#the detail is so lovely. i love the eyes and the Extra eyelash

[iceunhie]

— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[moonstruck-muses]

birthday sex w sunghoon <3

- 🐰

HAPPY BELATED MY BELOVED BOOMF!! I feel so guilty this is so late but....well..enjoy xoxo

You had a peculiar relationship to your birthday. It’s not that you hated it, you just didn’t care for it. You didn’t people to be extra nice to you and treat you special one day of the year, if they weren’t going to bother the other 364 days. Sunghoon, however, was obsessed with you, and while yes he worshipped you every day, he took your birthday as the chance to truly go all out. And you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were a little flustered by it. Sunghoon had refused to divulge any details leading up to the day, no matter how much you whined for any sort of clue. 

When the day finally came, your alarm was a serious of slow kisses across your face—your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, gentle pecks at your list. You swat away the force invading your dreams grumbling as you turn over. 

“Shhhh I’m making out with the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my dreams,” you mumble.

“Ouch, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself,” Sunghoon teases against your ear. 

“Fuck me instead” you yawn out as you stretch and wrap Sunghoon in your arms. 

“Hey now, you can’t be spoiling all your birthday surprises so easily,” he says with a chuckle. 

You force your eyes open against the soft morning light and grin into the face of your boyfriend. 

“Happy Birthday, Baby.” He greets you. 

“Blehhhh,” you stick your tongue out and shake your head while you stretch. “Don’t remind me that I’m a year older.”

“And somehow, you’re still looking younger.” 

You snort, although you find Sunghoon’s cheesiness endearing. You’d give him the sun, and he’d give you the moon if you both could. 

*** 

Sunghoon let you laze in bed, but not too long. Just long enough to eat the extravagant brunch he made. There was itinerary he had planned—none of which you were privy to. But after you got ready, he took you by the hand, first leading you to your favorite cafe for a drink before taking you the ice skating rink. Both of you were former skaters, but this time the rink felt like your personal playground, both of you colliding into each other in giggling fits. The hours seemed to slip by without you noticed. Your phone consistently was lighting up with streams of messages from your friends, but you barely had time to respond, Sunghoon kept you busy. After the rink, was of course shopping, and then it was late enough in the day, you could call it for an early dinner. 

“I’m hungry, Hoon, “ you pouted. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have dinner soon. Our reservation is at 6.” You checked the time on your phone—5:30. You recognized the road he was leading you towards—it was your favorite restaurant. It wasn’t frilly—in fact, it was very lowkey. But you had dozens and dozens of memories that you had made throughout the years, and the food there was nearly as comforting as your mom’s food from home. The two of you managed to get seated a little earlier in a booth near the back, it was early enough on a Saturday evening, you were just beating the dinner rush. 

“You’re always so prepared,” you praised Sunghoon as the server both poured you a glass of water. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, batting your eyelashes. The dim lighting and soft music made the rest of the world fall away, so it was just the two of you, dancing in a snow globe. 

“Only the best for you,” Sunghoon responded, and you felt his leg rub up against yours underneath the table. “Did you have a good day?” He asked in follow up. 

“I spent it with you, of course I had a good day.”

“No, but be honest was it fun?” “I think it was the most fun I’ve had on my birthday in a really long time.” “Good,” Sunghoon said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand.

*** The rest of dinner was perfect, and you were happily buzzed by the time you made it back to your apartment. Sunghoon opened the door and you fell inside, your hand wrapped tightly around his arm. 

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you declared happily. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” He responded and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Do you want dessert, by the way?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Not really—“ He cuts you off with another kiss. 

“Well I want dessert,” he whispers against your mouth and his hands are sliding up underneath your dress, gripping into your thighs as he presses you against the wall, dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. You don’t fight the soft moan that comes out of you, and you run your hands up in his hair, happy to have the night go a little longer. 

You and Sunghoon are a tangle of limbs and flying clothes as he guides the two of you to your bedroom, falling down on top of you onto the plush sheets. His mouth travels up and down you like a starved man, luxuriating upon every taste of you, and he hold you tight with every twitch and roll of your body against him. 

“May I?” He asks, voice husky, eyes wild as his hands slide to your panties, and you frantically nod. 

Sunghoon palms your center, and the friction against your core elicits a gasp. 

“Don't tease me," You rasp. 

“Ah ah Ah," Sunghoon chides. “You let me take care of everything.” He’s slow and steady, drawing out every moan and gasp. His tongue expertly glides against your wet folds, lapping up every drop of sweetness he pulls from you and fter your first orgasm, he decides it isn’t enough. 

“Let me in, baby,” he whispers against you, eyes glazed with desire as his mouth still glistens from you. You look up from underneath him and even though your body is exhausted, you nod. 

“I want you, Hoon, I want to feel you inside me so bad.” “I want you, Y/N,” he pleads, desperate to feel one with you. And you’re so wet, that when he wets his girthy tip against you, rubbing it up and down your soaked cunt, it slips right in. 

Your eyes rolls back from the sensation, and Sunghoon curses under his breath, gripping the headboard to steady himself as he pushes into you inch by inch. 

“You’re so warm and perfect for me,” He croons and all you can think about is how he smells so sweet, his lips so pink, and his touch so gentle as he rolls his hips against yours. 

“Hold on tight, okay baby?” He says softly, and you obediently dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his and squeezing tight. He feels it, feels your pussy tighten around his cock and he buries his face into your neck, trying to pace himself as his body tenses. Sunghoon nips and presses soft kisses to the tender skin at your neck, all the meanwhile picking up pace. He deftly grabs one of the pillows and sweeps it under your hips, elevating you, and you cry out his name as the new angle hits harder and deeper. 

“I want to look at your face while you cum,” Sunghoon whispers, and the dark husk of his tone brings you to the edge then and there. 

“Cum with me love,” you beg, and Sunghoon wraps his hands around your hips, squeezing tight as he thrusts into you relentless. He pushes himself up a bit and brings a finger to your clit, and you gasp, feeling pleasure in every single nerve ending. 

“Mmm—Hoon!” You gasp, “I’m close I’m close, I’m gonna come, I”m gonna come I’m gonna—!” You break off babbling, and Sunghoon collapses on top of you as he reaches his high and you unravel together on your bed at the same time, holding each other tight as you come down from ecstasy. 

“Happy Birthday my love,” Sunghoon says with a hoarse laugh as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Happy, happy, happy birthday.”

[seokminfilm]

eyeshadow stars | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warning, fluff w no plot, short, lowercase intended, marshmellow fluff, sleepy seokmin, seokmin calls reader 'baby', reader uses 'love' & nicknames for seokmin, lots of kisses, #seokminsofthours

🪄 summary, drawing stars on your sleeping boyfriend's cheek with eyeshadow really made you realize how much of a star he was.

🪄 author's note, what am i supposed to do okay ☹ let a girl want to draw pastel stars on dokyeom's cheeks while he's sleeping to see him wake up and smile up at her sleepily......anyways seokminsofthours time let's go!

🪄 now playing, follow him, for he is the one (desert sand feels warmer at night)

your hand fluttered over seokmin's face, brush delicately touching his cheekbones as you added another star. he had fell asleep earlier, face still as his chin dug into the silk pillow below his head. seokmin's eyelashes were brushing his soft skin, teasing the messy strands falling from his hair as he breathed softly.

you had always wanted to draw stars on dokyeom's cheek, and now was the perfect time─he was asleep, unable to be disturbed or moved as you got to work. yellow stars covered the top of his cheeks in a sporadic pattern, decorating his cheeks with pastel yellow coloring as you added the dark yellow outline.

he was cute─no, adorable─with his plain white t-shirt and leftover makeup from today's concert. he hadn't washed his face yet, and still had that pretty brown eyeshadow blended over his eyelids even now. you thought it was a cute makeup look, studying his parted lips and closed eyes.

"almost done," you whisper to him, and he smiles just slightly, as if he could hear your voice in his dream. you smile at him, kissing his cheek as his face scrunches just slightly.

steadying your hand above his face, you add another star right by his beauty mark, paying extra attention to detail. it shined proudly by your boyfriend's sharp nose, and it made you smile, rubbing your thumb over the mark as seokmin started to stir under you.

seokmin sighed first, face reacting to your soft touch yet again before he started to open his eyes. they were still unfocused, as he had just awakened, and he blinked slowly at you, taking in your appearance as he smiled.

"hi, baby." his voice was deep, soft─and it made you caress his cheek even more, returning the greeting as you kissed him softly on his head. he smiles into the pillow, eyes trying to adjust to the light as he stares at you.

you're looking at him, watching how pretty his face looks with the pastel yellow stars decorating his cheeks. seokmin gives you an unsuspecting smile, cheeks rising with his action as the light hits every eyeshadow star perfectly.

"what is it, baby?" seokmin's voice is still warming up, and you giggle at him, hand cupping his cheek as you smile.

"you're so pretty, love." you whisper, and press your lips to his. it's one of your favorite kisses too─the one where he's too sleepy to respond, so he just lets you do the work, giving a weak response to your kisses as he groans tiredly. "am i?" seokmin questions, and you nod, smiling again.

"yeah. you have the stars in your eyes." and you weren't lying when you said that either─if you focused on seokmin's eyes, you swore you could see little stars floating around in them.

seokmin giggles, sleep still clinging to him as he yawns. his sharp nose is accentuated by the yawn, and you press a kiss to the tip of it, earning a laugh out of seokmin.

"what did you do to me, huh?" he asks playfully. he sounds more intrigued than angry, and you smile, handing him your phone as he swipes to the camera.

"artwork, love," you answer dreamily, and seokmin's smile bursts into laughter as he moves his head from side to side, observing the stars dotting his cheeks.

"it's like my face is a solar system." seokmin notes, and you nod, snapping a few pictures of him as he poses accordingly, giving you a sweet smile, a silly face, and a finger heart. laughing, you take the phone away, swiping through the photos.

"you're a natural model, seok." you tease, and he smiles, cheek on the pillow again as he smiles up at you. "thank you."

falling silent, you lay on your cheek facing seokmin, studying his half-lidded eyes and soft lips curved into a gentle smile. your hand, unable to resist the urge to touch his supple skin, automatically goes to his cheek, tracing his jawline and nose as his eyes start to close again.

"don't you love them?" you say, and seokmin's eyes open again, eyebrows raised just slightly as you add softly, "the stars on your cheeks, love."

seokmin smiles with the realization, eyes closed again as he lets out a soft, dreamy sigh before answering. "i do."

"good," you answer back, swooning at how seokmin lets you slide your hand under his cheek as he rests his head on top your palm. rubbing your thumb over his lips, you lean in quietly, pressing a soft kiss to them as you add, "let me kiss them away now, one by one."

seokmin doesn't object, nodding just once as the smile on his half-asleep countenance grows wider just by a little. he lets sleep take over him again, and you do as you said, admiring him quietly while you kiss the fading eyeshadow stars away.

[bumblebeehug]

Home

Summary: Natsu has found his home. Notes: At the end. Ao3

***

By the first week into October, Natsu had managed to change his temper completely. Lucy wasn’t surprised – she had seen it before, after all. But it happened, and she was as impressed as she had been the first time she saw it. Natsu was the most energetic, crazy and loving person she knew. He ran around going on missions, planning elaborate pranks, he talked loudly, and he fought at every change – and he always dragged Lucy along to play. She loved this side of him. He gave her energy, his happiness spread to her like wildfire – ironic, considering that he’s a fire mage. 

So, when the leaves on the trees became orange, red and yellow, she was surprised every time she saw his energy mellow out slightly. He still acted roughly the same, and he did what he usually did: missions, pranks, fights and hanging out with Lucy, but now with less of that extra stuff – shaking his legs, poking her thighs under the table to annoy her, carelessly interrupting people when they were speaking. She notices him taking the occasional pause whenever they’re outside, to take in the rapidly changing view and to take deep, calming breaths of the smell of rain and decaying leaves. It was clear as day: he really liked autumn. 

“Whatcha doing?” Natsu was surprised to see Lucy digging around in the flowerpots at her apartment complex’s entrance.

“Huh?” Lucy looked up. She hadn’t been expecting him to arrive just yet. They agreed earlier today to hang out, but since Natsu had to stop by the tailor she thought she would have time to prepare the flower pots for winter. She usually did this early in the morning, so Natsu didn’t know she was the one fixing the nice flower beds every spring, or that she was the one who cleared them when they died. 

“Oh I’m just doing some chores, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable inside,” Lucy encouraged, waving her tiny shovel. Natsu squatted down beside her, still visibly confused.

“Why are you digging everythin’ out?” Lucy was taken slightly off guard with this unexpected interest. After all, she was only digging dirt in a pot, nothing he would be interested in normally. But then again, he was quite on theme with his newfound tranquillity.

“I’m really only making space for new things to grow, I was thinking that I’d like to plant azaleas next year,” she told him.

“Are azaleas flowers?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you a picture when we go inside – I’m almost done anyway.”

Natsu waited patiently. He couldn’t help but wonder how those flowers would look – would they be some sort of flamey variant, or would they be cute and fluffy? Or maybe those were the wrong sort of words to use to describe flowers. Round or sharp petals? Thorns or no thorns? And then which colour? Could they pick and decide that themselves? Or had Lucy already picked? He was surprisingly interested – uncharacteristically so, even he was aware of that.

Lucy almost worked up a sweat, Natsu observed, taking his time to soak up the details. Her hair looked soft and light from the sunny summer, but her tan had started to fade. She was wearing gloves, the ones with a little pink detail, and her jacket was on the thicker side. Maybe that’s why she was getting hot. She didn’t wear any makeup today, he noticed. He liked it when she wore her face bare – not that she didn’t look good all dolled up as well, but he just appreciated the way she looked when she was just being her. She didn’t try to look like anyone else, like Cana with her dark eyelashes or Mira with her fair skin – she just looked like herself, light eyelashes and some freckles scattered across her cheeks.

It didn’t take long for Lucy to give up her efforts. The weather was getting worse by the second, and the warmth she initially worked up was gone as soon as the wind picked up. Feeling goosebumps up her arms and her neck, she soon turned back to Natsu, who was still keeping his eyes glued on her.

“Maybe I’ll leave it here for today, it feels like it’s going to rain,” she said, putting her tools away. “Do you want some tea?”

Natsu nodded, not really feeling bothered by the change in weather. Though, he didn’t exactly love seeing Lucy shiver. And he really liked the way she made tea – she always added a splash of milk and a lemon slice or cinnamon stick, depending on the flavour.

As they entered Lucy’s apartment, Natsu took a deep breath. It smelled like freshly baked bread, cinnamon and smoke from the fire she made when he wasn’t around. Underneath those tones, there was this homey scent of Lucy. The mixture of her hygiene products, her fabric softener, the subtle tones of wood and leather from different pieces of furniture, and then there was her scent. He had never found any other way to describe it. It wasn’t like normal body odour, like sweat or skin, it was something else completely. Like he could smell her DNA, or her very soul perhaps.   Well, whatever the scent was, he loved it. For him, being in Lucy’s apartment was equivalent to therapy. He didn’t even like his own home as much as he did hers – it didn’t have her flair.

Lucy broke their silence.

“Will Happy be coming over later? I got a new board game, I thought we could try it together.” She took off the boiling hot kettle from the stove. Natsu had taken a seat on the couch, still lost in thoughts.

“Yeah, he’ll drop in in time for dinner,” he told her. “He’s been at the river tryna catch tiger trouts all morning. He’s just been gettin’ carps though.” A low chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well, at least he’s got a food supply!” She chirped from the kitchen. “Look what I bought at the market yesterday.”

Lucy was balancing a wooden tray, filled with all kinds of snacks, plus some of that bread that had been cooling off. Some snacks looked like glistering jewels, others looked like they could be cursed meat disguised as small, wrinkly sausages. She put the tray down onto the coffee table. Just as Natsu had predicted, the two mugs each had a cinnamon stick in them. Natsu leaned over in intrigue as Lucy plopped down beside him.

“I couldn’t identify half of this stuff at gunpoint,” he mumbled. As he got a whiff of the smell coming from the mixed assortments, his nose scrunched. “Smells weird.”

“I’ll tell you what it is! First we got our drinks…”

She handed Natsu his cup, a dark murky orange one, rough and handmade, with little yellow flames painted in the glaze. He’d gotten it from Lucy a Christmas a couple of years ago, and ever since then it had been his designated one. As he held it he smelled a mix of spices from the steam.

“It’s a masala chai, it originated in Bellum over a thousand years ago! This mix is made with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, nutmeg, black pepper, cloves and black tea leaves from the area, but the seller told me that the recipe can vary. Then there’s just some milk and sugar as well, but I thought you might like it.” As Natsu listened to her listing up the ingredients, he finally found some sense in the jumbled combination of mixed spices. It made the drink feel more appetising. 

“Taste it!” She urged, Natsu seeing an intense glimpse in her eyes.

“Kay… You better not have put somethin’ weird into it…” he warned her before putting his cup against his lips, taking a small mouthful of the lightly tanned liquid into his mouth. Before Lucy could counter his rude claim, Natsu lit up. “Hey, that’s actually good!”

“Is it?” Lucy excitedly turned to her own cup, the one she had bought from the same pottery artist as she got Natsu’s. Dark blue with yellow stars painted where Natsu’s cup had flames. A matching pair, despite the themes being completely different. He liked the way it contrasted her pale hands, and he liked how she held it delicately with both hands so she wouldn’t drop it. “It really is!”

She turned to smile at him proudly, not containing her joy in the slightest. He could always tell when her happiness came from her heart – it showed in her eyes, in the fact that they squinted so hard that her eyes looked like two slits, resting on her pillowy cheeks. If he didn’t have his hands full, he would have reached out and pinched them. Test if they were as soft and plush as they looked.

“Right, so that’s the tea,” Lucy continued, not paying any attention to the intense stare that was coming from the mage beside her. “Then there’s this, it just looks like normal candy cane pieces to me, but the woman who sold it said that the people in the northern parts of Seven eat it traditionally towards winter.” The hard candies in the bowl made a jingling sound as Lucy picked it up. As she said, they tasted pretty much like normal candy canes. Natsu didn’t care for it all that much – the minty flavour left a cold feeling in his mouth, and he didn’t love to be reminded of a grumpy stripper every time he had a sweet. Still, they seemed delightfully handmade, and Lucy mentioned something about them being called polka pigs in a rough translation of their native language, and Natsu loved pork, so he took another piece in solidarity to its name.

As the two of them continued to taste test the different snacks from around the world, Natsu noticed Lucy edging closer. It seemed she hadn’t realised it herself, as she still was talking about the long, complicated production of those sausage-things that tasted much better than they looked (apparently there was beer involved? He didn’t really follow). Her position had changed from sitting on the opposite side of the couch to now sitting shoulder against shoulder. Every now and then she would lean closer, like she was searching his touch as much as he always searched for hers.

“Oh that’s right!” She exclaimed, suddenly diving under her coffee table. Natsu didn’t hide the confused look on his face when he hunched down with her.

“What?” He asked, trying to figure out what she was rummaging for.

“The flowers! Azaleas, I was going to show you a picture.” She crawled up into the couch again, her hair slightly messy this time, holding a small book. A Flower Encyclopedia was written on it, and she immediately started browsing the chapter index.

Struggling to see the contents inside the book, Natsu hoisted Lucy into his arms so he was looking over her shoulder. She seemed unfazed by his action, but her accelerated heartbeat begged to differ. Natsu couldn’t help but smile at her from behind. Her feelings could be so transparent.

“There it is,” Lucy mumbled, very aware of the blush on her cheeks. The page she held open showed a plethora of deep, pink flowers, sitting against a dark greenery. Natsu leaned a bit forward so he could see the book closer, letting his chin rest on her shoulder.

“They look kinda nice.” He tilted his head against hers, their cheeks squishing together with the motion.

“I thought you’d like them,” she whispered.

Natsu dug his face into the crook of her neck and took a deep breath. He couldn’t help it when the source of the smell he loved more than anything was right under his nose.

“Read to me,” he begged, hugging her closer. As his mouth was pressed against Lucy’s shoulder, she immediately felt his hot breath against her skin, earning a shiver. Still, she complied. Reading the pages went quickly as there were mostly pictures, but she knew he didn’t ask her to read in order to hear about flowers. She knew that he just wanted to hear her voice, so when she finished the thin book, she started talking about anything that came to her mind. Dreams, memories and things she had to do the upcoming week.

Natsu had dozed off after just ten minutes of reading. His soul felt fulfilled as he laid there, breathing Lucy’s air, hearing her calm voice, feeling her body heat pressed against him as they cuddled together. The tranquil air around the two of them acted as a perfectly curated space – he swore he could feel their heartbeats match up.

Life felt perfect. Soon Happy would arrive, and the three of them would share a delicious hot meal, listening to the cat’s fishing adventures – not before said cat teased the pair a little for acting all cuddly of course. Then they would take turns to wash up before playing that new board game long into the night.

But right here, right now, there was only Natsu and Lucy, and a comfortable couch in a warming embrace. The rain that Lucy had predicted earlier that day was smattering against her window, and before she drifted to sleep herself, she remembered thinking that this was what life was about.

_______________________

oops. i became possessed by a fic-writing fairy? so here's another fic lol. since it's the season and all. also i put in a surprising amount of research into this fic, looking at fairy tail maps (Bellum is basically the equivalent to India, Seven is north of Fiore - the candy cane stuff being called polka pigs is basically just a nod at the swedish "polkagris", same with the sausage - "ölkorv" or beer-sausage) hope you enjoyed this fluffy stuff! next on the agenda is angst! as always, thanks for reading<333 xx

[tpwkwriter]

Hii can u do one w soft dom harry and y/n having a slow vanilla sex on a rainy night shshsjb 👉👈

Such an adorable idea omds!!🩷

Warnings: ofc smut/ detailed smut, ABSOLUTE FILTH, mentions of sexual themes, cuss words + super domestic.

————rainy day pillowprincess—————————

Being back home was amazing, family, friends, familiarity it was amazing, however the UK really does have the most biopolar weather and rain constantly wasn’t rare.

Being away was good n all but that meant the couple couldn’t have intimacy as much as they wished, after today Harry and y/n were both free for 2 weeks and Harry especially couldn’t wait.

Y/n knew what she was in for H had been dropping hints all this morning before he left and frankly it excited her.

With rain heavily pattering at the window almost like silver bullets, y/n wanted to make this extra cosy and close.

She dashed into there shared room lowered the light dark enough to emphasise the moonlight and stars shinning down on there shared bed, she even lit some of her favourite candles which heavily set the mood.

Only having minutes left, she quickly slipped into her favourite mini silk night dress which she knew H would appreciate.

“Y/n? Love?”

That familiar voice knocked her from her aroused thoughts, witch a quick mirror check and ruffle of her hair she’s ready.

“M’upstairs Baby” she hummed, sitting on the corner of there queen sized bed.

It wasn’t long before y/n was welcomed to the sight of her boyfriend.

his hair being wet from the rain really did something to y/n it reminded her of how he looked after a shower that they often shared, the thought of it had her legs clenching together.

“Fuck Baby” he gushed, letting his jacket slip off his arms and toeing of his shoes.

“Hey baby” y/n said aimlessly gazing at the gorgeous man in-front of her taking him all in.

Without another word Harry leans across the the bed and doesn’t hesitate to leave a lingering kiss across her glossy lips, it wasn’t king until the kiss progressed into something further.

It didn’t take much before Harry’s hands started wandering across her neck and chest.

“Fuck” y/n lightly moaned.

“Let me love you darling” he said against her lips “let me make you happy baby”

“Mmhmm” y/n hummed not trusting her shaky voice at this moment, despite there 4 year anniversary coming up he still made her breathless.

Shivering at the feel of Harry’s cold rings on her sensitive nipples over the thin silk caused y/n to leave a line of breathy moans, music to his ears Harry thought.

“Fucking hell baby, jumping the guns hmm?” Harry quietly spoke, whilst biting down on his bottom lip and his hands continue to slid her nightdress further up her body, realising she had no panties on.

“Mmhmm”

“Gonna make you feel soo good angel, so good” he continues.

Once the nightdress is completely discarded Harry decided a he can’t wait any longer.

“M’kay baby, m’gonna touch you now okay? Remember your colours?” He said referring to the colour system they created, green being absolutely fine keep going, orange being slow down/try something else and red being stop, it worked for them.

“Mmhmm, touch me” she said fluttering her eyelashes.

He presses his lips messily to hers and make sure to gently move her back onto the soft mattress and gently being on top of her, keeping his lips on hers he slides his hands down her perfect body and gently begins to place his digits into her wet pussy.

“Shit” she moans against him.

“Someones been waiting for this hm?”

“Uh uh” she moans clenching her eyes.

“I want- ah shit” she moans again.

“What baby, what d’ya want” he whispers against her lips

“Mmm”

“Gotta use y’words angel”

“Y’tongue, please harry shit” she asks

“S’that right” he smirks, knowing he has her in such a mess already has his ego bursting at the seems.

Removing his fingers from her, her arousal still prominent around his fingers had Harry some way.

“Wanna Taste y’self for me Baby, gonna clean m’fingers off”

“Mmmhmmm” she whined, opening her mouth already to the request.

“My good girl, such a good girl” he says placing his pointer finger and middle finger into her mouth to which she instantly does what she’s told.

“My best girl”

Once satisfied he decided to now give the girl what she requested.

Making sure to give some attentions to her breasts, he makes his way down to her throbbing pussy.

“Fuck harry” she whined, his hot breath on her wet sex was already pleasurable.

“Darling your dripping”

“Harry please”

“This pussy was just made for me, wasn’t it darling”

“Uh huh”

“Please harry” she added

“I will darling, patience baby girl patience”

Without any warning he plunges his tongue into her wet hole, causing her to squirm and moan under his touch.

His hands go under her legs and hold her abdomen in attempt to keep her in his touch.

He continues to lick a stripe up and down her pussy, her clear arousal coating his tongue.

“Fuck” she squealed.

“M’gonna cum already!” She added voice high and slightly shaky

Harry drew circles with his tongue her throbbing clit, loving her reactions and the feel of her hand lightly pulling at his curls edges him even more.

“Fuck, harry please im gonna cum” she moaned, the feel of his mouth around her clit was enough to trigger these feelings in her tummy.

“Cum on m’tongue love” he hummed against her pussy, she almost did there and then with the vibrating feeling of his voice.

Harry worked on her clit with his tongue while freeing his left hand to finger her hole.

Y/n was a shaky, whiny mess, and Harry couldn’t wait to finish her off later.

“Harry” she cried.

“Fuck, fuck im gonna fuck harry I’m cu-“ and with that Harry felt the hot liquid coat his tongue, fuck she was delicious.

“Such a good girl” he breathed, slowly pulling himself up towards the flustered girl.

“I wanna” she began.

“Wanna Take care of you”

“You do?” He asked pressing a kiss to her lips again.

“Mmmhmm, wanna make my Harry happy”’

“Your Harry’s very happy darling” he said quickly pulling up from h the kiss and unbuckling his belt, and y/n was quick to remove his shirt.

“So handsome” y/n uttered.

“Love-“

“Mm fuck, so hard” she continued pressing a palm to his now very exposed erection.

“Only for you darling, you do this to me” he breathed out.

“I wanna taste your cock” she said, flipping him over and kneeling on the floor and resting her hands on his clad thighs.

“Yeah, Yeah Darling, wanna taste m’cock hmm?” He hums lifting his hips and removing the last garment he had on.

Y/n was in awe, his cock practically hit his tummy when he removed his boxers, the sight of the pre cum leaking from the tip absolutely made her drool.

Not wanting to waste more time she swirled her tongue around the tip of his dick.

“Christ” he breathed out, relaxing in her mouth.

Wanting to drag this out longer she swirled her tongue around his thick cock enjoying the taste and weight of it on her tongue.

A sudden speed, began, the sight of her bobbing her pretty head up and down on his cock did it for Harry.

“Baby girl fucking fuck!” He hissed.

“Baby-“

“I love your cock harry” she said removing his cock from her mouth a ‘pop’ sound following.

Pressing kisses along his cock and hands trailing around the base, with this he wasn’t gonna last long.

“Baby, Baby” he quickly blurted.

“M’really not gonna last, I need to fuck you and now” he breathed.

Y/n’s eyes lit up at the idea, again she was throbbing.

Not being able to wait any longer, harry gently guides y/n back to the bed.

“Head down, arse up, just how you like it princess”

Y/n was fast to do what he said, her sex still dripping and glossy, this was going to be worth it.

Harry took a second to take in what was happening, a cosy room, the rain hitting there bedroom window making them feel safe and warm from the outside coldness and his beautiful girl in-front of him what a lucky guy.

“What’s your colour lovie?” He said placing both hands on her hips.

“Green, so so green” she sighed happily against her pillow.

“Okay”

Harry props himself against the girl and aligns his hard on, to her pussy.

“Ready beautiful?” He hummed.

“Mmhmm baby”

Once it slides in, both of them enter cloud 9, this what they’ve craved and waited for, and it was worth it.

It wasn’t long and Harry’s thrusts became more frequent and swift.

“Oh shit” y/n moaned, eyes shut and mouth agape and clutching further into her pillow.

“God baby”

“Love you, so much it hurts” he moans keeping his pace.

It wasn’t long until both of them would reach breaking point.

“Cum with me baby girl” he moans, voice shakier and lower then usual.

“Fuck your so tight around me” he breathes

“Baby cum, cum harry cum” y/n whined, thank god for the pillow otherwise the neighbours would’ve been complaining.

And just like that they were moaning shaking messes.

“Shit, fuck, shit” harry groans falling into his girls back.

“I love you” he huffs.

Reluctantly he slowly pulls out, and grabs his girl.

“C’mere pretty thing” he said laying down on his side of the bed and letting her fall ontop of him, we reached down gently and pulled up the duvet to allow it to warm them for a sec.

“I love you Harry, ah shit” she said flailing ontop of him kissing his cheek.

“I love you so much angel girl fuck”

A few moments of comfortable silence were shared, listening to the raindrops hit the glass pane and staring at the silver bright moon which shone through there window.

“We should clean up, I’ll ran y’bath baby” Harry suggested.

“Mmm, just let me hold you for 5 more minutes.

——————————————————————————

I really did not know where to stop😭 hope this isn’t too much defo the smuttist thing I’ve write hope it’s not cringy 😵‍💫

[mewhenimanangel]

everywhere ʚɞ miles morales x reader

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: you beg miles to help you write your extra credit paper so he invites you over.

wc: 3.2k

warnings!: swearing, harassment, creepy men, n word use, making out, google translate spanish

prev ʚɞ fin

why are you everywhere, fuck. miles couldn't get you out of his head it's like you were taking over his life. you became the center of his drawings, spending like three hours perfecting the small details on your face, your wispy eyelashes, the brown and pink in your lips, everything. and that kiss didn't make it any easier, it wasn't his first kiss but god it made him obsessed.

it was becoming a problem for his prowler work, his uncle told him to get his head in the game.

you were sitting in physics and he wouldn't stop trying to touch you. he kept his knee pressed on yours the whole class and kept crossing the imaginary line on the table to touch your elbow with his. you looked through the side of your eye and saw that he was staring at you. "the way i can feel your stare right now is insane" you giggled, whispering. "i literally don't know what you're talking about" he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

neither of you have spoken about the kiss you'd shared three nights ago. things weren't awkward it just kind of went back to the way it was before. at least that's what you thought.

it was the end of class and your teacher assigned a partner paper that was due on monday for extra credit points, miles didn't need the points however you did. "can you pleasee just work with me?" you begged, following behind him down the hall. "i don't even need it? i have a 98" he told you. "alright well unlike you my grade sucks, pleaseee i wanna make honor roll, and right now i have a 79" you pleaded, hooking his arm. he let you keep your hand there, secretly enjoying the contact. "why don't you ask somebody else who needs it?"

"cause you're the only one i talk to there, everyone else seems boringgg. plus you're smart" you tried to inflate his ego to work in your favor. he didn't say anything he just looked down at your pleading eyes. "milessss" was all you said until he rolled his eyes. "relájate maldita sea, i'll do it with you. can you come to my house tomorrow night or your dad still hate me?" he joked and you laughed a bit. "if i tell him it's for school he might relax a lil" you said "so does that mean you'll help??" you asked again with a smile on your face.

he loved that on you, definitely going back in his sketchbook. "ain't that what i just said chiquita"he scoffed. you squealed "thank youuu, okay i'll see you later" you pulled off his arm and turned down the hallway to your locker.

ʚɞ

you walked out of the grocery store with bags and a small baguette in hand that you were chewing on. god you adored the bakery in that store. you turned down the street in the direction of your building when you heard someone "ay pretty lady what you doing out here this late" you turned to your side and saw some random guy talking to you. "ha, don't worry bout me." you nervously said back, deciding to just keep walking. "ah mami, don't be so cold~" now you could hear the slurring in his words, obviously drunk. you still kept it pushing and he just followed behind. "that ass is looking tight though" he reached a hand out and squeezed at your butt.

"what the fuck?!" you shouted, reaching into your pocket for your mace to spray him. you turned around but paused when you saw the familiar mask you knew from the news, the prowler. he was staring at you with a finger over where his mouth would be and reached his claws around the guys neck and pulled him into the alleyway nearby. you heard the guy scream, and some thuds before ultimately what you thought was blood splatter and a body dropping to the ground.

that was when you decided to make a run for it, and when the grocery store was out of sight, you walked as fast as you could back to your building. even though he'd just helped you, you did not want to get caught up with the prowler at all. he would be on the news for various crimes - theft, arson, aggravated assault, murder, etc. again, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. you ran into your building and up the stairs unaware of that mask staring at you from the building across.

♱

miles was on his way home jumping from the rooftop to rooftop when he heard some voices on the street. he looked over and saw you being followed by some guy who looked drunk out of his mind. he followed on the roofs before jumping down, as silently as he could, behind the guy. he looked at the fright on your face and put a finger up to his mouth.

he grabbed the guy by the throat and pulled him into the alley behind him. he threw him down on the ground sending a kick to his face. he sent a punch to his face with his clawed gloved before throwing him up against the wall, sending another harsh blow to his face. it enraged him knowing that guy was tryna hurt you..or worse. he used the sharp claw to slice against his neck, the pressure sending his blood on the walls. he went limp and dropped to the ground. "one less fucking weirdo." he spat. he peeked out from the alley to see you were gone and practically sprinting back to your building, smart girl.

he followed behind you on the rooftops, something he's grown quite fond of doing when he would see you out on his patrols, to make sure you got home safe. he'd figured out which window was your bedroom a few weeks ago and didn't leave until he saw the lights turn on and your shadow illuminating against your curtains.

ʚɞ

it was friday afternoon and you got dressed to go over to miles' house. you got dressed in a pair of track pants with a baby tee and sneakers. you still wanted to look cute but you didn't want to feel like you were doing too much. you threw on your sweater and put your things in your bookbag and left.

you felt your palms getting sweatier the closer you got to the door. you knocked on it when you heard a muffled shout from behind the door. a few seconds later, you were met with miles - hair out and curly afro falling at the sides of his fade, black wife beater   on that exposed his gold chain and well defined muscles. he had a pair of black joggers on that showed the waistband of his boxers, god he looked good.

"you gonna keep standing there or do you want to come in" he joked with you. you rolled your eyes fondly before taking your shoes off by the door "you took your braids out" you pointed out. "getting em redone tomorrow" he told you. "by the way, my mom's here and she insisted on making you dinner" he told you, you nod your head before following him to the kitchen. "ahh cariño, you must be y/n" a woman greeted you with a smile and a hug. "i'm miles' mom, rio. when he told me he was bringing his little girlfriend over i had to meet you. and i made dinner, hope you don't mind" she told you. "momm" miles groaned making you giggle.

"not at all ms morales" you smiled at her. "miles baby be a gentleman, take her bag and her sweater for her" she told her son. he went up behind you and gently pulled them off your back before going to his room. "you want a plate baby? i made pollo guisado y arroz" she asked you. "that sounds really yummy, thank you" you answered. miles came back from his room and shared his own plate along with you guys' and you all sat at their dining table. you sat in the chair that you figured was his dad's and you found yourself growing a little sorry.

you took a bite of your food and your face twisted in delight. "oh this is so good, been too long since i had good home food" you admitted, taking another bite. "thank you sweetie" her face softened with a sorrowful look. she'd heard about your mom after miles explained why he ditched school and why she got a call from some man telling her he was kissing his daughter.

"your house is really nice by the way, i love the feel of it it's so pretty" you told her. "ahhh you're gonna give me a big head, thank you bonita" she smiled at you. you looked up and saw a picture of miles sitting on the wall ledge when he was a toddler, mean mug on his face. "awww is that you?" you asked him, pointing to the picture. he looked at where you were pointing and smiled a little before nodding his head. "ahhh you're so adorablee" you said in a baby voice. he looked at you and you continued "and you still got that same mug" you joked, poking his cheek.

rio began sharing stories of miles when he was a kid and how stubborn he was. how he would test his parents' patience even though he knew they didn't play like that. she pulled out her phone and opened an album she had dedicated to miles and gave you to scroll through. you giggled at how cute and silly he was, but he did not seem amused. a video popped up of rio recording jeff throwing a small miles in the air and telling him how much he loved him. the air grew a little somber and rio cleared her throat "um don't you guys have a project or something, i don't wanna keep you waiting all night" she said picking up the plates.

"uh i can help wash up" you offered. "no, está bien. go hang out and do your work." she smiled. you followed miles to his room and looked around at his choice of decor. his bed sheets were a plain black, not much decorations on his wall except for a few rappers and album covers. he had a desk by his window and a mirror on the side of it. on his desk sat a laptop, notebooks, a lamp, pictures of his mom and dad and a sketchbook off to the side. it was open to you decided to be nosy and move closer to take a peek.

your eyes jumped a little bit when you saw what was an unfinished drawing of your face mid smile. "is this meee?" you picked it up and turned the page back one. this time it was multiple sketches of you from different angles. he moved to pull the book out of your hand and you gave him an awkward smile. "someone's obsessed. am i your muse?" you teased him. he closed the notebook and hid a smile shaking his head, "you are mad nosy" he told you. "draw me like one of your french girls, miles" you teased him some more.

you looked at his posters "frank, tupac, okay tasteee" you said. you continued looking around the room but he didn't seem too bothered by it considering he was sat on his bed just watching you. you looked a little through his shelves, checking out his book collection "i didn't know you read, scholar" you said, taking one down to read it. when you did that, something fell to the floor. miles jumped up to stop you from picking it up when he realized what it was. your smile dropped when you saw the mask you'd just encountered the night before.

"wait what is this?" you asked, tone a little more serious. "listen" was all he got out before you kept going. "don't tell me you're..." you looked at the mask and then back at him, mouth dropping as you made the connection. "ohh don't tell me you're the prowler!" you got a little louder and he slapped a hand over your mouth. "would you hush?! my mom doesn't need to know" he whisper yelled. you stuck your tongue out to lick his hand and he pulled it off you wiping your spit in his sweats. "well that's a really fucking dumb hiding spot!" you yelled back in a whisper.

"miles, you are the prowler??" you asked holding the mask in your. he looked away from your eyes before letting out a sigh and nodding his head "you cannot tell anybody" he pointed a finger to you . "aren't you literally killing people and stuff?? how could you do all of that?!" you argued in a hushed tone. "listen, you don't get it alright? im doing this to help my situation out so don't be coming up in here and judging me!" he argued back.

you sympathized with him a bit before biting back "but you're killing people, oh my fucking god you killed that man last night!" "i was doing that for you! stop fucking walking by yourself at night by the way" he said back to you.

"when did i ask you to do that for me?" you pointed a finger to your chest. "y/n don't you get it. i would do anything for you" he was getting desperate, moving closer to you. "what?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "there's not a line in the world that i wouldn't cross for you." he grabbed your hands. you didn't know what to say next. the tension was so high and you two just looked at each other.

he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the force pushing you back into his shelf. his hands moved to your waist and your arms crossed behind his neck, deepening the kiss. he pushed his knee between your legs and your breath hitched in your throat. rio opened the door coming into the room "miles gonzalo morales, no hanky panky! you have work to do. ¡puerta abierta!" she shouted before leaving. your heart sank in your chest and you took a deep breath before looking back into his eyes.

"right that's why i came here. didn't come here to argue with you, think i'm gonna leave now" you said moving past him to your bookbag. "don't. i can still help you, i could write it for you if you want" he tried to stop you. you pushed your feelings down, you do still need his help, you could be mad at him later.

you spent the next thirty minutes searching through your textbook for information and typed it while miles looked up formulas and concepts.  you groaned and threw your head back on his pillows. "ey i told you i coulda just wrote it for you, you wanted to be stubborn. ahora haz el trabajo" he told you. you only whined in response before staying silent with your thoughts.

"why are you doing it?" you spoke up. "what?" he furrowed his eyebrows. "the whole prowler thing" "i told you. to help my situation out" he shrugged. you got up on your elbows "no but like why?" he sighed and rolled his eyes

"i do it to help my mom out. she keeps taking mad shifts at the hospital and no matter how much she tells me not to worry, i do. i don't wanna see her stressing herself out like that, it's not fair. so me and my uncle help her out, he was the one who had told me he was the prowler and then i took over but now he just helps me out. and listen i'm not killing people like that. i know what the news says about me and i've only really touched like three people, plus that guy last night. and if i do kill someone it's never innocent people." he explained.

"so like a vigilante typa thing?" you asked him. "i don't know maybe. probably not the good kind though. " he chuckled, feeling a little sorry. you sat and listened to everything he had to say "i know i'm not innocent either, not anymore. but i'm not gonna stop till things are right for us again. i really hope you can understand?" he asked you. you thought for a second before nodding your head. "i don't even know why i'm telling you all that, you not an opp right?" he raised an eyebrow at you. "no, please i could never" you giggled.

he leaned so his face was close enough that you could feel each other's soft breathing while you looked into each other's eyes. he pressed his lips against yours, loving the way your soft lips felt against his. the kiss was softer this time, different from the one before. he put his hands on each side of your jaw.

he moved to line kisses down your neck and you reveled in the feeling it gave you. you bit your bottom lip and put your fingers in his hair before you caught yourself. "wait" you pushed him back a little "your mom said no hanky panky" you mimicked her with a giggle. "so?" he said moving back to your lips. "so..your door is literally open and she's in the room next door" you told him. he moved back to your lips "i can close it" you kissed back for another minute before pulling away again.

"i have a paper to finish" you licked your lips and you could still taste him on you. he helped you finish your writing and after about an hour and a half you clapped, glad to be done. his mom poked her head through the door "mijo, it's getting late. think it's time y/n head home?" she asked the two of you. you both frowned a little bit but you figured it was pretty late and nod your head "yeah okay, we finished up anyways" you smiled at her. you packed your stuff in your bag and miles shoved his feet in his uggs.

"you're coming?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "duh. don't think i'm letting you walk by yourself" there was so much sass in his voice you had to laugh. "alright nigga relax" you giggled.

"have a good night sweetie" rio called out to you from the couch. "you too, mrs morales" you smiled and waved. miles opened the door and followed behind you.

the two of you walked down the few blocks in comfortable silence side by side. miles copied the speed you walked and made his feet match yours in sync. "thanks for helping me by the way. i deadass wouldn't have finished this until probably second period on monday" you told him. "and that's why your ass was pushing a D" he joked with you.

you got to the outside of your apartment building and said your goodbyes, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and entered the building, heading up to your apartment. you showered and went to lay down with a lot to think about.

taglist ౨ৎ

@prettypink-princesss @itsnotino @r3d0n33 @iluvprowlermiles @jmsanchoo @stevenknightmarc @melllinaa @

[actuallysolace]

Random Nico & Will HCs

INCLUDES EXCITING TOPICS SUCH AS:

Being Nerd Geeks

When: Distressed / Angry / Tired

Scars

Clothing

I didn't have a lot of ideas....Please leave asks for hc requests if anyone wants to hear more *batting my eyelashes*

BEING NERD GEEKS

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Mythomagic card game fan (Obviously)

(Past) Pirate fanatic But if the topic comes up he gets hyped

I think he'd like Pokémon. (Personally idk much about it)

Potentially could have a huge advantage in Pokémon Go (With Shadow Travel).

Not the type to talk about his interests a lot, preferring to indulge by himself or discuss with a select few people.

Although when given the opportunity you can see the light visibly enter his lifeless eyes.

Him and Frank bond over picking up Mythomagic again as "Eventual In-Laws".

Probably still thinks to himself in Mythomagic terms when discussing Greek mythology.

"So how much HP did he lose" he ponders as he's meeting Lester Papadopoulos for the first time. (The answer is: Clearly A Lot)

WS 🔆

Star Wars fan (Obviously)

Has a ton of Lego Sets littered around Cabin 7

True Crime Listener (Confirmed in TSATS)

DHMIS (Past, but if you mention something even somewhat related it'll reawaken.) hyperfixation do not ask me how he landed on YouTube.com....i have no clue. I just think it'd be funny.

(Young 10 year old) Will at camp and one of his siblings ask "What are you interested in?" expecting some kind of hobby such as painting or singing and then all of a sudden you've got this kid yapping up a storm about a "Cult Leader Butterfly".

Rip Will Solace you would've loved YouTube Essays, and then getting frustrated when they're wrong about small minor details that only you care about.

The Type to Talk About Their Interests. Frequently. Certified Yapper. He can and will bring them up whenever to whomever. He can and will make references that nobody gets. He is a walking advertisement.

WHEN DISTRESSED

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Stands stiller.

He tries to keep them under control but his Powers act up a bit in the form of small bone bits and dead grass.

If he's deeply upset the ground might crack up (like in Titan's Curse) as if he's reaching out the Underworld or Wanting to dig up a ditch and lay with the dead.

WS 🔆

Pacer. Starts speed walking around like they've got places to be and multiple deadlines.

Sometimes starts glowing in distress without noticing. Possibly his own body trying to soothe itself?

Already fidgety but it increases when they're just feeling extra something whether it be upset or excited.

WHEN ANGRY

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Quick to get defensive and start arguing

He feels rage at 1 million percent

WS 🔆

Tends to suppress their feelings in the moment trying to make peace and or mediate whatever's going on

Skilled at staying level-headed, cause he has to be

Sometimes you just gotta bite your tongue

So he did once

Like Literally

It started Bleeding

He had to heal it himself

Screams in the Woods After particularly anger inducing situations

A few dryads are concerned about him. Mentally.

Sometimes (if it's too dark out) into his own pillow

Casually leaves screaming session as if nothing happened

"what do you mean you heard screaming in the woods" "maybe a dryad just had a really bad break-up"

WHEN TIRED (OR SLEEPING)

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Talks less and less

Can sleep anywhere

Under any condition

Like he could be in an active Tornado, snoring.

WS 🔆

Talks more and more

Getting increasingly less coherent and more nonsensical

What is bro yapping about

He can go for longer without rest (Thanks Apollo) but practically drops dead once they get the chance to sleep.

Like collapses and barely breathes. Someone had to be on "Check Will's Pulse" Duty before Nico was around to keep sensing that his boyfriend is not deceased.

Always ends up in an entirely different position when he wakes up versus how he slept

Apollo passed down trait of ending up in some Dramatic Damsel in Distress coded pose while unconscious to a large majority of his kids. Will included.

SCARS

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Littered in scars

Probably didn't seek out proper healing for a long while unless absolutely necessary, instead choosing to abuse Ambrosia and Nectar.

Even now that he does seek proper healing (usually), chooses to keep whatever scars he can.

Cause, "They Look Cool"

Makes him feel like a Pirate

WS 🔆

Heals quicker than the average demigod (Pro of being Apollo's Offspring)

Typically his wounds will start healing themselves like small cuts or minor bruising never lingering for too long.

Still takes steps to clean up and dress them. He is a professional of course, What kind of example is he setting if he leaves them be???

CLOTHES

NDA 🏴‍☠️

Nico goes through funnily extreme lengths to maintain his Son of Hades look

Will is still in the works of getting "Allergic to Color" approved as a valid allergy

No of course Will doesn't believe that, but he enjoys partaking in shenanigans

This man has managed to obtain the camp shirt IN BLACK. WHEN EVERYONE ELSE IS CANONICALLY WEARING ORANGE? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME APHRODITE CABIN HASN'T BEEN ABLE TO UNLOCK NEW COLORS BEFORE THIS GUY DID? HE STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB? AMONG PEOPLE WHO ARE WEARING ORANGE???????????LMFAOOOO??????

Honestly I think he just does things to 1. See how much he can get away with 2. Watch Chiron visibly yearn for retirement.

Closet is very black with some white with a hint of brown cause like leather and also dirt.

Possibly just purchasing anything with a skull on it.

Is it cause Son of Hades or because it reminds him of Pirates the world may never know.

WS 🔆

Honestly just pulling stuff together

Their face is doing most of the work Really

Hasn't been the same ever since they discovered Crocs

Owns a Set of Rainbow Crocs

I don't see Nico stealing Will's clothes but I think they'd both enjoy the irony of a medic wearing a skull shirt aka Will wearing Nico's clothes.

Nico offers his jackets frequently in the winter or nights because Maria raised a gentleman. And also because Will is never ever truly prepared clothes-wise (he tries he really does it just never works out) and then he's just Standing there, shivering like a wet cat.

@solangeloweek

[tinyboobsbignipples]

Hcs for Ellie dating someone with small boobs

N/A (Ignore if you want LMFAO): I think everyone is on board that Ellie is a boob girl, and I totally agree, but whenever I see a post about it, the writer never exactly clarifies what size they are giving the reader, but it is almost always obvious that it is targeted toward girls with a bigger chest. Some writers will even put something like ‘Ellie loves all sizes’ but will continue to only write details for bigger boobs. Which is totally fine. If big boobs are all you know how to write, then continue to do so. I still read them, and I enjoy doing so but sometimes it just feels a little invalidating..? I would also like to say that this isn't targeted at anyone, and this isn't meant to hate or call anyone out this is just something I've noticed as someone with a smaller chest.

Anyway, this is for the girls whose boobs don’t exactly drop or fall when they take their bra off.

WC: 900+

CW: Talks of NSFW at the bottom (separated from the rest of my hcs), I guess thats it?, established relationship.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Loves when you wear oversized shirts. Small boobs + oversized shirt = more room for Ellie's head to sneak her way into your shirt and listen to your heart beat. For the longest time, she would swear that this was the only way she could fall asleep but then summer came and it got too hot to do that anymore :( 

Got right back to it though when the weather started cooling down 

Ellie loves kissing the tops of your boobs when you wear a low cut shirt. If you don't wear low cut shirts often, she will give extra kisses in hopes that it will show how much she loves you and your body. If you wear them often, then you’ll be getting chest kisses just as much. 

You often tap her nose and say "Boop,” so one day when your nipples were poking through your shirt, she tapped one of them and said “Boop.” You both stared at each other in confusion until you broke and started giggling. You did the same thing to her because her nipples were also poking through her shirt

Loves hugging you. Because both of your guys boobs are small, you guys can get really really close to each other during hugs. Like nose touching close, every limb of your body is touching her, and if your noses weren't in the way, your guys would be able to give each other butterfly kisses. (When you flutter your eyelashes against someone else, in this case, ellies eyelashes.) 

Hugs every day, all day. She's so clingy, she needs to be touching you in some way or “she will die.” (her words) 

If you’re feeling really insecure about the size of your boobs, Ellie will try her best to comfort you. Shes a bit awkward and will often bring up how she has small boobs too and doesnt feel bad about them and sometimes that just makes you feel worse but it's the thought that counts. :’)

If you’re the type to wear tiny tops because your chest allows you to do so, Ellie would just have total heart eyes. She thinks you're so perfect and loves taking you out because she knows you’ll get all dressed up for her. 

Nsfw: 

On the topic of tiny tops (if you wear them), Ellie likes them because of easy access. It's so easy to just drag the fabric down or up, and bam, your chest is right there on display for her. 

The first time Ellie saw you without your top on, her pupils would just expand. She would kiss all over your boobs. Below, on top, right on, everywhere. She's so in love its embarrassing :')

On the rare occasion that you guys are away from each other, she’ll ask for a picture because “she needs to see them,” and you’ll make a joke something along the lines of ‘there's nothing to see’ and she will get so pouty because she's so needy, and you think this is an appropriate time to make jokes. 

You're sitting on Ellie's lap and riding her strap, you guys are face to face. If Ellie's hands are bigger than your chest, then I would imagine she would have her hands on your upper back or your side, right next to where your boobs are, because she likes to watch how they bounce. Even if it's not a lot, she still gets mesmerized. 

Ellie's phone background is a photo of you, holding the camera completely topless with Ellie behind you. Her head rests on your shoulder, and each of her hands is covering your boobs, acting like a bra. 

If you don't wear bras: Before you and Ellie were dating and you guys were just friends, she would try so hard not to stare. She would try focus so so hard on something else, but it was so difficult for her to look away when your nipples were just right there. Later, when she got home, she would touch herself because she practically already knew what your boobs looked like, and Ellie has a very active imagination.

Loves playing with your nipples. Before, during, after sex loves playing with them and loves hearing the little reactions you give her

Pinches your nipples during sex and can get pretty rough with it too 

After sex, when you two are just lying in bed, she will lay her head on your shoulder, put her palm over one of your boobs and just keep it there

Ellie loves sucking on your chest and your nipples. When it leaves a mark its just an added bonus.

She thinks its so hot when its just the two of you home alone and you're walking around in just a tank top proudly showing off the hickeys she gave you last night (and this morning)

[zinkysworld]

Boxten stole some of his face in a much much later stage of his twisting and it wasnt *that* bad but as a perfectionist does he did and picked at it and made it worse... okay maybe it was more than pick at it but yk he can get a L O T worse and he's still technically sane here- like, integrated into gardenview and still around the other toons and staff in a safe way- the museum was closed until further notice the second Boxten's ichor eye showed itself so his ego isn't COMPLETELY shattered by judgemental stares, like, only 2 people give him 'the look' (guess who) (Shrimpo and Toodles don't count cuz Shrimpos always a bitch and Toodles is more concerned, and she doesn't know how to express it in a way that's not staring) so he's still stable enough to not go crazy uhh details below the cut tw for sh and (self)cannibalism

I just realised a LOT of lore below the cut

!!!!! hey ppl who care about this au theres a mini timeline for glisten/kinda boxten too below !!!!!! moving on

Order of events- things in brackets are things semi-related but more for figuring out timings (insert Glitterbox pre-twist timeline) -Glisten would've been attacked and killed by Boxten, but instinctually punched him in his sleep, saving himself but beginning Boxten's twist in the process -Gardenview closes until further notice -Glitterbox takes a break from each other, reconnected by Glisten soon after -(Boxten's ichor grows to cover half his face) -(Boxten rips Poppy's eyelashes out) -Boxten is left alone with Glisten for no time at all and manages to shatter part of his face before anyone else enters, and Glisten, unlike the first time, doesn't defend himself as he was conscious and procrastinated -Glitterbox takes a break from each other -(Boxten rips his key out) -Glisten tweaks the fuck out over his appearance and shatters his own face 10x more than before, exposing 1 ☝️ ichor eye -Glitterbox regroups with much reassuring, from Glisten, that he forgives Boxten -Boxten fucking dies [fully twists] -Glisten tweaks out once again and this time rips his stomach open very brutally, screaming and kicking the whole time, and when people came panicked to help him, which worked last time, he just moved to ripping his sleeves, scratching his arms, and scooping his ichory 'guts' in the break in his face [it felt like eating to him at the time] and more eyes began forming until he was knocked to sleep by his handler -(Boxten's handler dies to his toon as witnessed by Poppy's handler, says false goodbyes and love yous to a hallucination and dies content) -???

Why is he still an ichory mess? Wherever the ichor still shows up is permanent and stained into him unless it were to be bleached, and he refuses to let anyone change his shirt (he let his leggings and leg warmers get changed despite them being only dirty and not damaged + a more sensitive area on his body) Why wont he let anyone change his shirt? Boxten laid on it in the last cuddle they had before he became a creature beyond comprehension, and he doesn't wanna risk forgetting the metaphorical (memories they made) so he keeps the physical (shirt) as a back up Why are his hands tied? So he doesn't try that whole eating himself shit again, tied by his handler, told by his handler, dw Glisten doesn't mind, actively the opposite, he's comforted by it (both the knowledge he's stopped from injuring himself/others and the idea his handler cares about him enough, still, after he's become this thing, to not let him be hurt) And as a little nerd wanting-outfits-to-make-sense bonus, the extra ribbon spindly things normally tied as an extra under his normal bow are the ones now tied around his arms!!!!! When the hellfire happened he had his bows taken off so they're still clean

yapsesh over

[magalhaessims]

📩 Simblr question of the day: What's your MOST used pieces of CC? From skin details, to hair, to shoes, and clothes, what are they??

Bonus Simblr challenge: Make a sim with all of the aforementioned pieces of cc >:) (Completely optional :))

Oh, I love that! It's the perfect opportunity to showcase how I made my Sims makeovers! Here you go - read more to check it out:

I had so much fun! Can I tag people to do it too?!? I'm totally tagging some of my mutuals who have the best-looking Sims to drop the good stuff! I tag: @teaprose @missrubybird @bobnewbie @pixelnrd @dreamstatesims

@cowplant-snacks @akitasimblr @hazelminesims @budgie2budgie

01. Hair: I usually like to use vanilla hair, but I'm obsessed with the hairs by @rustys-cc. I have to control myself to not use them on every single Sim! They just look good on everyone!

02. Skinblend: Not to toot my own horn, but I'm still using my own skinblend, especially after @missrubybird released their default version of my other favorite skin, Pufferfish. It's so beautiful, and I love how both pair together!

03. Moles: If I don't control myself, every single sim will have face moles lol. I love them and I think they add personality to my sims. My all-time favorite is this amazing pack by @vegantrait. You can create your own combinations or have only a single mole!

04. Face Details: I'm a huge believer in face details, lol. I think that's why I don't have many skinblends in my folder. I like the flexibility to choose and create unique Sims every time. My current favorite one is the Face Detail 02 by @miikocc.

05. Face Definition: It has to be the one by @nesurii. I literally use this ALL THE TIME. It totally changed the way I make my Sims! I'm totally addicted to it. That's it.

06. Face Shine: @frenchiesimgirl has the best ones! I love to use this one on my more glamorous Sims to enhance the expensive skincare they might be using. 💅💅

07. Eyebrows: I don't have one eyebrow specifically, but I have ALL eyebrows by @goppolsme. Ever since I started using them, I deleted all my other brows. It's honestly true love. I love how they look so much!

08. Eyeshadow: I never believed someone could overcome the Neutrals Palette supremacy, but of course, @crypticsim came and beat his own game with the Channel Surfing Collection. I use both Selfish and Default all the time

09. Eyes & Catchlight: Once again, @missrubybird holds the supremacy in my default folders, and I use their Aqua Trigger Eyes nonstop for almost three years now! I love them so much that I also use the Non-Default versions! I always pair it with @pyxiidis In Out Talons Catchlight!

10. Eyelashes: Kijiko 3D Eyelashes - but I'm obsessed with the Historian Recolor by @anxiousmoodlet. I definitely use it more than the original!

11. Lips: I have a few favorite lips, but the newest one is the Suga Lips by @xurbansimsx. I love all of her lips - I recommend them all!

Extra: Nails! I cannot express the emotional attachment I have with these nails by @xurbansimsx. They look so good and so natural. I'm in love with them! I totally wish she releases more colors... maybe something to match Lamatise's Bare Skintones... *wink* *wink*

[thelovelylolly]

Like Real People Do

Summary: Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips... Warnings: mentions of violence and injuries, reader is described as shorter/smaller than frank, let me know if i missed any :) Word Count: 976 Notes: this is a follow up to It Will Come Back, but you dont need to read that to read this :)

Your relationship with Frank was unconventional, just like how you met. You knew falling in love with a vigilante was a dangerous idea, but you did it anyway. You and Frank clicked with each other. You took care of each other in anyway possible. You spent long nights together, most of them included you patching him up. Your relationship wasn't traditional at all, so your dates were few and far between.

Most of the time, Frank would plan the once in a while dates. You knew it was better he planned things out with his schedule, and he always did the sweetest things. Your favorite restaurant was closed because it was late? He already order take out early and it was ready for you two to eat it on a roof top. You wanted to watch the sunrise? Good thing you two had bad sleep schedules because he found the best place to watch it in the city. You just wanted a simple bouquet of flowers? Frank would order one from a flower shop in the morning, and by the time he left for his patrol, a beautiful bouquet would be at your door.

One night, when Frank didn't have his vigilante duties to deal with, you were lounging around your apartment and catching up on some reading. He came through the same window as always and found you on your bed.

You looked up with a smile. "Hey, Frankie."

"Hey, sweetheart. You got any plans for tonight?"

You put your book down and sat up. "No, why do you ask?"

"I wanna take you to the park and walk around. Y'know, like a date."

"I know it's a date, Castle," you said with a giggle. You got up from your bed and pulled on one of his jackets he had left for you. Then, you pulled on your tennis shoes and looked back over at him. "I'm ready."

He smiled at you and took your hand in his as he led you to your front door. You two walked in silence through your apartment building and down the streets towards the park. You two often enjoyed spending time together and didn't need to talk. Just knowing the other was there was enough.

The park and its paths were lit by street lamps, giving everything a warm glow. You could still hear the white noise of New York City around you, but the park was empty and quiet. It was like you and Frank were in your own world, even if it was only going to last for a short time.

You smiled up at Frank at the thought, and he smiled back at you when he felt your eyes on him. The warm and bright light from the street lamps you passed illuminated all of Frank's features. His dark eyes and eyelashes, his nose, his lips. Every detailed you had traced while laying awake with him late at night could be seen. You swore god had taken extra time to make him this perfect.

You stopped your staring and looked back ahead as you wrapped yourself around his arm, not wanting to let go ever.

Everything was perfect until you felt a fat rain drop land on your head. Then another, and another. You and Frank looked at each, both feeling the rain starting to steadily fall and pick up its pace. You both smiled and laugh as it started to pour. He took his jacket off and held if over the two of you as some form of shelter. You started to run back to your apartment, and Frank's jacket could only do so much to keep you two from getting wet.

You both laughed like crazy as you ran down the wet streets, your laughter echoing off the tall buildings all around you. After a few blocks, your apartment building came into view. Frank didn't stop holding his jacket over you until you were both under the awning in front of the entrance. You were breathless as you let yourself and Frank into the building.

The elevator ride up to your floor was quick and quiet as you both caught your breaths. You glanced up at him once on the ride up, and the moment he met your gaze, your laughing fit started all over again.

Your laughing didn't quiet down until you both were standing in the entry way of your apartment, your door shut and locked behind you. That's when you also noticed that your clothes and hair were soaked, along with Frank's.

"'M sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean for the weather to ruin our date," he mumbled, glancing at his soaking wet boots.

"You can't control the weather, Frankie," you replied softly, tilting his chin up to look at you. "If anything, I thought it was more fun this way."

"Really?"

"Mhm, running in the rain with my love? That's the kind of things you only see in the movies, y'know? But you made it real for me. There's just one thing we're missing..."

"What is it?"

You stepped closer, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. "A kiss."

He smiled, his arms falling to your waist. "Well, then, who am I to deny you?"

One of his hands came up to cup your cheek as he leaned in. His lips pressed against yours and, despite your cold clothes sticking to you, your face warmed along with the rest of your body. No one had kissed you the way Frank had, so every time he did, it always made you melt.

And while you didn't want to, you had to pull away. You turned your head away from Frank and sneezed.

"We should probably get out of these clothes, we're gonna catch a cold."

"Or," he started, still holding you close, "we should just kiss."

You liked his idea more.

[lxnababy]

IF, THEN

COMMITMENT LOST CHAPTER ONE: IF, THEN

part two

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

wc: 7.2k

Ariana pushes her eyelashes up and puckers her lips, the loud bass of the club vibrating the mirror and making her face blurry. Hannah is using the restroom just beside her, drunkenly holding the counter to steady herself. The walls are a crimson red, the lights a buttery, dim yellow. The club itself is more expensive than the ones she usually frequented, but it is Niall's birthday—and Niall is extra.

"Ariana," Hannah whines loudly. Ariana giggles at her friend's inebriated state, helping Hannah tug her skirt down her thighs so she isn't flashing the entirety of the club once they step out from the bathroom—the bathroom that was currently being banged on by another slew of drunk girls.

"One second!" Ariana yells over the loud music and Hannah's uncontrollable giggles. "Hannah, go wash up, I need to dance. I love this song!" She is rushing to smudge her lipstick into more blended lines around her cupid's bow, putting her free hand up in the air and shuffling around the sticky tile of the bathroom, singing along to a rap song she could barely hear over the blinding bass.

By the time they are stumbling out of the bright bathroom and back into the dark, multicolored dance floor, the girls waiting are about ready to kill them. With drunken apologies flying from Ariana's mouth and Hannah trudging behind with her body parts flailing around messily to the beat of the song, they seem like a giant mess. "Need to find Niall and friends," Hannah has to yell over the music. "I wanna order food! They have food here, right?"

Ariana shrugs as she peeks at her friend over her shoulder, pulling the top of her black, strapless dress up. A baby pink bow sat right at her cleavage, the same color creating a lacy hem on the short dress—so short, if Ariana moves wrong she'll be wearing a strapless top and a lacy red thong as an outfit.

Finding their friends at a booth, Ariana stumbles over to them and presses the palms of her hands against the table to stabilize herself. "We're back!" She sings happily, though frowns when she notices her seat across from the birthday boy is occupied by a figure who wasn't there when they left.

Her eyes follow up from his low-waisted, tight dress pants—they are a color other than black, but in the lighting, she can't figure out what color—to his black silk dress shirt that is unbuttoned almost halfway down his chest and exposing dark ink across his hard muscles. When she gets to his face, she swears she must be way drunker than she thinks. He's gorgeous.

He has hard-set features—straight eyebrows, raspberry lips drawn in an intimidating line, and bright eyes that seem to catch every detail of his surroundings. "Hi, I'm Ariana," she greets happily, holding out her hand for him to shake; a bit too formal for their setting, but she thinks it is a good idea for such a strict-looking, gorgeous man.

He cracks a smile at her gesture, though takes her small hand in his rough, calloused one until he envelops it in a warm sensation that makes her giddy. "Harry—I work with Niall," he nods to his friend, who grins happily and very drunkenly at the mention of his name.

"Cool! You work at the autobody shop?" Ariana's doe brown eyes widen in surprise, her long chestnut-colored hair straightened to perfection with wisps of bangs falling over her smokey-eyed expression. Her hair is flat and shimmering in the light, her black eyeshadow so perfectly dark it makes her look like she is straight out of a 'bad girl gone wild!' magazine from two decades ago.

He can't think straight with her looking at him, her eyes hooded and pulling him in like a siren—does she know her effect?

"Yeah," his large ring-covered hand grips a lowball glass as she smiles at him. Her eyes are intense like she is soaking in every word he's saying.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, it's weird I don't see you around more." She laughs gently, her nose scrunching up at her words. Her words are slightly slurred from the alcohol coursing through her veins, her eyes glazed over as she looks up at the beautiful man. "Niall, your coworker is so cool!" She squeals, bouncing over to her best friend with wide eyes.

Niall, possibly more drunk than Ariana (she isn't sure how that was possible, but it's his birthday—who is she to judge!) starts laughing. "He thinks you're crazy," Niall giggles, pointing at Harry. Ariana scoffs loudly, shaking her head vigorously and taking the bright-colored drink from in front of him for a sip. "You think she's crazy, right?"

Harry shrugs, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp; he probably got the memo that he has to be much more wasted to find the humor in their sentences. "Niall, I love this song!" Hannah interrupts, tugging on his black t-shirt with pleading eyes. "We have to dance, it's so good."

Ariana raises her eyebrows; years of Hannah pining over her friend finally wore off at this moment. Niall quickly hops up to follow her, Hannah disappearing into a sea of dancing bodies and leaving Ariana alone with the quiet, brooding man. He already has another drink in his hand, a waiter just leaving with an empty tray as Ariana decides to sit across from him and not follow the lovebirds on their dancing quest.

He turns back to her, his eyes hazy as they sweep over her figure. She blinks at him with wide eyes, her head spinning and blurring her surroundings. The colored lights from the strobes above her are creating streaks in her vision as she focuses all her attention on Harry's eyes, which seem to be glinting dangerously. "You think he's gonna seal the deal tonight?" Harry gestures to where Niall and Hannah are gyrating on the dance floor, her head thrown back and his hands all over her stomach and chest.

"No doubt," Ariana laughs. "I've been third wheeling for years." She rolls her eyes, her fingers drawing a circle around the rim of the glass she had abandoned before venturing to the bathroom with Hannah. "I mean, they're halfway there," she giggles, turning to Harry with bright eyes, her hair floating back into place after twisting her head a few times.

His eyes drink up her appearance like he is dying of thirst, his expression dark and carefree of his bluntness. "He's fuckin' wild, though, huh?" Harry laughs gently, looking over to where Niall has his head thrown back, a liquor bottle being poured into his mouth by a group of unfamiliar people. Ariana bubbles out a laugh in Niall's direction with a shake of her head.

"Oh mon Dieu," Ariana giggles, turning back to Harry, who seems to perk up at the different language that spews out of her drunken mouth.

The liquor seems to relax his tense muscles a bit, his fingers tapping along to the beat on the tabletop. "You know French?" He seems surprised. Though his speech is slurred and the blood running through his veins feels thicker than honey, he knows just by the utterance of a common French saying falling from her temptress-slicken lips he is in much deeper than he thought.

Ariana seems to enjoy this change of conversation. "I'm from France! It's a little village a bit from Paris, so I grew up with lots of French." She is practically bursting at the seams to spill more information from her childhood.

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Was it your native language?" He downs the rest of his drink as he awaits her response, the lights of the club flashing behind her now becoming a welcome addition to the little nook they created rather than a hindrance.

"Yes, I love speaking French. Sometimes I don't have the right English words and I feel so stupid," she rolls her eyes in annoyance at the upsetting quirk of her personality. Harry tilts his head patiently, his eyes roaming her tanned face as the words for his next sentence form on his tongue.

"Well, I speak French. And I don't think you're stupid in English, either."

Ariana feels stunned for a moment. Everyone thought she was dumb. Even when Hannah first met Ariana, she admitted she had thought Ariana was a bit slower than others due to her quiet and uncertain speech, or the mispronunciation of common words. Ariana mainly keeps the bilingual argument to herself, though. It feels like a cop-out—she's been learning two languages since she was born, so why is she so abhorrent in both?

But wait... did Harry say he speaks French?

"Tu parles français?" [You speak French?] Ariana gasps in surprise. "Oh mon dieu, je t'aime!" [Oh my God, I love you!] Harry cracks a smile at her overreaction, shaking his head to rid his cheeks of the apple hue beginning to spread.

"Juste ce qu'il faut pour m'en sortir, c'est ma deuxième langue." [Just what I need to get by, it's my second language.] He explains feverishly, gesturing with his fingers to emphasize how horrible he is at the language; though Ariana is barely listening as she hops down from the tall seat across from Harry and onto her platform heels as she rushes to sit on the booth beside him, tilting her head up to stare into his glossy eyes with hearts in hers.

She grabs his forearm with both of her manicured hands, squeezing the heavily tattooed skin playfully as she beams from ear to ear. "I can understand you perfectly. I'm so happy I met someone who reminds me of home!" She squeals. "Are you from France? You can't be, right? You have that British accent," she is speaking so fast that Harry can barely get a word in as he struggles to keep up with her slurred babbling.

His arm feels like it is being held between two burning pokers that are leaving red hot welts most deliciously. He craves the smoldering heat from her soft fingertips, wondering if she'd leave a wake of soft, fluttering burns if her hands traveled further up his bicep.

He is staring intensely at the little tattoos that litter the hand sitting atop his heavily inked arm—hers are much more delicate, almost performing as permanent rings and garnishes to her blemish-less figure. She is utterly beautiful.

"I'm from London, but I learned French young. My mother thought it was important to raise bilingual children," he explains candidly. "English comes naturally to me, but I'll happily switch to French for you. Though I'm sure you're just as intelligent in both."

Ariana's heart pounds so hard against her chest that it seems to scare the butterflies in her stomach down further south. "Well, let me ask something in French then. But the deal is you have to promise to agree to it," she pouts in faux seriousness as she holds her pinky finger between them, her face just inches away from his. She swears if she concentrates hard enough, she's able to feel the vibration of his heartbeat against her body.

"I haven't heard what the question is yet, jolie fille." [pretty girl] He rolls his eyes, but the nickname has her swooning. Why hasn't Niall introduced her to him sooner? He is everything she is looking for, but the French alone should have nudged Niall along with its invisible string binding the two of them together.

"Promets juste," [Just promise] she insists, jabbing his chest with her pinky finger. He relents at her jabbing with a half-hearted raise of his finger to interlock them. She grins happily at his compliance before leaning even closer to him. Close enough for the sandalwood of his cologne to flood through her nostrils and the floral symphonies of her perfume to cascade down his throat that tastes like the freshest water. "Danseras-tu avec moi?" [Will you dance with me?]

Harry tilts her chin up so she isn't hiding from his intense gaze. "I heard Parisians know how to party," he hums. Ariana immediately flushes a darkened red, shuffling carefully so her heels touch the ground of the sticky bar. Her hand slips into his in a reassurance he won't lose her in the crowd of people, squeezing it tightly as she struggles to push her way through the masses.

Harry notices her difficulty and leans down to talk just loud enough in her ear. "Let me lead, you're too delicate." He explains, his calloused, grease-stained hand tugging her back into his body as he struggles to slither around her and gain the lead.

Ariana pouts momentarily, her inflated ego becoming overstuffed with the last cocktail she drank. One stern look from Harry shut her up, though, warning her not to test him on something so minuscule. So she grumpily trudges behind him, using his large body as a forcefield against flailing limbs and handsy men.

He stops in a spacious spot amidst all the club-goers, turning to face her once more. He seems excited, though that expression was masked behind a faux disinterested demeanor. "Do I get that dance now?" Ariana is yelling over the loud bass—this spot is no place to have a conversation, the sentiment proving its point with the grinding and gyrating happening no more than three feet away from her.

Harry doesn't respond in words, only in a tug to her hips. A similar tug pulls at the nerve endings in her body, shooting off ripples of nervous excitement in her belly. This is not how she thought her night would go, but she is most definitely not one to judge at the turn of events.

They fall into a rhythm quickly, her hands dragging down his collared shirt, his fingers gripping the sides of her mini dress tightly as they sway their hips in unison. A heavy Latino beat pounds against the back of her head as she unabashedly sings along, her chin tilted towards Harry's face to see his look of amusement.

His hands never fall below the hem of her panties sitting at her hip, though she knows with how tight he is gripping her he can feel the lace outline through the flimsy fabric of her mini dress. He seemed to control himself much better than the boys she had danced with other nights—those boys would now have pushed their junk against her back or tummy in a not-so-subtle suggestion to follow them somewhere more private. Harry, though, is much more civil.

It is clear their intentions with their hooded, lustful gazes and the way her hands climb up to his neck to play with the small curls sitting at the nape. The fire in her belly burns hotter and hotter the longer they dance, she is sure he can feel the heat coming off her skin. She needs him badly, and based on the slight drop in his jaw and the more noticeable pants he was sucking in, he needs her just as much.

"Harry," she calls over the music. "Embrasse-moi!" [Kiss me!]

She thanks Hannah for forcing her to wear the tallest heels she owns tonight, making the distance between their lips much shorter. It takes him a moment to process her loud, brazen French message, but as soon as it clicks in his inebriated mind, he lunges forward.

They are no longer swaying to the music. Instead, their lips are locked and eyes are closed, his hands sliding to her ribs, then to her stomach, then back to her hips in a soothing, gentle motion as their mouths clashed dangerously. She is holding his shoulders like a lifeline, the sweaty fabric of his halfway unbuttoned dress shirt bundled in between her manicured fingers as she kisses him as passionately as she can.

The moment sent shivers down her spine, her brain barely able to process what she had accomplished before she was yanked backward.

She gasps loudly, her hands desperately grabbing at Harry's forearms as he struggles to catch her. A loud, piercing voice interrupts the moment, not leaving Ariana questioning who pulled her away from Harry for long.

"I wanna go home! I'm tired!" Hannah whines just as Harry tugs her back into his warm, hard chest. A chest she wants to lay her head on, attached to a man she wants to kiss for hours.

And just like that, a wet blanket is thrown atop the most magical, glittering moment of the distant past and (most likely) future.

"Hannah, you startled me," Ariana laughs nervously, looking up at Harry with an apologetic glance. He just shrugs nonchalantly, as if he wasn't bothered by the interruption or the mention of her leaving. "Did something happen?"

"No! I just wanna go!" Ariana knows the mood Hannah has fallen into. The 'if I'm not having fun, no one is' mood immediately shuts down any further plans. She sometimes feels like a mother to her drunk friend, wanting to scream, I want to have fun, too! But never does. She simply wipes the beads of spilled drink from her friend's small shirt and flashes a fake smile.

"We can go, I'll follow you," Ariana speaks as gently as she can while maintaining her stern demeanor, the motherly facade fading when she turns back to Harry. "Je suis désolé, est-ce que je te verrai bientôt?" [I'm sorry, will I see you soon?] She sounds desperate as she asks a question she already knows the answer to. No, I will not see you soon. Probably never, is the answer she knows is on the tip of his tongue.

"Bien sûr," he replies simply. "Of course," he then repeats in English. "I'll be searching for you, Ariana." He flashes a cheeky grin at her, though she notices he isn't following her out of the crowd of people—instead diving deeper towards the crowded bar.

A salty twang of hurt smashes against her heart. Maybe he'd find another girl tonight, a girl whose friend doesn't interrupt their steamy makeout, a girl he'd remember much more prominently than her.

—

"God, I don't like that boy. He seems sketchy," Hannah is already teetering on the line of flat-out drunk while they get ready to hit another club the next weekend. "Like, he just appears out of nowhere. Niall never talks about work—he definitely would've mentioned someone that hot to us."

Ariana stifles an eye roll as she paints on a silvery chrome across her cheekbones, sipping a poorly mixed drink out of a cheap, gray plastic cup with melted edges from the dishwasher. "He was nice. And he spoke French, it was so nice to speak to someone in French." Ariana is practically swooning all over again at the topic of her brief lover. A man who probably has forgotten her by now, but has been swimming around the front of her mind all week.

"I can find you someone way less sketchy who speaks French, I promise." Hannah turns to look at Ariana over her shoulder, one eye closed with eyeshadow painted messily on the lid. Her eyebrows are raised, waiting for a nod of confirmation from Ariana. She gives the reassurance reluctantly, biting her tongue.

I don't want another one, I want him, she wants to argue. Though, she knows arguing with Hannah would just lead her in circles. So, she keeps her mouth shut. She stays quiet and malleable, always listening and observing. She swears if someone were to look in her mind, they would see an overflowing basket of sentences and phrases never uttered—books of words she can't get out of her mouth.

Ariana returns to her drink and straightening her long hair, humming along to the loud music playing from the speaker sitting between the both of them. They are in Ariana's tiny one bedroom apartment, Hannah in front of the mirror with her legs crossed and Ariana at her vanity. The walls hang frames of old, feminist newspaper articles from her hometown and her bedding is the softest hue of beige with plants hanging from every shelf.

She loves her apartment despite Hannah's complaint about the size and the location. It is all Ariana can afford at the moment, balancing a full-time education at a New York City school and a part-time job as a commissioned artist. Hannah never knew financial hardship, something Ariana is equal parts grateful and peeved over. Hannah pays for their drinks, drags her to fancy restaurants, and buys her expensive gifts; but Hannah also demeans her simple living.

Hannah is the first friend Ariana made in middle school when Ariana moved across the country with half an English vocabulary and no family. In some ways, Ariana owes her life to Hannah. She picked Ariana up, dusted her off, and pushed her to be successful in America. That is all Ariana could have wished for, right?

The rest of the time is quiet. Ariana hums along to the songs playing in the background as she puckers her lips to get the perfect shade of rouge blended, finding peace in the silence of her mind at this moment.

She knows the topic of matchmaking with Hannah isn't over, and is sure her friend won't let up until she is on a date with a wealthy, overbearing man Hannah is family friends with. Ariana knows the sentiment is kind, but she has her eyes set on Harry—she knows that it is a dumb, childish crush that will never amount to anything, but she can't stop thinking about him.

She can't remember the last time she had such feelings towards another person, so this has to mean something.

—

"Hannah, I can't find my ID, give me a second—" Ariana fought back Hannah's hand, which was currently tugging her into the club while the bouncer was holding her back.

"I'll meet you inside, then," Hannah, who is tipsy and a bit angry tonight, drops their hands in annoyance at the minor inconvenience and disappears through the dark entrance. Perfect, Ariana thinks angrily. It is just like Hannah to leave her alone at the edge of a sleazy club surrounded by preying men.

It takes her a few moments to find her wallet which holds her ID due to her blurred vision and clumsy hands, getting frustrated at her lack of orientation.

"Need help?"

The voice is familiar and booming, her chin shooting up and towards the direction of the noise. Just as she suspects, it is Harry. Harry, who she has been dreaming of all week. Harry, who she drunkenly made out with before being dragged off. Harry, who speaks French and speaks of her so highly.

"Oh my gosh, hi, Harry," she gushes happily, abandoning her search to look up into the same eyes she got lost in last weekend at this very club. This can't be a coincidence, right? "I can't find my wallet, but I know it's in here. Stupide, I know," she laughs softly, tucking the long wave of hair behind her ear.

"Let me have a go. Not stupide, this bag is a maze." Harry peers inside her messy purse—there are at least three lip glosses, five receipts, an inhaler she never needs nor used, and stray pieces of gum. He takes it from her, finding it much quicker than Ariana could before handing both her belongings back to her.

"Lifesaver," she jokes, handing the bouncer her ID with Harry following suit. He seems more than displeased at the hold up in the line, glaring at her over the piece of plastic begrudgingly.

"Cover pay is twenty for her, ten for you," he nods at Ariana like she is an afterthought.

"Twenty? What the hell, man?" Harry scoffs loudly. Ariana's heart drops—she only has a ten, and half the time they don't even ask for a cover pay. She'd have to go home, right? Or, at least to another club. But that left Hannah alone, and she knows she can't do that despite how mad she is at her friend.

Before she knew it, Harry was shoving bills in the man's face and pushing her through the door of the club, just forcefully enough to show the bouncer his displeasure. "Hey, you can't pay for me—" she protests, a frown on her lips as she looks behind her at Harry.

"Shh, who gives a fuck?" Harry interrupts. "Where's your friend? You shouldn't come here alone, that's dangerous." He slides the strap of her bag over her shoulder carefully, making sure the contents won't spill out with her mindless flailing and crowds of grabby people.

Ariana rolls her eyes at the mention of Hannah. "She's somewhere around here," Ariana says nonchalantly. "Are you here alone?" She turns to look up at Harry, who appears to be sober. His pupils aren't dilated, his eyes are hard and set on her figure with an air of concern.

"No, that'd be sad. I'm here with some friends from the shop," Harry laughs. "Let's find Hannah, then we can find my friends, yeah?" He proposes, gesturing to her to follow him through the large, hot crowds of people.

Some nights when she gets drunk, she becomes overstimulated and annoyed at everything. She'd tear at her hair if a specific wisp kept falling in her face or find something wrong in every mixed drink she sipped. She'd spend a half hour in the dingy bathroom smudging her makeup because she hated her appearance, and found Hannah's voice to be annoying.

She is hoping tonight won't be one of those nights, but when she sees Hannah hanging off a disinterested Niall at a booth, she is already peeved. "Um, what if we get a drink first?" Ariana suggests, stopping short and forcing Harry to turn around and look at her, or else he'd lose her amidst the dancing bodies.

"Sounds good," he hums. "But you already seem kinda out of it—"

"I need more!" Ariana interrupts hastily, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bar. She knows she isn't going to enjoy tonight's festivities, so why not get through it being completely shitfaced? It seems much better than slugging through Hannah's annoying voice and flirty attitude with her only other friend sober.

Harry doesn't seem to stop her. He lets her lead him to the bar as she loudly yells for a vodka cran, tapping her fingers against the table with Harry's hard chest protectively behind her. "Are you getting anything?" She asks, craning her neck behind her. Harry shakes his head, looking around the bar curiously as if to avoid eye contact with her. She furrows her brow but doesn't call him out on the action.

Harry's eyes wander the loud area. He sees a plethora of young couples buried in each other's gazes as they sway along to the music that is much less fitting to their circumstances. The beat is pounding against his skull, his hand resting protectively on Ariana's shoulder as she leans across the dark, marbled bar top waiting for her drink.

Her long hair is pushed over her shoulder to show her tanned, toned back in her backless top. It is a dark red with a plunging tight neckline that fans out in lacy ripples like a teddy. It seems to be some sort of lingerie, with see-through mesh and a mauve hue that compliments her olive skin.

There are three delicate, gold necklaces sitting on her décolletage, glimmering in the fluorescent lights of the club with dark wash, low-rise jeans sitting upon her waist and exposing another small set of tattoos on her hip bone. She seems too pristine for such an environment, especially when she turns to face him with her chestnut-doe eyes and bright, red-lipped smile.

He's almost to matching her with a darker red (though not as rich of color as her beautiful garment) dress shirt and black dress pants, his hair a curly mop atop his head with his sleeves rolled up and buttons undone. His eyes are hard and bright, surveying the nightlife with wariness.

When Ariana turns around to face him with two drinks, he raises his eyebrows.

"Got you water! Is that okay?" She asks, her usually wide and curious gaze seemingly dazed from the liquor in her system, though she never loses her bubbly touch.

"Perfect, thank you," he smiles at her, taking both glasses from her hands and nodding for her to follow him through the crowd of people.

She latches onto him by slipping a manicured finger through his belt loop, practically jogging to keep up with his long strides until they reach the quieter portion of the club where their friends are talking and laughing.

"Hey! My two favorite people!" Niall greets happily. Ariana can see Hannah's grin fading at the appearance of Harry, not even bothering to say hello. She can't help but feel a stab of disgust—why does Hannah have to be so picky about her friends? There were countless times Ariana had to drop friends because of Hannah's attitude around them. There were also countless times when Ariana wondered if Hannah's friendship was worth it.

But every time, Ariana reminds herself of the young, frail, French-speaking girl who stepped into a bustling American middle school with no friends and no American education. And every time, Ariana reminds herself of Hannah, who was there for her. She owes a lot to Hannah, she can't just walk away.

Harry got swept away with his coworkers, barely glancing at her during his lively conversations. Ariana found herself sitting alone, sipping on a drink that was too sweet while Hannah danced the night away with some strangers she got to buy her drinks. She feels like a babysitter, knowing she isn't able to have fun like Hannah without her getting out of hand and needing assistance.

She also knows she had one too many vodka crans, and the world is beginning to spin and her judgment is beginning to fade. So when an unhappy Hannah marches over to the table Ariana is saving for them, the liquid courage coursing through Ariana's veins is enough for a confrontation.

"Why aren't you dancing with us?" Hannah asks hand on her hip and shoulder jutted out.

"Because we always do what you wanna do. I just wanted to go out to eat tonight," Ariana sounded defeated and pathetic; she knows as soon as the sentence slipped from her mouth, it will have Hannah rolling her eyes and scoffing loudly.

This reaction is mainly because Ariana never stood up to Hannah. She is her quiet wingwoman, backing everything she says with silent support.

"Well, I wanted to go to the club! And you look like a miserable fucking puppy in the corner while I'm having fun," Hannah throws her arms up in dismay, and Ariana backs up a bit. She doesn't want to argue with Hannah, she doesn't want to argue with anyone. Especially because she never found the right words to say in English. Her comebacks are usually slow and childish, making her feel worse about herself.

"I feel like I'm just here to enhance your life, Hannah. Sometimes, maybe, you should compromise—"

"Since when do you hate my life? I pay for yours!" Hannah yells, and Ariana sees red. Ariana never asks for money, never asks for free drinks or free tickets to museums. Ariana could live without Hannah's money, but now she sees clearly. Hannah paid for her things, played with her like a doll, and discarded her when she was done.

"You chienne!" [You bitch!] Ariana yells, feeling hands on her shoulders as she stands up from someone behind her, Niall rushing to intervene. "Je pensais que tu étais mon ami, pas une pute manipulatrice." [I thought you were my friend, not a manipulative whore.] Ariana spits, knowing Hannah could never understand the venom of her words, but at that moment she can't bother translating. It is probably better—she knows she will regret such evil words in the morning.

Hannah starts to laugh. "Remember when I picked you up from the dirt in middle school? Yeah? You sound just as stupid now as you did then."

Tears prick Ariana's eyes as she slumps into the unknown person's chest. She knows exactly who it is, though, when a French voice whispers in her ear, telling her "Let's go" and "Take my jacket".

It is Harry, his eyes not on hers but on Niall's as they speak fast and quietly; she can't understand them over the loud ringing in her ears and Hannah's taunting laugh. They fought before, but nothing like this. Not where Hannah called her stupid or gave her the cold treatment she usually gives ex-boyfriends.

"I thought she was my friend," Ariana pouts with a watery voice as Harry tries to talk to her about their next steps. She isn't listening—she is hysterical and had too much to drink and felt like fainting. She feels like shit, and she knows tomorrow morning she'll be the one apologizing to Hannah, begging for their friendship back.

"—I'm gonna drive you home and Niall's gonna deal with Hannah—" is all she caught from his explanation as she looks over his shoulder to where Niall has Hannah propped up with an arm around her waist. It makes her angry; how come Hannah gets Niall? They are all supposed to be friends, but somehow she is always the odd one out. Wherever she is, she is always the odd one out.

"Ariana, écouter," [Ariana, listen] Harry hisses, snapping Ariana back into reality. "I'm taking you home, okay? Please take my coat, you look freezing." He nudges the suit jacket she didn't notice he was wearing until now—he must've been holding it.

She drapes it over her shoulders silently, feeling like a naughty child being disciplined as he leads her through the club, his back tense and his finger hooked in hers like he is trying to have as little contact with her as possible. "Je suis désolé," [I'm sorry] she murmurs as they wait for the valet to pull the car around, the coat wrapped around her cold body as tightly as possible.

Harry's eyes soften as he looks down at her. "No you're not," he cracks a smile. "She deserved it. And calling her a manipulative whore? Genius,"

Ariana's muscles pull into a smile. His smile is contagious. "She didn't have to call me stupid, though. Seemed a bit unnecessary," Ariana inches closer to his warmth just as his sleek, black Mercedes pulls up. Of course, he drives a C-Class with the windows professionally tinted. Of course. She forgot he has a niche interest in cars, just like Niall.

"Need help getting in?" Harry raises his eyebrows, looking down at her red heels that match her top and the height of the car she will have to climb into.

She scoffs at his suggestion. "No," she says confidently, sauntering up to the car and using the handrest as leverage. Harry is hovering behind her, much to her annoyance. She can do it on her own.

As she grips the handle and tries lurching herself forward, she realizes she might have been a bit overzealous. Her world is spinning, her legs turning to jelly. Luckily, Harry is right behind to catch and help her into the car, his hands burning holes in the fabric of her denim as he lifts her from her hips.

When she is tucked safely in, seat belt clipped and suit jacket draped over her like a blanket, he closes the door and makes his way to the other side. He is quiet as he gets in and starts the car, not wanting to disturb her as she stares dully out the window. Her eyes are open, that much he can tell. And he knows she is thinking hard by the way her hands are curling into the fabric of his jacket and picking at her nails.

"Qu'est-ce qui préoccupe votre esprit?" [What's on your mind?]

Ariana's head snaps over to him. "You don't have to speak in French for me." She starts quietly. "I'm not dumb,"

Harry's hand grips the steering wheel tighter. It hurts him to know she is so upset by Hannah's petty comment—she is misunderstanding him. He speaks French because he knows she likes French. He speaks quietly because he knows she likes serenity. He takes her side because he knows no one sticks up for her.

"I know you're not dumb," Harry says simply. "But if you wanna talk, I'm here." He doesn't want to push her.

Ariana peers over at him. She has plugged in directions to her apartment on the large screen while he is getting her settled, and now the map is warning him of a stop light ahead. He slows—he hopes to hit every red light in New York City just to spend a few extra moments with her.

"I really like romance novels," she says randomly. "And ice cream. And I love when strangers give you a weird quirk in their head when they notice your accent, or when the TV plays that one commercial where the foster children come back twenty years later to visit their foster parents."

Harry cracks a grin. "I love that commercial, too," he agrees.

"And I love painting. It's just my side job though, I'm studying journalism." She explains, knowing she is babbling complete nonsense and Harry probably isn't listening. "Do you love cars?" She is trying to relate.

He nods. "I love fixing cars and when my hands get all greasy. Sometimes it's a little tiring, though. I wish I didn't have to work such long hours, especially in the winter when the shop's freezing." He explains, eyes trained solely on the road ahead of him.

"That makes sense, Niall always complains that his back hurts." She laughs gently. "And your hands are, like, permanently calloused. I think it feels nice," she takes the hand that was lying on the center console, pushing his fingers outward to trace the years of calluses on his palm and fingers.

Harry snorts. "I've tried every lotion that has ever existed. They're permanently cracked and dry and gross," he groans.

"They're not gross!" Ariana protests childishly. "I like that you have scabbed knuckles and strong arms. Makes people not wanna mess with you. Or with me when I'm with you," she is trying to say he makes her feel safe, but she knows now that was premature. She knows this conversation is premature; Harry doesn't care what she loves, and Harry is being courteous in offering her a ride home after a blowout argument with her shitty friend.

"Well fuck, might as well throw out my lotions, then." He jokes, curling his fingers to catch her tiny hand in his. He locks her soft, ring-covered hand in his, warming up her fingers with the warmth of his rough, huge hand. "But—"

He is interrupted by one of Ariana's confessions.

"I also really like dates. With you," she blurts out, the alcohol coursing through her veins bold enough to spit out what she has been thinking of all week.

Just then, the navigation system chirps that their destination has approached and Harry's car slows down to a stall.

"I think you might be a little drunk, Ari," he reasons, finally able to meet her eyes.

Ariana deflates a bit. "I think so too," she relents. "But I'll see you around?"

Harry nods quietly. "Te vois bientôt, amour," he hums. [See you soon, love]

—

Ariana sighs as she stares out the window of the fast-moving subway. In her lap sits two containers. They are both filled with pasta and marinara—something she cooked up earlier that day.

It is a thank you to Niall and Harry; she knows she shouldn't push her relationship with Harry after last night, but she owes him something. He took care of her, he wiped away her tears, he held her hand, he distracted her from her crumbling friendship.

Even if he doesn't want her.

The doors open at the stop of the repair shop they both work at, a gust of freezing wind whipping through the car and forcing her to wrap her tan, long trench coat tighter around her body. Her hair is tucked into her olive green scarf, though the free wisps of chestnut waves fly around her face.

She holds the containers tight to her body, hoping the heat from her belly will keep the pasta warm as she climbs the stairs of the subway, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete. Luckily, the autobody shop is only across the street from the subway stop she uses that gets off near her college campus so her fingers don't turn frosty on the short, quick, awkward walk-jog she does to the warmth of the dirty, greasy shop.

"Ari! What a cool surprise!" Niall's voice rings out in the echoey, concrete covered building. He jumps up from the workbench, dropping an oil-covered rag to jog over to her.

Her face breaks out in a grin—he isn't angry at her from last night. "Hi, Niall," she greets, letting him scoop her up in a tight, bone-crushing hug. "Oh my God, okay, that's good." She pats his shoulder awkwardly, his laugh becoming infectious as he pulls away.

"Did you make Ariana's famous pasta for us?" He gasps, finally laying eyes on the containers now crushed into her jacket from his hug.

Ariana scans the large, open room for Harry as she stutters through the sentence. "Um, actually, this one is—" she stops short when she sees Harry laughing, open-mouthed and happily, at something a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair said. She is sitting just below him, her knees curled to her chest, her hand resting on his knee as he works on a giant red truck.

Her heart drops. "Can we eat it in the break room?" She asks, her eyes snapping back to Niall's.

She feels so stupid, like most days. Of course, Harry has girls hanging off him at all times. Of course, he'd refuse a date if he had a lineup of desperate girls waiting for just a piece of him. He is young, successful, and handsome—not the recipe for a good long-term relationship.

Maybe it is the Parisian in her, but she craves a relationship. She craves a movie night with cuddles and popcorn and no expectations, she craves fancy dates with good food, she craves peeing with the bathroom door open so she can watch their favorite TV show with no interruptions. It is something she never experienced before, something she wants so badly but never has.

Hannah used to make jokes about how horrible her love life was. How nothing more than a one-night stand ever came out of dates or parties. At first, Ariana laughed it off. She's young, she doesn't need to worry about that yet! But now, now Ariana feels like she's missing something.

She follows Niall into the break room, sitting at an empty table with one of her best friends. "Have you spoken to Hannah?" He asks, opening the container and stabbing at a piece of penne with a plastic fork.

Ariana shakes her head. "I know I should, but I just need some space." She sighs, pushing tomatoes around the meal that was supposed to be Harry's. "Maybe later," Ariana frowns, resting her hand on her jaw and slumping over slightly.

Niall leans forward. "Harry's just like that, Ari. He has such horrible communication skills, don't worry about it." He must have noticed Ariana's longing gaze over in his direction, where Harry seemed to not notice her presence.

She sighs. "I should've known, right? That he was like this?" She asks, her lower lip beginning to wobble despite her stoic, strong demeanor.

"I didn't get to warn you," Niall frowns. "And you're so fuckin' awesome and you love so hard, I should've told you he was a player. I'm sorry,"

Ariana shrugs. "It's fine, just a drunk makeout." She demeans her feelings, shoving her heart back down her throat.

"How do you say I'm sorry in French?" Niall asks, his eyes distant as he chews thoughtfully. And there they are, Niall and Ariana—light-hearted best friends who could spend hours talking about absolutely nothing with no deep conversations or heart-heavy discussions that left her feeling drained. Niall, who knew when to stop prying.

"Je suis désolé,"

"Well, Ari, je suis désolé,"

part two

[grapejuicestyless]

Conrad Fisher !!😭✌🏻

request: reader has had a crush on conrad since she was little and everybody knows it and one night they all get drunk on the beach and she admits it in front of everyone

You’re Everything To Me.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST!

Summery: All of her life, Y/n has always known Conrad was it for her. Unfortunately for her, her best friend, Belly begins to take a liking to him as well. She never imagined having to compete for Conrad, but when Belly changes one summer, so does she.

Sometimes I wake up in a sweat, nightmares keeping me awake that are fueled simply by the unshakable feeling that this summer could be the end of it all.

The shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I pick apart my skin beneath my fingers. I rub the pads of my thumb under my eyes, I smooth over the wrinkles by my smile. I comb through my hair and straighten out my back. I examine my smile, pick apart the way my teeth show, the way my eyes shift. I despise the way my nose crinkles up and how my eyebrows move. I hate the way I feel about myself, like I am not enough. I should cherish my body. The way it dips and curves. I should love the skin on my stomach and the dimples in my back. It makes me feel guilty that I am so unhappy with something I am so blessed to have.

I try to be tough, I say I don’t care. But I could never let this go, I can’t be strong. I hold onto every detail of my body like my life depends on it. I hear my teachers and my friends, my sister and my brother. I hear them all complaining and suddenly their voices become the ones in my head. The ones the shame me and tear me apart. Suddenly, I am no longer just enough, I am slipping away and there’s no telling why.

It doesn’t help how sick I’ve fallen over my best friend. The blonde haired boy with a slump in his shoulders and a dusty blue shirt hanging over his chest. He has the most contagious smile and the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He never made me feel out of place, but seeing his type, the ones he so desperately chases each summer, I can’t help but to notice how different I am from the women he brings home. Even after each heartbreak, each further push into my own head I still, he’s still everything to me. His opinions, his feelings. I hold them over my own as I have never loved someone as hard or as true. As long or as consuming.

It was never a secret as to what I felt towards him. The puppy dog eyes and the way my cheeks would heat up. How my actions differed to make him like me more. Susannah told me it was romantic, Laurel called me an idiot for falling so hard. She said one day the pit would find its bottom and I would fracture my spine. I wouldn’t be able to feel my legs and I would crumble from the situation I was putting myself in. Even then, I argued against her. I told her it wouldn’t end so sourly. I wouldn’t allow it.

How naive I was to believe I had the power. I can only control myself, how did I expect to be able to stop everyone else from changing, from hurting.

Belly came home to the summer house this summer, her hair was silkier. Her eyes brighter and eyelashes longer. Her teeth were perfect, much more than mine. Her braces were gone and so were her glasses. I swore I could see a sparkling glow outlining her body when she stepped out of the car. At first I was happy for her, happy she had grown into herself and finally realized how beautiful she had always been. Ditched her insecurities, the same ones I still dealt with each second of every hour.

I remember having looked back to find Jeremiah. How excited he would be to see how she’d grown up. He always payed extra attention to her. Not in the same nurturing way Conrad did, but he still held onto everything she did, everything she said or cried about and kept it locked in a safe place in his brain. I didn’t find Jeremiah, though. No, the curly headed boy wasn’t the one I was looking at. It was the salt water blonde waves and sunburnt cheeks I found already standing behind me. His eyes wide and mouth opened. He looked almost shocked by what he saw. His younger sister in a way, growing up into another woman he could love.

The bottom of the pit grew closer and closer everyday since that moment. How my best friend, the boy that used to beg to hide away from the world so it could be just us forever, started bringing around her. It felt like my entire world had changed. It felt like in a sense he had brought a girl into our metaphorical bed. Our inside jokes were shared. They didn’t feel secret now that she was telling them. They weren’t funny coming out of her mouth. I should love this, I love her. She’s my sister in so many ways but I can’t help but hate her.

Hate the way she whispers in his ear, how he smiles back at her and laughs. How not only had we lost our jokes but now they had their own. My spot next to him in the car became hers. The boardwalk showdown became their competition. The beach was no longer our spot. It was theirs. With each day, he found more ways to include her in what we were doing. We were never alone. The more they laughed, the more they touched, the more and more I gave into my thoughts. Meals became bland, calories counted to precision. My hair was always down to cover the back of my neck. I felt so insecure, so unhappy.

I could feel the end approaching between Conrad and I. The shock waves passing through my bones, adrenaline rushing to prepare for the crash. My limbs shook every time he was near. They never did that before. The way my breath would hitch, my eyes would water. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. It was no longer just about my dislike towards Belly, but more to my own towards him.

Everyone always commented on how obvious it was. Jeremiah used to tease me over how I’d fallen for the most boring person alive. To me, he wasn’t boring. Everything he did held so much meaning. Now I’m starting to believe it was just me overthinking it. Giving him more credit than what was due out of my own sick mind and my obsession with him.

Steven always said we would be perfect together. How his sister was too young, too immature. He loved her, we all knew it, he was so protective over who she could see. He was a great older brother but even he knew that no one could give and give like what I had done for Conrad. Nobody could love him the way I did. He knew what I felt from elementary school. Before I did. I was just so obvious. But this was all before Belly became Conrad’s standards of beautiful. Maybe that statement held no water anymore.

The worst part was Belly knew it too. I confided to her for years. Cried in her lap over how destroyed I was over his new girlfriend. How angry it made me feel to know I wasn’t enough and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t change my nose or my cheeks. I have no power over how big the gap between my thighs is, losing weight isn’t enough anymore. Each time she consoled me. Reassured me how one day he would see me and how great I was. She knew, she knew it was so much more than some unrequited love story. Yet, she still went for him.

I always knew deep down Belly had a small crush on Conrad. For her, Jeremiah was never enough. Her love might be stronger for the tanner, happier brother, but he didn’t give her the same complexity’s that Conrad did. He didn’t make her think as hard or push her as far. It was like I didn’t even matter when she made the decision between them in her head. All the late nights and the red noses from the backs of our hands and the endless tissues scattered weren’t of any importance to her. She could care less watching me fall apart. Even if it wasn’t official yet, by doing so she had lost her right to the title of best friend in the story of my life.

Her eyes watched mine, the way they watered and shined, avoidant of their quick touches and gushy eyes. How my heart broke watching his eyes flicker down to her lips, how hers did the same. I couldn’t bare to think about what would happen if I weren’t there to clear my throat or announce something that wasn’t all that interesting in the distance. Each time Conrad played into it, giving me his divided attention and Belly would mumble something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Everything this summer led me to this very moment, stumbling and batting my eyelashes at some stranger who showed me just an ounce of attention. He was no Conrad, god, how could anyone ever compare to him? He hung the moon and the stars and he painted the universe with his best blues and purples. The constellations were his works of art and the birds were his friends. He was the reason for everything to me but, the man in front of me was so much older and wiser. He was beautiful. Tanned and fit. He had scruff on his jawline and under his nose, his hair was messy and eyes a gorgeous green.

Sober me would have never bought into the game he was playing. She would have pushed away the hand that rested so easily on the curve of my ass. She would have never let him talk her into drinking. Not when she knew that she wasn’t eating, wasn’t strong enough to hold it down and would instantly fall victim to the strong beverage in the red solo cup. But I wasn’t sober, and I wasn’t stable. I was hurting, the touch of someone else even under false circumstances made my heart ache just a little bit less.

Stumbling into him a little, we shared a laugh, I let out a soft apology and he waved it off. He didn’t care so much, he wasn’t complicated. He was a potential hookup at a bone fire and a damn good distraction. I had no reason to feel so much pressure to be great around him.

A silence fell over us. His hands moving back to where they were before he had to help stable me. He squeezed at my skin, molding it rough under his fingertips. Part of me felt dirty for doing this. Being so insecure I allowed myself to give into someone who was such a inappropriate match for me. I got lost in his eyes anyways. Even if it was a fake loss of direction, even if I knew what I was doing, I let myself become swallowed whole by him. I allowed gravity to pull him towards me, my feet rising to my tip toes, I didn’t think about how his lips felt once going in for it, I didn’t process how he smelled or if he had dimples or not. I just went for it.

The touch of his mouth on mine was rough, dry. His lips felt like stone against mine. It was gross and unfulfilling yet I pushed forward and let him consume and take whatever he wanted from me. I let him use me out of my own selfish need to heal. To forget. His lips were ripped from mine, the hand that was rested on his arm pulled away, our bodies separated roughly.

“What the hell!” I was shocked more than angry, looking back at the guy who was now looking at me with the same look. It took a second for my feet to catch up with my body. For my brain to process who was so quick to tear me away from the best chance I had of letting go of Conrad for tonight. As if it were fate, the culprit was him.

“Conrad let me go!” I thrashed in his hold, pushing off the sand to try and get away. Hide away in the crowd and slip out of his sight. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even look me in my eyes.

I always dreamed of how it would feel to have his arms around me. Having him holding my waist as he spun me. How I would lean down and kiss him just because I love him that much. He would kiss me back because he would love me that much too. I never imagined this is how it would happen. His hands clasping around his own wrist while he lifted me up and rushed to a more private area.

“N-no!” I slurred, managing to claw at his skin enough to get him off of me. The sand was soft. In a way, my body hitting the ground below felt like the bottom of the pit Laurel had described. The bottom was finally here and it was my own fault for going down there in the first place. I was dying.

Even with the scene I was making, he still tried to help me up. He looked so concerned, so worried about me. Like he wanted nothing more to make everything okay. His hands touched my skin so soft, it reminded me why sober me never did like the way hookups would grab at me so rough. Conrad was always so gentle with me. So calm, so patient.

I didn’t want to push him away but he made me feel so pathetic, so childish then and I was so angry. My hands pushed him away. I pushed him away like how I was trying to push my feeling away.

“No, get the fuck away.” My words were sloppy but harsh. Even while standing on wobbly legs I felt confident that I wouldn’t need his support anymore. I just wouldn’t look at him in the eyes.

“Y/n, you’re drunk.” He tried to reason, hands waving to try and calm me down. A crowd was forming. I could see Jeremiah and Steven rushing down to us, ready to help Conrad in sobering me up, containing me. It made me even more angry how it was so wrong for me to feel like this. How it was so embarrassing how I was so crushed over everything that happened this summer. I was made to feel guilty about things I had no control over.

“Conrad, you don’t get it.” I looked to the sky to contain my tears. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel weak anymore.

“I do, I do.” He assured me, moving closer with each step I took away from him. He was talking about my current sobriety, he didn’t know any better that it was so much more.

“No, no you don’t.” I begged him to understand. I hated myself for crying, I felt so small underneath him when I cried. So inferior and childish compared to him. It made me feel sick.

The invisible room that held us fell quiet, his eyes searching my face, wondering what was getting me so worked up. Why was I crying? What had happened? My feet worked faster than my head, I took a staggering breath in.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I can’t feel like this anymore, Conrad.” In my head I always called him Conrad, it made everything seem so much more mature and real. Maybe that’s why I didn’t call him the nickname he adored so much then. In some way, the weak feeling that my crying made me feel was balanced out by the lack of the informal nickname, Con.

“Feel like what?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was raised. Not because he was mad, but because he was confused. I knew this because I know Conrad. Like Jeremiah does with Belly, I keep each detail locked away for safe keeping. I memorized what he does and who he is. Unlike Jeremiah, I do not keep Conrad locked away in my head. Everything Conrad has a home in my heart.

“Like I’m drowning around you!” I begged for him to see what I meant. If my tears and my hiccups weren’t enough of a reason for him to try harder to understand there was no getting through to him. He simply shook his head then, not knowing what to say.

“Y/n what is wrong with you?” He responded in the only way he knew how, with authority and anger. He wasn’t really angry, but Conrad didn’t know how to express that. He only knew how to push away and string along. He didn’t have it in him to show just how compassionate and caring I knew him to always be.

In my little drunk head I only felt more pain, more anger, more sadness. Too emotional to try and tell him everything that was wrong. But instead it all built and built until it came out. I wanted to vomit with how worked up I was. I could feel everyone’s eyes burning into my body, but most importantly I could feel his.

“I don’t want to love you anymore.” It came out weakly. It was like admitting it now out loud, I had suddenly lost all fight I had. Coming to terms with something I knew I was feeling for awhile but never had the guts to say out loud.

“…What?” His voice shook. It was like watching his face drain of any color, eyes wide just as they were when Belly had showed up in June and caught his eyes. His mouth was open and eyes brows furrowed. He looked so lost, so confused and conflicted. How could he have been so oblivious? Did he really not care that much to never pay enough attention to see it?

“Don’t make me repeat it.” I pleaded more quietly, sucking in a harsh breath and breathing out with a huff. My top lip tucked itself under my teeth, I drew blood and swallowed. When it settled back on my face normally, I felt bite marks.

“I have spent every summer trying to be something you might like because I am so fucking in love with you that it physically hurts me to even imagine how you’ll leave me. I hate how rotten my mind has become by me getting so addicted to you. I’m jealous and I’m bitter and I’m hurting and you can’t even see that! And I’m angry because we can’t even fight about it because the people that are hurting me the most are my best friends! Maybe if we could argue, if you knew…” I choked on air, trying to find grounding to hold me down. Keep me from slipping. My eyes left his, I had to clear them, make them see I would be okay. I found Steven and Jeremiah watching me. I knew it would be okay. They would defend my honor to the whole damn nation if it came to it.

“If you knew how much I care. If I knew you gave a damn about how I act, what I do, maybe I could convince myself that you seeing someone who isn’t me would hurt less.” My hands hit my sides, my lips quivered. If my heart wasn’t broken then, it was now seeing how Conrad still couldn’t find it in him to fight me even while I explicitly asked for it.

“All I do is try, and try, and try to make you happy. I hold my tongue, I support you and I hold you while you cry about the next girl who broke your heart. I’ve tried to stop loving you and I don’t know why I can’t. I’m an idiot for thinking anyone else could take your place but I’m even bigger of an idiot for giving you that place to begin with. And I’m done with it, Conrad. I can’t keep tearing myself apart for you. I can’t and I’m not sorry about it anymore.” For a second I waited for what he had to say. I waited and waited but it never came. He stood there and accepted what I had to say silently and showed no fight against it. My head shook quickly and my shoulder brushed his. I could sit there and beg him to care about something he clearly didn’t want to fight for.

“Y/n…” His voice was drawn out, I could tell he had turned to face me because his voice was clearer than before. If I turned then, I would surely crumble underneath his fingers again. I would submit myself to the torture I had just so openly screamed about to the whole town. Airing out the wounds that bled so intensely down my skin.

Passing the boy, I could see fully behind his taller frame. I could make out the teary eyed expression that Belly wore on her face. She looked stiff, shocked by all I had to say. Like she hadn’t expected me to tell Conrad my feels ever. Keep it like a dirty secret and let it consume me until I would inevitably die alone in her perfect fantasy.

My feet stopped in front of her and though I wanted to hit her, beat her until she could feel what I felt each time she purposefully broke my heart by having the privilege to love the man I so deeply adored but it was already over. I was already dead, there was no reason for me to invite her to the wake.

“Y/n.” She started, I could hear it.

“Congratulations, Belly. Conrad’s all yours.” I nodded my head bitterly, sniffling and wiping away my tears violently. I didn’t want her to know that she was sort of the reason I was so angry. She didn’t deserve to comfort me anymore. If she wanted that privilege, she shouldn’t have went behind my back.

“No, Y/n that’s now what I want.” She tried to reason with me, hands raised to try and stop me, even if I wasn’t moving.

“It’s too late then, isn’t it?” My words were venomous falling from my mouth. Fueled by pure betrayal and heartbreak. I couldn’t look at her anymore. Conrad wasn’t mine and neither was she. Belly had made her choice even if she hadn’t meant to. I was constantly upset feeling so immature with how I was handling her and Conrad. Self loathing in how much I hated my body. How the longer they flirted the less I ate and the more I picked myself apart. Each laugh made my teeth look more yellow, each look made my hips look wider. I am so tough on the outside but I become mush when I am alone until I am nothing but a puddle in their hands.

Walking past her on the beach, they didn’t try to chase me. All I heard was distant yelling and a following silence. A rift that was being created by the undying love I held for Conrad between the happy couple and the only ones who had my back, Steven and Jeremiah.

But it was no longer my problem. I would hurt openly. I would let them hear my sobs, I would not try to hide how I felt simply so they wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of what they did to me.

[blainesebastian]

celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

--

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first Australian Girl doll

She spent more than a month in a box, making her way halfway across the world to her new home, and now here she is! I'm so relieved that she arrived safely. It was the longest I've ever had to wait for a doll, and through much of her journey I didn't know where she was or when she would be here.

I don't want to drop too big of a spoiler, but listen to this........ she was so worth the wait, and the money. This doll instantly won my heart with how exquisite she is in every way.

Australian Girl dolls were specially made for Australian children, by Helen Schofield, a grandmother who loved dolls. She created the brand when she couldn't find an age appropriate doll that was locally available or good quality. So she created these dolls to help children feel pride in Australian culture, while teaching them about friendship and empathy. There are five girls to befriend--Amy, Jasmine, Emily, Bronte, and Matilda, each representing a different region of the country, ethnicity, and lifestyle.

The company itself has quite high standards. They strive to reduce waste in their product packaging, and they use a factory in China that treats its workers humanely and does not use child labor.

If you've been around my blog for a while, you know how much I love collecting diverse brands and types of play dolls, especially international dolls. Also, this one will be extra special because I actually have an Australian grandmother--she's also a doll collector, and I'm looking forward to showing her my new doll the next time I see her.

After the cut, I'll show you who she is, and talk about why I chose her. I'll compare her with similar-sized dolls as well, and have her do some dressing up.

Before we get to the unboxing, let's check out the little goodies included with my doll.

First is a little pamphlet explaining why the dolls are special, but also represent real girls growing up in Australia.

There's another pamphlet about how to care for your doll.

All of the dolls come with a fun freebie: this cute pair of thongs.

Another freebie (a $30 AUD value) is this very sturdy doll carrier with pockets for accessories.

I also bought a pair of sneakers for my new girl. I figured her feet would be a bit larger than my other dolls, and these are cute, so she now has three pairs of shoes to wear.

Anyway. Enough of the small stuff. Let's let her out of the box.

It's Amy from Adelaide!

I chose Amy after three entire years of being indecisive and going back and forth on exactly which Australian Girl I wanted. They're all equally adorable, so I picked Amy because her personality seems very sweet, and I love that she has mixed heritage. According to the Austrlaian Girl dolls website, Amy's family tree is a mix of Aboriginal and Dutch on her mother's side, and English and Indian/Fijian on her father's side. Very representative of modern Australia!

I have no regrets. She is perfect!!! Just the most charming little angel. I am officially WOWED.

I'm seriously impressed at the superior quality of her construction. I understand why she was priced a bit higher than similar dolls. She is, from head to toe, beautifully made, with so many sweet details. Her dress and shoes are also impeccably made and feel very durable.

Her hair is flawless. It's a Kanekalon wig with loose curls, in a gorgeous shade of brown. Her eyes open and close. She has both painted and attached eyelashes.

She has a gap between her big toe and the next toe, so she can wear her sandals and thongs.

Her elbows are dimpled and she has subtle blush color on parts of her skin, including elbows and hands.

She has a crease across her palm.

She has articulation at her shoulders, hips, and neck. Her limbs, head, and shoulders are vinyl, and she has a huggable soft tummy. I don't really have a strong preference for either cloth torsos, vinyl torsos, or half and half like Amy. They all have pros and cons. This specific construction is nice in that she can wear low-neckline clothes without showing a cloth body, but it does make her harder to repair in case she has to be fixed.

I have a pretty good idea of what she'll be wearing when she's ready to change out of her pink party dress.

The first photo shows her in a dress I made. The second is a Maplelea dress and hat. The rest are all American Girl brand clothing, except for the shoes. Amy can comfortably wear most stretchy clothes by AG and similar brands like Our Generation, but her feet absolutely will not fit AG, OG, or Maplelea shoes.

The exception to the clothes is some of the tighter pieces. This AG shirt did not fit well. Amy's shoulders are a bit more broad than smaller dolls, and so without some extra give this is too tight.

Amy is 20 inches/51 centimeters tall. Here she is next to my Our Generation doll Jordana. I'm using an OG doll because they're actually available locally in Australia. Whereas American Girl dolls, which I usually use when I compare brands, have to make an overseas journey. So it's only fair that I consider any Australians reading this now who are wondering how Amy compares.

Amy is tall, but not the tallest doll in the family! Here she is next to Fernanda, my Karito Kids doll, who is about an inch taller although slimmer. Karito Kids dolls are in fact just slightly skinnier than American Girl dolls, so they have a much easier time sharing clothes.

In conclusion, I highly highly recommend this doll. She's absolutely sublime! I'm so thrilled to have her here, and I'm looking forward to having lots of adventures with her.

Obviously I'm far from Australia, but my Amy will still live her life as if she were in a suburb outside of the city of Adelaide. I've been looking at pictures of the geography of the state of South Australia, and there are some places in the mountainous parts that look pretty similar to the desert southwest where I live. So Amy will have no idea she's actually in the USA. Don't tell her the truth!

[lessystuff]

Minerva Mystic

Traits: Loves the Outdoors, Active, Loyal

Extras: She comes from The Occult Baby Challenge

She is HOH (Hard of hearing) from her left ear

She is the third oldest of 8 siblings at the moment

Being born in a big family full of supernaturals made her touch with magic always easy for her, but the time to experiment was always cut short taking care of her younger siblings, she being the third eldest. She like taking care of them but what she loves the most is gardening, it started in her childhood and to see the little seeds grow into full on trees bring joy into her young mature heart.

Minerva tends to deal with her stress with exercise, having supernatural siblings of different species made the environment of her childhood/teenage years a little challenging but it removed prejudices that many supernaturals have among themselves.

It was after most of her siblings were big enough to take care by themselves that her mother asked about her aspirations, her mother knew that magic always was calling her but her siblings also needed that help on those early years discovering themselves, it made her sad to see one her eldest child mature so quickly but know she could enjoy her passion. With a crushing hug from her mom and numerous yelled childlike farewells, Minerva entered the Magic Realm, committed to work her hardest, even entering a Tournament.

CC:

Skin Detail / Eyelashes / Eyes / Hair / Witch Hat

EA ID to Download: lessathxi

She is free to download, I only used that CC on her, the rest of her outfits are enterely from EA :)

You can also take off her hat sometimes if it brings problems to see her face on screenshots

The moment I saw this challenge in my wild search I just jumped of excitement! The Ember Academy Spellcaster Tournament from @adelarsims itches my love for occult Sims and it gave me the opportunity to give a makeover to this girl. I hope y'all love her, as I say she is free to download :>