, finally letting go of him.

“I will, promise.” Was the last thing he said to you before rushing off to work. When the door closed behind him, you turned to your blank canvas with a clear idea in mind. So you turned up the music, grabbed your paints, and began to put every detail of Spencer you could remember onto the canvas.

~~~

Notes: i’ll be honest idk how i feel about this ending lmao but i hope y’all liked it

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

[moonslove7]

Helloooo~ can I request? If yes, here is my idea: Reader being super amazing at drawing and she secretly has a huge crush on Remus and as well has a sketchbook with tons of his portraits with cute words. James and Sirius discover that she looks at Remus and "write" on her notebook so decide to secretly take her "notes" and read them. Remus finds the two admiring/laughing at the sketchbook and take it from them while the readers is going crazy searching it. Full creativity to you for what happens next just make it floof cuz I need it haha. Love your writing ❤ and Have a wonderful day :3

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS THANK U SO MUCH 🥺 also lmao this would so be me i already draw him n do lil poems for him even tho i’m awful at it

Artistic Love

It was another late night in the Gryffindor common room, students rushing in and out while some sat down and talked with their friends you, sirius, james and remus all sat next to the fireplace on the sofa, you had your sketchbook out, using your pencil to your crush, Remus Lupin, as he laughed with his best mates probably planning some pranks to do with them, you didn’t really pay attention you were more focused on capturing how beautiful this man was in your sketchbook, after a few hours you had finished and coincidentally Remus had to leave to get a game from their dorm room. Just as he left you thought of a few words to jot down next to the recent drawing, “your heart reminds me of a home i never had”.

Little did you know a certain Sirius Black kept sneaking glances at you, wondering what you had been doing for the past two hours, but you had your sketchbook hidden by your knees as you brought them close to you to hold your sketchbook on them, then Remus came back and you quickly shut it and put it down on the arm of the sofa next to you, “wanna play with us (Y/N)?” Remus asked when he noticed you had put what he assumed was homework away, you nodded with a smile, moving closer to Remus you all played a game of snap which resulted in James being told since he lost he would have to do the next prank by himself since it included going into the Slytherin dorms, after another hour went by the prefect came to the group and told them they had to go off to bed, Sirius sent a glance towards your black sketchbook while you were saying “well I guess I’ll go to bed then, goodnight idiots.” James noticed Sirius eyeing something, “mhm, we don’t have much choice but sure, good night (Y/n).” James said, Remus nodded and smiled at you, trying to look like he wasn’t crushing on you, but of course failing as the on coming blush appeared on his face. You walked up the stairs and made your way into your dorm room, you got ready to bed and fell asleep instantly.

Downstairs though James and Sirius stayed down there while Remus was back in their dorms, Sirius walked over to your sketchbook and started flicking through the pages, “Sirius, what are you doing? If you want to copy (Y/n)’s homework you could have just-“ “it’s not homework, idiot. Look...” Sirius pushed the book so James could see it, and there in pencil was an accurate sketch of Remus from that exact night smiling away. “.. it’s Remus? Why... Unless-“ James concluded locking eyes with Sirius, they both smirked at each other thinking the same thing, “She fancies him...” Sirius said confirming what they both thought, “it’s kind of cute but ew,” James replied while looking at the older sketches as Sirius continued looking through it.

“Wait till Moony finds out, he’s going to have a heart attack.” Sirius laughed, “what if we gave them the extra push? Like we hide the sketchbook until (y/n) admits their feelings and what’s really in here?” James wondered out loud making Sirius grin at the suggestion, “that, my friend could work, but we have to hide this though so Remus doesn’t find it.” Holding the sketchbook in his hand they book walked up the stairs to their shared dorm, when opening the door Remus was already ready for bed reading a book he glanced up when he realised they had come up, “took you long enough,” he sighed, putting his book on the side table Sirius walked to his bed, crouching down he began to take all the stuff out of the cupboard that each of them got, Remus now had seen the sketchbook asked both of them, “why are you stealing (Y/n)‘s homework for ? you guys can just copy from me you know...” He wondered making James shrug as he watched Sirius hide it, “(y/n)’s got better notes than you Moony, let’s be honest,” Remus gasped offended, “fine be like that, I won’t let you lot copy from me again then.” He said before turning over in bed and trying to fall asleep.

Sirius sent James a smirk, knowing what was about to happen the next day the boys quickly got ready for bed and joined Remus in dream land.

“WHERE IS IT?!?” The Mauraders heard as they came down the stairs, dressed and ready for the busy day ahead, they saw you throwing the cushions around the sofa and looking underneath it only to find Zonko’s sweet wrappers, Remus looked at Sirius and James with a raised eyebrow not forgetting that he saw them two with their book. “Give it back to her, please don’t be a pair of dicks.” He asked, making Sirius say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about mate, come on let’s help (Y/n).” Making their way over to you James spoke first, “what you lost (y/n)?” “My uh notebook, it had class notes in and stuff,” You replied anxiously, your eyes wondering all around the room in hope it would just appear. “oh yeah? what kind of notes?” Sirius asked with a small smirk on his face trying hard to hide it as he leaned against James. “y-you know, school stuff,” You started to blush as Remus began looking around, looking at the clock Sirius mentioned, “why don’t we look for it later? we’ll miss breakfast at this point and i don’t know about you lot but I’m craving some breaky right now.” James nodded along with him already waiting just near the portrait door for Remus.

Remus sighed as he looked at them, he looked back at (y/n), “we’ll look again later, we’ll either find it or you can have my notes.” He reassured making you nod and smile at him, “I have to keep looking but you guys go on and have some breakfast.” They all began walking out, leaving you alone with the scary thought that either someone would use the sketchbook as blackmail or would just straight up show Remus breaking the little bit of friendship you did share with him.

You looked for another two hours, then stopped knowing you’d be late for class if you didn’t, you walked solemnly to the lesson which was transfiguration, the boys had already sat down but Remus kept a spot empty next to him for you, “you find your notebook yet?” he asked, “nope.” You responded, you thought to yourself at least you know it either hasn’t been kidnapped or given to Remus yet.

After the class was over as you began to walk away Remus called for you, “I saved you some food, you know from breakfast,” he placed the food container his mum had given him in your hands that had a few slices of toast inside of it, somehow it still felt hot. “oh, thank you Remus, that’s really sweet of you.” You replied making Remus reach his hand up to his neck, the tell tale sign he was nervous, he nodded with a smile and began to walk away towards Sirius and James who were standing there smirking at the interaction. “You dog, you so like her!” James said with a laugh leaving him as he wrapped an arm around Remus’s shoulder. “No i don’t! It was a thoughtful thing to do, it’s not her fault you idiots probably lost her notebook.”

After classes were over the Sirius thought the plan needed an extra push so James distracted Remus while Sirius put the push in action, “You like Moony don’t you?” He asked making you freeze up, “n-no, why would you think that?” “well, a little birdie told me you draw him... A LOT.. you even write little almost like poetry beside said drawings.” “oh my god, Sirius who has it?? Tell me, please-“

“... James, he’s actually thinking of showing Remus it right now-“As soon as that nearly full sentence left Sirius’s mouth you ran up the dorm stairs, as you had seen James take Remus back to their dorm room you were ready to kill him for this. Opening the door you saw what you thought was James holding open your sketchbook to Remus, “IT’s NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!” You shouted, the blush on your face deepening at what Remus probably thought of you now.

“what is it then, (y/n)??” James, asked closing the book and waiting for your answer, “I drew Remus because I just thought he is aesthetically pleasing to my artistic senses, there, not that i’m in love with him.” You said in a normal tone, thinking you had tricked them all, but you did not.

“... you drew me?” Remus asked in a whisper, James brought the book he was showing Remus to you, inside it was just school notes, it wasn’t your sketchbook at all. You gulped, trying to think of how you were going to get out of this one. “y-yeah... it’s not weird though, right?” You asked nervously, James sighed loudly, putting the book down he walked over to Sirius’s cup board and got your actual sketchbook out. “For Godricks sake! Just look and see, you both fancy each other and kiss, it’s not that hard you know.” He passed the sketchbook to Remus who opened it to just the first page and looked at the drawing of him, his eyes reading the words “If you’re a monster then why am I so in love with you?” He kept replaying those words in his mind, James decided his job was done and left, joining Sirius downstairs.

“So... you like me?” Remus asked, sitting the sketchbook down so you could see it too, you walked closer to him, nodding sadly knowing he was either going to be mad at you or stop being friends all together. “I’m not mad or anything, honest, I just... I guess I do fancy you.” He added, making you look at him now slightly hopeful, he smiled at you before looking back down at the page, “‘If you’re a monster then why am I so in love with you?’ No ones ever, said anything like that to me before, but it makes my stomach feel like it’s got a thousand snitches inside of it,” He laughed slightly making you laugh with him, you sat down in front of him on his bed when he made room. “You really like me? you’re not just saying that so this isn’t embarrassing or anything right?” You asked suspiciously, Remus responded with “Mhmmm I don’t know, let’s see.” He brought his lips to yours, making you gasp in shock, he took that as his opportunity, and pushed his tongue into your mouth, going from 1-1000 VERY quickly, you both sighed into the kiss as his hands held your face into place your hands moved to his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as best as you could, until all of a sudden Remus pulled away, panting out of breath he nodded and almost giggled as he said “yep, I guess I really really do fancy you.” he leaned over again to press a kiss to your forehead.

I hope you enjoyed !

[lobakmerahs]

One: Painting and Its Secrets

Summary: This series is about Levi’s slow burn relationship with the reader who is not only a squad leader but a spy who works under Scouts Regiment.

Warning: mentions of death

A/n: I hope you, whoever you are that will read my series will enjoy it as much as I do when I wrote it. Thanks and have a pleasant reading! :)

~ 🎨

3 weeks before...

A blond platinum wig in a pixie cut, button down shirt in beige, a dark brown suspenders, a pair of pants in olive green with a jacket in the same colour. Last but not least a black fedora on top of the head. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, making sure that you looked completely different from the real you at the same time not wanting the disguise you were wearing would catch unnecessary attention. After you were fully satisfied with your look, you took your steps outside your little home.

It was supposedly your off day and you were strolling at the Stohess District and went to buy a newspaper before taking your seat at an empty bench while facing the river. After a few moments had passed, you glanced at your watch and stood up to head to your destination. 

Hans Art Gallery. You were on time when you stood in front of the art shop as the business was just begun and you were the first one to enter. 

“Good morning and welcome to Hans Art Gallery. Is there anything that I can help you, Mrs?,” the gentleman asked. 

“A bouquet of tulips for the man with the black shoes.” You answered to the gentleman who was not wearing a pair of black shoes but upon hearing your sentence and clearly understood your code, he went to the back of the gallery before returned to you and handed the canvas piece that was neatly wrapped with an oil paper. 

You calmly walked to your home and naturally looked around you to make sure no one was tailing before you entered your house and produced a soft click sound as you locked the wooden door behind you. You didn’t go straight to your room, instead you climbed to the attic and yet again locked the door. Slowly you unwrapped the frame and brought out your forceps as well as your scalpels, no need to ask how did you get those. The canvas held a drawing of an evening sky which was rich with every shades of orange colour capturing the beauty of the sunset, it seemed like it could bring calmness to whoever that laid their eyes on it, but what people didn’t know, didn’t have to know as well as didn’t have the right to know was what lied beneath the drawing. Yes, the drawing was undeniably beautiful, it was made by none other than one of your assets in the Wall Sina that disguised as an art dealer among the nobles. The said asset had planted a few layers of documents under his drawing which was the main reason you were about to form a surgery on the work of art. Meticulously, you ran your scalpel on the border of the drawing, next you brushed your thumb along the already cut borders to make the edges curled upwards then you used your forceps to peal the drawing away, revealing layers of papers which were believed to be the documents that were hidden beneath it. 

“Hmmh.. hmmm~ yare yare, found ya’.” You whispered to yourself and smiled in relief, taking out the pieces of papers and gave it a read. 

The documents contained the Military Police reports of Nicholas Lovof’s crimes that included bribery, kidnapping, murders and any other atrocities that were enough to put someone under justified punishments. Not only that, the documents also included a detailed descriptions as well as names of the people that were in charge to kill Erwin Smith, a good colleague of yours, thanks to Nicholos’s manipulations. The said people were; a young red-haired girl styled in pigtails, another young man with a light-brown hair and persumably the oldest one of the pack,a sharp dull blue eyes man with a black hair styled in an uppercut. 

Then, you made a copy of the documents and kept them in a scroll so you could send them to Erwin, where the original copy of them were properly sealed in an envelope for you to send them to none other than Dhalis Zachary.

~🎨

You took a deep breath, inhaling the morning’s crisp while staring at the blue sky. It was always your favorite thing to do, starring at the sky, focusing on the colours that it held. From the wide ranges of blues, to the variety tones of the white from the clouds and sometimes the contrast colours of orange or pink that appears during dusk or dawn. 

After you had enough of your morning pill from the sky, you stepped out of your chamber and was greeted by your best friend, Hange with a raised of both your eyebrows. Both of you did not need much words to greet each other most of the times. You were best friends since your Training Corps years. Morning wasn’t the time for you guys to start acting real with each other. So, both of you walked by each other to the mess hall to get your breakfast then attended the assembly Scout Regiment’s concourse. 

During the morning assembly, you lined up beside Erwin as you were also a Section Commander and had your comrades under your unit to stand in a line behind you. As you were standing, you could see there were 3 people standing beside Commander Keith Sadis, and were introduced to the whole Scout Regiment as the new Scouts. One of them was a girl with red-brown hair tied into two pigtails, named Isabel Magnolia, the other was a man with dark blond hair named Furlan Church and the last one named Levi, a shorter man with black hair styled in an uppercut. All three of them were assigned into Flagon's unit much to his dismay. You glanced at Erwin by your side and he gave you a knowing look. While others found those new Scouts’ names foreign, both of you were exceptional and for a good reason. 

They were surprisingly good during their training, for some people who never had a formal training using the ODM gear, they performed fantastically well but they still needed some polishing for their Titans killing skills, except for Levi. You were always up to offer help to them but they often misunderstood since you usually looked cold and always a bit brutal during your trainings which were a famous fact among the Scout Regiment. Farlan and Isabel often thought that you hated them since they received resentments from severel other Scout cadets and thinking that you were also in the same boat as the other Scouts. Levi was always with his bored expression, you could barely read his expressions let alone his thoughts, unlike the other two. There was a time where Isabel blurted about why you insisted to help training them when you seemed to dislike them.

“It doesn’t matter if I like you guys or not, people train to kill the Titans and to survive. You guys seemed to rush things and hiding something, as if you wanted you to get done with killing Titans then move on to do something else that isn’t Titans related and I’m here trying to help you not to get killed by Titans”, you answered. There was a short silence followed after your answer. You could tell their breaths hitched for a moment but you remained stolid nevertheless.

“Well, we have to move on to do something else as in to focus on the formation right?”, Furlan replied with a hint of nervous. 

“Yeah, let’s hope so.” You answered. 

~🎨

In life, there were a lot of moments where the air would be tense and the night before expedition was one of them. The night was calm and quiet but you couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in your heart. Tonight was just another night inside the wall but to some in the Scout Regiment, it would be their last. Tomorrow’s expedition would surely cost some of your comrades’ lives and might even yours, for the sake of humanity. 

You took a deep breath. But it still didn’t help to calm your nerves. You had been pacing in your room since dinner. You couldn’t stay still, palms were sweaty and heart was beating unsually fast tonight. Something bad was going to happen tomorrow. You could feel it in your guts. You recognized these telltale because whenever you felt like this, you’ll end up receiving death news be it your favorite neighbour from your hometown, your beloved pets or even the Scouts that you had helped in training. Deciding that sitting in your room wouldn’t help lessen the nerves, you grabbed your pencils and sketch papers then headed outside to gaze at the starry night sky to do some sketches in hope of easing your mind. 

As you arrived at you usual spot at tower of the Scout Regiment barracks, you slumped down and took a glance at the sky. The moon hadn’t shown itself yet, and there were thick clouds hanging everywhere. Then, you stared at your paper and pencil. Blank. No idea. No inspiration. Stuck. You sighed, and continued to stare at the night sky hoping to relax your mind for awhile. Then, you heard the sound of clicking boots which meant that there were people not far from you. It was Furlan and Isabel whom just arrived, they walked to a figure that you assumed to be Levi. You remained quiet and peeped them from your location. You could heard Isabel and Furlan trying to convince Levi about them joining tomorrow’s expedition. As you were eavesdropping not that you planned to in the first place, suddenly your hand started to sketch the paper, starting with the clouds and adding the diamonds in the sky, slowly without you realizing it, you were sketching the trio starring at the starry night sky under the moonlight that shone magnificiently. 

When you were done with the sketching, you returned to your room as quietly as possible and continued to add colours to your drawing before you got sleepy and finally free from your anxious feeling earlier. Before you headed to your bed, you jotted down the date behind your work which now known as painting, no longer just a sketch.

_

During the expedition, you and your squad were put around the right flank of the long range formation. There were few Titans appeared throughout the journey, none that your squad could handle. You were beyond grateful that all of your squad were still well and alive at the moment. Then, you received a signal to tighten the formation since the sky started to show sign that it would rain soon and a heavy one at that. You commanded your squad to pull on the hood of their capes and stayed as close as possible with you and each other so that no one would go unnoticed and it would be easier to assist if anything happen.

Despite the heavy downpour, your squad kept moving forward and you efficiently assisted your squad in killing any Titan that came in the way, it was always your promise to make sure everyone under you would return to the wall safe and alive. Then, suddenly you heard a weird noise coming from in front of you, not the usual strange noise that a Titan would make.A load, short but multiple groan as if a Titan was in pain. So, you rushed to the direction of the sound assuming that there might a cadet or a squad that needed your assistance. 

You arrived at the same time as Erwin’s and some other squad leaders, surrounded by an Abnormal Titan’s and plenty of your other comrades’ corpses. Then, you noticed Levi standing next to the Titan’s dead body with blood all over him and Isabel’s head in front of him with half of Furlan’s body not far from him as well. Levi seemed to be the only one survived from his squad. His head hanging slightly low, with his hair covering his eyes but the tears streaming down his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. So, this explained the sweaty palm and racing heart you had another night- to see two cadets that you helped with training days ago, only now left with just just head and half of a body. You felt your shoulder fell and knees slightly shaking. You felt like your breath had been taken away.

As the rain started to stop slowly as the sunshine gently peeking from the clouds, you watched how Levi was about to kill Erwin which was stopped by Mike then Erwin explained about the Nicholos Lovof's situation causing Levi to stop his actions and stood silently, digesting the fact that he was caught up in Erwin’s plans. 

You did feel bad for Levi, Erwin wasn’t the only who knew about him and his friends’ true intention of joining the Scout Regiment. You knew about it too. It was your assignment to obtain the information about Nicholos Lofov’s crimes and sent it to Erwin as well as finding out the person who was assigned to supposedly kill Erwin. It was just a simple guess as to why those three didn’t refuse so much on joining he Scout Regiment when Erwin offered them to.

You were assigned with that task since you were not only a Section Commander but also a spy under the Scout Regiment as well as the cadets under your wings and some were also assets scattered across the town in disguise as an art dealer in Wall Sina, a commoner who opened a bakery shop or could be anyone in the town that simply invisible to the world but not to you. You needed to sniff around to obtain crucial informations that could contribute to the Scout Regiment strategies, formation and as well as humanity. 

~🎨

The barracks became quieter after the expedition ended which was normal due to the lost of lives. You were at your room that night, just checking your report before you could submit them to Erwin the next morning and decided to write some notes in your book. You opened your drawer and saw the painting that you made before the expedition took place. Levi, Isabel and Furlan staring at the sky. Two of the were smiling in admiration to the sky while Levi just being Levi, stoic as ever except his eyes where they were packed with ......hope. 

You suddenly felt drenched and decided to go for a glass of water at the kitchen before you headed to sleep. You inserted the sketching into your notebook and brought them with you to the kitchen, it just came across your mind to let Levi had it since you remembered how shattered he looked when he was kneeling in front of Isabel's head. The kitchen was empty when you arrived so you went to grab a cup and filled it with water.

As you took a sip of water from your glass, you saw Levi entering the same room as yours. Both of you were startled for a second yet no words left your mouths before he proceeded to make himself a tea and you with your drink. The room was filled with silence but not an uncomfortable one, at least for you. That was when it slipped your mind that you wanted to give the drawing to Levi. Only if he would accept your drawing. You thought he might wanted it since that drawing was an evidence of a sweet memory that his two friends left him during their short time in the Scout Regiment. Probably something for him to look at when he felt lonely. He was stirring his teaspoon with his back facing you when you called his name. Probably the first time having you calling his name. Probably the first time you would ever interact with him ever since he joined the regiment.

“.....um..Levi,” you called. That’s when your heart skipped a beat. And you felt a bit....just a bit nervous to see him reacting to you. Then, he turned around and faced you, intense dull blue eyes focusing on your eyes, expecting you to continue. You gulped. Man, was his gaze always this tense? You never noticed that before for sure.

“I was at the tower the night before the exhibition, with my sketching utensils because I needed to calm my nerves. Then suddenly you guys came and I made something. I didn’t plan doing it, I just went with the ideas flowing in my head,” you stopped and brought out your painting to his attention. He stayed focus listening to you and eyes never left your face before he took the drawing and examined it. You couldn’t say he was amused but his gaze did soften a little. 

“I’m sorry I draw the three of you without your permission.I know I should have asked your consent. And um, you could keep that...... If you want though,” you continued. You felt quite nervous not because you were scared of him, shy probably but not scared. You were nervous because one, you wished your drawing didn’t remind him of his late friends in a bad way and caused him more sadness, two, you didn’t want him to get mad at you for drawing him without his permission and three, um...what if your drawing looked like a toddler’s work? That would suck.

“It’s nice,” Levi finally spoke. His deep monotone voice comforted your ears. You breathed out a relief. 

“I want to keep it,” Levi said, hand still holding your drawing, eyes travelling back to yours with a softer gaze and as if asking for your permission. 

You nodded, “sure, make it yours, I do hope it’ll help you feel better, if that's even possible”, you replied with a soft chuckle as you slowly stood and got ready to head back to your room.

You saw Levi took a glance at the drawing then looked at you again before he replied you with, “thanks, I’ll treasure it.”

You flashed a small smile before yawning and took off to your room to get your sleep. Feeling light and at ease, knowing your drawing could help lift up someone’s mood.

Little did you know that, back in his chamber, Levi stared at your painting. He indulged himself into the painting that you made, every drop of colour as well as every line and traces left on the paper by you, realized how he missed watching his lost friends’ smiles and thanks to you, he could see his friends’ smiles once again eventhough it was just on a piece of a paper. Not to mention, he finally got to interact with you. You striked a mysterious aura when you first appeared before his eyes which intrigued him to get to know you, yet he never had a chance or a reason to talk to you but you were always there somewhere in the back of his mind. He was utterly grateful with the drawing you made, at least he could carve the smiles of his friends into his mind, their smiles might no longer exist in this world but it would always be in his heart and mind. 

                                              Next chapter

[shelf-care]

Winter Nights

Wolverine x OC

Lipstick mark series Pt.2

| Part 1| 

So its snowing in south Texas! that never happens. My parents are panicking and I’m sitting here writing fan fiction to calm myself. What could go wrong? 

So Victor Creed shows up in this because I’m a pantser and I come up with ideas as I go and see if it works for the plot, (For this miniseries I hope it does.) I was also watching Kate and Leopold last night (It’s become a valentines tradition for me over the last few years.) And Liev was in it. So theres that. 

Rated PG-13

Mentions of sex, medical examination, a former abusive relationship, obsession with an individual, slight violence, touch starved wolverine. 

“Your mission Miss hope?” The woman in the white lab coat asked while holding a clipboard ad clicking a pen multiple times, it had to be some sort of nervous tick. Maddie tipped her head back, swallowing her saliva, she was clad in a sterile white medical gown, her red hair sprawled out on the also white pillow as another individual examined her. “My mission was to come into contact with the Man known as wolverine, or James Logan Howlett.” She took a breath, the cold instruments the nurse had been using caught her rather off guard. “And you succeeded in not only finding him, but you managed to get a sample of his DNA?” The woman jotted some notes on the clipboard now, keeping her eyes locked on Maddie. The redhead looked away, staring at the ceiling stark white and formless like everything else in the room. “I did.” The doctor nodded her head. “We’ll be taking those samples back to the lab to confirm that its him. Until they are conclusive, you are free to go.” The young woman nodded watched as swabs left the room, she rather did not want to know what they wanted to do with him.

_

Blankly staring at the roof above her, Maddie couldn’t keep that night from playing over and over again. He was indeed her target, but, something was stirring in her, affection most likely. It would die within a couple weeks like it did with the men following shortly after. She knew he would be harder to kill. But he’d fall like the rest. Eventually. She closed her eyes, then she felt her phone buzz next to her. She reached for it, a voice message was visible. Holding the device to her ear, she heard his voice. A voice that in all honesty she enjoyed. “Look, I’m not that great at stuff like this. But I got your note, the other one, the one with the lipstick,” He paused, thinking about what he’d say next. “I thought we got on pretty well the other night. Lemme know when you make it back to the bar.” The message was short, and pretty sweet. He did care, at least a tad. Maddie slid her lips in a grin, she recorded a new message for him. “I’d love to meet again, this Friday at the bar?”

_

She waited at the bar again, it was cold, snow was on its way. This time the meeting was for more pleasure than anything else since her job was done, but it wasn’t a bad things to keep up with a target. The door swung open among the mostly empty bar. The few patrons turned their heads at the sudden commotion. In walked a man who was tall, very tall. Blond hair cascading down his shoulders, while some of it was put in a half ponytail. A long trench coat and fur, was joined by it, making him look that more intimidating. He made his way to the bar and sat down, eyeing Maddie like she was his new meal. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He said keeping his sight on the bar ahead of him while he ordered himself a large glass of whatever was the strongest drink at the bar. Maddie rolled her eyes. “You here to babysit me creed?” She asked drawing invisible circles in the counter. “Here more on pleasure Miss Hope.” He looked her up and down again and licked his lips visibly so she’d see it for sure. He knew this made her one of two things. Hot and bothered, or pissed off. it pissed her off this time around, and Creed preferred it that way.  “I thought we were past this.” She turned fully to him now. “You might be.” He drank down half the mixture of bourbon, whisky and fireball and faced her, chest puffed in pride and confidence, a pointed and toothy grin showed itself. “But I sure as hell wasn’t girly.” He scoffed as his fist hit the bar making the redhead jump as he got her attention and everyone else’s in the bar as a matter of fact. “We were just getting good when you left.” A fire lit in her heart, anger and passion apparent in her face she took a moment to compose herself. “Victor, they removed you from my squad and as my partner because of your behavior towards me. That hit was the last straw and I won’t be coming back and I’m sure you know that.” Her tone was low and threatening, looking at him, she grasped the glass and slammed down the rest of the liquid before putting down a few dollars as a tip. Creed thought it was adorable when she was angry, and decided to take it as far as he could.

As she zipped up her jacket and made her way out, the large man grabbed her by the arm. “We’re done when I say we are,” He pulled her close to him, his breath brushing warm against her throat as his claw ran down her cheek. “And I’m not done talking to you.” His yellow eyes bored into hers, she felt her heartbeat quicken, she despised and loved this feeling, that’s what got her into this mess the first time. “I told you I was finished. You’ll get your chance with me another day.” She opened her hand to show her palm to him, illuminating a golden hue of color at the center and curving our like a flame, Creeds eyes didn’t change a bit, he seemed like he welcomed the challenge. “Sweetheart, if only you knew how much I craved that part of you.” He gave a guttural low laugh, daring her, as he smirked again, spurring her on. Seeing if she’d really follow through on her threat, which most of them were never hollow. “On any other occasion Creed, I’d let you have it.” She placed her hand on his fist that was still clenched around her arm. “But I’m not in the mood for playing nice.” His hand went visceral, veins becoming more visible as one could see the vitality of the large mutant being taken on by someone a third of his size. “Let me go.” He threatened as he began to feel his muscles failing him in his left arm. “You first.” She smiled, the grin widening as he raised his claws at her. but was too weak to do much else. She laughed and leaned into his ear whispering in a sensual voice, her chest touching his to pour more salt onto the wound. “I thought you craved this part of me.” He could feel himself become more drained the longer she stayed, he realized she wasn’t messing around this time, his grip loosened and she walked free, not another word was heard from Creed, and it would be like that till the next time those twos’ paths crossed. Creed was bent over the bar. He reached for his drink and it shook in his hold, and drank the rest fervently like he needed air, he watched as his hand shook like an elderly man and his hand similar to one too. “Babe’s been getting stronger.” He was captivated by the way her powers worked, he always had been.

 She was Outside, the wind howled and whipped the snow up, crating a curtain of nothing but white mist making visibility a little less than optimal. She pulled out her phone and started to text.

“Hey, the bar is full. Did you want to meet anywhere else for drinks?” She messaged him. Yes, it was a lie, but she didn’t want to be around Creed, for reasons that was obvious. She waited a few minutes till she saw the three dots pop up. “You wanna come to the trailer?” He asked bluntly. She shrugged. “Pick me up?” She shot back quickly. “Sure thing.” Was all he said back.

_

Maddie threw her head back against the mini sofa that was in the one room airstream. The warmth enveloping her as she sighed after her first sip of beer. The snow on her jacket seeping into the fabric further, making a chill run down her spine. “Thank you.” She said raising her head to look at him, happy to be warm. “Don’t mention it.” He said mirroring her actions. “I can’t believe you wanted to meet again.” She mentioned looking at him again, he was different from last time, but not. “I can’t either if I’m honest.” He sat on his bed across from her. There was a silence that fell between the two, but it was comfortable. “Sorry the bar didn’t work out.” Leaning forward trying to skirt the conversation along. “I’d rather be doing this.” He tilted his head referring to his drink. That made Maddie laugh through her nose a bit. “Really? You’d rather act like an old married couple than be out?” She teased him, but he looked at her for a moment. “Been there and done that.” She nodded. “I like this though. It’s nice.” She took another sip of her drink before throwing away the bottle in an open trash bin. “I never got to ask. What is it that you do?” She placed her palm under her chin and smiled, waiting for his answer. He played with his bottle, before drinking his as well. “What you saw the other night is what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen years.” He told her nodding and thinking about his past and his way of living. “I don’t remember much of what I did before.” Maddie looked at him, a blank face that he couldn’t make out, but made him curious. “You never told me what you did. How did someone like you wind up in this dump of a town?” He joked slightly but he wasn’t wrong, it was a little piece of nowhere. “I’m in military secret forces. I was stationed here, and have been here for the last three years.” She saw him tense at the subject. “You okay?” Her brows cocked at him becoming a little bit tense. She didn’t think he suspect anything, and she wasn’t outright lying about what she did. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He left it at that. She stood up and paced over to him, and sat down next to him. The mattress sinking beneath her. He looked at her not quite knowing what she was doing. She reached for his hand, and looked at him before she went any further. “You don’t seem fine.” She silently asked for permission and he let her have his hand. She traced his palm slowly and gently, comfort in every movement. He was starved of this type of affection. Most people were, but him more than others she found just from the way he acted. She laced her fingers in-between the spaces where his were not, interlocking their hands. He closed his eyes her for a split second, every curve, every bump, every imperfection written on her face made him want her more as he reveled in the feeling of them being so close. “Don’t do this to yourself.” He warned her, taking his hand out of hers, though she stopped him. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She was firm, but the firmness was met with a soft smile. Logans eyes studied her for a minute. No one had ever stopped him like that, not to his knowledge anyway. This time when he went to remove his hand she let him leave, but it was to place his hand under her chin and bring her closer, and there, their lips met, and he pushed her below him while she wrapped her hands around his neck and raked her hands through his hair, all while closing her eyes enjoying the warmth compared to the freezing outside.

_

While the campers light was dim, if one were close to it you could hear giggling, rocking, calling one another’s names in the dark, and a little obscene noises that you would only hear if you where right next to the airstream. Then there was the figure that stood a few feet away from the little camper, a figure that towered over most men. The same body that was blonde, and in the bar with Maddie that same night. “You made a big mistake girly,” He peered down at his still healing hand, it looked aged, like his hand was ten years older than the rest of his body.