#the other two are ink drawings we did

[jellophoid]

FIRST YEAR OF COLLEGE IS FINISBEDD— some of my favourite pieces from my drawing 2 class ^^)) what a fun year

[blue-eli]

Ink October day twenty-six: Share

To accord a share in (something) to another or others.

To divide and parcel out in shares; apportion.

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing his way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[kaijutegu]

IL is having a contest to replace our not-very-good state flag and there are some amazingly good unserious submissions. I'm gonna show you my three favorites first and then put up a read more because this is a long post but you should click the read more anyways because laser Lincoln is too good to pass up.

If you want to see all of them, the PDF is here- but be warned, it's 1,878 pages long. However, there are some REALLY cute and well-thought-out kid designs towards the end- I think my favorite one from the kid-submitted ones is the one where there's our state mushroom releasing spores. Or maybe the one where the description says "We have the cubs and they suck."

Anyways, flags!

"The green background color represents our State's beautiful prairies. The goblin represents the uplifting spirit of our citizens, always hungry to achieve our dreams and goals. The "State Seal Dish" represents our state's government and the guidance and support it provides. The state of Illinois that is being consumed represents the nourishment that this State provides to its people. The text simply displays what is true."

"My flag represents the great turtles of our state. Illinois is home to seventeen different turtle species! This flag shows what Illinois is all about."

(There's nothing unserious about this, this SHOULD be our flag.)

"the laser beam projects a powerful image of Illinois. I believe my design is so powerful it does not need to be discussed."

"The blue-heeler cartoon dog represents the below-average rate of dogs in Illinois and the need for more. It also represents Australia's looming takeover of young America's minds. The blue background represents Illinois's blue sky. The word "Illinois" written in Hello Headline font represents Illinois and the clouds. The scroll has the words "State Sovereignty, National Bluey" written on it, which serves as a tribute to the old flag."

"The white and blue color is inspired by the Centennial flag, while the brown represents the Dave Matthews Band incident which is fondly remembered to Illinoisians. The bird is a Norhern Cardinal, the Illinois state bird. It destroying Chicago skyline represents how the city is often overrepresented and other cities didn’t get the representation deserved. The CGpog emojis pays tribute to Gavin Atack, which is the most legendary Chicagoan and symbolize how Illinois is a very POG state."

"This flag depicts Abraham Lincoln riding a woolly mammoth. Abe, who is the subject of our state motto "Land of Lincoln", represents honesty and virtue. The mammoth is an example of one of the most impressive creatures that roamed our state in its prehistory. The white background is an homage to the previous state flag, where the white separated it from the typical "seal on blue bed sheet".

This one is just AI slop- but it did make me laugh because I found the pretentious artist description to be hilariously at odds with the fact that this is AI slop: "StreetVanGogh: The Paintbrush that Binds Chicago and Illinois"In the heart of Illinois, where the wind whispers secrets through the prairies and the river runs like ink across a page, lies a city born from fire—Chicago. StreetVanGogh, an artist molded by this urban forge, wields a paintbrush not just as a tool, but as a compass that draws the lines connecting his city to the state he calls home.Chicago is the pulse of Illinois, a metropolis with a skyline that scratches at the stars," Hey, StreetVanGogh? Illinois famously does not have mountains. And Chicago famously does not have two Sears Towers. Try harder next time.

"It's a glistening NUTS though"

"The flag has a rainbow background, celebrating the vibrant LGBTQ culture in Illinois as well as the racial and ethnic diversity that makes this state great. The Chinese text is there to represent our fantastic Chinese community, the largest in the midwest. It reads, "Peace and joy, independent nation" which is what this state should aspire to be. In the center, is an outline of the great state itself with our most famous person, Abraham Lincoln, blushing to honored to be on this flag." I would love to know what those characters actually say.

"16th US President and Illinoisan Abraham Lincoln is a symbol of our great state and his work in quashing The Confederacy in the American Civil War cannot be understated. The background color is meant to evoke that of a Union Army uniform of the period, with the red representing the blood he shed defending our democracy to the bitter end. Lincoln would be proud to fly this beautiful banner commemorating his achievements."

"The colors represent the proud Chicago style hot dog. Beige for the bun and celery salt, carmine for the tomato and vienna beef, chartreuse for pickles and sport peppers, citrine for the mustard, white for the onions, and kelly green for the relish. The 21 black dots represent poppy seeds, as well as Illinois' inclusion as the 21st state. The citrine stripe of the mustard also represents corn and Malört."

There were a couple of hot dog flags, but this one gets a special dishonourable mention for mentioning Malört.

[oneoftheextras]

down a peg | j.t

masterlist | tip for the author?

paring: sub!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: jayce's ego has gotten the better of him, so you come up with a way to put him in his place

words: 7k (happy holidays ig)

warnings: +18, smut, pegging, eventual sub!jayce, dom!reader, male whimpering and begging, two tops fighting for power, hair pulling.

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

Jayce Talis was the man of process. He was smart, caring, egotistical and most definitely in need of humbling.

He walked around the lab like he owned it, making so much noise with his fancy shoes and his constant monologuing.

His long muscular legs striding across the room to pick up pages of work that wasn’t his, just so he could be involved and comment on it.

He drove you and Viktor crazy on most days.

When he became counsellor his head grew so large that you were surprised he could fit through the doorframe.

In reality, he was harmless. Both you and Viktor knew that he cared about the two of you more than anything, but his new title gave him a false sense of bravado that you didn’t like.

The afternoon that Jayce accidentally slipped a ‘That’s an order’ to you, was the afternoon that began his downfall.

If the raised eyebrow and displeased look you shared with Viktor wasn’t enough to let Jayce know he’d gone too far, the sarcastic “Yes, Counsellor Talis,” from you, and the mocking “Anything you say, Counsellor Talis!” from Viktor should’ve been.

After Jayce left the lab, you and Viktor decided enough was enough.

“He’s got a good heart, but we need to do something about his ego,” Viktor had casually mentioned, unintentionally lighting the catalyst of your scheme.

You huffed, signalling your agreement and began reorganising the papers Jayce had messed up earlier, “What can we do? He’s the golden boy!” you feigned excitement.

“He just needs reminding of where he came from. Taken down a few pegs,” Viktor was concentrating on tinkering with something to calm his frustrations.

Wiping a dirty, ink covered hand over your forehead, you thought about his words and a sly smile formed on your lips.

“Say that again?” you turned your body from your work to face Viktor, “What? Remind him where he came from?” he was still concentrating on his gadget.

You shuffled your chair closer, “No, the other bit,” there was mischief in your voice.

At your sudden proximity to him, Viktor turned to face you, the magnifying glass in his goggles making his eye look funny.

“Take him down a few pegs?” he repeated himself, eyebrows slightly knitted with confusion, but they eventually relaxed at the realisation hit him.

He chuckled a little, but when you didn’t laugh with him he stopped, “You cannot be serious?” he gave you a surprised expression.

“I’m very serious,” you confirmed that his train of thought and yours were on the same tracks. "How?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You grabbed some clean paper and a pencil, "Give me 10 minutes," you turned back to your desk and started scribbling.

It took you a little bit longer than the 10 minutes you had promised, but your design was done.

Handing it to Viktor, you held your breath, waiting for his feedback the same way you did the first time you showed him one of your ideas. "It is a little crude, don't you think?" he turned the paper ninety degrees to observe it at a different angle.

"I think it would be impossible to not make it crude, considering what it is," you put your hand on the back of his chair and lowered your head to study your drawing again.

Viktor leaned his head to the side and sighed as if to say that you were right. "It is simplistic, yet... beautiful," he complimented and your chest swelled with pride.

"Manageable?" you queried, that was the main concern of yours. "Oh, of course," Viktor put the page down on the desk in front of him, "Easily so," he confirmed and you smiled.

The clock showed 9:41pm, "Let's get started then," you picked up the paper and walked over to the shelves of resources you shared. "What? Right now?" Viktor was surprised at your eagerness.

"Might as well," you shrugged, putting what you'd need into a box under your arm, "A little hasty, no?" he'd stood from his desk and taken a few steps towards you with his cane.

He watched you pick and choose which materials you wanted and which you didn't. "No time like the present," you chuckled as you put the last piece into your box and headed for the workbench.

"Do you really want to deal with him for another day?" you raised an eyebrow, and the way that Viktor glanced to the ground and back up at you was all the assurance you needed.

In no time, Viktor had joined you at the workbench and the two of you got to work.

After a few hours, the main parts were basically done. There were a few modifications you'd needed to make along the way, but Viktor was good at problem solving on the fly.

He stretched his back and paused for a moment to watch you work. "One query I do have..." Viktor started and you hummed in a response for him to continue.

"Once it's made, how are you going to... you know?" it was as though vocalising the words was too embarrassing for him, but you didn't interject. "Execute your plan?" he finally asked.

In honesty, the realisation of what your scheme entailed hadn't fully set in just yet.

"I have some ideas," you shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, but your heart raced at the thought.

As if talking about him had summoned him, the door to the lab swung open. You and Viktor let out a small gasp, but you immediately grabbed a sheet and threw it over the workbench.

"Have either of you seen my-" Jayce had started to say, but stopped when he saw you both by the workbench, "-What's going on?" he interrupted his original question.

You walked out from behind the table and instead leaned on it, trying to body block anything you hadn't managed to cover.

"What were you looking for?" you tried to steer him back to his first thought. "My forging gloves- are you working on something?" he stepped forward and leaned to the side to try to see behind you.

"No!", "Yes!", you and Viktor spoke at the same time. You mentally cursed yourself for not preparing something for this exact scenario.

"We are-" you spoke quickly and loudly to indicate to Viktor that you would handle it, "-But it's not ready yet,". Jayce didn't even look at you, he had excitement and annoyance in his eyes that trailed the table.

"Without me? Let me see!" Jayce almost-whined, you could hear the small fraction of hurt in his voice.

Taking a silent and quick inhale, you knew what you had to do.

As Jayce continued to walk towards the table, you stepped forward to intercept him, your chest no more than an inch from his.

"Jayce..." you lowered your voice slightly and spoke with a soft and enticing cadence. The room fell silent, and Jayce blinked a few times as he glanced down to you, he'd never heard you sound like that.

He opened his mouth to say something but his jaw slowly closed again when your and gently trailed up the front of his shirt to play with his tie.

"I was wondering if I could borrow your soldering iron?" the tone of your voice and the words you were saying couldn't have been more contrasting.

You slipped your fingers under his tie and you could feel the warmth of his chest and the beating of his heart against your knuckles.

"Y-Yeah, sure," he cleared his throat after his words came out slightly shaky.

Running your thumb over the expensive red silk of his tie and smiling sweetly at him, you looked up at him with the best 'fuck me' eyes you could muster, and lightly pulled on the fabric.

His eyelids fluttered as his blinking sped up. In all the years the three of you had known each other, you'd never acted this way with him.

"Great, where is it?" you spoke even quieter than before so he really needed to focus on your words, so all of his attention was on you, "Forge," was all he could say.

You hummed to indicate you were happy with his response and let go of his tie, smoothing your hand down the front of his chest as if you were making in presentable again.

"Off you go then," you tapped his chest twice before stepping backwards to signal that he could leave. "Right, okay," he nodded and cleared his throat again, almost snapping out of the trance you'd put him in.

He nodded again to Viktor to say goodbye and promptly turned around and strode out of the lab.

As you spun back around to face Viktor, his jaw was being collected off of the floor, "Wha-Huh? How did you do that??".

You shrugged and smirked confidently, "I said I had some ideas,", Viktor was also as lost for words as Jayce was, "We don't have time for that, come on!" you laughed and gestured for Viktor to take the sheet off.

Conscious that Jayce wouldn't take too long returning from the forge, the two of you worked double time. The only thing that was left to do was connect the most important part.

"What're you going to use for the..." Viktor tried to make hand gestures instead of saying the word, and you saved him the embarrassment, "I have something already don't worry," somehow all shame had been lost the longer you worked on this.

He shook his head to erase the thought from his brain.

“I don’t mean, like, mine!” you tried to quickly backtrack, “I’ve made a prototype of something previously,” your hand gestures became more elaborate the more you tried to explain.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Viktor shook his head quicker than before, “I don’t need to know!” he protested but he was smiling, still finding the humorous side.

You spared him any further details and tapped the table as though audibly providing the full stop to your sentence.

The silence that followed was awkward and somewhat tense.

"Are you really going to do it?", Viktor was the first one to break the quiet between you. At first the whole scenario was kind of funny, but now that you'd actually made it, the seriousness of your plan was starting to rear it's head.

You picked at a piece of the wooden workbench that had began to splinter, nervousness running through your veins.

"What if he doesn't want me, and I make it weird?" you ask Viktor quietly, your voice showing an insecurity he'd never seen you have.

It was impossible for you to make eye contact with him after saying something like that, but the reality that you were about to attempt to seduce and sleep with, not only a friend, but your business partner.

"What if I try this and I ruin everything we've built together?" you still avoided looking at Viktor. Afraid that his expression would provide you with the answer you were dreading.

He exhaled sharply and he called your name with a soft and comforting tone, only then did you find the courage to meet his eye.

"We have known each other for a very long time, yes?" you nodded instead of verbally replying to his question, "In all that time you have never noticed the way Jayce looks at you,".

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. An exasperated one at that.

"The way he looks at me?" you pointed at yourself and it was your turn to look surprised. Viktor let out a 'Pfft' noise, "Please-" he raised an eyebrow, "Do you think he acts like that-" he gestured to the space where the two of you had been earlier, "-with everyone?".

The cogs in your brain were barely turning, all their power used on your creation that was laid out on the workbench in front of you.

"I guess not," you relented any further protests, and glanced towards the clock, 1:27am.

Viktor followed where your vision had landed and stood from his stool clearly noting how late it had become, "Right, I am going to my bedroom... which is on the other side of the building...".

He said the last part with faux innocence, but his smile gave away the context to his words.

"I need to get the thing from my room anyway, so I'll walk with you,".

Jayce grumbled to himself as he made his way back to the lab. The hallways were a ghost town at this time of night so he had nothing other than his own thoughts to accompany him.

Despite the never ending to-do-list that was handed to him over the last few hours, his mind kept drifting back to the interaction he'd had with you in the lab.

He had never seen you act like that. Why did it make him stumble over his words? How did he crumble so quickly under your touch?

He was perplexed at the involuntary actions of his own body; frustrated and annoyed at himself for following your instructions so blindly, yet a part of him yearned for that feeling again.

Whilst that want was strong, he still felt as though his pride had been wounded. He'd yielded at your commands like a lap dog, and it wasn't going to happen again.

He was simply caught off guard, that was all.

Jayce's grip on the soldering iron was tight as he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the lab.

He'd entered this room a million times over the years, but he felt the rush of adrenaline surge through him as he crossed the threshold, only for it to dissipate when he realised it was empty.

The only signs of you or Viktor was your messy station, and his shoulders slumped with disappointment he didn't know he had. He glanced down at the iron in his hand, maybe he'd taken too long.

Sighing, he walked to the workbench where the two of you had been standing before and placed it down on one of the only free spaces available.

He was about to continue his evening, maybe go for a walk around the grounds or find a bar to have a quick drink in, but the sheet of fabric was too tempting.

With no one else around, who would know that he took a quick look at your project?

All hesitation he previously had was replaced with childlike excitement as he peeled back the fabric to reveal what you both had tried to hard to keep from him.

Once his eyes landed on the object, he tilted his head to the side and his eyebrows furrowed with confusion - he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at.

He picked it up by one of the leather cords and held it in his hands, his thumb running over the hollow circle in the middle that was decorated by a metal ring.

The design was very simple, but a few embellishments decorated the soft triangular fabric and the belts that were connected to it.

He turned it over in his hands but couldn't quite figure out what it was, until he saw the accompanying sketches.

When you entered the lab, you didn't see him at first as you pushed the door open with your hip, but the clanking of tools and rustling of paper made you look up.

"Oh, I- uh-" Jayce fumbled with both his words and his hands as he tried to put everything back as he'd found it. The sound of metal clattering to the floor interrupted any excuse he was going to start making.

This was probably how he had found you and Viktor a few hours prior.

"I thought you'd left," he chuckled nervously, "I did-" you pointed to the door behind you, "-But then I came back," your finger redirected to the floor in front of you.

It was painfully obvious that you'd caught him in the act, but he was trying to play it off with that dashing smile he'd give during speeches.

Unfortunately for Jayce, you weren't the average population of Piltover that were so easily won over.

"Find anything interesting?" you folded your arms over your chest, "What, I- no?" he maintained the façade, but your scolding stare told him the gig was up.

"Fine, yes, I looked," he relented, "I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't tell me, I wouldn't have judged-" he was making less sense the more he spoke, but there was an air of something to his voice.

"-What?" you studied his hand gestures to try and figure out what he was trying to say so poorly, "I had no idea you and Viktor-", "-Me and Viktor?" you interjected with even more confusion than before.

Jayce stopped speaking for long enough to stare at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Is this not for you to use with him?" he asserted and pulled back the fabric sheet; the seriousness of his tone made you laugh. "No, it's not," you unfolded your arms and rested your hands on your hips, your bag still hanging from your shoulder.

Jayce scoffed and glanced around the room with annoyance, clearly not believing you.

"Then why were you being so secretive about it earlier?" his words were less of a question and more of an accusation.

You approached him and placed your bag on top of the assortment of papers and materials.

"Why would you not include me?" he fired another question at you before you had a chance to answer the first.

The workbench was in between you, but you could still feel the heat of his emotions from where you stood.

"Did you really think Viktor and I were together?" you leaned forward on the workbench, his scent wafting over to you the more he gestured.

It was hard not to crumble as the notes of coal smoke, cherry and leather that filled your nostrils, but you stood strong.

"I think a lot of people do," he grumbled, "The two of you spend all your time together, you're basically inseparable-"

He stepped away from the workbench and angled himself towards the door.

"-I can't talk to one of you without the other being there, it's like you're attached at the hip-", his ramblings became more emotionally charged.

Although you couldn't see his face, you finally caught what his words were laced with - envy.

"-Are you jealous?", you cut him off. He clearly wasn't expecting the accusation as he stopped mid-step and turned back to you.

"Why would I be jealous?" he tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably. His cheeks flushed a new shade of pink, and you knew your game had began.

You shrugged and leaned against the workbench, the same way you had earlier, but now it was just the two of you.

"It just sounds like you're jealous," you lowered your voice ever -so-slightly. Not as much as before, but enough that it made Jayce swallow the saliva that had caught in his throat.

Jayce's brain buffered for a moment, caught in the fog of your voice, but he quickly recomposed himself - he wasn't going to let you get the better of him again.

"I'm not," he muttered.

You shrugged and turned your back on him, reaching over to grab your creation from where Jayce had left it, you looked back at him over your shoulder as you leaned.

As predicted, his eyeline was not on your face. When he realised you were looking at him, he quickly averted his gaze.

His hands gripped at his sides as he took a few steps towards you.

Your heart leap in your chest when you saw him move, but it was short lived when he stopped, keeping an arms distance between the two of you.

"Where is Viktor anyway?" Jayce asked, avoiding your eyeline as you twisted back to face him.

You held your project in your hands but gave Jayce all your attention, "He's gone to bed," you explained, "Wont be back until the morning," you implied.

His lower lip darted in between his teeth for a second at how slowly and purposely you spoke. He could feel the suggestion in your voice as if you'd written it out in front of him.

Hesitantly, he took another step towards you and put himself within touching distance, if you wanted to.

He could feel his heart picking up speed under his ribcage. The two of you had been alone multiple times over the years, but it had never felt like this. Never felt so tempting.

He grabbed hold of the device in your hands, his middle and index finger overlapping yours sent fireworks through your body, and you knew he could feel it too.

"And this?" he was so close to you now that he only needed to whisper and you could hear him clear as day. "What about it?" you gazed up at him, trying to speak to him with your eyes, but he was focused on your hands.

"Who's it for?" he asked, and you smiled to yourself, "Me," you stated plainly, "And whoever else I want," the last part was almost inaudible, but he most-definitely heard it.

"And who do you want?" he leaned towards you, his confidence was starting to show again as his question caught you off guard. This whole time you had planned to be the one to initiate, but never actually figured out how to.

It seemed as if he was giving you the perfect opening, but now that the time was here, you found your words caught in your throat.

"Jayce..." was all you could manage, it wasn't needy or relenting, but the low and suggestive way you said his name made him act before he could think.

He forcefully stepped forward, his chest pressing against yours but the momentum not stopping until his hands - and your lower back - were firmly against the workbench.

At some point during the two or three seconds of movement, you'd let go of the strap and it was now in between Jayce's palm and the counter.

His eyes pierced into yours as he towered over you, giving you nowhere to move, but you knew this wasn't how this was going to go - no matter how much you enjoyed it.

Other than his body against yours, he hadn't actually touched you yet, and you decided that you were going to be the one to bridge that gap.

You gently placed your hand on his chest and untucked his tie from his waistcoat whilst maintaining eye contact with him.

His breath was hitting your face in hard puffs as your fingers intertwined with the soft red fabric, pulling it loose from his collar.

His eyeline dipped from yours to your lips and you knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and moved his head quickly, but your finger caught his pursed lips before they could make contact with your own.

He opened his eyes and glanced between your finger on his lips and your face, and immediately backed away.

"I'm sorry, I-" his thoughts were momentarily consumed with scolding, thinking he'd misread your messages and made a fool of himself.

To defuse the situation, you hooked your fingers into the front of his collar and pulled him back towards you, "You haven't earned that yet," you asserted.

His expression softened before returning to a sultry smile, "Earned?" he tilted his head to the side and mockingly repeated your wording.

You hummed to show your agreement as you pulled the remainder of his tie free and let it fall to the floor.

"Take this off," you lazily pinched the fabric of his waistcoat, "Then maybe you can kiss me," the command in your voice was new, even to you, but it felt comfortable.

He regarded you for a moment with his mouth slightly parted, you were sure you'd pushed him too far, but when he reached up and undid the first clasp you mentally let go of the breath you were holding.

The waistcoat slid off of his shoulders with ease, and he instantly leaned into you again, but you tutted.

"No," you pushed him away by his chest gently and tapped your finger to your chin as though you were thinking, "That too," you pointed at his shirt.

This time he didn't hesitate. He straightened his spine and shuffle backwards so you could properly see him as he undid every button.

He started at the bottom, untucking it from his pants, and slowly popping two of the buttons, one with each hand.

The first part of his skin you saw was the dark trail of hair that lead to his belly button, then his toned abdomen. He sped up when he got to his chest, his shirt fully open but still hanging from his shoulders.

He smirked as your eyes raked over his form, he was playing with you as much as you were playing with him, just in his own way.

In all the years you'd spent together, you'd never actually seen Jayce in a state of undress. Whenever he was in the forge, you were at a desk.

You nudged your head to the side, indicating for him to continue, so he did. With a shrug of his shoulders, the black fabric slid down his body effortlessly to land a few inches away from his waistcoat.

The sight of him with his torso bare almost knocked the air out of your lungs, "Pretty boy," you breathed absentmindedly.

He practically preened at the compliment and strode back to you, this time he waited before trying to kiss you again.

Your hands trailed up the front of his chest and between his pecks, it felt so different without the constraints of his shirt in the way, but you felt him shiver under your touch.

Drawing the outline of his collarbone with your fingertip, you felt his voice rumbling before you heard it.

"Can I?" he kept his composure but there was an underlying tone of pleading to his question, "You can-", the words had barely left your mouth before he'd grabbed the back of your head and encapsulated his mouth with yours.

His lips were soft and warm. At first he only pressed his lips against yours, but he quickly pulled away only to open his mouth and deepen the kiss.

The way his bottom lip dragged over yours made lightening sizzle through your body, if he wasn't already holding you up your knees would've buckled beneath you.

Your hands found their way into his hair and you returned the feverishness of his kiss.

The way you both timed your sharp inhales of breath between the milliseconds where your mouths weren't connected was nothing short of a display of years of longing.

His lips snatched every kiss from you as if he was never going to get the opportunity to do this again, stealing every inch of your mouth for himself.

He quickly and gently pressed his teeth against your bottom lip and pulled playfully, causing a quiet and unintentional moan to escape your throat.

He continued to kiss you, but you could feel the cocky smirk against your lips. He was playing your game and you were losing.

You realised how much you'd leaned into his touch, how his strong hands had moulded you to where he wanted you. You needed to regain control.

Sharply, you tightened your grip in his hair and pulled his head backwards - a soft whimper leaving his lips, and hitting you straight in your core, giving you a small tingle.

The two of you panted as his throat was exposed to you.

You leaned in and licked up the sensitive flesh, feeling prickles of his stubble against your tongue, "I want your pants off," you spoke against his throat, before you released him.

He stumbled backwards, obviously taken off guard by you. He was sure you'd melted in his palm, but you were back to giving him orders.

When you gestured to his lower half, he quickly undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, pushing them to the floor and stepping out of them.

His underwear was slightly pulled down from the force he'd pulled his pants down with, so you could see the indents of his V line and a patch of dark hair peaking over the waistband.

You were going to tease him some more, but the clear outline of where he was straining against the fabric was too much of a temptation to wait.

"And those," you lazily gestured to his boxers as if you weren't as excited as he was. He just had the unfortunate biology of not being able to hide it.

He grumbled, but hooked his thumbs into his waistband and slowly pulled them down. Just as he was about to get to the halfway point, he put his hand into his boxers and pushed the rest of the fabric down.

Once again, he stepped out of the leg holes, but kept one hand on the base of his dick so his hand and wrist evaded it from your view.

"Let me see," you said in a gentle tone. For a moment you were unsure if he was shy, but has he slipped his shoes off with a smirk, you knew this was a man who had every confidence in his physical appearance and this was him trying to yank some control back.

"I think we need to even this out," he sauntered over to you with poise, he took hold of your collar and attempted to undo the first button, but you gripped his wrist and pulled it away.

"I think you need to remember your place," you corrected him, your index finger and thumb taking hold of his strong jaw and squeezing for a second.

You hand trailed up to the side of his face, it was gentle and a complete contrast to the way you'd just grabbed him.

Your thumb brushed over his bottom lip and he instinctively opened his mouth with a groan, allowing your thumb to slip in and hook over his teeth.

He could easily pull your hand away if he wanted, but he didn't.

"Don't you want me to touch you?" you asked with faux innocence, and he nodded with your thumb still in his mouth, "Then let me see," you continued the façade of purity.

He gazed into your eyes and you could almost see his golden irises searching for his next opportunity for the upper hand, but when he found none, he simply moved his hand.

It hadn't registered that he'd let go at first, it wasn't until his cock thumped heavily against your thigh that you realised he'd done it.

You looked down, thinking for a second that something had fallen off of the workbench behind you, but when you saw his thick member resting against your leg and stood to attention, you held back a gasp.

Of course he was big; not that you'd thought about it before.

As you wrapped your fingers around his shaft and started to slowly move your wrist, it was something that seemed obvious to you now. He was a large man, easily taller and more muscular than you, so of course you would struggle to make your fingers meet around his width.

He wanted to make a smartass comment, he'd seen the momentary surprise on your features and he wanted to capitalise on the opportunity, but the way you massaged his length left no room for anything other than strangled moans to come from him.

His hips started to move with your rhythm and his breathing got heavier, he was adamant to stay standing tall and keep eye contact with you, but he was struggling.

"I saw how much you were straining, isn't this so much better?" you purred, and he bit his lower lip with a quiet response of "Mhmm," as he fought to keep his eye contact with you.

You noticed how he was trying so hard to remain composed, so you sped up your hand. He gasped and audibly moaned; he stayed upright for another three or four seconds before he fell forward and caught himself on the workbench.

His forehead rested on your shoulder, with one hand resting on he base of your neck, and the other against the bench.

The noises that spilled from him were sinful, but you wanted more.

He got louder as his hips moved against your rhythm, and you got a brief glimpse as to what he would feel like inside you as the ridges and veins of his cock pressed against your fingers.

You pressed your legs together to try and relieve some of the tension but it was useless, feeling him grip you so tightly and breathing so heavily against you was almost too much.

The grasp you had on him loosened until you fully let go, "No, please," he protested breathlessly and looked up at you with pleading eyes.

That image of him would be ingrained into your brain forever; his hair messy, with a few strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, whilst his glossy eyes bore into you with desire and desperation.

That would've been enough to get you through any more of his egotistical demands, but you were greedy, and too turned on to stop now.

"What do you want?" you cooed at him, brushing his hair back out of his face, "I want to fuck you," he quietly confessed.

You smiled, "What was that?" you teased, wanting him to say it louder.

"Please let me fuck you," he begged, and you affectionately caressed his cheek.

You reached behind you on the workbench until your fingers found what you were looking for, and once you did, you held it up proudly.

"Not today, pretty boy," you pinched the tip of his chin with your thumb and index finger to make him look at you, "I want to fuck you instead, is that okay?" you said with as much confidence as you'd ever had in your life.

He rapidly looked between your face and the strap you were holding, before he glanced towards the floor with a blush, but nodded.

"I'm going to need to hear you," you forced his eyeline back to you again. When he didn't immediately reply, you added with sincerity, "If you don't want to, that's also okay,".

Almost as soon as you'd provided him with a proverbial 'get-out-of-jail-free card', he shook his head "No, I want to, I really want to,".

"Are you sure?" you dropped all teasing and mocking tones you'd previously had to let him know that it was okay if he wasn't certain.

"One hundred percent sure," he confirmed with a smile, his eyes blown out and filled with desire.

You pulled his face to yours and kissed him deeply, your tongue exploring his mouth for a second before gently pushing him away.

You pointed to the black leather couch in between two of the desks and started to slip off your own pants as you ungraciously stepped into the harness, relieved that he had his back turned when you stumbled on one of the belts.

Once it was on, you reached into the bag you'd left on the side and pulled out the silicone cylinder you'd made months prior, and a bottle of lube.

When Jayce sat down and saw what you were holding, his eyes went wide with curiosity, "What is that?" the blue light reflected in his eyes.

You chuckled as you approached him, "I made it for me, for the rare times I get to be alone, it's intuitive to the user. If you want it bigger it'll get bigger, if you need it smaller it'll-" you explained but he interrupted.

"You've used it on yourself?" he asked with some of his usual confidence, his dick twitching as his mind clearly ran rampant, "Yes," you said with a mocking tone as an answer to his stupid question.

He was going to continue his questioning as he reached towards your crotch, but you playfully slapped his hand away, "You can touch me when I say you can," your voice reverted back to it's commanding tone.

"But I want to make you feel good too," he laid down on his back, taking up the majority of the couch by himself, but there was a small space for you between his legs.

"It will," you reassured him and placed the device through the metal ring, reaching into your own pants to move your underwear out of the way, and pressing the hooked end of it find your own hole.

The blue light got stronger as it slipped inside you, the sudden intrusion making you moan suddenly.

Jayce watched you eagerly as his breathing sped up again, his dick bouncing against his stomach when your moans hit his ears.

Now that it was in place with the phallic part protruding from the metal ring, you drizzled some lube onto it and rubbed it in with your hand.

He wouldn't admit it, but watching you stroke the device as if you had a dick of your own was extremely hot to him.

"Ready?" you asked as you positioned yourself between his legs. He lifted his hips and nodded eagerly.

You lined the tip of the dildo up with his asshole and rubbed gently, smearing the lube against it. When the device made contact with Jayce it moulded itself to be thinner, already working as you'd designed it.

As slowly as you could, you pushed the tip into him, breaching his tight ring with ease. Jayce whimpered as his eyes rolled back into his head, you pushed in a little further and then pulled back as far as you could without it coming out of him.

"I can t-take more," he moaned, and glanced down to where your crotches were connected.

You gave him a scorning look, "That's not how you ask," you pushed into him a little bit more, letting another whimper fall from him.

Inside you, the dildo reverberated and pushed itself deeper into you, but you were able to hold back the moan.

"Please, more," he begged, fully giving into your control. He wanted to hold out a little longer but it was impossible, between your lust-filled gaze and the dildo's ridges massaging his insides, he had no chance.

Happy with his pleading, you thrusted softly forward, pressing deeper into him, "Fuck!" he moaned loudly.

His hips squirmed as he tried to fuck himself onto it more than you were giving, the dildo slowly got thicker once he'd gotten used to the sensation.

You would be merciful this time since he had adjusted so well, and thrusted at a more natural pace, the device mimicking your movements inside you.

It pounded into you with a bit more ferocity than you were giving Jayce, it already being accustom to you. Moaning, you fell forward, catching yourself on Jayce's chest.

Somehow you'd managed to keep your eyes open. Watching how his cock bounced with every thrust, you could've help but imagine what it would feel like to be riding him instead.

Your genius had become your downfall as the intuitive nature of the dildo kicked in, widening and lengthening itself to be a replica of what you were seeing.

"Oh, g-god!" you threw your head back with pleasure, the constant pounding against your g-spot, alongside the stretch of the new design was all too much, your strangled moan echoed through the room.

Jayce's eyes opened so he could see your face and he almost came on the spot. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyebrows lifted into a knot of ecstasy, his own moans and whimpers a harmony of your own.

The fire inside you was burning hotter and hotter as you struggled to keep up your pace, whilst Jayce had found the perfect rhythm to manoeuvre his hips to your own.

He begged and pleaded with you not to stop, the word "Please" becoming his new mantra.

"Can I cum?" he asked you with a broken voice, his eyes finally meeting with yours. He looked so messy, pathetic and beautiful all at once, you couldn't deny him, "Yes," you barely got out.

You were barely holding on yourself, the tingling up your spine and your muscles going solid made it almost impossible for you to move anymore, but Jayce's bouncing kept the pace going.

A string of curses fell from Jayce's mouth as he gripped the base of his cock and pumped it a few times, that was all he needed to release the spurts of cum from him.

The moans and whimpers that Jayce made was enough to throw you over the edge, your hips thrusted wildly as you clenched around the dildo, your head going dizzy with euphoria.

Jayce watched your jaw fall open and the most beautiful sounds leave your throat, he never wanted to forget them, he only wished it was him that made you sound like that.

When the cloud of ecstasy faded, you removed the device and put it in the cleaning bag you'd brought with you.

Jayce cleaned up the mess he'd made on his own abdomen whilst you pulled your pants back on, the silence wasn't uncomfortable although it was obvious that you both wanted to address what had just happened, but neither of you wanted to be the first one to speak.

You picked up his clothes and handed them to him, "I'll see you in the morning," you caressed his cheek and he leaned into your palm with a soppy smile and puppy dog eyes that could melt your heart.

Things would be different in the morning. You weren't sure by how much, or for better or worse, but you knew everything would change now.

[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

[allpiesforourown]

was gonna post this on ao3 but it's only 1.3k words and pure sillyness so here it is instead: bingqiu, post canon, time travel, misunderstandings.

shen qingqiu time travels, but no one tells him

Upon waking up to see his husband, the first words out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth were, “Ugh, again?” 

Because the one at his bedside was not the tall handsome demon lord he saw every morning. A cute little bun in white robes blinked back at him. “Shizun?” 

Seriously? How many times was this going to happen!? At least this time he didn't look young enough to be mistaken for his child, but still… if Shen Qingqiu had a soul stone for every time Luo Binghe qi deviated into a younger version of himself, he’d have two soul stones by now…

Instead of waking his husband to tell him about his condition, the man (boy?) had run off to prepare breakfast. Going by the steaming congee on the table, he only woke Shen Qingqiu up to get him to eat.

Shen Qingqiu sighed as he sat up and ran a hand over his face. “Do you know how old you are right now?” 

“This disciple is sixteen, shizun. Is something wrong?” 

Shen Qingqiu gave Luo Binghe a glare. Something wrong? The audacity! He grabbed the fan off his nightstand and smacked the boy’s head softly. “Hasn’t this master told Binghe to tell me right away when something is wrong?” Binghe opened his mouth with a stricken expression, but Shen qingqiu cut him off. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You're still too young to dual cultivate. We’ll have to wait things out.” 

Papapa would have solved this matter instantly if it was viable. But when Binghe first brought up the idea of role-playing as their younger selves, Shen Qingqiu made it clear he would not partake in anything with the man if he made his appearance younger than 18! Even that was too low, but he had to draw the line somewhere! 

Luo Binghe’s face flushed red. “D-d-dual cu-cultivate!?” 

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “What did I just say? Don't get any ideas, you'll have to wait before we can do anything.” 

“We?” Binghe’s voice went high. “Shizun… dual cultivate… with me!?” 

“Not until you’re older,” he repeated firmly. 

At this age, Binghe really did look too innocent… even with such a perverted interior, he really looked like this simple talk was flustering him. “How-how much older?” 

Well, while recovering from de-aging qi deviations, Binghe did grow back rapidly. It wouldn’t take that long before Binghe was old enough for shen qingqiu to feel comfortable touching. “Hmm, at the rate you usually grow… maybe we can do it a week from now?” 

Luo Binghe passed out. 

*

“Mu-shidi, how can you say this isn’t a qi deviation?” Shen Qingqiu insisted. “Just look at him! What other explanation could there be?” 

His martial brother must have gone insane. He grasped Luo Binghe’s wrist once more, looking over the unconscious boy. “Shixiong, this one… still doesn’t understand what you mean.” He released the arm and adjusted his glasses. “Though he seems to have suffered some sort of shock, it is minor and there is zero harm to his meridians. He will wake up shortly.”

No harm to his meridians? Then what else could explain why his husband was suddenly a head shorter than him? Luo Binghe did have some shape-shifting skills… perhaps they went beyond just hiding his demonic huadian and eyes? Could he also change his appearance to such a degree he looked like a teenager again? 

“Then I suppose this master will take his husband back to the bamboo house and follow up once he wakes.” Shen Qingqiu stood, scooping Luo Binghe into his arms. “Thanking shidi for his time.” 

He was nearly at the door when he heard a strangled “WAIT!” call out behind him. Shen qingqiu glanced over his shoulder impatiently. He didn’t want to be holding Binghe like a bride when he came to… Binghe would insist on it constantly and further tarnish his status as a stallion protagonist! 

Mu Qingfang’s eyes were bugged out, ink dripping from his pen onto his hand. “What did you just say!?” 

Shen qingqiu raised a brow, shuffling binghe into a more comfortable hold closer to his chest. “This shixiong thanked shidi…” Shen qingqiu said slowly. 

Mu Qingfang’s tense shoulders lowered slightly. “Right… that’s all shixiong said.”

“Yes? Thank you for checking on this master’s husband.” 

Mu Qingfang threw up blood as Shen Qingqiu exited the infirmary. 

*

Shen Qingqiu had just finished tucking Binghe into their bed when the door to the bamboo house was kicked open. He readied his ‘disappointed teacher’ voice to reprimand Liu Qingge, but was stunned into silence when he found Yue Qingyuan sprinting into his bedroom instead. 

“Zhangmen shixiong,” Shen Qingqiu said with a raised brow. “May this shidi help you?” 

Yue Qingyuan’s voice was choked as he called, “Xiao-Jiu!” 

Shen Qingqiu's lip instinctively twisted down. “If shixiong has something to say to this Qingqiu, he may do so.” He said pettily. “Otherwise, I’m busy taking care of my husband.”

“Husband,” Yue Qingyuan repeated. He squirmed nervously under Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. “Mu-shidi informed me you said something similar, I… xia- um, Qingqiu-shidi, are you alright? You… you’re not married… right?” 

…Sect leader Yue. You were at the wedding! 

“Is this a joke?” Shen Qingqiu answered coolly. “Luo Binghe would not take kindly to this kind of statement.” 

Yue Qingyuan staggered backwards, falling onto a chair with an anguished expression. His eyes fell upon Shen Qingqiu’s bed, where Luo Binghe lay sleeping and his eyes widened. “How…? Shidi, this is- he’s your disciple!” 

“This master does not understand,” Shen Qingqiu said irritably. “Luo Binghe and I have been wed for over a year, so why now are you making such a fuss?” 

“A year…?” 

More footsteps invaded the bamboo house, until half his martial siblings had invited themselves in. Qi Qingqi, Liu Qingge, even great master Airplane had arrived! Yue Qingyuan looked to Mu Qingfang with dread. “Mu-shidi…” 

The tragedy clear on the sect leader’s face said it all. Mu Qingfang grimaced. “Something must be done. Shen-shidi is having delusions of marriage!” 

…okay, that was it. Shen Qingqiu had allowed his martial siblings to subtly disapprove of his relationship with Binghe for all this time, but this was too far. 

“Enough!” He cried. “Luo Binghe is my husband, and that will not change! Everyone will treat him with the respect that is deserved of Qing Jing’s shimu!” 

The sound of something crashing to the ground pulled their attention back to the peak lord’s bed. It seemed Luo Binghe had woken up, gotten out of bed, and then immediately passed out again after taking two steps. 

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu cried. Seriously, what was going on? Did Airplane write a narcolepsy arc he never mentioned? 

As Shen qingqiu lifted Binghe back onto the bed, a younger voice joined them. “Shizun, why was everyone running into the bamboo house? Is everything okay?” 

At the threshold of his bedroom Ning Yingying had arrived, followed by the head disciple. 

Shen Qingqiu gawked at her small stature. What the-!? Did Ning Yingying also qi deviate? And Ming Fan, too? Why did all his disciples look about ten years younger- 

Oh.

Oh no.

Ha… hahaha… that was the trouble with immortals. Year after year, their faces looked exactly the same. 

System, Shen Qingqiu asked with dawning horror, what's going on? 

[Sounds like host has already figured it out! Limited event: Returning to the Peaceful Past is in progress!]

You bastard, you couldn't have said that earlier!? 

So Shen Qingqiu had temporarily returned to the past. He’d told his sixteen year old disciple they would dual cultivate and informed all his martial siblings he had married the boy at 15. For a thin faced man like Shen Qingqiu, something of this level… he couldn’t bear his fellow peak lord’s shocked and judging faces. 

“S-so…” Shen Qingqiu laughed nervously. “Um… that was all a joke, okay?” 

[mintfullyyours]

Past Lives

SIMON RILEY x READER

summary: the past always finds a way to haunt you

PS: honestly probably shouldn't have been a one chap fic. I had so much more I want to write. Also had to look up this man's bio to get the cannon ages right. I guess also older reader but Si and reader are around the same age. Thank you for reading!!

For your consideration: angtybf!price drabble, Amnesiac!Simon, wallpaper w/simon

tags: tattoo inaccuracies, fluff, angst

“This is dumb.” You giggled, as Simon Riley held his arm out for you.

No one ever said it was a good idea to tattoo your significant other but when you’re both 17 and in love, everything seems like a good idea. That's why you're both sat on the floor of your room with a tattoo gun in hand that Simon pawned off somewhere.

"You want to be an artist." He gestured towards his bicep, "Make some art."

It was a pipe dream -- Become a famous tattoo artist and make enough money to get out of this small town.

“You sure about this?” You ask, leaning forward as the sound of the machine whizzed to life.

“Sure.” Simon shrugs, pulling his sleeve higher up. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He puffs out his chest, “Life is too fucking short to care."

His words caused your cheeks to tint pink. You leaned forward and started permanently etching the key template you two had drawn together. This night marked the first tattoos of many and there wasn’t anyone else you wanted to share this moment with than him.

Smiling at your finished key, Simon lifts his arm examining it with a scrunched face. “I've seen worse.” He purses his lips and you smile, quickly pecking his.

“By the way, have I told you about this thing called chapstick?” You tease, handing over your arm to the table.

Simon scoffs and takes over, drawing onto your skin: a heart-shaped lock.

You watched as he diligently shaded the areas, heart swelling with pride. Simon was everything you could’ve asked for in a partner. He admires his work as he wipes the excess ink and knowing you’re staring, he asks,

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Shaking your head, you give a smile, “Nothing, nothing.”

“It’s something.” He takes cling wrap to protect your new tattoo, just as you had for his own, “Tell me.”

Silence as you rest your arm flat on the table and he does the same, heart and key. Two halves of a whole. It’s not that you were ignoring him, you just didn’t know what to say. 

“Just that you'll always have a piece of me” You smile down at the fresh ink.

“As you for me.” Simon cups your cheek gently guiding you to look up at him. You were weak against his touch, “So what’s wrong?”

A sigh escapes your lips, knowing the truth has to come out eventually. “We can’t keep this up forever, you know? Secret meetings. Midnight getaways. I just… I want to be with you but not like this.”

“Alright. Then tell me.” His thumb brushes away the tear that fell from your cheeks, “What can I do?”

A moment of silence as the truth wracks your brain. “Come with me!” You blurt out, “I’m moving… To the States for Uni. And I––” The thought of getting away from this small town brought comfort to your mind.

“I want you to come with me, Si.”

The blonde pauses for a moment as he lets your request sink in. Leaning forward his lips capture yours in a gentle kiss, you closed your eyes allowing him to take the lead. Far too soon, he separates your lips and presses his forehead against your own. Eyes still closed as you let your lips curve into a smile, you’ve never felt more loved than right here in this moment. 

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” He states.

But that was then and this is now.

Two decades and some years later, you found yourself as an owner of a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles. The place was in a neon-lit, upstairs studio. Cozy and intimate. If you looked close enough flecks of Manchester littered the room.

But you could never go back, not after what he did.

In the break room you were putting on a fresh pair of gloves, Javier the cashier knocks on the door with the clientele briefings.

“Just one. Booked the whole day.”

You arch a brow but Javier nods and leaves the room. Taking one last glance into the full-length mirror, glad you chose to work in a tanktop that showcased your tattoo sleeves. Most clients felt at ease knowing you have the experience of being tatted so you wasted no time blending in one piece with another.

Exiting the break room, you look up and come to a complete stop.

He wore a leather jacket, smelled of gun powder and smoke with a black KN95 mask to cover his lips. But you knew this man.

Every fiber of your body knew this man all too well. Teenage lovers that whispered secrets against bare skin. There was something in the air, something electric between two passing bodies.

There was a slight squint in his eyes, you couldn't tell if it was a smile. You couldn't remember the last time he smiled.

The fucking nerve.

He thought he could waltz in here after all this time and what? Think nothing of it?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumble, turning your heel. “Cancel it. I’m sick.” You emit a fake cough and head back into the break room.

You’d rather be anywhere than here. 

Javier rolls his eyes, “I’ll leave you to close up.” He says, heading out. You stop and weighed your options. You could close. Losing the money was no big deal, especially if it means saving your sanity.

But accidentally stabbing Simon a little too harshly with a tattoo gun also seemed like a good idea.

You chose the latter and make your way over to your ex. He’s watching you, ever vigilant. Your spine straightens ever so slightly. You haven't heard much of his whereabouts since he left for the military but it wasn't pretty.

“Hey.”

“Don’t hey me.” Your hand reaches for his broad shoulder and forcefully pushes him down onto the leather seat. Simon Riley had filled out and by the looks of the ink on his skin, he'd added to his collection of tattoos. Dark black ink covers his once blank canvas.

“Sit.”

He looks shaken, as though the sudden touch and command woke something in him. 

You take the seat across from him, the table dividing you both. Glad the partition was there otherwise you might strangle him yourself, which was still an option. You unpack the tools, feeling his eyes glued to your every movement. Heart pounding in your chest, why did he still make you feel this way? 

“Whatever you have to say, don't.”

“Okay, ” He says, handing over his left arm to rest on the table. He lowers the KN95 mask too. You took a look at him and your breath hitches at the sigh of scars that marred his face.

He was still so beautiful to you.

“Just something simple. Something that says… I’m sorry.”

Your ears burn at his apology. He had no right to bring back feelings from so long ago. So you point at the blank skin, “How about  Idiot instead?”

Simon chuckles deep and your lips slightly tug upwards, you missed that. From his jacket he pulled out a template, it was a complex design that you estimated would take three hours. You rubbed your temples, knowing he did this on purpose. 

“Fine. But no talking. I don’t want to hear a word come out of your mouth.” You state, dipping the gun into the ink cartridge and getting to work. 

Finishing the last touches, both of your arms rested on the table as you shaded in his piece.

He cleared his throat as though to begin a conversation.

“Not a word, Riley.” You warn, gaze locked on his arm. 

“Hear me out.” Simon pleads. 

“No, I––”

“I went to the airport!” He cuts you off. Your eyes snap to his at his admission. 

Simon took your silence as a cue to continue his statement. There was stirring in the pit of your stomach. 

“The day you left for the States. I was there too. I made it so far to the gates but…” His eyes clouded over with a memory so clear in his mind. “Got scared. Fucking scared of uprooting my life and then holding you back from something greater."

Simon sighed, "I joined the military not long after you left."

"Oh so much for not being scared of war torn countries." you quip.

"We have different definitions of fear."

"Clearly."

He had a point but you were stubborn and would be damned to let him change that.

“You wanted this.” He gestures around the parlor. "You needed it."  

“No, I needed you.” You interrupt him. You couldn’t continue to hear how he was so close yet so far away the day you left Manchester. The day you both were supposed to leave. “You didn’t think I was scared? I loved you and the day you stood me up crushed me into a million pieces. Fuck, two decades later and I’m still putting those shattered parts back together.”

The anger bubbled in you as did the pain of having to live a life without him. No rhyme or reason until today. But you also understood how important family was, for both of you. So you weren’t punishing him for not coming but rather for not telling you. 

You sigh with defeat, “What made you think you could make that decision for me, Si?”

“This.”

With his free hand, he gently turns your right arm over to reveal the heart tattoo. Smiling as he lines it up with the key that was on his own. 

Two halves of a whole.

“I know your strength.” He admitted, "A bond like ours, once in a lifetime."

Silence falls between you. Anger was a heavy heart to bear for all these years.

“'m sorry, Love.” Simon leans down to place a kiss on top of your inked heart like it would heal the wounds on your own. Heat built in your core from the simple act of intimacy. 

“I will spend the rest of my life apologizing and making it up to ya.” Your man-child sighs, “You’re right, 'm an idiot. But I love you and will continue to love you if you let me.”

You allow his words to sink in. Love. You loved the man in front of you even after all these years. 

Still, one question remained, “Why now?”

Simon looks at you with the smallest smile, “I've seen a lot of shit. Killed men. Died, m'self. Came back... A ghost." He admits, the words falling freely. "Maybe doing all of that so to make the world a better place for one person who never left my mind."

With that, his hand reaches for the back of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss. You close your eyes and find yourself reacting to him. His tongue slips inside your own as you both battle for dominance. Exploring each other and trying to unravel secrets with such a kiss. He felt like a dream against you, one you never wanted to wake from.

You moan and whimper, realizing how long it had been without his touch. The kiss satisfied every need you had.

The kiss grew urgent, long gone was the gentle embrace. Lips still connected, you moved the portable easel that separated you both, and Simon guided you to straddle his lap. Clumsy, sure. But soon enough your legs secured both sides of his waist and never once did you break. 

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. 

Simon leaned back on the chair as his hands roamed underneath your shirt to touch bare skin. His touch felt like fire to your skin. You moaned in his mouth at his touch and ground your hips against his cock, feeling him harden beneath you. He bucks upwards and you relish in the control. 

You felt his fingers reach to pull the hem of your shirt up but placing a hand on his chest, you gently push him back. He groans with protest. You inhale a sharp breath, “I’m not doing this unless you commit to me, to this life. And if you can't, tell me right fucking now because we're both too old for this."

He leans up to press his forehead against yours. It’s his next words that cause your own emptiness to fill fully and wholly with love. 

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

[potatomountain]

CiY- CH 18

Chapter Eighteen

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Answers? or more questions?" 📍WC: 3.1k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, suggested voyeurism, suggestive, Wooyoung makes everything sexual 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

masterlist | Previous | Next

With a few days to rest and be alone with your mind all you could do was think about Mingi. You came to terms with the fact it wasn’t that he told the others about you two fucking, you partly expected that, but it was about Chan. The fact they knew about Chan, what had happened.

And that San, unlike Mingi, didn't seem like the type to brag about his sexual encounters.

By Thursday morning you had done nothing but sit and stew and worry. You were ready to dive head first into the work, into whatever cover you were given and completely forget how vulnerable you had been with two men and how they aired your dirty laundry for their friends, who not all liked you, to hear. Part of you was dreading Wooyoung as you were sure he had questions you did not want to answer, probably ever. Yet he was at your apartment door, first thing in the morning, with breakfast and a shopping bag in his hand. “Morning sunshine, time to prepare to slay the day.” He barged right in, pushing the bag into your hand and then making his way to your couch. “Wear that and then come eat. We’ll do your makeup after.” Brow furrowed, you watched him for a moment more before sighing and heading to your room. Right to business then, that was fine by you. But you took a shower first at least. The clothes themselves were gaudy and tight, but not to the point to draw attention to yourself. Well, depending on where you went. You were assuming downtown, all things considered, which this worked for. Dressed, you sat down on your sofa next to him to see he made himself at home: TV on, lounging back against the cushions, mouth full of the breakfast sandwich he was eating. He motioned to the other sandwich and coffee set out, right down to your preferences.

When had he learned them? “Did San tell you what I like?” You hummed out, taking a sip of coffee, remembering the surprise breakfast the day you had been late.

“Yeosang did. Scolded me when I tried to get you something different,” He replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his own coffee. 

You gawked, unsure if you heard him right. Yeosang did? The grump that barely liked to talk to you or look your way? He got his panties in a twist making sure you got food you liked? That just didn't add up.

As if sensing the disturbance in the force, Wooyoung glanced over at you, chuckling at your slack jaw. “He's anal about specifics, don't worry about it. Just eat, we have a lot of bases to cover today and you need to do your hair and some makeup. Sunglasses would work or a mask. Windows are tinted but we'll be walking around a bit as well.”

With a nod you focused on your food, Wooyoung laughing at something on the TV. He glanced at you often, grinning when you met his eyes, but didn't speak up. He let you eat, even once he was all done. You took the chance to look him over, to take note of his appearance. Baggy white washed jeans, blank tank under an open button up that the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing that one of his arms was completely covered in black and white ink, small hints of color. His dual hair was pulled back in a half ponytail, really showing off the blonde under it. The growing smirk on his lips told you he was aware of you checking him out, and you found yourself grinning in turn, laughing under your breath when his tongue poked out and up at the side of his mouth, chuckling without looking at you directly. It was kind of cute actually.

“Like what you see?” He quipped once he got his laughter under control, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You know it.” You set your empty wrapper aside and leaned towards him as he turned more towards you, finally giving you his full attention since he got here. “I never did thank you.” He lifted his brow, the slit even more defined in it. “Thank me for what?” His eyes flickered down to where your hand now laid on his knee, his pupils dilating in response. You realized how easy it would be to play with him physically, but quickly chased that thought away. While you had been open to it beforehand, your anger at Mingi and the others flared to life once more. “Oh just being honest with me; whether it was about how attractive you think I am, or about the others. I am still surprised you just blatantly kissed San like that.” He noticed the change in demeanor, the smirk faltering on his features but slipping into an almost sympathetic expression. “They aren’t very honest with you are they? How rude of them. If you asked me to bark, I would. Asked me to eat their cum out of your cunt, I would gladly. Asked me to-” Your hand covered his mouth quickly, ears hot from his words. “Easy easy, what you would let me do to you sexually has nothing to do with what you would tell me in confidence.” You pointed out, creating some distance between you as you stood up. “And now isn’t the time for any of that. I’ve been twiddling my thumbs far too often. I would like to work.” Maybe it was an excuse to avoid the topic further, since Wooyoung had seemed intent on making it sexual, but you were really eager to get to work. He thankfully let the subject drop then helped you with your hair while you did minimal makeup. The accessories were a different story, much more than you were comfortable with for undercover work but understandable. So many necklaces, earrings, bracelets and hair pieces. He really was selling the gaudy appearance. He took you out to the car once you complained for the nth time that you did not want to waste another hour on your appearance especially if you were going to be in the car for most of it. It had you almost pouty as you climbed into the undercover car, windows so tinted you really couldn’t see inside at all, but it was crystal clear inside- the rundown exterior did not match the luxury of the inside. “The fuck? Can the department afford this?” “Nah this is my personal car. Well, one of them anyways. Buckle up Goddess it’ll be a long drive. We have a lot of stops to cover. Oh and-” He reached for the center console, tapping some buttons on the screen there until Yeosang’s face popped up illuminated by blue light from multiple computer screens. “Sangie say hi will you?” You were reminded of Wooyoung’s earlier comment, now taking in the onyx hair that fell in Yeosang’s eyes a bit, noticing they weren’t as dark as the others or that could be the light from the computers illuminating them. The light also illuminated a birthmark by his left eye, part of it on the outer corner and another a bit away, nearly shaped like a heart. His features were beautiful, even on this small screen, and you were surprised they didn’t immediately twist in disgust when he noticed you. In fact he seemed a bit shell shocked, eyes widening as he took in your appearance as you did his, only pulling away when Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Can you two not eye fuck each other in my presence? Thanks.” Yeosang tore his eyes away immediately to glare at Wooyoung. “I wasn’t! She just looks… different.” The pink dusting of his golden cheeks said differently but you weren’t one to question it.

Instead you were questioning what had changed. Your last interaction with Yeosang was when Chan appeared, and while the man had been a bit civil there, you didn’t expect it to warrant this level of… what was this? Acceptance? No, but he didn’t seem at all upset about your presence. “Don’t tease Wooyoung, let’s get this started okay? Is he going to be with us the whole ride?” You buckled in and got comfortable, setting your purse down that held your gun and credentials. Wooyoung had insisted you didn’t need them but you felt safer with them. Not really even safer but more confident in your capabilities. Wooyoung started up the car and pulled away from your apartment complex. “He is. We still want to log how you do in the field and if we need any information instantly, he will be here to get it. Whether on the screen or in our earpieces, he will be listening in.” You rolled your eyes. “Sounds like I’m being babysat.” “Quite the opposite Goddess, I’m the one being babysat.” Wooyoung grinned over at you, Yeosang’s attention on other screens in front of him so you got his side profile more than anything. “Gotta make sure I actually focus on the job and not on getting you on my cock.” The words left him effortless and had Yeosang choking on air.

Glancing at the man on the screen for a moment, you nearly yelped when you felt Wooyoung’s hand on your bare knee. “Though they forgot I don’t mind an audience and I think Yeosang would love to watch my cock driving up into your- owowowowow my hand!” Wooyoung cried out, trying to pull his hand out of your now crushing grip. You let him go if only because he was driving, glaring at him. “I can see why you need a babysitter. Are you constantly turned on or something?” “Definitely close to constantly, at least in your presence.” He whined out, now rubbing his injured hand to his chest as you had stopped in traffic. He pouted out at you. “You can squeeze my cock like that-” You grabbed his shirt and pulled him over, fist raised as if to hit him when he put his hands up in defense, “-okay okay I’ll calm down! Eesh!” Yeosang was wheezing on the screen, hunched over the desk with his face out of sight but the back of his head was shaking in the frame, shoulders as well. You could almost make out laughter, which had you sneering a bit. Yeosang was not going to be a very good babysitter apparently.

And this was going to be one long ride. _________ Despite Wooyoung’s innate ability to turn everything sexual or mention how much he wanted to fuck you, constantly, it was turning into an informative day. He took you around downtown, stopping at first in the red light district, an arm around your waist as he shifted his walk as if acting and dragged you around. It was a bit surprising for such a district to be busy even before lunch, which you suspected was due to the success of those that were here. Yeosang was in your earpieces, explaining to you each place you stopped at since Wooyoung could not do so out loud. You were beginning to like the man’s deep voice in your ear, and the lisp that popped up whenever he spoke English was endearing. But there were a few things he said that had peaked your interest. Like, for one, once you two hit deeper Pink Boa territory, a small section of downtown with an extravagant strip club with apartments above, Wooyoung pointed to one of the windows and said “Mom lives there” and easily moved on to point to the night club across the street. “I got kicked out of there when I was a teen. Mom caught me sneaking out alcohol.” You moved on to a men’s host club further down the street and learned another fun piece of information. “Hwa worked there at one point. Should see him dance.” “Woo, stop pointing these out, it's irrelevant at the moment.” Yeosang said in your ear, and Wooyoung’s as well. “It is interesting though.” Wooyoung turned to you. “Does any of this bother you? These sexual places we worked or lived in?” You swore you noticed something else in his eyes, a deeper question you couldn’t name. “Why would it?” You questioned, looking back at him. “Do these things change how you treat me?” He paused for a moment, contemplating your words before nodding. “And if you had to live here or work here to do your job?” He asked under his breath, pulling you closer to his side. You realized this was the sort of stuff they would do for undercover work, or well remembered it since Mingi had constantly brought women back to sleep with and get information. Wooyoung was essentially asking if you could do it. Humming softly, you turned him so you were chest to chest, pressing closer and running your hands down his chest to hook your forefingers in his belt loops. “You should see me dance, I think I can put Seonghwa to shame.” He smirked, leaning in to brush his nose over yours. “I’m sure you could.” He leaned in more to whisper in your free ear “I’m sure you fuck better than him too.” He pulled away and out of reach of your swing, predicting it before your hand was pulled back to smack him. Laughing he skipped ahead, and you followed. Then there was the car, no longer in the red light district, but more center town where it was a bit more high class. The shopping district was uptown center but this seemed to be a bit more important. “Where should I show her next?” Wooyoung had parked the car for the moment, talking to Yeosang in the small screen and ignoring your incredulous look. “I thought you had this all planned? We eat lunch and now you’re stumped?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and slipping further into your seat. “I do have a lot to show you but it’s a question of what you’re ready for Goddess.” He winced as soon as you rounded on him. “I mean, shit-” You had grabbed Wooyoung’s shirt and pulled him closer, finding that you manhandled him very much, and most of the time it wasn’t even intentional; he just brought it out of you. He did also touch you just as much, and if it wasn’t for the work you had a sneaking suspicion he would fuck you.

Which you might let him. Not that you would tell him.

Yeosang sighed as you furrowed your brow even further at the pretty detective in your hands. “He doesn’t mean how you think, sweetheart. You might be a little… shocked at how much of center city is run by mafia families, that’s all.” You shook your head and let go of Wooyoung, if only because you were taken back by what Yeosang called you. You were pretty sure he wasn’t even aware he did so. “Don’t worry about it. I need to know all about this area, and the players. So get to it.” Wooyoung sighed and then spent the next hour or so pointing on the major alleys and corporate buildings with ties to the mafia. Yeosang chimed in, clarifying which ones they suspected definitely had a member of the Golden Circle running it but one particular one stood out to you: Park Pharmaceuticals.

That rang several alarms in your head once you realized why it stood out. It was the company Seonghwa’s parents ran. You did not once think that these men had actual ties to any of the mafia, yet now you couldn’t help the buds that were planted. The bud was pushed to the back of your mind momentarily, the two of you driving up to the north center. It was here Wooyoung showed you the specific places that money drops would be made or sometimes casual business talk. Not at the mall, no, but a little deeper into the district, where adult shops and hookah bars were. “These places are run by the Golden Circle, but that one is run by the Red Wolves-” He pointed over at a lingerie shop, “- never shop there alone. It might look run down but their security is top notch, Yeosang can’t get in without hacking and that could be dangerous.” Frowning, you glanced at the small screen where the techie was already avoiding your eyes. “Why is their security so difficult? Isn’t Yeosang like a genius?” Wooyoung nodded solemnly. “He is, but hacking that would give away who is hacking. Yeosang’s the only one who can hack his own code safely and they know that.” “Wooyoung!” Yeosang hissed out, sneering now at the man next to you. “I was a kid I didn’t- you make it seem like I work for them!”

You hadn’t thought of it until he said it, tingling more alarms in your head. Just how good was Yeosang then? If he was the best? If even as a kid his code was so good that no other could hack it safely? How much of their undercover, or work, was as a detective, a pursuer of justice? The things Wooyoung had already revealed had you second guessing what you knew about this unit, about how deep they went. Was all this necessary to stop organized crime in the city? Was it even making a difference? Unaware you were spacing out, you snapped back to reality when Yeosang spoke your name. Your eyes flickered to his on the screen, taking in the hint of concern there; he was getting easier to read. “We do a lot of things we aren’t proud of on this team, and before, but I swear we want nothing more than to stop the ceaseless violence and crime. The inhumanity of it.” He sounded so sincere, and for a moment you were swayed. But then why did it matter to Yeosang what you thought? Why did he feel the need to clarify? It only made you more suspicious.

Before, you had been worried that maybe they thought you were tied to one of the groups, that you were corrupt. You never once thought the possibility might be reversed. Seonghwa’s family company. Yeosang’s programs being in the hands of the criminals. Wooyoung’s childhood in the red light district.

Were they really just detectives? Really out here to serve and protect?

Would they kill you off if you got in the way?

Schooling your features as best you could, you smiled at Yeosang, almost sweetly. “I believe you. Now, why shouldn’t I go there? If it’s only the security that is tight?”

Yeosang swallowed, looking away almost as if ashamed but Wooyoung was the one who answered. “That’s one of the stores they use to scope out potential products for their sex trafficking ring. So, again, don’t go in there.”

Now what fate would be worse? Kidnapped by the red wolves for sex trafficking, or torture by your new unit. Gee, you were liking the former.

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[sixosix]

summary your attention is elsewhere and scara gets sad. not that he would admit it, though.

or, scara shows his true colors when he’s missing you.

warning 1k words, profanity, calling wanderer ‘kunikuzushi’, you and him are in mondstadt!! clingy and pathetic scara… fluff!

what else could i talk about? you gaze at the empty sheet while your thoughts are running miles and miles ahead. you’ve been clutching your head pitifully for far too long that lisa is starting to send worried glances.

this one is no good either. you crumple and toss it to the growing pile on the edge of the table.

maybe another metaphor. about the sky and the wind? he would love that. maybe something else that would rhyme with love. would venti appeal to your poem even more if you talk about wine? he would.

the slender shape of the wine glass, the alluring shade of dandelion wine, its sweet aroma—it would be your worst work out of all the ones venti discarded, but perhaps he wouldn’t be able to refuse this one. kaeya would applaud if he were to hear this right now.

ink stains the sides of your palms. you heave a sigh, fingers getting to work on the dreaded worship poem about venti’s favorite wine. what else could you make out of this? you’re getting desperate. you just need to finish this last poem, and you will be freed from venti’s insistent clutches and your own stubbornness to see this to the end.

“boo.”

a hand slaps over your mouth before you can disturb anyone else in the library.

your first instinct is to tear this person’s limb off; however, the gloves, along with the unnaturally smooth and fair skin is distinctively familiar. you bat the arm away and face him; wanderer’s hand lowers to your hips instead.

“asshole!” you hiss with a frightening scowl. wanderer’s grin widens as if you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. “i told you to fuck off elsewhere while i finish this—why are you back so early?”

“it’s boring,” he says.

“weren’t you the one to suggest we explore mondstadt?” your jolt earlier caused a huge streak of ink to run across the page, entirely ruining your wine-revering poem.

“i said ‘we’, didn’t i? you, me, together. you kicked me out and left me to explore by myself.”

“you’re the wanderer. isn’t that your whole thing?” sighing helplessly at his unimpressed stare, you crumple the poem and throw it to his face. he doesn’t flinch nor blink, letting it slide off his face and land on the floor. “besides, it’s only been, like, five minutes.”

“just leave his stupid class,” wanderer hisses, glaring with disdain at your small pile of other failed poems.

“no, venti is so nice to me. unlike you.”

he rolls his eyes, plucking the quill pen from your grasp. you frown, reaching out to take it back, but he continues to pull it away, drawing your faces closer together. “ditch it and come with me,” he says.

“no. i said i’m joining and i will finish it.”

“stubborn shit,” wanderer groans, ignoring your quick ‘learned from the best’. “why are you even so persistent with learning poetry? since when did this happen? you trying to impress that kaedehara guy?”

“what if i said i was?” you flutter your eyelashes to piss him off.

it works: he bristles like an aggravated cat, irritation flashing on his face. “don’t even joke about that.”

you burst into laughter and playfully reach out to pinch his cheek. it’s a testament to how far you’ve come in building his trust when he doesn't swat your hand away from his flawless face. “you’re the one who brought it up,” you coo.

“hey, you two.” you pair stiffen at lisa’s deceivingly sweet voice from behind. “do you mind flirting loudly elsewhere?”

both of you find yourselves outside the building, shoulders slouched, resembling kicked puppies. he has his arms full of your discarded poems, a few of them slipping away as he strides ahead. you struggle to trail behind as you try to stick your quill in your pocket with your hands occupied with a stack of blank papers.

“we weren’t even flirting,” you huff.

wanderer pauses before the trash bin, dumping all of them ceremoniously.

you’re about to comment on how nice he is when he suddenly gets all up in your face, his eyes narrowed and his hand on the small of your back.

“she couldn’t tell with the bedroom eyes you were giving me, clearly,” he says, wordlessly taking the stack of paper from you and tucking it under his arm.

he is being awfully kind today, which, of course, happens nearly never. you want to comment about that, too, but you find yourself silent as you follow after him and watch his side profile. the smoothness of his skin, unblemished, untouched; the length of his lashes, rivaling the shogun herself; then his unrelenting need to have his hands on you no matter what.

thinking about all this makes your heart flutter, picking up pace in a way you haven’t felt the entire day.

then comes the brilliant idea. “kunikuzushi, what if i just write about you instead? will that satiate your ego enough to keep you from bothering me?” it’s not like it would be too difficult to write about the person you’re harboring feelings for.

he doesn’t look appalled by the idea, yet still, he isn’t pleased. “i’m not bothering you for the sake of it. i don’t like how this is the first you’ve talked to me all day.”

“so you are bothering me for the sake of it.”

“idiot.” he flicks his hand, and a gust of wind pushes you against his chest. “look at me.” you obey, and only then do you notice the way tension seems to have left his shoulders the moment you do.

a sly smirk tugs on your lips. “were you feeling lonely without me?”

“no shit,” he says, which was far from the response you were expecting.

startled, you turn to him, only to find that he’s pulled his hat down to cover his face. “kuni,” you say slowly; when he doesn’t reply, you try again, “kuni, kunikuzushi.” he is completely still, so you take it upon yourself to sneak beneath his hat to steal a glimpse of his face.

he lets out an undignified noise, looking away immediately. it was a fruitless attempt—you already saw how red his entire face was, spread from his ears to what you can see from his neck.

“stop,” he breathes, too embarrassed to push you away.

you laugh softly, encircling your arms around his neck to coax him into making eye contact with you. “i didn’t know you were the clingy type.”

“you’re just a handful,” he spits, though it’s not as intimidating as he’s trying to make it out to be—not when his face is the same shade of windwheel asters, and his bottom lip is trembling from shame.

“and you’re so cute when you’re so in love with me.”

eventually, his hand settles on your face, and he pries you off him, pointedly ignoring your delighted laughter.

A/N put a hold on the lyney fics to come back to this guy. i love writing for him he is so fun.

[pitchsidestories]

underneath your clothes II Cata Coll x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1687

a/n: based off the cute request here. We're really craving a tattoo on our own now after finishing this oneshot. 😂

You knew tattoos were your passion since you had gotten your first one aged eighteen. So by opening your own tattoo studio with your best friend, you had fullfilled one of your life goals in the last year.

It was not always easy but you loved your job, especially when you could make your clients happy with your artwork. But at the moment, business was slow.

You were focused on wiping down the counter when your best friend and coworker Carla grinned at you: “Your favourite customer is back, y/n.”

Surprised, you looked up and saw someone walk towards the door of your studio: “What? Oh, she‘s not my favourite customer, Cata has been her only once before.”

“She‘s still your favourite.”, Carla shrugged with a smug look on her face.

You grimaced at her: “I don‘t have favourites.” Turning to your customer, you greeted her: “Cata, hi.”

“Hi.”, the goalkeeper smiled at you.

“You‘re here for another tattoo?”, you asked politely.

She nodded: “I am.”

“Do you have something specific in mind?” You noticed her gaze linger on the inked skin of your left arm.

“Uhm, yeah…”, she replied, catching herself and looking back at your face.

You bit back a smile as you thrust your arm in her direction to show her the floral tattoo wraping around your forearm: “Liking this one?”

Catas cheeks reddened: “I do. It‘s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”, you replied. You could feel Carlas eyes on you.

“But I actually wanted to get something for my sister today. Maybe next time.”, Cata explained.

“Oh, that‘s sweet.”

The football player continued while she gestured towards her upper arm: “Yeah, I want it to be on my arm. I was thinking about a wave or something.”

“Is there a meaning behind the wave?”, you asked curiosly while simultaneously trying to picture the perfect tattoo for her.

Cata nodded with excitement: “Yes, we grew up in Mallorca…”

“Thats is adorable. I love when people tell me the meaning of their tattoos.”, you happily replied while getting your sketchbook.

“Ever been to the island?”, Cata asked while she watched you starting to draw different kinds of waves.

Without looking up from your work, you explained: “Actually, yes. My mother was born there and part of her family still lives there so we spend all of the vacations in my childhood there.”

You could hear the astonishment in her voice: “Wait, you did?”

“Yes.”

“That‘s a funny coincidence.”

You slid the sketchbook in Catas direction so she could have a look: “Who knows, maybe we‘ve met each other before without knowing. So which wave do you like best?”

The goalkeeper looked thoughtfully at the drawings in front of her:” I like that one.”

With a dreamy smile on her lips Cata continued: “This is a nice thought actually. That we might have already met before.”

“I agree.”, you responded in a warm tone.

“I’m going to the coffeeshop, would you two like an iced coffee?”, Carla chirmed.

“Sure.”, you nodded.

“Nothing beats iced coffee on a warm spring day.”, the Barcelona player confirmed.

“So true.”, you agreed.

After Carla left the coffeeshop Cata promised you with a wink:” Next time, I’ll bring you an iced coffee before I show up.”

“You want another one already? Don’t you get into trouble for it from your coach or something.”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

Confidently she waved it off: “Oh, no. If it’s done in my free time, he can’t say anything about it.”

“Okay, good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry. I won’t get in trouble.”, the professional athlete replied.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Also, it’s just a small one.”, Cata reminded you while you were drawing the wave on her skin with a needle.

For a moment you looked up from your work:” Right.”

Meanwhile Carla had returned, bringing the coffees immediately to both of you:” Hey girls, I’m back.”

“Thank you, Carla.”, you answered sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”, she mumbled.

You quickly took a sip from the coffee before asking her:” What do you think of Catas new tattoo.”

After your friend took a closer look at your art piece, she whistled: “Oh, this is nice.”

“It symbolizes my sister.”, Cata explained beaming.

“How cute.”, Carla smirked.

While they talked for a bit you added the finishing touches until the tattoo was done:” Now you’re ready to go, Cata.”

“Thanks. I love it.”, the goalkeeper told you happily.

“My pleasure.”, you said and meant every word whole heartedly.

She stood up excitedly:” I’ll call you soon for a new appointment.”

“Alright.”, you answered.

After Cata has left your best friend declared dramatically:” That poor girl.”

“What?”, you frowned at her.

“Oh please, don’t play dumb.”, Carla begged you groaning.

This was the moment you realized what she has been hinting at:” Don’t worry. Next time, I’ll ask her out.”

Normally you didn’t open to customers like you did with the Barcelona player. Even though it was you who was the person who has seen her upper body without clothes, her dark eyes seemed to have seen right through you.

“You should.”, your friend grinned.

You couldn’t help but to blush as you thought about Cata:” She’s so cute, Carla.”

“I could tell that you thought that.”

Guys! Cata has a crush on her tattoo artist!“, Claudia yelled full of excitement.

The other Barcelona players looked up from their team dinner with varying degrees of curiousity and surprise while Catas cheeks turned red. A minute ago, she had just shown her new tattoo to Claudia and Patri but the youngest midfielder had immediately caught on as she heard the way Cata talked about her tattoo artist.

“Oh, that’s why she’s getting so many tattoos recently!“, Ona exclaimed with laugh.

“That’s not true.“, Cata tried to defend herself.

Mariona just smiled sweetly at her: “That’s so cute, Cata.“

“Guys, stop.“

When Alexia finally spoke up, Cata had hoped that she would call her teammates back to order but instead she just tilted her head: “So, when are you going to see her again?“

“Whenever I get my next tattoo?“, the goalkeeper shrugged.

Patri raised an eyebrow: “And that’s soon?“

“I mean I do have an idea for the next one.“, Cata admitted with a small smile on her lips.

Salma shared a knowing look with Patri: “Guess this means very soon.“

Cata was back at your tattoo studio only a few weeks after her newest tattoo, this time with an iced coffee in hand. You caught yourself smiling subconsciously as you watched the football player walked in.

“Hi Cata.“, you greeted her and gratefully took the drink from her that she handed to you. “Thank you for the coffee.“

Cata smiled as you took a sip: “Told you, I’d bring you one.“

“Appreciate it.“

It was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter. Exactly how you liked it. You set down the coffee on the front desk and thoroughly looked at the goalkeeper: “But you know that you don’t have to get tattoos all the time to ask me out on a date.“

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

Cata looked at you dumbfounded: “Wait, what?“

“Cata, would you like to go on a date with me?“, you asked politely.

Her face immediately lit up: “I would love to.“

“Great.“, you said and had to bite back a laugh as Carla pumped her fist in excitement behind Cata.

But the goalkeeper caught your attention again: “When is your shift over?“

“At 5 pm.“, you replied truthfully.

Cata nodded with a big grin on her face: “I’ll pick you up then?“

You nodded happily: “Yes, okay.“

“Perfect.“

Cata left the studio without a tattoo this time but she did leave the feeling of butterflies in your stomach instead.

At exactly 5 pm, Cata waited for you in front of the studio. From what you saw through the window, she looked great in her button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to showcase her tattoos. You could barely wait to close the studio.

When you finally locked the door behind yourself, the two of you awkwardly smiled at each other and you had to admit that Cata looked even better when she was right in front you.

You pointed at the picnic basket she was holding in her right hand: “Where are we going?“

“Just trust me, follow me.”, the goalkeeper replied warmly.

You didn’t know why but you trusted her immediately. Walking along side Cata made you feel safe and welcomed. When you reached the destination, you stood there in awe: “Oh my god, the view is stunning.”

“It’s, right?”, she grinned at you.

Truthfully you told her:” Yes, I love it.”

“I hoped you would.”, the player answered satisfied.

Watching at Barcelona from a distance made your worries surrounding your tattoo studio look small in comparison and you felt lighter in the company of the other woman, so you mouthed into her direction a heartfelt thank you.

“Here’s some food.”, Cata hummed, handing you some antipasti to eat.

Closing your eyes you mumbled:” It’s delicious.”

“Wine?”, she asked you, proving to be the perfect gentlewoman.

“Sure.”, you nodded, as the goalkeeper filled your glasses and you both took a deep sip.

“You know I would have come by to get a million more tattoos just to spend time with you.”, Cata confessed with a wink.

You looked into her eyes amused:” I do, so I had to save you from yourself.”

“That’s sweet. But I still want some more.”, the goalkeeper smirked.

Quickly you promised her:” You can get them one at a time.”

“I will.”

With that said you went forward to kiss her, she gladly replied to the kiss, pulling you closer to her, to fully embrace you in her strong arms.

A few weeks had gone by, and Cata and you were officially girlfriends. You were in the tattoo studio when Carla excitedly exclaimed:” Y/n? Thanks to your girlfriend a lot of her teammates have asked us to do their tattoos!”

Hearing that you hugged your girlfriend gratefully:” Love!”

“You’re welcome.”, Cata whispered.

[3liza]

everyone arguing with material analysis/assertion about how art is a "luxury" has rarely if ever spent rent or food money on art, if they even pay rent or buy their own food, and if they did that would be considered extremely dysfunctional, and thats what i/we mean. artists are not providing a necessary service.

our plane crashes in the Andes and you are not particularly excited about my "can draw that Playboy centerfold of Marge Simpson from memory" like that is not an essential survival skill. lots of extremely skilled workers work in luxury artisan and craft jobs, it's not an insult to say even a very famous and very talented and influential artist is not producing a commodity necessary for the furtherance of human life. none of us are doing that, no matter how we stretch and strain the definitions of "essential" or even things like "morale" or "group identity". i will burn my copy of Finnegan's Wake to stay warm and thats what it comes down to.

i get foamy crazy snarling and biting about the idolization and obfuscation of what artists actually do because it is a labor issue! the public conception of artists as people possessed of a divine talent they dont consciously work to develop like any other skill, and the public idea that we are simply pleased and privileged to make art all day and "not work", something people say to my face every time i get asked "what i do", is largely responsible for the absolute dogshit reality of how subsistence and working class artists have to survive. we usually dont have health insurance unless we're so poor we qualify for medicaid AND live in a state that will enroll us. most of us are too disabled or crazy to go to a real job every day. most of us have tried, over and over, to enter the normal workforce, and have failed, and been forced to develop alternate skills that allow us to make rent in the ten hours per month we're actually functional. many of the artists i know work from bed because standing up is dicey. this has been turned into a charming eccentricity of famous artists and writers instead of people wondering why a person would need to stay in bed all day and take the enormous bother of bringing their stupid pens and paper and writing board or typewriter or whatever to their bed instead of just getting up and getting dressed and going to work. ive done this, i spilled ink in my sheets. its a huge hassle.

and artists play along with this mystique because people dont want to buy paintings from sadlords! they want to buy paintings and books and marge simpson nudes from cool guys who get a lot of chicks and wear rockstar outfits and party a lot, because of the transitive properties! of course!!! this is basic marketing!!!!! and if the artist doesnt play along they turn into Sad Story Artist where they're doing emergency commissions and posting about how sick they are all the time. this is not cool or fun or sexy. it's a sand trap and its very hard to recover from. im struggling with this right now!

famous and successful artists and writers are constantly ending up 60-90 years old with cancer and multiple sclerosis and dementia, being the subject of some sort of public, last-ditch, humiliating GoFundMe because painting paperback covers fr 60 years means you dont get a pension, you often dont even have kids who can take care of you, you dont have life insurance, you dont have health insurance. 'died penniless and alone' is one of the stereotypical artist endings for a reason, that is not fiction. this happened to more artists than i can list on two hands. look up what happened to Peter S. beagle, the guy who wrote The Last Unicorn. you write a book like that you should be set for life, right? NO. thats not how it works

i'm not saying 'all artists are disabled and working class or poor' because that isnt true, observably. nepo babies and trust fund artists exist, obviously. but they take an outsized portion of the spotlight when the public thinks of the concept of "artist". they are not actually the norm. the average artist is probably making under 40k and living in extremely precarious circumstances and has had periods of homelessness, illness, extreme debt and/or bankruptcy.

this is true even for the 'successful' artists. having one or two or ten good projects and being a household name does not save you from just not having the safety net provided by a normal career path. i was very close with a major, famous 2000s network television creator and team that you have heard of. they won awards, they changed culture entirely, they were a big deal. one of them was turned down for a half dozen projects by the same network that made millions or bilions on their franchise over several years (each pitch is completely unpaid btw, imagine carefully preparing a PowerPoint for morons for months at a time for no reimbursement and thent he morons ask you if you can put a teenage witch looking for her lost cat in the alps in it and you're like, haha, well, it's a 4 part hard sci fi miniseries set on Europa and takes place entirely inside a pressurized lander settlement, i mean Ridley Scot said he was interested already and he pitched a bottle episode about a carbon monoxide poisoning, soooooo....and the executives look at each other and they're like "it's jst not really what we're looking for right now, thanks for coming in" and you go to coffee bean and tea leaf and kill yourself and thats sort of what its like. i made that example up it didn't actually happen i'm using an illustrative example), worked on a canceled film, and just. gradually ran out of money. thats what happens. that guy ended up slowly selling off all his belongings, getting roommates in a one bedroom apartment, and then eventually having to just live on a friend's couch for years. famous guy. you probably know his name. another major member of that same team ended up in GoFundMe/commission hell for years (might still be there) because they had to take care of their two dying, dementia patient parents by themselves. these are people who go to GenCon and sign autographs for four hours at a time. THE PUBLIC IS NOT AWARE OF THIS SHIT and i'm sick of it. im sick of going to a gallery opening night ("vernissage") and drinking bad wine and having a guy with an email job that pays six figures and benefits tell me being able to push "undo" on the computer is cheating. that's a real example, that has actually happened to me. more than once.

artists currently have zero labor protections whatsoever. all of us are undercutting each other in an unregulated market and relying on welfare and private insurance and not having families or buying houses. zero security until we get so old all our illnesses and dysfunction finally ground us permanently and then we get turned into a charity case by fans (humiliating) or just fade away into ghosts and die

whats my punchline? idk i dont have one. it's possible and likely that any given artist you meet is permanently in precarity and will be until they die, even the famous ones. the culture of selling art demands that artists do not admit to this in public unless shit gets really really bad. i guess my point is you should know this, as a person who looks at or listens to or reads things that people have made for your amusement, not for your survival

[jjenthusee]

🎃 Halloween Shenanigans Pt.2 🎃

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: i’m like the only one wearing a halloween themed shirt on campus rn so im kinda sad no one wanted to be festive 😭 but HAPPY HALLOWEEN ✨😌✨ i’ve been busy with exams this week, so sorry for the short drabbles lately, but ENJOY :) comment if your comfortable, reblog and u will get some flowers 💐 and like if u can <3

Tags: MATCHING HALLOWEEN SHIRTS, worried jason, reader is going to give jason more white hair, pumpkin carving

Check out pt. 1 here!

You grabbed the two round pumpkins, setting them on the table right next to each other. Each picked with the intention to carve them.

“Maybe we should’ve grabbed some carving tools cause all I’ve got are the stuff from my patrol.” Jason came out, wearing the same Halloween themed shirt as you did, holding onto very sharp and dangerous knives that he kept somewhere deep in his utility belt. “They’re clean by the way.”

You glanced over to where he was standing. You watched how he effortlessly handled them.

“Do you trust me with those?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow in question while glancing at the glistening edges of the recently sharpened knives.

“Uh…” Jason contemplated, staring at your eyes shining at the opportunity to handle something so deadly. “Maybe I can run to the store.”

He started to safely put them away.

“They’ve practically replaced all the Halloween stuff with the next holiday items, so we have no choice.” You started to reach for the utility belt.

“And leave you with a knife dangerous enough to cut through Batman’s grappling lines? Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Jason started to turn around to put back his patrol gear.

“Wait! I have you. You’ll help me.” You tried to reason. “It’s also Halloween, we can’t go to the store, there will be nothing there.”

Jason looked back at you, mentally listing all the dangers. His white streak of hair drooping as low as his frown when he couldn’t find a sliver of reason.

“Pleaaaase.” You kept persisting.

Jason sighed.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“Yay!” You cheerfully walked back to the table, getting out a sheet of paper, inking Red Hood’s emblem on it. You were originally planning to do a ghost design, but you had to make sure Jason would let you carve this pumpkin tonight, no matter what.

And if that meant being a suck up, then you were carving that emblem like your life depended on it.

Jason sighed again as he pulled out the chair next to you, watching you draw.

“You really aren’t holding back.” He pulled your chair right next to his, resting his arm on the back to minimize some distance between you.

“Only cause Red Hood is the most handsome, amazing as hell, sexiest vigilante in the entire world.” You smiled wide, patting Jason affectionately on the cheek to seal the deal.

He grabbed your hand, pecking a small kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Gleefully you leaned back, turning your head to kiss his shoulder. The fabric of your matching shirts meeting the edge of your mouth.

You got back to your art piece, trying to make sure the design was perfect.

As Jason watched you, you just let the thoughts of your mind run out. Dinner plans, did you get enough candy for tonight, how you planned to watch all the horror movies you could.

It was questions filled with excitement to Jason as he nuzzled into you, giving as fast of responses as he could, but a big smile was on his face as he listened to you talk and ramble.

“Maybe I could dress up as you next year.” You thoughtlessly said, puncturing holes in the pumpkin for your outline.

Jason’s eye widened. He strangely really liked the idea. A little too much.

“Could you imagine me saving you?” You chuckled to yourself, imagining trying to carry Jason in your arms to safety. “I might have to start exercising to build up the muscle.”

You started your plan in your head. Your eyebrows lowering and nodding as you were starting to like the plan.

“Then I can take a photo of me carrying you, dressed as you.” You looked back at Jason, seriously meeting his gaze.

He was taken back, at your intensity and the clear devotion you were willing to put in.

“You can’t carry me.” Jason lazily shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of your neck affectionately.

“Just you wait. I’m gonna do it.” You turned back to carving. Determination seeping into your veins.

Jason let you get back to mentally planning as he worriedly watched your every move. This was a very dangerous activity. He shouldn’t have let you do this at all.

Once your arms were getting tired from carving, you put the knife down.

“If I can’t even carve this, how will I carry you?” You leaned back into your chair, back into Jason’s side.

“I can finish it.” He kissed your temple.

“No, I’m determined.” You puffed.

Jason was going to break out into a cold sweat.

—

After much arm strength and a piece of candy, you managed to carve out the pumpkin, but it wasn’t that good.

There were knife marks in areas you didn’t mean to put, it was a miracle that you managed to get the general shape of the bat symbol.

“Maybe I’ll let you be the one to handle the knives from now on.” You put the candle in the hallowed center, gently lightning the carving.

You admired your work despite how clumsy it looked.

“It’s perfect.” Jason was finally breathing, he held every breath each time you stabbed the pumpkin.

“Let’s put it outside!” You placed the pumpkin outside your front door.

Jason had managed to carve his, the iconic pumpkin face next to yours. He finished his as quickly as he could since he didn’t want to leave you unsupervised for too long.

He definitely won’t forget another carving kit after this year.

[maraudersilver]

despise you (Sirius Black x Potter!Reader)

Sirius Black x Fem!Potter!Reader - Chapter 2

Series masterlist

wc: 2,8K

cw: swearing, angst, Sirius being Sirius

The weekend went by in the blink of an eye. Sunday morning had been quite the sight in both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables during lunch, given nobody had been awake for breakfast. Your head had been pounding. Apparently, even if you get to fall asleep during a party, the loudness of it penetrates your dreams and leaves you restless. 

For some miracle you denied to pray for, there was no prank for your house or housemates. You were sure the Marauders had been down there to set one, especially in vengeance for the Quidditch match, but luckily whatever thoughts crossed their minds made them turn around empty handed.

Now Monday afternoon, Regulus sat next to you in Defense, head dropped on his hand while he twisted his quill absentmindedly on his fingers. Professor Bassel was revising the lesson about vampires, something that you had studied the year before. A couple of yawns came from Barty, who swung in the back legs of his chair in an attempt to drop ink on Umbridge’s hair. 

You at least pretended to pay attention, writing down whenever Bassel looked your way. Although you supposed scribbling down the results of the tic-tac-toe tournament going on at the end of the classroom between Pandora and some Ravenclaws was not as productive as it would seem from outside. 

“Pandora wins. Davis lost,” Dorcas informed from the desk behind you in a whisper, turning back around to continue observing the in-other-situation dull game. 

“Final between Pandora and Craftwood,” you mumbled, drawing the last square. 

Regulus squinted his eyes to look at your notebook, nodding pleasantly at the results. With a quick look back, he smirked when the both of you saw the Ravenclaw boy with sweat running down his temples. Pandora had cornered him. 

“What was the prize again?”

“Notes of all classes for a whole month,” you replied quietly, doodling what was supposed to be a flower on another page.

“Just from Craftwood?”

“Nu-uh. All Ravenclaw sixth years.”

“I don’t know if I trust anyone’s notes besides mine,” grumbled Regulus, leaning back on his chair.

“Then make your own,” you shrugged, giving him your sweetest smile when he glared at you. “What?”

He simply shook his head, huffing and twisting his quill again, now quicker. 

Suddenly, a bunch of cheers and boos came from the back of the classroom. Everyone turned back, just in time to see Pandora lifting a hand in triumph while all Ravenclaws sulked or groaned in defeat. Pandora won, so you surrounded her name with vigour. That month you wouldn’t need to pay attention to Arithmancy

“Care to explain the fuss?” Passel passive-aggressively asked, earning a few quiet apologies and silence. “Well? Rosier. You had your hand up. Did you have any questions? Maybe you can also explain the commotion.”

Pandora had a dreamy look on her, almost as if she wasn’t present at all. Before she could open her mouth, a small ring sound interrupted her. Saved by the bell. Without another look to Professor Bassel, you gathered all your things and followed Regulus out of the class, where you waited for the rest of your friends to head to the library. 

Christmas was around the corner and most Professors had been assigning too much work lately. Ancient Runes alone would take more than two hours to complete the assignment. Dorcas grabbed your arm, leading you up the stairs in a rush.

“Why are we running?” you asked out of breath, almost spitting your lungs out of your body when you finally reached the wooden doors.

Dorcas didn’t reply. Not that it was necessary, because the moment you stepped foot at the library you saw Marlene McKinnon sat with her friends at one of the tables.

“Really, Dorcas?” you huffed, shaking your head. “Go sit with them if you like. I’m actually going to study.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Come find me later when you leave.”

“You coming with us to Slytherin?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, and the girl scoffed.

“Depends. See you later, Potter.”

Dorcas strutted towards the table where the Gryffindor girls were quietly studying, sitting next to McKinnon with a haughty mettle you had never seen on her. The blonde smirked at Dorcas, wriggling her eyebrows at something your friend had said. Meanwhile, Mary and Lily just sighed in mirth.

“Abandoned for a girl. Is this the fate that awaits us?” Barty exclaimed dramatically from beside you, startling you as you didn’t hear him approach. You hushed him, the nearer students to where you stood looking in annoyance to the boy. “Can a man not outloud his concerns?”

“Not at the library,” you snapped. “And what’s with the formal speech? Are you Regulus now or what?”

“I do not speak like that,” drawled the mentioned boy, passing by your side and dropping himself in a chair nearby.

“Um. You do.” Barty cheekily tapped Regulus’ head, earning a snarl from the Black younger brother.

Barty took another table a little more hidden than the one Regulus was sprawled on. The black haired boy groaned, but took his things again and the two of you followed Barty behind the bookshelves. 

“Where’s Pandora?” you asked confused, trying to get a look at the main door.

“Went to the Ravenclaw common room to clarify the prize for the tournament.”

You nodded at Barty, and then took your Ancient Runes homework. It was quiet for a while, the three of you settling on a work environment that managed to make you work harder. 

Little over an hour, however, commotion sounded from where you remembered Marlene and her friends were studying. Masculine voices were prominent, and inward you prayed, actually prayed, for the Marauders not to find you or your group. You were sorry for Lily, but it was her turn to entertain your brother and his idiotic friends.

Luck was not on your side that day, either. You hadn't realized that the person sat on the table next to yours was Remus Lupin. He had been so quiet and surrounded by a wall of books that it had been impossible to get a glimpse of him until he snapped his head up at the voices of his friends. 

“You have to be kidding me,” you groaned, Regulus nodding in agreement.

Remus tilted his head and crossed looks with you, giving you a small smile before standing up to get his group from gaining detention for disrupting the library. You sighed and rubbed your temples, preparing yourself for another unwanted encounter.

You had tried to avoid them since Saturday night. Especially Sirius. The way your heart started fluttering lately whenever you saw him was starting to worry you. What if he had poured some kind of concoction developed by the evil minds of the Marauders on your drink during summer? That could be the explanation. A slow kill. It had to be it. Him and James had probably wanted to test it on you before pranking half the school with it. Tachycardia whenever you saw the one who poured it. Definitely it was that. 

Regulus nudged you out of your confabulations when your brother, Sirius and Peter prowled towards the table Remus was directing them to. Thankfully for you, Sirius didn’t even grant you a glance. ‘Bloody awesome’, you thought, although your chest tightened uncomfortably at the lack of attention. You wanted to whine, you really needed to get rid of the effects of the potion.

Your -questionable- peace lasted a few seconds until James decided to pass by and place his hands on your side of the table, leaning in to greet you with a mischievous smile. Honestly, you felt too old for this. Even if you were younger than James.

“Whacha doing sis?” James asked sweetly. Voice so wrapped in honey you prepared yourself for the upcoming prank. 

“If you dare to-”

“Wow! I haven’t done anything!” ‘yet’, you thought. James raised his hands in a gesture of proclaiming innocence. “Just came by to see my favourite sister. How’s everything going?”

“I’m your only sister,” you deadpanned. “And I highly doubt I’m your favourite.”

“Always so hard on yourself,” James chuckled, and Barty shushed him. “Oh?”

“Some people here want to study, Potter. I’d reckon you do the same.”

Regulus and you groaned, and James looked at Barty in bemusement. “What’s wrong with your talking, man?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know, my talking is perfectly fine.”

“Junior, dude, stop it.” You shook your head, secondhand embarrassment scrapping your chest. 

At Barty’s tantrum, you tried to get Regulus’ attention for some backup, but his sight had been placed on a pink cupcake-like figure at the end of the corridor. By James' sudden turn of his head, your face probably reflected the same horror you felt inside.

“Regulus! No, I fuckin’ forbid it. Bloody Umbridge? Really? Miss Strawberry Cupcake? The cat lady? Rumor has it she tortures first years in the girl’s bathroom!” you yell-whispered in despair.  

“The hell you on about?” Regulus complained, looking back at you with eyes that clearly said ‘you’re crazy’.

Apparently, his brother’s name paired with a girl’s in the same sentence had gained Sirius’ attention, because in less than you could say ‘quidditch’, he was crouched before you at your table much to your distress. You definitely weren’t finishing Ancient Runes anytime soon. 

“Want a lady’s attention, brother beloved?” Sirius mocked, and you could see in Regulus’ face the moment he regretted being born.

After having Sirius living with you and your parents for the last two summers, you knew him and Regulus weren’t on speaking terms. So you could only imagine the confusion your friend was experiencing from the inside. 

“No,” Regulus deadpanned and looked down at his Transfiguration essay, ignoring the inquisitorial look of his brother.

“Seemed like that, um, pinky chick caught your eye,” Sirius tried again, his face twisting slightly at the sight of Umbridge. For once in your life, you agreed with him in that.

“This is your fault,” Regulus grumbled at you grumpily, Sirius’ statement disregarded. “I don’t fucking like her.”

You raised your hands in surrender, feeling almost bad for him with how much attention you’d pulled over him. Barty, on his part, had leaned back on his chair and was observing the quarrel as if it was a tennis match. He caught your eye for a moment and waggled his eyebrows, causing you to snort.

“Sorry, Reg. It’s just, you also looked at her before at Defense and-”

“I did not!”

“She got you wrapped around her finger, huh? Knew you had it in you, Reggie,” Sirius laughed, earning a few glares from the students nearby, including Remus, who had gone back to his book fort. He didn’t even look ashamed. His grey eyes passed from Regulus to you, amusement glinting in them before winking at you. Shameless. 

Your heart fluttered again, and you made a mental note to ask James about the freaking antidote to whatever those two airheads had decided to pull on you. Your paranoia was only amplified by the warmth that went up to your neck and cheeks. Could this be considered attempted murder?

“I hate you all. Go fuck yourselves.”

Regulus stood up abruptly and, quicker than you had ever witnessed, he gathered his things and stormed away from the library. A low whistle came from Barty, who just shrugged his shoulders comically. On the other hand, dread settled on your chest. Definitely, your intention hadn’t been to embarrass your best friend in front of his brainless brother. 

“Well. He needs a little bit of encouragement.” Sirius shrugged, copying Barty’s movements and looked back at James, who had stood nearby along with Peter. “Although I should lecture him about which girls are actually worth it,” he snickered, and Peter snorted.

And look. Umbridge was not your cup of tea. Hell, you couldn’t even stand her. But the way Sirius was talking about her based on her looks more than her morals made your blood boil. 

James saw it coming before the other boys. He recoiled back to Remus, who just shot him a bored glare. Meanwhile, Peter and Sirius were still cackling, and Barty had opted to look at the ceiling, awaiting for what was to come when he saw your fists clenching at your sides.

“And who are worth it, Black?” you spat with venom.

Sirius turned to look at you bemusedly, only to grant you a half smile relying more on a sly smirk. “Definitely not her.”

“And why not?” Seriously. You had just wanted to finish your homework. Why did Sirius always end up looking for a fight?

“You’re smart, Potter, aren’t you? Look at her. She looks like she fought a factory of baking Pygmy Puffs.” Now Peter was howling, hands gripping his stomach. Sirius just prided on it.

Dolores Umbridge could be many things. A blood supremacist, annoying, too righteous, overlying the psychopath definition in the dictionary, a maniac… An overall awful person. And if Sirius had given you any of those reasons, you would have -reluctantly- agreed with him. But you were sure he didn’t even know her. Probably knew nothing about her. Just judging her for her love of pink. Which, yes, you also found excessive, but everyone had their vices.

“If all the girls in this school knew how disgusting you are, neither would want to touch you with a stick, Black,” you snarled, face as neutral as when you played magic poker with Evan, the difference residing in the deathly glare you were setting on the boy.

You saw him flinching, almost imperceptible, his face falling down slightly before his expression turned into a wry face. “Talking from experience, Potter? Don’t remember seeing you with anyone. Feeling lonely?” He cooed, a fake pout decorating his features. “If you want me to snog you that bad, be a good girl and ask for it. Maybe I could consider it.”

You felt something breaking in your chest, agonizingly so that you swore your heart was clenching itself to death. The tickle in your stomach transformed into a churn. You never got along with him, but was he always this despicable? 

Without uttering another word, you decided upon following Regulus’ steps. Maybe you should have done so when he did. An encounter with the Marauders never brought any good with it. 

“Oi!” James called your name, brows furrowing in worry. “Where are you going?”

After placing the last of your books in your bag, you turned to Barty. “You coming?” He shook his head, signaling to the unfinished Potions essay scattered on his side. “Right. When you leave, tell Dorcas.”

“Potter.” Sirius called, his expression matching James’. “Potter, I was joking. I didn’t-”

“James.” You ignored Sirius, and your brother nodded with wide eyes. “I want the antidote for whatever you and the piece of shit you have for a friend spilled on my drink during summer. Tomorrow at breakfast.”

You didn’t let him reply and stormed off from the library, much like Regulus had done a few minutes before. 

“What antidote? What she talking about?” Peter asked, drinking on the clueless expression on both boys’ faces. 

“No idea,” admitted Sirius, pinching his eyebrows with his eyes still fixed on where you had been moments prior.

“You didn’t have to be such a dickhead, you know?” James chastised, crossing his arms.

On the way to the common room you tried to keep your tears at bay. You weren’t sure why you were so upset. It was Sirius, he always bickered with you.

But that hadn’t been bickering. No. He had really shot his arrow where it hurt the most. And the worst of all, you had let him do it by showing how affected you were. You didn’t really care if boys liked you or not, you had other worries. But sometimes, late at night, you wondered if anyone would ever be able to love you.

It was in times like this that you envied James. He was popular, especially amongst the girls, and even if Lily was his main goal, he had his fair share of hookups. So why, if you were his sister, if you had the same genes, weren’t you pursued by boys?

In the middle of your self pity, someone called your name. Turning around, you found yourself face to face with a radiant Pandora, who was shaking some parchments on her hands.

“Look what I got! Notes from today’s classes! I also have Arithmancy,” she sang-song. And as much as you loved Pandora, you weren’t in the mood to feel grateful.

So you just hummed, attempting a smile towards her before resuming your walk to the Slytherin common room, leaving a bewildered Pandora behind.

Regulus wasn’t in his usual spot, so you assumed his brother had hurt him as much as you. Great. You sighed, you would try to mend your mistakes with your best friend tomorrow.

Sirius knew where he was aiming. And you knew he thrived in your pain. If not, why would he be so cruel? And why would he prank you so badly? 

Tomorrow, when you drank the antidote, you were sure you’d feel less miserable, and your heart would return to normalcy once it forgot the spell casted by Sirius Black.

[princessbrunette]

tattooartist!pope was pretty nonchalant at times. you could tell he wasn’t always this way, and occasionally he lets the hyperactive dork in him slip out — but he’d had his heart played with too many times, so decided he was going to be petty just like everyone else. now the two of you had a thing going and you just wanted him to show he cared. you wanted to know things were exclusive.

the two of you were on the couch when you decided to bring it up. you didn’t quite have a clear point to make, but clearly you felt comfortable enough to express a particular emotion.

“i can feel you staring at me, you know?” pope chuckles quietly, eyes not removed from his sketchbook as he draws out a few design ideas. in the low lighting of your apartment, the tattoos that cover his neck cluster into one.

“sorry.” you smile, but making no effort to look away.

“is something wrong?” he converses, and is happy to do so. he liked spending time with you after work, it’s why he was here after all.

“do you like— frequently tattoo other girls?”

you watch his pencil slow and he slides his eyes over to you. “i mean… yeah, of course?” he raises an eyebrow when you say nothing. “its kind of my job.”

“yeah, for sure but like — they probably get tattoos in like… super intimate places, right?” you’re looking at your nails now, already feeling dumb about the whole thing. you just couldn’t help it sometimes, couldn’t help feeding the jealousy beast that festered in the pit of your stomach.

“i mean work is work.” he shrugs, but continues to stare at you through the silence. “any reason you’re asking that?”

“no.”

“okay that’s bullshit.” he puts his sketchbook on his lap and turns to face you a little more. it takes about ten seconds, but you look back up at him — even having the audacity to try and look all casual. “so what are you like jealous or something?” pope is suddenly the one feeling vulnerable. scared, even. jealousy means serious. serious means he gets hurt in the end.

“no.” it comes out even quieter. “just forget it. i was curious—”

“—because we aren’t even really dating, you know that?” he croons, but it comes out a lot snippier than intended. you’re silenced instantly, staring ahead at the TV. you decide no answer is needed, bringing your knees to your chest as you pretend to be engrossed in the show infront of you. his lips part, chest heaving with guilt. why the fuck would he say that? “look, i mean… yet.” he shuffles up to you, “admittedly i have some baggage… but i do like you. i don’t… know why i had to say it like that.” he wraps an arm around you and you sulk, a sucker for it.

“i want to get a tattoo.” you pout. “one right between my tits. a bow or something.”

“no you don’t. you just want it because i’m the one doing it for you. you would literally regret it as soon as you step outside the store. i try and encourage my clients to make the right choice, and plus — you quite literally regret the tattoo i did for you on the inside of your lip where no one can see it.” you hear him smirking warmly, his thumb pulling down your puffy bottom lip in gesture to reveal the ink.

“how’d you know?” you mewl.

“i’ve been in this for a while. i just know.”

you turn and look at him now, and he smiles at you — not that cold, withdrawn version of him that rears its ugly head at times— the warm, kind of dorky version. the one you like.

“sorry for being crazy.”

“hey, stay crazy. the majority of geniuses on this planet are a little crazy.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ways TANGERINE stays sentimental, while protecting his love’s identity:

credits to @everythingisspokenfortbh for the idea, and expanding on it with me. post is here <3

gn!reader, <500 words

tangerine is sometimes too protective, like the near overbearing kind. it's not because he's controlling or tyrannical or domineering —though it may feel like that— instead his obsessive need to keep you safe, came from a far more loving place. vulnerable, even. 

he knew his line of work was not safe. and not only does he put himself in great depths of danger, but he also puts those he loves in that same chasm of the unknown. that includes you.

when it came to picking wedding rings, he wanted to steer far from the traditional bands that each of you would have upon your left hand, instead opting for something more secret. 

so, on your special day at the altar, rather than exchanging rings, you gave necklaces - each complimenting the other, not completing another: charms with the sun and the moon. tangerine had gold to match the rest of his jewellery, and you had silver. the sun worked best with gold like the moon did with silver. but tangerine is not a sun person. so to get around that issue, you brought up a suggestion, saying that you should wear each other's charm. 

since your special day, each of you have been wearing your promises around your necks, the pendant of your lover there as a reminder. not for others, but for you. the meaning of the necklace was for the two of you only. no one else knew.

and during those weeks when he leaves for work, you would swap necklaces - giving the other a piece to remember. tangerine would wear yours like a lucky charm, the pendant offering him safety, while his would offer you comfort. 

tangerine is sentimental, and you'd have a hard time trying to convince someone that he is. he keeps his love hidden and protected, the feeling only to be expressed with those he values most. and to keep with the theme of your protection, he finds ways to show his love without putting you in harm's way.

when it came to honouring special dates between you, he liked to remember them with tattoos. he'd get small and meaningful drawings inked into his body to secretly showcase his love for you. 

over the years, he accumulated an array of tiny momentos declaring his love - ranging from an outline of the country you met to a sketch of your favourite planet all the way to the moon phase on the night of your wedding. to an unknown eye, these tattoos would look like little random doodles. but not to tangerine, and not to you. these inked images are snippets of proof that show the love and sentiment of your heartless, cold assassin of a lover.

everything he does, he does it for you.

ALSO BTW my cat has a similar moon charm that we were talking about AHH!?