#the hand itself took me like half an hour to sketch out

[webawee]

[starwarsmum]

A new fic? Me? Must be Wednesday 😅 this is based off a prompt for @apileofashandember about Marinette meeting the batfam through Penny ❤️

The rating on this is Mature because it gets a little spicy further down the line! You have been warned 😘

Chapter 1: A Liar Ruins a Website

Marinette sat alone in her room, hands scrunched in her hair as she muffled her screams into her bed. Her laptop sat innocently on her pillow, new comments popping up every few minutes on her now ruined website. 

“Make a website, Jagged said, it'll get your name out there, he said,” she complained to Tikki. The tiny god wisely said nothing, but settled itself into her hair. “How did that liar even find out about it? No, don't answer that,” she added when Tikki took a breath. “If I don't take my website down now, my name will be ruined, and I will never design professionally again.”

One short internet search later, and her heart broke as she changed the code to an out of service message. She would have to email the half a dozen clients that she had secured in the past month or so, and contact Jagged and Penny to let them know. It wasn't fair, she had worked so hard on making her website cute and fun. And now all of that hard work was ruined.

She sighed and opened up her group chat with Jagged and Penny, looking back at the good luck messages she had received from them about the website. It made her miss the early days of her commissions, when Jagged had asked her to make a pair of sunglasses and an album cover.

Nette: hey, just to let you know, I had to take the site down. someone said I stole their work and I got a bunch of hate

Auntie P: what?! who dares? I'm sorry Nette, that's awful

Uncle J: that's not rock n roll! is it that girl you told us about? Leela? Layla? 

Nette: probably, not that I can prove it

Marinette sighed, rubbing her eyes. She fired off the emails to her clients, hoping to get ahead for the night. She had finished her homework, but she still had an hour or two before she crashed for the night so she was hoping to get at least one of the designs finalised.

She got lost in the designing process, fresh pages becoming covered in sketches and annotations. She surfaced from her work after Tikki reminded her that she had school the next morning, so she readied herself for bed. When she checked her messages again before she went to sleep, she saw a new one flashing on the group chat.

Aunt P: if you need a hand rebranding, creating a new website, just let us know. we're proud of you for being so mature with this and we'll help you succeed

Nette: thanks both, I may take you up on that. I just need a couple of days to get over this setback and we'll sort it

It was after a fitful night's sleep that Marinette awoke, late as usual, and ran through her morning rituals. She shoved her hair into a bun, dragged on a semi-respectable outfit and grabbed a croissant on her way through the bakery. Now that she was in lycée, she had to travel further in the mornings. Fortunately, with the motorcycle she had finally passed the test to drive, she didn't need to rely on public transport to get there.

“Girl, are you okay?” Alya raced up to her as she pulled into the lycée car park, throwing her arms around Marinette. “Lila told us your website went down last night, right when she was about to submit a request! What happened?”

“Someone started a rumour that I stole my designs and it meant a bunch of people started trashing the site,” Marinette said, trying to keep her voice even. She couldn't help stressing the first word, as she knew who was likely behind it, but she regretted it when Alya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Not again, Marinette! I know it's been hard for you since you and Adrien didn't work out, and now it looks like he and Lila are going to start dating, but you need to stop with the jealousy! I love you, girl, but you get so into your head about him.”

“Alya, I didn't even say anything!” Marinette protested, weariness settling back onto her like an old, heavy blanket. “Look, whatever, it's not important right now. We're going to be late to class if we don't hustle.”

“I know you, Mari, you always think it was Lila!” Alya sounded exasperated, and it wasn't like Marinette could refute it. They walked along the hallway to their lockers, nodding at their friends as they passed. “And I get it, really, you can't help how you feel, but like I've told you before, you have to look at things objectively to get to the truth!”

Marinette bit her tongue, not wanting to point out that Alya’s blind insistence that Lila would never do such a thing was just as subjective as her believing that she had. She deliberately changed the topic to something else, ignoring the disapproving look her best friend shot her.

When they entered their classroom, Marinette greeted her other friends, sliding easily into her seat. She had chosen to sit at the back of the class so that nobody could say she had to give up her seat to someone else, reducing the upset it caused when Lila started spinning tales. She was fortunate that Lila had been placed in a different class in the previous years, but in her last year of lycée, her luck had finally run out.

“Oh my gosh, Marinette, I heard about your website!” Came the liar's high pitched faux-concerned voice. It grated on her that she would have to play nice with Lila once again, as Lila got her jabs in at Marinette. “It's so scary that someone would start a rumour about your work ethic, with so little evidence! Adrien and I were talking about it last night, he's always saying how you're still such a good friend to him.”

“Yeah, well, actually there's no evidence of me stealing designs because it's one hundred percent untrue,” Marinette said blandly, staring Lila down. She ignored the distressed noises the other girl started to make and waved a hand. “It doesn't matter, I have a few commissions to get through, but then I should take a break from designing to focus on the BAC anyway…”

Everyone around her told her it was such a shame that she wouldn't be able to take on new commissions for a while and she nodded glumly. She had no intention of stopping designing, of course, but this would hopefully give her some breathing room whilst she got herself set up again - anonymously this time. 

Which sadly meant that Max was no longer an option for making a new website. As much as she loved her friends, they really didn't look too hard at Lila's fantastic stories, which meant they would blithely tell the witch when Marinette set up again. This way, she would make a name for herself separately, and claim the brand in a few years once it was fully legitimised.

The lessons that day felt like they dragged on forever, Marinette just wanting to go home and make some progress on her commissions. She had learned to keep her sketchbooks at home - she didn't want to lose her work to people like 14-year-old Chloe - so she focused on trying to get a headstart on her homework whenever she had a free minute.

“Marinette! We were just talking about our Christmas plans, girl, weren't you making a bunch of designs for the local nativity play?” Alya beckoned her over and Marinette hid the grimace that threatened to cross her face. “Wow, that's so cool! Did you volunteer or something?”

“Not really, they saw some of my work and offered me a reasonable price for their main costumes for the play,” Marinette answered, wary of where the conversation would go next. She had stopped doing freebies for her friends, which had upset them until she had explained that she wanted to go to university in America and needed to spend all of her time on paid commissions. 

“Oh, it's so nice for you that you're comfortable taking pay from such an underfunded space, Marinette!” Lila put in, sounding sweet as per usual, but with all of the underhandedness that Marinette was accustomed to. “I was just telling Rose that I'm planning on volunteering my time at a soup kitchen throughout the Christmas period. My friends, Damian and Tim, their family funds a few different charities both here and abroad. Do you think Adrien will be able to help out too?”

“You should probably check with his aunt,” she replied flatly, refusing to be baited into an argument about whether she should be doing the costumes for free. “I need to go and eat, excuse me.” She pushed away from the table, feeling drained again and resolutely ignoring the conversation that picked up about Lila's ‘friends’. Marinette was sure that whoever Lila was claiming to know this time had no clue who she was and she wasn't going to get stuck in that mess.

She toyed with her phone before deciding that she absolutely needed a new website and that Penny's friend was likely her best bet. So she crafted her message, begging Penny to put her in touch with her computer whiz before slogging through her homework and lunch.

_ _ _

Marinette sat nervously at her desk later that evening, waiting for the video call Penny had promised her. They had decided a three-way call was the best way to introduce them both, but as the other two were in America, it was later than Marinette would have liked for a video call.

Tikki was sitting quietly on her shoulder as she sketched anxiously. She knew that whoever Penny was introducing her to would be nice enough, but she was always unsure of meeting new people. She added a few details to her work, and jumped when the laptop began ringing. She hastily accepted the call, twisting in her chair and tapping her fingers.

“Hi, Nette,” came Penny's bright voice. “And hey Babs, thanks for coming on the call to help. Marinette, this is Barbara, an old student of sorts. I worked with her back when I was an aide at Gotham U, she was studying library science with a minor in computer sciences. Babs, this is Marinette, Jagged's personal designer. She's done a ton of his more recent album artwork and designed all of his stage outfits for the last 2 years. She's also our honorary niece.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Marinette!” The woman was leaning towards her screen, scrutinising the teenager. Marinette eyed her as well, seeing a whole mane of red hair and glasses above a broad smile. “Penny mentioned you needed some help with a website, though she didn't mention you were so accomplished already.”

“Ah, yes, I had some recent trouble with my own website and I don't have enough technical know-how to create something secure. I'm planning to go anonymous, to prevent the same thing happening again, but I have no idea where to start,” Marinette explained, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. 

“And how do you plan to get clients if you have no base to start from?” Babs was beginning to type furiously, a gleam in her eyes. “Don't get me wrong, I'm sure your work is wonderful, but if you don't have any endorsements, isn't it really hard to break onto the fashion scene?”

“Oh, well I thought I'd have Jagged do the introduction, if that's okay, Pen? Because I'm under 18, I didn't tell anyone except my maman that I was working with Jagged and she promised to keep it to herself. I figured that way I can sort commissions and won't have a problem with getting new clients.”

“Wicked idea, M!” Came Jagged's voice from off screen, making her giggle. “Babs, let us know when you have her site up and running and I'll rep it on my socials. Rock n roll, girls!”

So they worked out the logistics moving forward, Marinette trading contact info with Barbara and promising one evening a week to go over the website details. It was everything Marinette had hoped for when Penny had offered to connect her with a friend. When the call finally ended, it was closer to midnight in Paris and she was relieved that it was a weekend the following day.

“That went well, Marinette,” Tikki squeaked at her, floating around head height as the girl got herself ready for bed. Marinette agreed before collapsing into bed with a groan. It didn't take long for her to pass out, a slight smile on her face.

[infranuz]

Hii can I get a Chishiya x reader where the reader is an artist? It can be in whatever format u like, I don't really mind. Please and thank u!

“ A PAINTING FOR YOU!! ” — chishiya x artist!reader

where chishiyas s/o is an artist who likes to take painting commissions, except this time valentine’s day is getting closer and they want to make a special gift just for chishiya.

— HIHI!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING,, I had this idea to add on to the request hopefully you don’t mind<3 but I hope it is to your liking!! ,, ps there’s most likely spelling and grammar mistakes so anything I missed, feel free to correct me 💕 also so sorry for writing this 4 days after valentines😭 ,, also,, mentions of wife and husband..

it was currently 10 pm, saturday february 11. three full days before valentine’s day, yet you were still busy finishing up your commissions instead of planning something special for your boyfriend. the thought of making something for him this year crossed your mind as you were scrolling through Instagram looking through your feed. it wasn’t a bad idea at all actually. surely chishiya would appreciate a gift.

you were a painter who made portraits and other paintings for people, chishiya admired this. he always wondered how you were so patient yet fast when handling your art. truly a unique talent, even for him to admit. you had actually tried to teach chishiya how to sketch and make a good painting, the basics. not once did it work out. he may be a fast learner but sticking to the med field instead of art would be better.

still, you always kept his painting attempts most of the time. point is, valentine’s day was approaching rather quickly and this year you wanted to use your talent to good use. it had to be something meaningful yet pretty, something he would love to admire. this was your second year as a couple celebrating the 14th together. you had thought of other things to possibly gift the half blond but chishiya was never the materialistic type so choosing something for him was rather difficult.

so that’s when the idea of a painting came in, i mean you could easily finish a canvas in three days, right? the moment you realized what you wanted to do you got up from your bed and immediately started to sketch out your idea. you only had three days to finish the painting, thank god chishiya didnt live with you, otherwise the gift would’ve been a big fail right from the start.

after about an hour of narrowing down your ideas, you went for the safer option, your favorite date spot. it was more of a rough sketch idea since you weren’t fully sure when you first started, finishing the sketch would probably take all night but you were willing to take that risk. of course you would be closing and pausing your commissions just until the 15th so you could focus on the main thing.

obviously the colors would be a pain to find so mixing and combining the ones you had at home were the safer option. greys, whites, some really pigmented and bright ones others pretty dark.. yet it was a good palette. it all looked good together when you tested it on a small scaled canvas. it was now 7 am, frebruary 12th, took all night to finish, but at least the picture itself was done.. good news!!

although the bad news on the other hand,, chishiya would be arriving at your doorstep any moment now. he would always make sure to see you before a shift of his at the hospital, which was quite early. you had to put a cover over the canvas and securely lock your art room beforehand. it was screaming suspicion but who cares, not like you killed anyone. though the idea of chishiya finding out his gift wasn’t pleasant so before he arrived you tried to look natural which wouldn’t be easy with the evident dark circles under your eyes that made it obvious you hadn’t slept an inch.

right after you walked back to the kitchen the sound of keys trying to unlock the door were heard. normally you would be happy yet sleepy of his presence right before going to work. this time you were nervous and still sleepy, he figures things out way too quickly specially when you act suspicious, he can read a person too well. you heard him go upstairs, thankfully not where your art room is at. confused you waited for him to come back downstairs, “there you are, I thought you were still be in bed” chishiya made his way to the counter. on sundays you stayed in bed until he arrived and woke you up to eat breakfast.

“I woke up a tad bit earlier today” you turned to him with two mugs filled with hot water. “morning chishi” you smiled at him trying to shake off the nervousness. he looked up at you and his eyes immediately landed on the dark circles right beneath yours. “did you not sleep well?” he frowned. “ah, this? I was finishing up some commissions last night that I completely forgot to sleep haha..” he raised a brow at you with clear confusion, but questioned no further.

to anyone, you staying up finishing any art project of yours would be normal, to him it’s was very,, weird. chishiya knew you all too well, you would never and when I say never it’s because clearly, never have you stayed all up all night trying to finish a canvas. still he didn’t mention a single word of this, “you should’ve told me, you could be sleeping right now instead of having breakfast with me” it was your time to frown, “but I wouldn’t have seen you today, anyway it doesn’t bother me I purely run on coffee” you said proudly.

“you’re stupid” he sighted, though truth is he was glad he got to see you before work, long hours at the hospital were exhausting specially when he didn’t get to see you all day. he would never admit to that though. “make sure to sleep after, it’s not healthy not getting any sleep, you could get sick” there he goes again scolding you about your health, it’s almost as if he was your husband and you his wife. “i know, i know, don’t worry i will” you weren’t..

he left soon after you packed his lunch, which was rather silly. everytime you thought about it, it would be almost as if you were a married couple. with a quick kiss and hug he exited your house and walked to his destination.

right after he left you grabbed your keys and unlocked your art room again ready to continue. he would scold you later when he finds out you went straight to your project rather than sleeping. but that would be a worry for later. sadly he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow when he finished his shift.. at least it would give you more time to work rather than having to hide your painting.

at some point you decided to stop and actually take a small nap, anyway you were half done and it was 1 am, february 13th. once again you put a cover over the canvas and locked the door before walking up to your room and finally sleeping. yet that didn’t exactly do much for your eye bags.

“you didn’t sleep again?” he sounded tired and sleepy the very next morning he arrived from the hospital “you haven’t slept either chishi” whenever he arrived at your doorstep tired from his long hour shifts you would grow worried for his health. “let’s get you to bed” you grabbed his hand as he followed. it was a pretty normal routine by now. he would sleep at your house while you either stayed right beside him or went out to buy groceries. this time you would have to go back down and finally finish the project. which was very risky considering he was there.

he immediately knocked out after he felt himself laying down, you giggled at his sight as you went back downstairs. you made sure to lock your art room before starting so he wouldn’t accidentally walk in on you making his gift. after many hours later the painting was finally done and you could get a good rest right next to your boyfriend.

finally the 14th of february arrived, you were excited to show him his present that you worked hard on. hoping that he would like it even more, you took him to the exact same spot that was painted into the canvas. a picnic date to be exact. you were both clearly still in need of sleep but that business would be for later after your date.

he had a bag and some flowers in hand when he arrived, he was wearing the white hoodie you got him last year with a white shirt underneath and sweatpants.. typical of him. the canvas was right beside the basket of food you brought but that would be opened after you were done eating.

some small typical talk later you both finished your food “thankfully you had today off, you seriously needed a break” you were picking up and trashing the items you no longer used. now, it was the time for gifts , much to his dismay. chishiya was never good with words so he always just handed you your gift straightforward “here” he grabbed the bag by his side and gave it to you. it was a necklace with both of your initials although the s stood out more.

you let out a grin “thank you shuntaro”, surprisingly he didn’t buy you a ring, (he was about to).. actually even more surprising, he got you jewelry. you asked him to clip the necklace from behind your neck. it was a pretty necklace needless to say. he also handed you a letter but he advised you to open it later when he wasn’t in your presence anymore.

now it was your turn to give him his gift. you let out a deep breath and grabbed the boxed canvas behind you. “i wanted to gift you something special this year, so hopefully you like this” you hand him the painting.

he slowly unwraps the tie and opens the box, for a second you see his eyes widen as he stares at the content inside, slowly they soften and he smirks “so this is what you were hiding” you look up at him shocked “YOU KNEW?!?” you couldn’t believe such a moment was ruined by him telling you he already knew.

“it was pretty obvious dumbass” you sighted in defeat “at least you didn’t know what the painting contained..” you smiled softly “do you like it?” you looked up at him, his eyes to be exact. he only hums and smiles at your words, you feel all the nervousness lift from your shoulders.

you launched yourself at him with joy as he falls back on the grass. his hands travel to your waist as he hugs you. truth to be told you loved these moments were chishiya showed just how much he actually enjoys being with you without him having to actually say it.

your hands land on both of his cheeks, a small kiss to his forehead. “i’m glad you liked it, let’s have more years together okay?” you smile at him. chishiya could only chuckle at your words yet agree, he looked forward to spending many more years to come with you and truly, only you.

[jacquelinesbookclub]

Monks - Des Dillon

I’ve been in a Funk. A Funk with a big fat capital F. Let me explain.

I had a whole thing lined up to talk about this book, about how sometimes a story is written in such a way that it begs to be read out loud. The difficulty in teaching Shakespeare to kids in English class is that it’s not meant to be read, but heard. It’s written with performance in mind, and trying to untangle it wholly within your own head won’t give it the space it needs to express itself. Monks has an element of this as well, and I can see why Dillon took it and turned it into a play after its initial publication, it’s expressive in a way that needs to be performed. I read the first third or so of this book out loud to myself, pacing my living room gesturing wildly like I was on stage again for the first time in twenty years, and it was fun! It felt like that was exactly how it was meant to be experienced, out loud, in person, in real physical space where it can breath and shout and play, where it can exist. But then disaster, I broke my glasses.

I broke my glasses while cleaning them on my shirt, snapped them clean in two, right down the middle. Less than a week later I broke my backup pair in the exact same place in the exact same way. Broken glasses means I can’t see which means I don’t see and by don’t see I mean I’ve stopped looking. I can’t read, I can’t write, I can’t diddle away on my phone for hours on end. Driving hurts my poor soggy little brain, as does literally anything that requires focus, no riding my bike, no video games, no model kits, no painting, drawing, sketching. I can’t see properly so I’ve not even bothered trying, I’ve let the Funk in and its made itself at home.

...

And stayed there. I wrote these first two paragraphs a month and a half ago, which was two weeks after finishing the book, I’ve barely left the couch in eight weeks. I’ve had new glasses for a while now and I’m still not out of the Funk, so it isn’t that. I tried to blame the weather, it’s been below freezing in the mornings and constantly wet and dreary, but no-one believed me. “I’ve been busy”, I say from my comfy chair, they’re not buying it. I’ve gotta come clean, I’ve been depressed. Not just sad and mopey, but real, teeth in the flesh depressed. Like a bulldog’s lockjaw around my ankle, the ol’ ball and chain dragging me down. But it’s me, I’ve created this, the Funk is coming from inside the brain, and I’ve sealed all the doors and closed myself in with it.

Dillon’s unnamed protagonist continuously refers back to time spent in “the Ward” with Jimmy Brogan, and those of us who know, know that there is often very little healing to be done in places like that; locked up with your own thoughts, ruminating between bouts of sedatives, only people to talk to are like minded or trying to fix your mind like. It’s suffocating, there’s no fresh air to be had, no way to stick your head above the clouds and feel the sun on your face even for a second. You’re in with the Funk, and you’re not goin’ till the Funk is gone. But where is it supposed to go? You’re trapped in there playing hot potato with the Funk, back and forth, bouncing from hand to hand, feeding it with every touch, with every contact. The Funk has seeped into the walls, it’s a sticky film over all the furniture, the entire place reeks of it behind the bleach, you can’t get clean of it because it’s everywhere, you can’t get clean of it in there.

Breaking my glasses might have been the catalyst, but what I’ve actually done is built myself my own personal Ward, not of wood and bricks but of Funk. Dillon says “at some stage we level our eyes to the earth and don’t look up the rest of our lifes”, that’s what I’ve done, I’ve stopped looking out at the stars and turned in on myself. We’re all guilty of this, in our own way, building up walls and keeping our whole world inside. It’s scary out there, and comfortable here in here, I tell myself, but in here there’s nothing but Funk, a circuitous bubble of the same thoughts ricocheting off each other. I need to get OUT.

This is what Monks is telling us, to get out. “We’re over here to stretch our lifes. Make them bigger. Experience things”. Healing happens not in my Funk in front of the TV, but out there, in the world. It happens when I meet a neighbourhood cat, or feed some ducks. It happens when I improvise a silly song with a friend in the moment, when I say something embarrassingly wrong on the phone and the world doesn’t end. It happens when I laugh about missing a shot in a game of billiards, and when the room cheers once I get it right. It happens when I breach above the Funk for a moment and take some space for myself. Every time I get out of my comfort zone and come back safely, my zone expands. Yeah, it’s hard, fuckin’ oath it’s hard. “But strugglin’s good. Strugglin’s perseverance an indomitable spirit. Strugglin’s searching for something stronger inside. Strugglin’s what it is to be alive”. The struggle is what helps the healing, It’s like training my muscles, I push them so they can grow bigger, without resistance I’ll never grow.

So that’s what I’ll to do then, push through the struggle to get out. Get out into the world, Run up a mountain, kiss a beautiful woman, laugh with friends, have a wierd conversation with a wierd guy, share a knowing glance with a cashier at the shops, feel the cold on my face, and see that it’s real. It’s really really really real.

[fried-eggs152]

“What?? No no ferb belive me I would never do such a thing..no not on purpose!” Phineas begged as the ambulance took his ‘friend’ away to the emergency rooms. Ferb was angry. And for the first time in ages it was at phineas.

Lets back track.

Ferb fletcher and phineas Flynn. Most well known around the tri-state area, helping many others and making many unimaginable things. Fun always seemed to be written up everywhere they go. Though a lot may call it off putting as the two looked awfully intimidating. With their dull dyed hair and naturally sharp teeth and their strong stare. Never have they tried to piss them off. And of course the two never noticed them shift carefully around them as they walked and talked happily down the street.

Phineas Flynn was an outgoing teen. With a smile and hopes and dreams, he always found ways that could get the problem dealt with. He was more talkative when it comes to events or just simply random meet ups. Talking about new and exciting things to do, things they make to help the people and maybe even the world! But for him that felt like a little much, and wanted to see if the human species itself could maybe help the world. Even then he tried his best to apply himself to the helpings.

Ferb on the other hand was more quiet and pretty closed off teen. Not knowing what he says they found him more intimidating then they do to phineas. And when he spoke his voice was always heard. And ferb knew this to heart. He knew if his opinion was said with his voice, it really mattered. He had much power with just a simple sentence. But he never used it to his advantage or own benefit. No no. He used his voice only when it’s really needed. Ferb always looked up to phineas. As he is of course 1 year older than he is. Though phineas never acted like he was older more or less the two were the same age instead. But when is that ever relevant in this moment? Ferb barely showed the same energy when it comes to helping others in need, neutral some may say. But never good or bad.

__

Phineas was at Buford’s house leaning on the big guy’s back as Buford worked on whatever he worked on..probably with his fish biff was it? Yeah!

He had a clipboard in hand working on blueprints. Well making new blueprints. He sighed out as he made a quick rough sketch “whaddya think Buford?” He asks passing the clipboard to the bully. Buford was less..quiet but just as outgoing. He took the clipboard, scars covering a lot of his hands and arms “hm” he hummed shrugging “I’m not a scientist dinner bell” he said quickly tossing the clipboard carelessly back to phineas. The red eye’s stared at Buford with a smile. As the clipboard missed him completely. He wrapped his arms around Buford and sighed “I know” he said softly watching as Buford cared for his cared goldfish. Buford snarked a little moving his arm and patting the top of phineas’s head “yeesh you can never stay still?” He asks raising an eyebrow as phineas chuckled more “ha no!” He said rolling off of Buford’s back and onto the floor “I’m just so bored” he says looking up at his..let’s say better half. The dull brown eyes staring lovingly at his pet goldfish “surprises me how long biff’s been alive” he adds. Buford looked at phineas and gave him a look, “goldfish can live up to 30 years if taken good care of..” he said a little happy to tell phineas a fact. Phineas almost seemed to brighten up more too this new info “that’s great” he said getting up from the floor. “you must be an amazing owner” he said leaning down and kissing Buford’s cheek “well still bored…are you done?” He asks, Buford nods getting up “yeah” he said “to bad ferbs at camp for the day” Buford adds shrugging his arms. Phineas nodded “he’ll probably be back in a couple hours..you know how he came back early from debate camp?” He said. Buford nodded picking up the clipboard gently this time and looking at it “neat idea. What is it?” He asks, phineas looked at the clipboard thinking for a moment “global warning change I guess nothing to big..” he said shrugging. Phineas always brushed off the world stuff as something small though Buford usually had to quickly move phineas from that “dinner bell that’s more then ‘nothing too big’.” He said with a glare, phineas chuckled nodding “yeaaah..” he said putting his hands together “I just need to..fix some things and it should be good to go” he said, humming as he thought. Buford nodding to phineas’s idea he added on “how about we test it just me and you? Isabella and baljeet are busy with work.” Buford proceeded. The red eyed boy was hesitant at first “I’m not sure Buford..I never really done anything without ferb, without his intellect that is.” He said. Ferb had always went over his blueprints before they went in action. To see faulty equipment or things anything that could possible go wrong. Buford pat phineas’s shoulder pretty hard “I’m sure you can figure it out on your own” he said reassuringly. Phineas thought for a moment, letting out a content sigh he nodded happily “alright. Buford I know what we’re gonna do today “ he said gigging. Buford rolled his eyes nodding “of course you do” he said.

__

The hours pass by, without anyone acknowledging the laziness of the writer….this time..

Phineas and Buford by anyone’s surprise were done. But phineas was a little fidgety about testing it, still not keen about the idea of ferb not checking it first. “I’m not sure..” he mumbled grabbing Buford’s hand for comfort, latley phineas had found out Buford does not care how much PDA phineas does. This gave him a lot of opportunities to be clingy as much as he pleases.

Buford shrugged off the worried “what could go wrong?“ he asks, which of course phineas answered with “anything and everything if it isn’t done right” he said staring at the machine they had built. He mumbled a bit nervously before nodding intently to himself “I have a button that’ll shut itself off just incase it..does something..” he muttered hugging Buford’s arm one last time before letting go. “Well..ok let’s start it!” He said almost back to his enthusiastic self, walking over and pressing a couple buttons the machine started to warm up. He backed up holding the remote tightly in hand incase it does something. Minutes passed by…what felt like nothing but intimidation from the mere machine and possibility of harm..surprise! Nothing happened

Buford and phineas stare at each other across from the machine. Of course Buford wasn’t having this. He walked over and practically punched the damned thing “Buford!” Phineas called out crossing his arms “what?? It isn’t doing anything!” Buford said crossing his arms with slight annoyance from the lack of action this machine had done. Phineas sighed nodding “I’ll see what time ferb should be back and he should tell us what went wrong” the boy said turning around and texting his brother.

“Ferb me and Buford made this thing for climate change anddd it isn’t working. When will you be back?” Phineas messaged. Which the message was very quickly read by ferb who took his time messaging

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes. I’m just at the park.” Of course he was. Phineas smiled as they of course were also at the park “sweet! Me and Buford are too!” Ferb sent a thumbs up. Typical of him but phineas never complained. “He’s such a soft talker” he mumbled to himself. Suddenly a loud crash was heard from behind him. His machine had fallen. And he didn’t hear any snarky or smartass remarks from Buford. “Buford??” He asks turning his whole body around swiftly, last he remembered Buford was standing..oh no. “Buford..” he calls out not seeing a sight of Buford anywhere. He walked towards the machine, terror slowly creeping in, fidgeting with his hands hoping it was just another sick joke..Buford hadn’t pulled..in a good 4 years.. he was around the machine to the angle it had fallen from and to now pure terror he saw. A see he didn’t want to ever see.

“Oh god..” he breathed out dropping the remote and running towards a bow very unconscious bully and a lot of blood to be seen. He was frozen from emotion but knew exactly what was happening.

The sinking feeling in his stomach was far to much to bare. He grabbed his phone in a quick haste and called the operator. Sobs choking up his throat

“911 what’s your emergency?” The male operator asked.

A short but painful story explained. The operators were much more quicker to understand, and quick to send an ambulance over. But of course this came with a couple of challenges..the machine being heavier then phineas himself. Thankfully the machine was able to fold itself in to a very small size. But he had to be quick incase Buford’s lungs or rib cage were being crushed.

He stood up speed walking over to the machine and quickly pressing the buttons his hands shaking violently. “Hh shock..” he muttered out loud as the machine successfully folded.

It wasn’t as bad as it looked but on the outside it looked horrible. “Phineas?” British recognizable voice called out almost in shock as much as phineas “ferb!” He turned around voice breaking. Ferb looked at the mess and the small metal square. A lot didn’t look okay to ferb. And he was too quick to assume “what did you do??” He asks as the ambulance arrives. Paramedics rushing out to aid Buford back to healthy condition but in a hospital of course.

And we were back. Phineas now in shock of ferbs response to the scene he slightly panicked “What?? No no ferb belive me I would never do such a thing..no not on purpose!” Phineas begged as the ambulance took his ‘friend’ away to the emergency rooms. Ferb was angry. And for the first time in ages it was at phineas. Woah de ja vu..

“Phineas did you do this without my knowledge??” He said in a serious tone “ferb please understand.” Before he could even explain ferb shut him up “NO. Phineas this was extremely dangerous. And not only that the AMBULANCE had to be now included?” He said with a strict tone. The lights of the ambulance blinding but fading away. But the cops staying behind to question phineas. “Ferb please it- let me explain” he begs tears welling up “i don’t know what happened i turned around and messaged you I made SURE it was stable enough! I did everything at my will to make sure it was even safe enough to be around” he tried explaining with choked up sobs. “Phineas. We will talk about this later.” Ferb said showing obvious betrayal and anger towards phineas.

—

I’m hungry now I forgot to eat and drank a energy drink 0-0” (omg what the fuck)

An au that actually has full work!?? (And different design as welll???) :O

Part 1 part 2

[quibbs126]

I said I’d post the other piece I did for VASE, so might as well do it now

This character you see here isn’t a character I already had, she was entirely made up for the drawing. The entire thing is solely based on the song Papercut by Zedd. More specifically, the middle part of the song, where the music is starting to swell (around the 3 and a half minute mark is where it starts)

For some reason, this song, along with most of the songs I’ve heard by Zedd, just give me these visions in my head that comes from the song. Like, I hear the songs, and I see something from that in my mind. Some of them, this song in particular, gives me this…bursting feeling in my chest, like an explosion of colors, ideas, emotions, just everything. I don’t really know how to describe it, but do you get what I mean? I’m not sure, maybe I’m just weird. But anyways, at the time this was one of the only Zedd songs I’d listened to, so I did my art piece based on that

Also side note, but you should totally listen to that song, as well as the rest of the album, True Colors (if you’re a fan of electronic music that is). Two of the songs were on the radio some years ago, I Want You to Know and Beautiful Now, but honestly the entire album is full of absolute bangers, I love every song in the album, and they all feel distinct enough that I don’t get that burnout I usually do when listening to multiple songs by the same artist, where they all start to blend together and sound the same. Probably because every song has a different singer. Also you should check out the album Clarity. I know the song itself is really good, but there are other songs in that album that deserve love too, a particular favorite of mine being Hourglass. Though it came out a few years before True Colors, and I’d say True Colors is basically the improved version of Clarity, so maybe check out Clarity first. But yeah, check out the music, it’s so good

This piece took me in total, around 10 and a half hours, but that’s also because I redid the entire thing to change the hands all the way from the sketch. The original took about 6 hours, and the redo took 4 and a half. Unfortunately I probably won’t make any pieces as grand as this, given I don’t have that sort of time to spare (we were given time in class to do our art). I try, but usually I end up getting sidetracked before I can finish the sketch

I kind of consider this my best piece I’ve drawn, and I hope you like it too

Also I’ll show you the original picture too

[lairai]

2022 Art Summary

I've never been super keen on the "gallery-style" image/art summaries that people often do, because I a) never have enough art to give each month its own piece and b) I can never figure out a layout I like. So I decided to instead do a sort of "look back at 2022", in text form with images where it matters.

Beginning of the year

This year was a wild ride for me, art-wise! I took a landscape-painting course at the beginning of the year (I'd love to recommend it but it's on Wingfox which, last I checked, was borderline unusable, so until they make it work I can't recommend people spend money on stuff there), and did a bunch of landscape commissions. Here are two I'm particularly happy with! (Watermarked because due to the way backgrounds are formatted in ARPGs they don't have my signature)

I decided to try using gamut masks for my colour palettes instead of just kinda winging it based on a handful of reference images. I know not many people use them, probably due to how many steps they add to an art piece, but I've always kind of struggled with having the confidence to use less 'usual' colours in my paintings so they really helped.

Summer (kinda)

And then my old PC died! :') I had been looking to replace or upgrade it for a long time but never quite had the time for it, so I guess it decided to do me one last favour and completely cease to work so I could finally get myself to buy a new one (after 5+ years of owning this one). It took weeks to replace it, which I think was the longest time I spent without drawing in... quite a while. Eventually, as we learned it would take longer and longer for the new PC to be assembled, I moved my drawing tablet to a different PC temporarily and started working on a particularly ambitious piece:

I am honestly so proud of this image - both because I like how it turned out overall, and because drawing these two was the one thing that really made me want to learn how to draw people (and, more specifically, men). I had done the usual "pose studies, quick sketches, anatomy studies, looking at references" routine, but I always dropped it because I just didn't have the motivation to keep learning something I saw I was so obviously bad at initially. But then in Realm of Serpents, these two happened, with just the cutest story that somehow wrote itself without anyone planning it beforehand. And I just had to draw them. So here we are.

Autumn

In autumn, in a group I help run, we launched the biggest change the game has ever received: we gave it a lore-based, story-focused progression system. If you're not in any ARPGs or aren't familiar with how they work, this might mean very little to you, but just imagine like a year and a half of writing, 80k+ words, and art assets on art assets on art assets. I'm very proud of how some of these turned out. They had to be done in just a few hours each for me to get everything finished on time, and for how little time I had to spend on them, I'm not unhappy with their final look:

Winter

Winter was busy. Partially I was really tired from finishing the project I mentioned above, partially I was writing my second BA thesis on top of studying at a second uni for a completely different degree. I didn't get a lot done, but that didn't stop me from sketching my two favourite Fools Who Are Terribly In Love:

And now we're here! I tried a lot of new things with my art this year. I'm still getting the hang of human anatomy, and I know some of my human sketches look a bit wonky still. But I think diving into a new subject, knowing you won't get it right the first dozen (or hundred!) times but also knowing it'll pay off in the end, is kind of what art is all about. Happy New Year!

[bishop-percival]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy couldn’t help but groan at the sight of all those gemstones. Then after a few seconds he clutched his chest in an attempt to play it off as physical pain rather than mental anguish. Not only would he have to spend countless hours stitching them in— which was a new skill that would have to be done entirely by hand— but it was so gaudy. And if that wasn’t bad enough it looked like Bishop Percival was haphazardly placing them for the sake of having them! This time Teddy kept everything within a single text for the sakes of those around him. Fortunately the enter button wasn’t synonymous with the send button on his phone. Revenard Mike will have so much fun… Any particular types of gemstones in mind? Onyx and ruby would blend in to make the fabric itself appear to sparkle when the light strikes them. Or perhaps I could use topaz stripes on the band to resemble hazard tape. Then he paused before sending one more text. How did you mold your pathetic watchdog body into a fearsome being?

Percival chortled at the text. “Ah don’t worry about your pal Two-Eyes. These gems are coming from my personal collection! Although… It’d be sooo damn funny to see the look on his face if he were to see me walking around one day with his precious Eye of Merotamia on my hat! HAH!”

He sketched another diamond shape near the top point of the mitre. He then looked back at the text again to reread the second half. 

“Nyeh, maybe the hazard tape look would be cool if I were to preach in a construction zone. But I think I’ll forgo that. But I do like your idea of matching the color of the gems to the fabric. Extravagant subtlety.”

When the second text came in, Percy smiled wide and set his phone down to ramble again.

“Pfft! Don’t you pay attention in Glornch? I’ve become the magnificent beast I am today by serving my one but-not-only Glorn. I carry out his malign will in this world and he rewards me handsomely in strength. Some sacrifices here, some torture there, perform so many rituals you lose grip on reality, and betrayal. Lots and lots and lots of sweet betrayal.” 

His voice took on a dreamy, fluttering tone. “Oh Glorn, I'll reward ya back some day... Just wait for me~”

[lepusrufus]

Some (slightly angsty) vamp fam being wholesome and loving each other bc we need it 

Now keep in mind I’m in no way a writer but i wanted to write a teeny lil fic based around this sketch (the alternative was a short comic which i do not have the time for lol) so enjoy the angst and fluff under the cut

The frigid wind was howling outside, crashing against the towers of the Dimitrescu castle. Yet they stood tall and proud as they have for centuries now, the thick stone walls protecting its inhabitants from the winter cold. 

On the inside, the halls were filled with echoes of heels running across the polished floors, accompanied by the giggles and laughter of the three daughters of the house. Cassandra was in the lead, a comically large hat held in her gloved hands, followed by Bela and, lagging behind, their youngest sister Daniela. She deliberately stayed behind to -jokingly of course- mock their pursuer’s efforts to catch up. Each time she turned to yell a “we cannot be captured” or “give up and we may spare your hat” a small sigh escaped their mother’s lips. 

“Come now, daughters. You know as well as I do that I must get ready for tonight’s meeting.”

Alcina made no efforts to quicken her pace though, she knew that her mischievous daughters would not run too far ahead. After all, where is the fun in having so much distance between you and your pursuer that you can’t even see and make fun of them. At least that’s what Daniela always said. 

Despite her air of tiredness, Alcina couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the sound of her beloved daughters’ giggles. They may be up to no good occasionally, but they knew better than to cause their mother embarrassment, especially when it came to Mother Miranda. The meeting was still distant. For now she could afford to spend some time with them. 

The trio rounded a corner, the first two quickly slipping out of sight while Daniela lingered there and turned towards her mother. 

“Fine, we’ll give you the hat back,” she shouted and, for a second Alcina looked at her daughter hopefully, until she held her chin between two fingers in an exaggerated pensive expression. “If we can get a pet lycan!" 

Alcina grimaced at the mere thought of one of Heisenberg’s beasts coming even close to her castle. Her clean castle.

"Never." 

"Good luck then!" 

Daniela spun on her heels to follow her sisters, but lost her balance for a moment, slamming an elbow against the window placed right behind her for support. She had a tendency to get a little clumsy when excited, though it never became a problem bigger than a couple insignificant vases getting broken or an accidental -according to her- shove against her sisters. That is, until today.

The latch on the old window rattled from the combined force of Daniela’s hit and the wind outside that has been pushing against it all day long. This was the final hit that it needed to give out. The window opened forcefully, letting in a cold burst of winter air from outside that howled through the hallway. Daniela got knocked to the ground, more due to the pain caused by the chilly air than from its force, and instinctively tried to crawl away from the window while shielding herself from the cold as best as she could. The pain, however, became quickly unbearable and an agonized scream that bordered on a guttural grow pierced the howling of the wind. 

"Mom!” Daniela called out desperately, now balling up in the fetal position. 

Her mother however was not far, having witnessed the whole ordeal and now rushing towards her with heavy steps from the other side of the hall. Even the other two, hearing Daniela’s scream, dropped their game and came back for their sister. 

“Dani- " 

Bela had to quickly grab Cassandra’s shoulder to stop her at a safe distance. As much as it pained her to see her younger sister writhing in pain on the floor, she knew that all three of them being in that state would get impossible for their mother to handle. And Alcina indeed handled it. She was at her youngest’s side in mere seconds, forcefully shutting the damned window with just enough self control so as to not shatter it, and then knelt down to Daniela’s shivering form. She gently scooped her up in her arms, holding her close to her body and almost wincing at how badly she was shaking.

Alcina spared only a glance towards the elder daughters "Go around. Meet me in my chambers,” came her booming voice and, although she wasn’t mad at them, they couldn’t help the shiver that ran down their spines. 

“Yes mother,” they replied in unison and the next second a swarm of insects had replaced their bodies. 

The journey to Alcina’s chambers was little more than a quick blur of hallways and heavy booming footsteps. She shoved the door open, crouching to enter and made a beeline for the pile of blankets neatly placed on the bed. Daniela was lowered down on one of the thicker covers so that her mother could wrap her up in a better attempt at warming her up. She then was promptly picked back up, now cocooned in the soft blanket, and Alcina went to sit on the couch placed right in front of the fireplace while tightly holding her daughter in her arms. 

Contrary to popular belief, Alcina’s body was quite warm to the touch, unlike her daughters’ cold skin. On chilly winter nights it was common occurrence for the girls to come to her, demanding cuddles with the excuse that their rooms felt too cold. She always complied, gladly allowing all three of them to huddle around her like kittens for a bit of extra warmth. 

Which is exactly what Daniela was doing right now, her small body almost glued to her mother’s chest and her head shoved in the crook of Alcina’s neck. One hand was covering her face, muffling the sound of sobs, while the other was damn near clawing at her shoulder trying to hold the blanket tightly around herself. It pained Alcina deeply to see her in such a sorry state. Her hands were tightly holding her daughter and she bent down to kiss the top of her head, whispering gentle words of encouragement. 

A slight buzzing sound reached her ears as Bela and Cassandra entered the room, their expressions riddled with worry. Bela wordlessly approached the fireplace, it’s flames dying down from not being fed in a while, and added a couple logs that quickly ignited, casting a warm light on the room and its current inhabitants. Cassandra on the other hand was standing a couple feet away from her mother, not knowing what to do. The hat was still in her hands, her grip tightening further with each muffled sob that could be heard from Daniela. It took a few moments for Alcina to notice her, but when she did, she called her to sit by their side with a slight motion of her head. Cassandra was happy to oblige, quickly sitting down by her mother and helping her with keeping Daniela wrapped in  the soft blanket. Bela joined them too after taking care of the fire. She knelt in front of Daniela and started to slowly rub her shoulder hoping to bring some comfort while her other hand went to Cassandra’s.

They sat like that until sobs turned into soft sniffles and until those died down too. Daniela stopped shivering and was instead just enjoying the warmth of her mother’s embrace, recovering from the whole ordeal. Until she let out a sigh, still not budging however. 

“Well that sucked major ass." 

Cassandra couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips at the sight of Alcina fighting the urge to reprimand her youngest for her choice of words. When she looked at Bela, she saw the same struggle to keep a straight face. The very air in the room seemed lighter, no longer carrying the very real possibility of one of them dying.

"No more heels for you. From now on you can only wear flats,” Bela said teasingly, finally allowing her shoulders to relax. 

“You’re only mad I’m taller than you,” came Daniela’s reply, who had turned around in her mother’s arms to give her sister a light shove. 

Bela gasped, indignated, and went for a rebuttal, but was promptly interrupted by Cassandra’s sudden burst of laughter. She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sound, and leaned against her mother. 

Alcina finally managed to let out a sigh of relief, her grip on Daniela loosening, and she leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa. She closed her eyes, just reveling in the sound of her daughters giggling and throwing light teases at each other as if the last half an hour or so did not happen. These girls were really able to bounce back from anything. 

But that was still a close call. She was already making plans to have someone come to the castle and repair any old window with a faulty lock so that such an accident would not repeat itself. It wasn’t unusual for things in a castle to get old and less effective as they once were, but Alcina couldn’t help blaming herself for not properly upkeeping her home. Her and her daughters’ home. 

A shift from the three girls pulled her back from her thoughts. Bela got up to sit by her side, now all of them huddled around her and giggling at whatever joke Daniela just made. 

She could have a maid call the repairman later. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the quality time with her daughters, in the safety of her warm room. Not that the girls seemed to have any plans of letting her get up anyways.

[poedamneron01]

B. BRIDGERTON x F!Cowper!Reader pt 4

summary; benedict is struggling to contain his emotions and feelings around Y/N, after all, how could he be so sure that he was completely and utterly so infatuated with her after only this short amount of time knowing her? Was it lust or was it truly love?

benedict bridgerton x f!cowper!reader

benedict bridgerton masterlist

warning; major fluff n stuff <3

A/N sorry for the huge gap between updates! i have had an extremely busy weekend but here is this update!

The Bridgerton house had fallen quite as Benedict reentered the home after sitting outside for a few hours, sketch book in hand as he sketched a picture of the full moon that hung in the sky. He quietly walked upstairs to his room, carefully and stoically to wake up any intrigued family members as the time came close to eleven o’clock.

The man swooped into his room, grabbing a coat, and his tools for sketching and painting, before heading downstairs into the kitchens, searching for the wine his mother had been drinking at dinner. As he entered he seen a butler finishing up his duties and he cleared his throat awkwardly, half not expecting the man to still be up, the other half he was annoyed someone would see him up at this time.

The butler spun on his toes and froze, though quickly remembered his manners “My lord.” He bowed his head and Benedict half smiled politely “Should you happen to know where the wine my mother was drinking at dinner would be?” Benedict asked, slipping his coat over his tools for the lesson, hoping the butler would not notice.

Benedict had taken two bottles, thanking the butler and dismissing him to go to bed, to finish the chores in the morning, before heading out onto the cool streets of London. Y/N’s family home was not too far away, it was in fact just across the large street, and too the left slightly.

Y/N layed atop her made bed, wearing a dark maroon dress that was rather simple, along with a dark coat which layed across her lap as she stared intently at the large clock on the wall adjacent to her bed. The sound of the smaller hand ticking filled the room, watching as it passed by the numbers on the clock, it was like her heart beat aligned itself with the clock as the eleventh hour came closer, and closer.

Benedict left his home quietly, and thankfully without notice, as he made his way towards Y/N’s large home at about two minutes to the eleventh hour. He anxiously held his belongings close to his chest as he walked as unsuspecting as he could, noticing a few gentlemen out on the dimly lit London streets. He bowed his head as a few gentlemen walked past him, waiting a few moments till they were gone before he slipped down the alleyway beside the Cowper home.

Y/N slid off her bed and made her way out of her bedroom quietly, eyes wide and on alert for any threat that could prevent her from going out with Benedict. She tiptoed down the stairs, forever praying that the floors had been redone since she was gone, as the creaking of the old floorboards would have alerted the whole of London she was sneaking out.

Benedict hid in the shadows, leaning against the brick wall beside the large, surprisingly bright home of the Cowper’s. To be frank he expected something darker out of the family, to match the scowls of Mrs Cowper and Cressida Cowper. All of a sudden, a hand gripped his bicep and he jumped, letting out a yelp of surprise.

“Benedict!” Followed by a giggle, and Benedict’s nostrils were filled with the heavenly scent of Y/N, and he let out a breathy laugh. “It’s only me.” She assured him and the man took a deep breath, a smile breaking out onto his face “My lady, I could have you arrested for almost killing me right then.” He teased and Y/N giggled, covering her mouth to make sure she wasn’t too loud.

“I apologise my lord, allow me to make it up to you?” As she said this Benedict turned to offer her his spare arm “I suppose that would be a sufficient apology.” Y/N’s hand slid and rested in the crook of his elbow and the two made their way onto the dark streets of London. “I have been waiting for this all day.” Y/N spoke gently, her face was covered with the hood of her coat now, but her bright smile shone stunningly under the dim lights.

Benedict smiled “As have I. I also wanted to apologise for keeping you all day, I had not realised we skipped lunch ‘till I returned home and realised how hungry I was.” Y/N shook her head “There is no need to be sorry, I was in good company so it was not at a loss.” She assured him, squeezing his arm softly to show him she was being sincere.

Benedict nodded a few times, his eye’s scanning the streets as they continued to walk in the cool air towards the studio he frequented often. “I’m excited to see your sketches and the way you work, it has always fascinated me to watch someone create such beautiful pieces out of seemingly nothing but a mere thought.” The way she spoke was so incredible, he would have proposed right then and there but he figured she deserved something slightly more romantic.

The pair arrived at Benedict’s studio, where he entered a room that was above what looked to be a bar. Benedict lit countless candles in the room to brighten it up. Y/N’s eye’s widened at the hundred’s of sketches, work in progress pieces that were scattered around the room, the easel which stood by the window across from her. Her feet pulled her towards a series of sketches and paintings of what appeared to be a woman.

This woman felt familiar to Y/N, by the colour of her dress, the way her hair sat atop of head so casually, yet formally at the same time. “Benedict, these are all beautiful.” Y/N took small steps as her eyes observed the countless paintings which hung in a row across a book shelf “Is this a series?” She asked him curiously, her head cocking too the side as she observed the sketch of the woman stood in a large room, in the door way specifically.

Benedict froze as he seen Y/N intently staring at the countless sketches and half finished paintings of herself, in the moments Benedict had wanted to remember forever. From their meeting, to dancing together at Lady Danbury’s ball, their daily promenade’s. He walked over and stood beside Y/N, his eye’s meeting his work and he swallowed before answering “Yes, I’m thinking about making a folio of these.”

He smiled and looked over at Y/N, who had pulled back the hood of her coat, her hair was out in it’s natural state, falling down her back like an elegant waterfall. “What should you call it?” She asked, reaching out and running her fingers across the one completed painting of this woman, a glass of wine in her hand, surrounded by numerous people though she appeared to be the only thing in focus.

Benedict thought for a moment, crossing his arms as he thought of an appropriate name. “What do you think I should call it?” He asked her after he was unable to come up with a name. Y/N smiled, her hand falling to her side “How about,” she paused as her eyes fell to the wine in the finished painting “Companionship through wine?” It was perfect, she was perfect.

Benedict had been staring at Y/N as she thought of and came up with the name for the series of herself. Should he tell her? “That is a perfect description.” He smiled, scanning her profile, taking in each angle and line of her face. She was truly a walking masterpiece.

“I’ll have to finish each piece before making the folio.” Benedict added and Y/N thought for a moment “I think it would be beautiful if you left them as they are and make your folio.” She added before turning to look up at Benedict “Don’t listen to me, I am simply an admirer, and you the artist.” She said embarrassed and looked away as her face flushed a dark red.

Benedict grinned “Would you like to get the lesson started?” He asked and she nodded eagerly, pulling off her coat to reveal her dark maroon dress, hanging her coat by the door on a spare hook. Benedict set two chairs up beside one another behind two easels. Y/N walked over and sat down on one of the chairs as she watched Benedict set a pear on a small table in front of them as a subject, before turning and sitting beside Y/N.

“Alright,” he began as he undid the buttons of his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows as he continued to speak “we will start with something simple, like that pear.” He pointed to the pear which sat lonely on the table, and Y/N nodded, picking up the lead into her fingers. “The light source will be hitting the fruit, lets say from the top right corner.” Y/N nodded as she watched Benedict draw where the light source would be in the top right hand corner of the page, and she copied him.

Y/N had picked up on some drawing while overseas, she wasn’t as exceptional at it as Benedict was, but she could get by. Benedict placed his lead down and watched as Y/N began sketching the pear, her head cocking to the side as her eyes flickered between the pear and her page. Benedict was surprised as she sketched in only a few minutes, and it turned out pretty well.

“I might think you have done this before.” He smirked and she shrugged as she placed down the tools onto the ledge of the easel “Once or twice.” She stated as she looked at the sketch and was quite happy with it. Benedict nodded and grabbed one of the two bottles of wine he had brought with him and two glasses, pouring them each one.

At the sight of the wine, Y/N’s eye’s unashamedly brightened at the sight of the heavenly liquid and Benedict laughed as the light hit her at such a beautiful angle and he felt his fingers twitch. He handed her a glass and she thanked him graciously “It was a condition was it not?” He responded with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, holding up his glass towards her.

“It was, and I can still be as excited for this as if it were a surprise.” She smirked and clinked her glass against his before the two took a sip. Benedict hurriedly placed his glass down as the urge to draw her took over his limbs “Hold still.” He told her and Y/N froze, the glass up against her lips and she hummed.

Benedict worked hurriedly, his hands working meticulously and precisely to make sure he captured her beauty. Y/N sat like this for a few minutes longer, just sipping her wine in this position before Benedict sat back with a happy look on his face. “My apologies I had to sketch you, it was the perfect moment.” He spoke with such adoration Y/N felt her heart skip a few beats.

Y/N scooted her chair closer to Benedict, their legs touching sending a burst of energy through Benedict. He looked to his right, watching as Y/N leaned closer to get a look at his sketch of herself. Y/N gasped at how detailed it was for only a few minutes of his hands working wonders. “Benedict this is incredible, it looks as if it took you at least a full hour.” Benedict hadn’t heard what she said, too busy looking at her and admiring her like he would a piece of art.

Y/N turned and looked up at Benedict, a wide smile on her face and her eyes bright as she met his gorgeous green eyes and the room seemingly disappeared around the two. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as Benedict’s eyes flicked between her lips and eyes, and he slowly leaned forward, Y/N found herself doing the same thing.

The room had heated up since the pair had began leaning in, Y/N’s stomach was doing flips as Benedict came closer and closer to her, before their lips meant. Y/N’s free hand gripped onto Benedict’s shirt, smudging the lead from her fingers onto the clean fabric and she let out a small gasp as the kiss continued.

Benedict pushed his glass of wine onto the table that held his art supplies, before he brought his two hands to cup her face softly. Her lips were so soft, he could lose himself completely while kissing Y/N.

For a second, Benedict thought about proposing right then and there, what would stop him?

tag list

@nao-cchi @woodyandbuzz20-01 @hannahufflepuff @alcottsangel @redgetawaycar @ellaisreading @imrebekabrlek @xuxialling @nycbaby21 @heyyyyitslele @bilesxbilinskixlahey

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[sharkboygirlish]

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer:  One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now.  At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching. 

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again. 

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately. 

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being. 

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could. 

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’ 

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated. 

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that. 

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?” 

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’  

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

                                                       * * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this. 

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

                                                        * * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

[danihow]

Flower love

Legolas x human!reader

Lord of the rings

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: While crossing through the forest, our dear Y/N decided to help Legolas to braid his hair back.

Warnings: Fluff, that’s it. 

A/N: I actually thought of this after learning the meaning of some flowers. Im so sorry ittook me a month to finish this and I’m not even please with it.

The sun was half an hour away to be hidden by the tall mountains that surrounded the valley when Frodo and Aragorn came to the agreement of staying the night in a forest opening near a stream.

The girl nodded with a little smile just before leaving the bag she helped Sam carry beside an oak near them. She could still feel her back tense after carrying a hobbit for what seemed like hours while crossing some really high grass a couple of days before, when horses were not available to use. Those little men could be short but all the food they could eat a day really weighted on them.

Then, she looked at her surroundings, her gaze danced over the men who she shared her everyday with for the last couple of months, her gaze went from the four hobbits that gathered in a small circle talking over what should Sam cook for supper before going to sleep, Frodo being the center of the debate that Sam was arbitrating. Next to them, sat against the log of probably the eldest oak in the bunch that circled the fellowship was Boromir, his long legs stretched in front of him while his head was abutting the log, a small smile spread on his relaxed face as he overheard the hobbits’ chatter, almost closed eyes staring at nothing but a yellow hyacinth a few feet from him. 

Then, she spotted Gimli arguing with Legolas for who may take the second best place near the fireplace Aragorn was building up, the woman could see how Gimli scrunched his nose in disgust when seeing the other option perfectly placed near the fire was over some wet mud, mentally determining himself to win over the elf, who looked with a playful smirk at the dwarf getting angrier, even Frodo knew that the elf was bothering the dwarf for mere fun, he did not need a fire to keep him warm.

Lastly, there was Gandalf, sitting with his pipe in what seemed to be the perfect place, not too close yet no too far, a place where he could watch over each member of the fellowship during what was left of the evening without getting cold.

“Who’s turn it is to check the surroundings?” Frodo asked once their little gathering agreed with Sam to prepare some rabbit soup.

“It is mine.” The lady told she took her bow and quiver from her champagne horse and he nodded, looking up from the fireplace as he finished. 

“Be careful young Y/N, this woods are not to be trusted.” Gandalf warned in his wise voice, looking at the young woman with kindness, receiving the same smile back as she waited for Aragorn’s permission to leave.

“Be back before the sun is out, if not, Legolas will go and search for you.” The ranger said without looking at her, knowing well she was more than capable of handling any inconvenience by herself.

“Of course I will be back before darkness arrives, there will be no need to search for me.” She told with a smirk just before leaving the little safe place they have established themselves for the night.

With light steps she jogged through the woods, taking in the smell of wet dirt mixing up with some wild flowers, probably some dragon flowers. Her warm eyes wandered in between trees and looked up the branches, noticing hints of the bronze highlights making their way throughout the branches, giving the woods a special feeling. The thin golden brims of light could be seen shining down to the ground covered in either moss or clovers.

Her cheeks caught the whisper of nature that summer was in its way in the warm breeze that blew around as her ears could catch a distant chirping, oh, how much did she wished to have the hearing of an elf to listen better to the beautiful melodies birds gifted in this season.

Time went by as she enjoyed the peace the woods carried as her eye caught nothing irregular that deserved extraordinary attention. Now, in a slower pace she walked alone to the opening just when the sun finally sat below the horizon and nothing but darkness could be seen, taking her time to arrive as she spotted the warm light of the fire not too far from her.

“Just in time, young Y/N. We were about to search for you.” The old wizard muttered at her returning with the pipe placed in between his lips. Making her notice how the silver-haired elf left his own bow aside and sat back down in the place he was before, it appeared the elf have granted the log to Gimli since the dwarf was proudly sat on it at the contrary side of the fireplace. 

“There are no signs of orcs in the near paths, they seem not to like these ways.” As the words fell from her mouth relief seemed to take over the hobbits a bit once she finally took off her quiver and bow and placed it near where her loyal horse, Dagros, rested. 

With much grace a human could have, she sat in the free place next to Legolas, reaching for a little notebook she kept in a little bag attached to her cloak

“Miss Y/N.” Pippin called, getting the woman and the elf’s attention. “What is that notebook you write in each night?” The curiosity in his voice make her chuckle as Merry elbowed him in the ribs.

“Pip, you cannot ask people things like that.” He scolded with a frown in his features.

“It is okay Merry.” She smiled warmly at them as Pip smile got back to his face in pride as he did not actual wrong. “Well, Pip, I just like to write what happens each day so when I get old, I can read and remind it in case I ever forgot any of the crazy things we do now. Is like a journal.” She said, opening the notebook to a random page, just to find a sketch of the mountains and a dry blue flower, which she carefully took in between her fingers. “I also keep the flowers we recollect, so I can frame them and treasure them in some years as I do now.” And with that, she had gained the attention of the four hobbits, who stared at the blue poppy and the acacia blossom the elf at her side had collected for her around a week ago.

“That is an amazing idea, Miss Y/N.” Samwise spoke as he stirred the rabbit soup he had in the fire and Frodo nodded by his side, staring directly to the soup with hunger.

Then, everyone returned to their usual chatter, Merry and Pippin chattering their mischievous plans someone should worry about later, Frodo talked with Sam as he cooked, Aragorn seemed to be talking with Gandalf in their own voice level, Boromir was resting with his eyes closed for some minutes as the dwarf sharpened his axe a few feet away with total concentration; the elf, sat at the other side of the fireplace, looked at the orange flames without attention while his ears searched for any strange sound near them and the woman by his side scribbled something in her notebook, knowing that the elf would not betray her trust and look over the pages she transcribed her life in.

Minutes passed by and the elf bit his inner cheek, his hand playing with some flowers he found earlier and kept in his pocket. “Y/N.” He called to get her attention, once her gaze was placed on his and he got a kind smile, he talked. “I found these near the stream before sunset, thought you would like them.”

His hand grabbed the flowers and revealed to her two pink peonies just blooming, one smaller than the other one but still with a far more vivid pink tainting her petals. “Legolas, thank you, they are beautiful.” Her delicate hands grabbed the flowers from his, touching for enough seconds to make his heart twirl in his chest with joy.

A few feet away, the wizard and the ranger looked the scene with a little smile on their own, knowing farewell what the elf was doing and how oblivious they both were to it in their own minds.

“I will keep them as long as I can.” Her words were sweet and warm, making his chest warm at her as she placed the flowers in between the two pages she wrote in a few moments ago. “I have not seen these type of peonies in a long time, back home we only grew tree peonies.” Her smile may not have been wide, but in her smallness all Legolas saw was comfort and happiness, making himself happy.

He smiled at her one more time and guided his gaze to the fire in front of him, losing itself in there. Gears in his head started to spin, taking himself down memory lane for some long minutes. Thinking about everything and nothing, like the trip they had ahead, the woods and its creatures, thinking about the fellowship and more; then, he started to remember, all kind of memories striking their own way back in his mind, the last months, his mother and father, anything his mind could get access into, he remembered.

“Legolas.” A distant voice talked to him, but he was still lost in his mind.

“Legolas?” A voice and a squeeze in his forearm took him out of his own mind, looking up he found Sam with a bowl of soup standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face, the elf, concerned by himself on what was happening look to his side to find Y/N with the same concerned look in her facial features while one of her hands slowly let go of his arm. “Sam is asking if you want a bowl of the soup, its rabbit.” Her words were slow for him to understand why they were calling him. 

“Oh, sure, thank you.” With a small nod the bowl was taken out of Sam little hands into Legolas’, careful to not spill any food in the ground. Once Samwise had walked away to serve Aragorn’s and Gandalf’s soup, the pair sat in silence, enjoying quietly their own soup.

“What has you so troubled? If I may ask.” Her voice asked in a mutter some moments later. There was no way in the world she had not noticed how he was lost in his own thought to the point his keened ears were shut from the world, something not so typical in any elf.

“Nothing, lady Y/N, just some memories from the past.” He answers, leaving the empty bowl of soup aside as looking at her, finally noticing the bits of worry in her eyes. “Seriously, there is no need to worry Y/N.”

“I cannot help but to when you wear such a look on your face Legolas. It almost depresses me too.” The young woman joked with a knowing smile on her face. “But is okay you don’t want to tell, just let me know if I can help.” She muttered, making the elf smile at her, how could she be so sweet?

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said with the sincerest smile he could give her. 

“And what happened to your hair?” She asked, just now noticing how the braids he wore were more undone than done.

"The orcs in the morning probably messed it up.” He mutters while his hands passed over the thin braids on the side of his head, remembering how in the last village they visited the woman in front of him braided a bunch of young girls’ hair. “Would you like to braid them for me?”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Her voice was pure concern, she knew about the traditions of the elves and the dwarves, she knew what the hair meant to them. “Is not that I don’t want to, I do, is just... I mean- It is your hair what we are talking about and I am... me.” She tried to make him understand her point because of her fear of disrespecting other culture, yet, deep inside she yearned to braid his hair for a long time now.

“I know you are you.” He chuckled, reassuring her. “And that is why I am sure, do not worry about that.” He nodded in her direction and make himself comfortable in the ground in front of the log they were sitting in, right in between her legs so she could have it easier. “You said you would want to help me how you could, believe this would help me a lot. You can braid whatever you want in there.”

“Alright, if you say so.” She whispered, untangling his soft blonde hair with her fingers, it felt even better than silk or velvet. Soon, she started braiding his hair, taking two thin braids from each side of his face to the back of his head, forming a big braid in the middle with both of them and tying it. Then, with her delicate fingers she soothed the hair that was left down, smiling to herself as the soft strands of his hair ran through her fingers with such ease. Through the process, the elf whose hair was being braided was smiling wide as he felt her fingers brush again his hair and in some occasions, against his ears, causing him goosebumps. 

Meanwhile, both Aragorn and Gandalf stared at the scene with a small smile in their faces, both of them could see at bare sight the special bond the elf and the human had together now and the eldest could predict how it would evolve in both of them, still, that was not ought to be said now.

“And... I’m done.” She muttered once she fully finished, making the elf to raise his hand and carefully touch the braids. 

“Thank you so much, I love them.” He said, getting up from the ground to sit back again in the log. 

“Next time an orc messes up your hair, make sure to pick up more flowers so I can braid them in your hair, maybe some more acacia blossoms.” She smiled while a blush covered her cheeks as he turned to face her.

And while the woman played with the pages of her notebook and the new peonies inside, rethinking if the braids and flowers meant what she thought they could mean; the elf smiled back with gratefulness as he may or may not try in a future to mess his hair more if it meant she would be the one braiding it. And then maybe, just maybe he could ask to court her.  

Yellow hyacinth: Jealousy.  Dragon flowers: Grace, strenght.  Blue poppies: Oblivion, imagination. Acacia blossoms: Concealed and chaste love Pink peonies: Romance, love at first sight.

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.  

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.  

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

>>

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get  dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.  

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”  

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”  

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I.  It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.  

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends.  “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”  

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).  

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.  

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”  

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.  

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”  

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”  

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.  

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.  

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”  

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

Taglist:

 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 3: Her name.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

CW: torture, captivity, wounds, broken bones, cauterization mention, strangulation, choking, implied conditioning, implied dehumanization, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, whumpee as caretaker, burns, unconscious, blacking out

It’s been hotter than usual for the past few days, even in our damp basement room. The other room is even worse, with dry, unyielding heat, as oppressive as the hands that strangled me until I saw stars over and over a few hours ago. We’ve spent the whole day lying around, rewetting rags from the first aid supplies at the cool tap. It’s been running with less pressure now which is the only reason we’re not just sitting with our feet under it all the time. Neither of us was out of the room for very long today, like all of our captors just want to go off to some pool or find somewhere air-conditioned to drink a cold beer. 

“I’d kill for an Icee right now,” I say, rolling onto my side to see if she knows what I’m talking about. 

She only turns her head, to show me her furrowed brow. I wonder if that means she’s been in this hole long enough she’s never had one or if she’s just from someplace where they have a different name. 

I explain, “It's like a slushy, you know grated ice and syrup. My favorite used to be these white cherry-flavored ones, but they were rare, so every time I saw it in a machine, I’d get the biggest size. It was so good. It would kind of burn in your mouth from whatever was in there, not quite sour but not too sweet either.” 

She raises one eyebrow and grimaces. 

“No, really they were good. I swear, Babe. I’ll—” I stop myself before I offer to buy her one sometime like we’re just new coworkers chatting by the water cooler instead of two people who might never see the light of day again. 

My almost-slip-up wasn’t missed and she rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling again. 

I suck at this. 

She’s always falling all over herself trying to help me, give me extra food, and protect me in whatever way she can. It’s not like I can return the favor even when she comes back leaning into the wall for support or looking so dazed I want to rock her in my arms. Even then, she does her best to help me before finally collapsing on her bed or sometimes mine when she knows I can walk to the other. The least I can do is try to distract her but I don’t know the first thing about her. 

One time, I asked if she knew any sign language or had ever played charades. I thought she was going to pass out because she’d frozen and held her breath so long. When she finally let out a breath and opened her eyes, she was blinking past tears. She’d shaken her head once, gaze vacant and dark, jaw still tight. Clearly, she’s not allowed to do anything more than be expressive with her face. Even her nodding has practiced restraint. She never does it more than once. It makes my stomach twist to think of what kind of sicko would reduce another human being to that. My torture makes sense but not hers and I still don’t know what goes on beneath the surface. It makes me wonder if it’s personal. Maybe he has some kind of vendetta. 

We could play twenty questions but I get the sense that might also be crossing the line. I don’t want to risk it. It’s uncomfortable enough without sending her into a panic or whatever it is that happens every time she gets cornered by her conditioning. She’s also still stuck wearing the long-sleeved turtleneck and leggings, while I’m shirtless in ratty shorts, so she must be stifling. They’re clean and soft at least, and I know she gets to shower every day if that’s any kind of comfort. I have no idea, it could be painful in itself for all I know. This is just making me depressed. Her situation is so much worse than mine. I’m sure she’ll be here long after someone messes up and pushes me into a grave sooner than planned. Even if they don’t, I know I have an expiration date, but I get the sense she’s a permanent fixture here. 

I push myself up, catching the lukewarm rag before it falls into my lap. I still have bandages on the cauterized stab wounds but the rest have scabbed over fine. Some of them might not even scar that badly, not that I care. Half my fingers are still taped, which is a pain, but it’s not like I have anything to do anyway. I walk over to stand beside her and hold my hand out for her rag, keeping away until she holds it up so I can grab the opposite hanging end, a good six inches from her fingers. I have enough useable fingers to twist the tap on but I have to wring the fresh water out of the rags between the heels of my hands so they aren’t dripping. I shut off the water and turn around. 

She’s propped herself up on her elbows and quickly looks up at the ceiling, eyes overflowing. I forgot that the burn scar on my back from a while ago sometimes does that to her, even though it’s long-scabbed over by now. I was pretty out of it for a few days after but every time I woke up she was doing that haunting, silent sobbing, like she was feeling every inch of it, too. I hope to god it’s not because she’s covered in similar burns.

I’ve never actually seen it but I can feel that it runs from the top of my left shoulder blade all the way to my right hip and there’s a curve from the hook at some point. When he did it, he wore some kind of fireproof gloves and pressed it into my skin, to get an uninterrupted line the entire length of the poker even with the curves of my spine and my then-present back muscles making it a less-than-flat surface. I’d passed out after a few minutes of screaming and choking on my own spit and snot. I don’t know how long he kept it there after but it took the longest to heal of everything, at least so far. 

I hold the cool rag out to her by one end, letting her grasp it from the other and give her a small smile. She returns it, meekly, and lies back down, eyes following me as I sit on the edge of my bed and stretch my legs out in front of me. 

“Okay, how about I—”

The light goes off. I didn’t realize it was “night” yet… 

She sucks in a breath and I hear her shift on the other side of the room. 

I jump to my feet, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and blink, trying to adjust to the dark, but I can’t see anything and she’s just shadows wearing all black. I think I see her hovering just beside the door but I can’t be sure and that’s when I notice the red light is also off. 

“Hey—”

Her cool hands grip my wrists and she pulls me down to sit on the floor between the beds. She really is like a cat burglar sneaking around soundlessly. My foot touches her shin so I uncross my legs and put my feet on the ground, pushing myself back until I’m against the metal bed frame. It’s only a few degrees colder than my body in this heat but it still feels nice. I can’t be sure in the dark, but it feels like she’s followed me and closed the distance I just tried to make although, we’re still only touching where she holds onto my wrists. She drops one now and keeps my right hand in both of hers, cradling it palm side up in one hand while the other still grips my wrist. 

“What—”

She lifts my hand with a little tremble to her grasp, brings it up so my middle finger brushes against her chin as she shakes her head. She lowers my hand, still cupped in hers, and presses her finger against my lips for a moment then she taps my ear. 

I nod while she can still feel it. I guess that even if they can’t see us, they can hear us. I trust she knows better than I do since clearly, that would be a keystone to whatever process resulted in this being the closest to a two-sided conversation we’ve ever had. 

She takes a deep breath and brings her shaking finger to my palm. At first, I don’t understand and think maybe she just wants to be near. Then I realize she’s spelling something. I gently shake my hand under her fingertip, like erasing an etch-a-sketch, so she’ll start again. She inhales again, which makes me think she understood. 

The first is E, I think. The next two are the same, following the assumption that the first was oriented to my perspective. One more and it’s unmistakable. I catch her paused, hovering finger in mine, gently, so she can pull away, but she doesn’t. 

E-M-M-A. 

It’s her name. She told me her name. 

I almost speak it out loud before realizing what it would mean if they heard. She effectively broke her silence by doing this and I don’t even know what she is risking or why she decided it was worth it.

I slowly take her whole hand in both of mine, tenderly, like holding a bird. Her breathing hitches up a notch and I can tell she’s already been working to keep it quiet. I bring her hand to my lips. This feels like a long shot and like it might be confusing or dumb, but I have to try. I know she’s likely not a lip reader but maybe for someone locked in silence, it will mean something. 

Emma, I mouth, Emma, Emma, Emma. 

Her hand is trembling by the time she slips it out of mine. She’s intermittently, unsteadily holding her breath.  

By now, I can see her silhouette in the dark and she is as close as possible without touching me. She—Emma—is sitting, curled up tight with her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs in between my legs. My knees must be level with her shoulders and I can smell the scent of soap on her. I reach out slowly and her eyes flash to the side as they register my hand but she doesn’t move. I softly touch the pad of my thumb to her cheekbone, just under the outside of her right eye, and find it damp. I don’t dare lay the rest of my hand on her face but I can feel the air warming between our skin, growing heavy, until it develops its own polarity.

I don’t know how long we stay like that before footsteps in the hall separate us. She takes my hand in both of hers and squeezes my palm before going to stand by the door where a lackey appears with a flashlight and she goes quietly. They don’t come back for me and I eventually fall asleep. When I wake up, the red light is back but Emma is not. 

Previous — Masterlist — Next

[scfttwice]

lines and squiggles

> chaeyoung likes doodling “temporary tattoos” on jina. fans jump to conclusions every time they catch sight of the drawings.

jina adored chaeyoung's drawings. the latter had her own unique art style that distinguished her works from those of others. sometimes when jina saw chaeyoung doodling something, she'd eagerly sit by her to watch, or try to join in and draw something as well while asking chaeyoung for pointers. and every time jina did so, chaeyoung was always happy to guide her.

jina also loved chaeyoung's tattoos; some of them were designed by chaeyoung herself, after all. two out of the ones that weren't her design—the arrow heart under her right ear and the flowers on her left fingers—were designed by jina (and modified by chaeyoung), an honor which chaeyoung offered and jina gladly accepted. during some of their few lazy evenings, when the maknaes would do nothing in particular except lie around in their dorm's living room, jina would find herself absentmindedly tracing and admiring the tattoos on chaeyoung's skin while she busied herself with her phone.

during their 'more & more' promotions, as twice were waiting in a waiting room for their turn to pre-record their performance in a music show, chaeyoung spent the time sketching in her notebook. when jina noticed this, she was almost immediately at chaeyoung's side.

“whatcha drawing there, chae?” she asked, her question accompanied by a curious head tilt. chaeyoung grinned as she looked up at jina and showed her her notebook. drawn all over the page were various fruits and drinks—strawberries, grapes, watermelons, soda cans, and cocktails, to name a few—all in chaeyoung's signature style.

“you're such a great artist, chae,” jina complimented as she continued to admire the drawings, eyes scanning over the same page repeatedly. “you can make any lines and squiggles look like a masterpiece.”

“hey, your art has been improving too,” chaeyoung reminded her. “still, i'll never be as creative and artistic as you,” jina countered with a subtle pout.

chaeyoung only shook her head slowly in amusement as a response, before she gently took jina's hand and rested it on the table. grabbing her pink, purple, and red markers, she began drawing little flowers on jina's wrist. it made jina smile, out of both happiness and feeling ticklish.

chaeyoung had drawn on jina's skin many times before, mostly on her hands and arms. although she'd get ticklish every single time, jina loved it when chaeyoung did so. “it's like getting a temporary tattoo,” jina had remarked once. “designed by someone close to me, so it's much more precious.”

“will you ever stop being a scaredy cat and get a real tattoo?” chaeyoung had asked her upon hearing her comment. jina immediately shook her head. “no way. i admit, i'm way too scared for that.”

when twice were called to record, jina performed with her members on the stage just as they had rehearsed, having had completely forgotten about the flowers drawn in marker ink around her wrist. it wasn't until after they were done recording and were back in their waiting room did jina catch a glimpse of the colors on her wrist.

“oh no, i forgot about this,” she muttered to herself as she gently rubbed her wrist. “i hope it wasn't caught on camera.”

back in the dorm later that night, as the school meal club were having dinner together, the flowers on jina's wrist still hadn't washed out. not that she was complaining though, she loved them.

“uh, jina,” dahyun, who had been scrolling on her phone, called out while eyeing jina's “temporary tattoo”. “you might wanna take a look at this.”

jina turned her attention to dahyun, who showed her her phone screen. it displayed an article posted not even half an hour ago, talking about how fans online were in a heated debate over whether jina had gotten a tattoo or not. the article made sure to provide a zoomed-in picture of jina's wrist from their music show performance earlier, which clearly showed the colorful inked flowers.

scrolling down, jina found that even the comments section of the article itself was filled with heated discussions over the matter.

“i think jina really did get a tattoo this time”

“no way, i'm sure it's just chaeyoung's drawing again”

“it's exactly like the previous issue about jina's airport picture!! the hearts spotted on her arm weren't actual tattoos!!!!”

“the flowers....it looks like a real tattoo....”

“maybe it's just make up for this stage?”

jina let out a huff of frustration after skimming through the comments of arguing netizens. “looks like i'll have to give an explanation...again.”

chaeyoung was also reading the article and comments over jina's shoulder. she gave a sheepish grin as she turned her gaze to jina. “i guess i shouldn't draw on you right before we have to record.”

“even when we're not recording anything,” tzuyu chimed in. “our fans still manage to find chaeyoung's drawings on jina in any pictures.”

“they have a really keen eye when it comes to idols,” dahyun added in a lighthearted tone.

jina sighed. “yeah, that's true. i'll start a short vlive later, to clear things up.”

she stayed true to her words. she washed up after dinner and went back to sit in the living room, turning on a vlive on her phone titled “talking about my tattoo”.

in hindsight, the vlive title was a huge click bait, but at least it'd attract the attention of more people to watch. it would get the word out faster.

“hi, everyone,” jina greeted once there were enough people in, waving using the same hand that had the flowers. “i'm sure many of you are wondering about this,” she said while holding up her wrist.

“i actually came on vlive tonight solely to address this matter. i saw an article earlier, discussing the rumor that i've gotten a tattoo according to pictures of me taken during our music show performance today. but actually, it's not real. chaeyoung drew on me again, like she had drawn the hearts on my arm a few months ago. that picture of me also went viral and rumors circulated. so this time i wanted to quickly explain to everyone that i don't have a tattoo.”

the chat section of the vlive was full of differing reactions. some fans were disappointed, some were relieved, and there were even some who boasted about knowing the tattoo was fake from the start. jina stayed on vlive for a little bit longer to continue entertaining her fans, before she wished everyone a good night just after she had passed the 15 minute mark.

once the vlive was off, chaeyoung poked her head into the living room. “you're not asleep yet?” jina looked up at her and asked, a soft smile on her lips, which chaeyoung returned with a wider one. she walked over to jina and sat next to her on the floor. “i couldn't help but overhear your vlive,” chaeyoung said. “you shouldn't have told them the truth so soon. it would've been fun to watch them make funny theories.”

jina chuckled. “true, but i'd rather not let them make a big fuss over it.” chaeyoung nodded. “you're right.”

“so now that you cleared the rumors up, can i...?” chaeyoung trailed off, continuing her question by holding up an orange marker pen while smiling cheekily. jina laughed when she understood what it was that chaeyoung wanted. granting chaeyoung's wish, she held out her arm to her.

jina watched in amusement as chaeyoung happily doodled little paw prints along her lower arm.