#this also took way longer than i expected to draw

[upsidedowngrass]

@newbiealliance​ here is some scentpack for U!!! thank u for requesting awesome request :D

[tinithebini]

Two guys for the price of one! What a deal! (one of them is severely traumatized and burdened with the impossible weight of the apocalypse) ((actually they both are, very badly))

[magicwhiskers29]

<3

[fitzfunnymoments]

What if Stretchy was so so sleepy?? And Stripy was there??? Much to think about 🤔

[shipping1addict]

I don't get why ME:A gets so much hate.

It's probably the same reason why everything new, daring, exciting in Star Wars gets shut down by fans. Or any franchise tbh.

I really liked it. A shame that there isn't anything answering all those questions still lurking around.

[neonacidtrip]

I see these types of posts every now and again, and it’s only just occurred to me to share some knowledge:

Lines

Lines are often the heart of drawings, and they tend to be the part artists will draw over and over and over again to get them juuuuussssssttttttttt right. Pointing out lines you think are well done will go a long way to compliment an artist.

Your lines are dynamic! (Good for action pictures, art of an intense scene, or art that conveys movement, like a character running)

Your lines are so clean! (Good for neat lines of various sizes. These lines will feel like a coloring book, where you could color inside them yourself if the art was black and white)

Your lines carry such depth! (When lines cross over each other, they make a flat picture look more real, almost like 3D)

You’re good at drawing intricate lines! (Curling lines? Curvy, wavy, bendy lines? Lines that weave around each other? Many, small lines detailing an item like filigree or a robot’s parts? Those are intricate lines, baby)

You make great use of line weight! (In general, the human eye will be drawn towards very thick lines. Artists will use this to make you focus on a certain point, like a character’s face, by using thick lines around the face and thinner lines everywhere else)

You do amazing lineless art! (Not all art has lines! If you see a picture without any lines, make sure to tell the artist you noticed their hard work!)

Your line colors are fantastic! (Not all lines are done in black or white. Some artists will spend a lot of time choosing what color to make their lines. Show them some love!)

Color

Your colors are so vibrant! (Bright colors! Colors that pop! Colors that instantly grab your attention!)

The saturation is great! (A very bright color is highly saturated, and a very dull color is low saturated. High saturation colors can hurt the eyes, so an artist with good saturation control knows how to use bright colors without hurting anyone’s eyes)

I love your color choices! (This can be used for all color schemes; it’s a more general compliment that praises the artists for their understanding of color theory)

Your colors feel like home! (Good for cozy colors. Warm colors that aren’t usually super bright. They make you feel all warm inside. If you picture a cozy cottage in the woods, you’d probably image these colors)

Your pastels are so pretty! (Muted colors usually fall into the category of “pastels”. These are soft colors that are meant to be calming and non-oppressive on your eyes. Think: The opposite of vibrant)

Your colors are so soft! (Similar to the above two, this is for a picture that makes you feel soft and warm and fuzzy inside. It’s more directed towards warm and pastel colors instead of vibrant colors)

Your ability to blend colors is fantastic! (Putting two different colors right next to each other can look jarring or choppy, so many artists will blend two or more colors together to make things look more natural and appealing. A good example is giving a character a subtle pink blush on their otherwise skin-colored cheeks)

You are super good at choosing color palettes! (Good for when the artists regularly chooses colors that just feel like they belong together. Best for when there are only a limited number of colors in the picture)

Your colors are so clean! (Layering color on top of color on top of color can make everything muddy and dull. Artists who blend things well will have “clean colors”. Likewise, some artists intentionally avoid blending to make simple, bold art, in which case their colors are very, very clean)

Light and Shadow

Conveying light and shadows can be really hard. It can take years to understand how lighting works, and it’s even harder to put your knowledge of it into practice. It can be done with colors, lines, textures, and many other ways.

Your lighting is so good! (A general compliment for any time you see good use of lighting. If you’re unsure, check the eyes and the face of the character, as they often have the most highlight to them)

You made great use of shadows here! (Good for when a dark area really captures your attention)

Your shadows feel so alive! (Artists can be really creative. They make dark areas that seem to move or curl or otherwise just be alive on the paper)

The lighting is so soft and gentle! (Like before, this is for art that just makes you feel soft inside! I think of a character maybe surrounded by light in a field of flowers when I imagine something like this)

You balance your shadows so well without making things too dark! (Using lots of dark colors to make shadows can make the picture hard to see, and details can get lost. If you see a picture with lots of shadows, but you can still easily see all the details, then the artists has really good balance and color control)

Your contrast of light and shadow is amazing! (Good for when the artists uses lots of both light and shadow! You often see pictures with a stark difference between the two, like a character standing in the light and the other falling into shadows, but you can also see good contrast in a more standard setting, like a city-scape set in the afternoon)

Details

Pointing out details is one of the fastest ways to make an artist feel seen. It’s harder to give examples for this because it will really, really boil down to the individual picture. The general rule is if you see something you like, say it! Try looking for things to point out, like:

A character’s expression (”She looks so angry!” or “His expression is so sad, I’m going to cry!” or “Wow! I can really tell what they’re thinking just from that expression alone!” or “You draw expressions so well!”)

Little things a character is doing/holding/etc. that may get overlooked (”I noticed you even clenched his fists! Good job!” or “I love her tiny hair clip!” or “You painted her nails to match his eye color! I love it!”)

Details in the background/landscape (”I love the little bird nest you included in the tree branches!” or “The way you draw water is so pretty! I wish I could swim in it!” or “Is that’s Character B’s hand in the background? So cool!” or “That is the softest cat; I want to pet it!” or “That food on the table is the tastiest thing I’ve ever seen!”)

Clothing! (”Her dress is so pretty!” or “Wow, you do such a good job drawing suits!” or “Her t-shirt is so funny!” or “That hat is so cute by the way!”)

The general idea here is just to say whatever comes to your mind, whether it be literally pointing out the obvious (example: “I love that you drew this character wearing a flower crown! Flowers are so pretty!”) or pointing out how the picture made you feel (example: “This picture makes me so happy, I wish I could eat it!”). Just say what you like about it. You don’t need to know fancy art terms. Saying “Your blues are so blue!” is a perfectly wonderful way to describe the three different shades of blue the artist used to draw an ocean. As long as you aren’t criticizing, you can’t really go wrong.

me, absolutely not an artist, desperately trying to articulate how much i like adore people's fanart: ouughgh the colors. there are so MANY of them!!!! and the lines,,,,,,,,,, they are made of lines.. impeccable

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[ladyblackbirdart]

🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN🎃

Here are your favorite crime fighters in the Spiderverse for Halloween 🙂‍↕️ Huge shout out to Arcane and the Spiderverse movies for inspiring me to pick up art again after years of never even trying. Two incredible pieces of artistic media that both happen to have some of the best soundtracks ever too??? Incredible. For someone that doesn’t really watch tv or whateva, I will ABSOLUTELY always be down to rewatch these! Also the arcane characters are actually really hard for me to draw because it’s such a distinct style. This took way longer than I expected but I finally got Caitlyn’s nose right 👁️👃👁️

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt2)

Stan pines x reader /ford pines x reader

Summary: Your family vacation lasted longer than expected. When you return home to Stanford, you realize quickly something wrong.

Warning: NONE

Hey! Just some housekeeping before you read on

☆Thanks for all the love ya'll it means bunches

☆this part is shorter do to me wanting to pace this better, but I hope yall enjoy none the less!

☆a few of ya'll asked to be tagged so I'm starting a tag list if you'd like to be included don't hesitate to ask

☆additionally I did have a Playlist for this specific series and if ya'll would like me to post the songs for it also lemme know

Enjoy!

~~~~~☆~~~~~

"STANLEY HELP!"

Stan felt himself freeze up, his heart race and mind go blank, why couldn't he think? Why couldn't he move?

He watched in horror as his brother floated up backwards through the air into the gaping hole in space and time.

"Do something!"

"What...what do i do!?" He asked meekly, looking around for something to help.he watched as parts of his brother slowly disappeared, and as he reached into his coat pocket and tossed something at him. "Hide my research...CALLL Y/N ANYTHING-"

Stan shielded his eyes as a bright white light filled the room and knocked him back onto the floor. The room was suddenly quiet.

"Ford!?...Ford! Come back!" He wasted no time to get back up and bang on the machine, hoping it would start back up like an old appliance. "Please!"

He raced to the lever a few feet away, desperately pulling and yanking at it, but it didn't budge.

"Stanford!?...Ford!? Are you home yet!?" The small coo of an unfamiliar voice snapped Stan from his nightmare.

"Hello!?" The voice echoed out again. He quickly got up, reaching for his only form of security. A baseball bat.

The voice had gone silent, but he could still hear someone moving he took a long pause, then opened the door swinging his bad.

"FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME! ITS Y/N!!"

Y/n?

He stopped swinging the bat and stared down at you.

"Call y/n! Anything-"

"Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me, Ford! I haven't been gone that long have i?"

He cleared. "No not at all we have some catching up to do."

You could tell there was something ford...well stan (you'd have to get used to the sudden name change) wanted to tell you while you sat across from him. Like he wanted to give you bad news. But he seemed to be thinking of the right way to put it.

"So..stan...what made you want to change from Ford to stan? Did your family have that much of an impact on you?" You tried to joke to lighten the tension that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well...something like that...listen y/n-"

"Are you OK? You seem...different you seem nervous...more nervous then when I left.." You placed your hand over top of his and offered a reasuring smile.

"I..."

stan didn't know you...he had no right to lie to you. But Ford seemed to trust you and judging from the photo on his desk in the basement, how fondly he seemed to write about you in the journal...the scrapped drawings of you in the garbage you meant a whole lot more to him then stan could understand right now, you must have felt the same way about his brother.

He remembered how worried his brother had been in making sure he understood you were absolutely under no circumstances to not touch the journals or anything pertaining to it again.

"My closest friend y/n and I have been working on this project for months now...I should have listened to her but I didn't...I need you to get rid of this journal she can't be near any of this when she returns."

"Did something happen with the portal?...with that...creature? And what happened to your hands!" You said now, pulling both hands into yours to examine them.

Besides, you already seemed so worried. He couldn't be the one to break the news to you. Not now.

Besides, he had a plan.

Sort of.

So he did what he did best.

Lied.

"Well...uh while you were away, I had a little accident. I had to get surgery...yea surgery, and the accident you know was from the portal...so I said, Forget the whole thing! "

He Tried to say it in a way that would convince even himself.

"Stanford, what do you mean? What happened? Are you just going to give up on everything we worked for?"

"I have to, I just need some time."

Neither of you noticed at first that you were holding hands as you spoke. Stan was the first to notice the closeness. It was the first time in what felt like years that anyone had shown him this kind of affection, let alone the kindness you were demonstrating with your concern.

"I don't know what happened while I was away or when you even had time for something to go wrong or why you would even start working again without me!" He noticed the slight annoyance building up and squeezed your hand.

And you took a breath. "But I understand and I won't pretend to know what happened and if you aren't ready to tell me I can respect that...things got a little rocky between us before I left and I'm really just hoping things can go back to the way they used to be with us. If a longer break and time is what you need... then I am 100% behind your decision."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at your words. Maybe it wasn't your words but the kind-hearted look in your eyes, or maybe it was the way you still held his hands in yours.

You'd be the first two admit two things about your current situation.

One, Nostalgia was a funny thing. You knew when something was off about your bestfriend, the man infront of you was was a changed man, while his story didn't add up he looked shaken and defeated...after all this was the man you trusted with half your life. And you wouldn't lie, you had clung so desperately to the memories of college and spring through winter, it was that glimmer of hope and a mix of Nostalgia for your good times together that made you believe him.

And two, You always knew better then to trust your heart you and Ford would joke about the idea of following your heart and not your brain, how silly a concept it was that the organ that pumped blood through your body had such a pull on your decision making it made your thought process stop.

Yet here you where.

Following your heart.

"How about a few drinks and I can tell you about my trip?" You offered standing and being the first to break the lock between your hands. "And I can tell you about the plans I have for this place!"

"Plans?"

"Sure! I mean, we aren't doing our science junk anymore, so we need to make money somehow, right?"

You set down two glasses.

"Ok?"

You sat down, you listened to him explain how he had already done a few tours displaying whatever you had already had laying around and how people where eating it up.

"Stanford you've never been one for the gimmicky tricks, you've always cared more about the real deal...WE'VE been about the real deal...why lie to people?"

"Trust me y/n do a tour with me tomorrow try to show the people a real life monster and whatchamacallit and put it up against my made up creature."

You laughed. This wasn't what you had expected Stanford pines to spend his break away from work doing. It was out of character for him. But refreshing somehow.

Just like that, the seasons changed, and it was spring again

You learned quickly people didn't like the truth.

Real monsters and ghouls seemed to only upset or bother people so you and stan collaborated a way to make attractions that seemed real enough but also gimmicky enough that tourists would eventually laugh at it.

You learned pretty quickly that you were not only a pretty crafty person but an excellent storyteller.

You and Stanford seemed to almost pick up where you left off bonding and cracking jokes. It was like he was more confident than when you left him, more relaxed and full of life. You two fit right back into place with eachother with out missing a beat.

It's exactly what you'd been missing.

Soon, you were renovating half the house to be a showroom and giftshop, and soon after you were selling and wearing t shirts, you began putting up a sign. By the following summer, you were basically an operational business.

The mystery shack felt more like a brain child of you and Stanford and you cared for it like such.

It was something fun.

Something that didn't seem to be running Stanford down like the science stuff did. You could see a genuine smile on his face as he showed some local kid the corni-corn.

It was silly. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done something silly and adventurous.

It felt good.

"Another day another dollar y/n my dear." Stan said, flipping the open sign to close and placing his little red fez cap on top of your head.

"Soon enough, we'll have people from all over the place coming to get a piece of the mystery shack." He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the section of the Mystery shack that was still your shared home.

"Yea, we have a real Walt Disney start-up story, don't we stanford." He laughed loudly before suddenly getting serious.

"Listen. I wanted to say thank you for sticking with me through this. It means a lot."

"Of course, stanford." You reached up and planted a small peck on his cheeks. "We've been through everything together. I'm not going to stop now."

You could see stans face flush slightly as you stretched and yawned. "Anyways goodnight stanford."

"Uh yea...goodnight..." You heard him mumble as he touched his cheek where you kissed him.

Things where looking up.

~~~~~☆~~~~~

Tag list!:

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

[montimer]

Deadpool x reader

Gn!reader,him gaining a crush on ya

He tries not to believe it. Is there even a scenario where you would love him back?

He tries his best to push these feelings away. But he just can't help it, i mean why you gotta be so beautiful and kind to him and your voice, gosh- but the more he tries getting his mind off you the more it hurts. Especially if he goes to drink at a bar and gets so drunk he ends up with someone next to him in the morning.

So instead he lets his obsession grew.

Oh you're shopping? He just happens to be there too! Don't question it, he'll start yapping and drags you with himself.

He invites you over more than usual. You wanna watch a movie? Play games? If he wins he gets a kiss- whoa what,who said that?

He'll wanna have sleepovers. Throw pillow fights and no he won't sleep on the floor, make some space for him. Incase you don't tell him to sleep on the couch he'll totally not creepily stare at you as you sleep. Sure he'll fall asleep,,eventually.

He gives you tiny hints that he loves you. But of course you won't really catch them, after all he acts freaky with everyone.

And by flirting i mean, putting a hand around your shoulder. Telling you that you are gorgeous and calling you nicknames. Showing you a heart with his hands and so much more.

If you let him he would love to hug you every now and then. Tho his hugs get longer and longer the more you let him closer to you.

Speaking of which, he'll let you see his face and know more about his past only after a longer time.

But even then, when he took off his mask and expected a disgusted look or a mean comment, you just smiled at him and reassured that he is beautiful inside and out. Can you be any more charming? He just fall head over heals all over again.

You laugh at his jokes and think hes cool? He is wordless.

He will try to kiss you through his mask and will do it if you don't push him away. "Smooch me!"

Sometimes he stares at you with out noticing.

His room is full of stuff that you gifted to him and photos of you (where he got it? Oh don't worry about it..)

And if you happen to be a hero/etc, he will have a plush and other merch of you around.

He'll even give you a mini version of himself. To keep you safe he says.

He loves to be around you and is overly affectionate.

He squishez his eyes into a smile upon seeing you. He'll wave at you and everything.

He'll draw you silly pictures (mostly the two of you holding hands and being lovey-dovey)

He also leaves you flowers.

If you say nice things to him it'll blow his mind. By nice i mean stuff like "You are cute!" Or "You're the best!". Yeah you really think so? His heart feels like its beating stronger.

He speaks before thinking rather often. He lets his stranger thoughts out. Such thoughts like "You're so hot". He stares wide eyed at you after. Then comes the awkward laugh, just laugh with him please.

Anyways get used to it cuz he'll make your life a living hell, or maybe heaven?

He would ask you to move into an apartment with him, and he won't stop asking that question. Wouldn't it be less lonely and more fun to have a roommate?

He just can't come up with a way to confess..maybe the job will do it itself? No Yes,yes it will Wade don't worry.

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[prentissmultiverse]

Silver Temptation

Late nights in the BAU bullpen usually meant paperwork—but tonight, it’s different. With Emily Prentiss’ smoldering gaze fixed on you and tension crackling in the air, you realize this night could change everything, if you’re willing to cross the line tw: smut, age gap, power dynamics fem!reader (2,298 words)

The bullpen of the BAU was quiet for a change. Most of the team had called it a night, their desks now empty except for the faint glow of computer screens in sleep mode. You sat at your desk, the only source of sound being the clacking of your keyboard as you typed up a report for the day's case. The dim light cast long shadows, making the space feel both vast and intimate. You could feel it—her gaze on you, just as it had been since your first day at the BAU.

Emily Prentiss was perched in her office, the door ajar, her silver-gray hair illuminated by the overhead lamp. The sight of her always made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t expected to be so affected by her, let alone by the way her eyes seemed to follow you when she thought you weren’t looking. The tension between you was palpable, an undercurrent in every interaction, every briefing, every meeting.

"Agent Y/L/N," came her voice, low and sultry, cutting through the silence like a knife. You startled slightly, glancing up to see Emily leaning against the doorframe of her office, arms crossed. Her black blouse clung to her form, and the silver chain around her neck caught the light, drawing your eyes to the dip of her collarbone. "What are you still doing here?"

You stammered, fumbling over your words. "I—I just wanted to finish the case report. I know it’s due tomorrow morning, and I thought it would be better to get it done now."

Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she pushed off the doorframe and took slow, deliberate steps toward you. There was something predatory about her, a confidence that made you feel both small and exhilarated at the same time.

"You work hard," she murmured, stopping just in front of your desk. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked over your face, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than necessary. "But you also need to learn when to take a break."

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "I... I guess I just wanted to impress you. To prove that I belong here."

Emily's smile widened slightly, her expression almost predatory. "Oh, you’ve impressed me already," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "More than you know."

The room felt hotter, the air thick with unspoken words. You could feel a blush creeping up your neck, your usual awkwardness magnified under the weight of her intense gaze. "I—um, thank you, ma'am," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Ma'am?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Is that what you call me when you’re alone in your thoughts?"

You felt your face heat up even more, your heart pounding in your chest. "I... I don’t know what you mean," you stammered, looking away.

She stepped closer, the scent of her perfume—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely her—filling your senses. "Look at me," she commanded softly.

You obeyed, meeting her dark eyes, which were filled with a hunger you hadn’t seen before. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face up towards hers. "Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?" she whispered. "The way your breath catches whenever I walk into the room?"

Your eyes widened, your breath hitching. "Emily," you breathed, her name escaping your lips before you could stop it.

She smirked, her thumb tracing your lower lip slowly, teasingly. "Good girl," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper. "Now tell me... how long have you wanted this?"

You shivered at her words, your entire body tingling with anticipation. "Since the first day," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "I couldn’t stop thinking about you."

Emily's eyes darkened, her hand moving to cup your cheek. "I’ve been watching you," she confessed. "The way you try so hard to impress me, to catch my attention. And you did. I’ve been thinking about this moment for weeks."

Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. It was everything you’d imagined—fierce, dominant, and demanding. You melted into her, your hands grasping at her blouse as she deepened the kiss, her tongue teasing yours.

You let out a soft whimper, the sound making her smile against your lips. She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours. "You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin.

"Then take it," you whispered back, emboldened by the raw desire in her eyes. "I’m yours."

Emily’s eyes flashed with something dark and possessive, her fingers threading through your hair as she kissed you again, harder this time, her teeth nipping at your lower lip. "Mine," she growled, her hands gripping your hips as she pushed you back against your desk. Papers scattered to the floor, but neither of you cared. The world outside of this moment didn’t matter.

Her lips trailed down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that would be impossible to hide. You moaned, your hands digging into her shoulders as she continued her assault on your skin. "Emily," you gasped, your voice laced with desperation. "Please..."

She pulled back, her eyes blazing as she looked down at you. "You want this?" she asked, her voice rough. "You want me to show you just how much I’ve been thinking about you?"

You nodded frantically, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. "Yes," you whispered. "Please, Emily."

She smirked, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Good. Because I’ve been waiting far too long for this."

With that, she kissed you again, her hands roaming over your body, leaving no inch untouched. You lost yourself in her touch, the feel of her lips on your skin, the possessiveness in her gaze. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and everything you’d ever wanted.

And in that moment, under the dim lights of the BAU, with only the two of you in the world, you knew one thing for certain: you were completely, utterly hers.

Emily’s hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the intensity of her desire matching your own. Her fingers slipped under the hem of your blouse, trailing slowly over the sensitive skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're trembling," she whispered against your lips, her voice low and laced with amusement. "Are you nervous, Agent?"

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers digging into her shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. "I’m not used to this," you admitted breathlessly. "But I want it—I want you."

Her smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous spark. "Good," she murmured. "I like that you’re honest. But I need you to do something for me."

You nodded eagerly, your mind already fogged with lust and need. "Anything," you whispered.

"Don’t hold back," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. "I want to hear every sound you make, every gasp, every moan. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," you responded instinctively, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Emily’s eyes darkened, a pleased grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good girl," she praised, her fingers tracing circles along your lower back, inching closer to the waistband of your pants.

Your breath hitched when she finally slipped her hand beneath the fabric, her fingers brushing against your soaked underwear. The sensation was electric, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, your hips bucking involuntarily against her hand.

"Already so wet for me," she purred, her lips grazing the shell of your ear as she spoke. "You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? Imagining what it would be like to have me touch you like this?"

You nodded frantically, your fingers curling into the fabric of her blouse. "Yes," you gasped out. "I’ve thought about it every day."

Her hand pressed harder against you, fingers teasing you through the thin fabric. "Is that so?" she taunted, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Tell me exactly what you’ve imagined, Agent. I want to hear you say it."

The request sent a wave of embarrassment and arousal crashing through you. You struggled to form words, your mind clouded with pleasure. "I-I thought about you touching me like this," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "Kissing me...taking control..."

Emily chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your knees weak. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her fingers slipping under the fabric of your underwear to tease your folds. "For me to take control?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your head falling back as a rush of pleasure surged through you. "Please, Emily...I need you."

Her lips were on yours again in an instant, the kiss rough and demanding, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Her fingers dipped lower, finally sliding inside you, and you let out a loud moan, the sound echoing through the empty bullpen.

Emily’s movements were slow, deliberate, and precise. Each curl of her fingers inside you felt like an exploration, a discovery of every place that made you writhe beneath her touch. She watched you intently, her dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she studied your every reaction. Her thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your breath hitch.

"That's it," she coaxed, her voice a low, sultry whisper. "Let me hear you. Don’t hold back."

A moan slipped from your lips, your head falling back as a jolt of pleasure coursed through you. You could feel the pressure building deep inside, a coil tightening with every pump of her fingers, with every flick of her thumb against your most sensitive spot. Your body reacted on its own, your hips rocking against her hand, chasing that delicious friction that made your legs quiver.

"God, Emily," you whimpered, your fingers digging into her shoulders for support. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind a haze of lust and need. You were drowning in the feel of her, in the way she looked at you like she owned you—like you were hers to claim.

She smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she watched you fall apart. "Such pretty sounds you make," she murmured, leaning in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Her teeth grazed your skin, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. "I want to hear more. Don’t you dare hold back on me."

The coil in your stomach tightened even more, your thighs trembling as she quickened her pace. Her fingers moved in and out of you with a practiced ease, curling upward to hit that spot deep inside you that made your vision blur. You cried out, clutching at her desperately, the world around you fading as the pleasure mounted.

"Emily," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body tensed, teetering on the edge. "I'm so close—I can’t hold on—"

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she pressed her thumb harder against your clit, rubbing it in firm, precise circles. "I know," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I can feel you. So tight around my fingers, so desperate to come."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching against her. You could feel the pressure building to a breaking point, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Her thumb circled faster, her fingers curling deeper, as if she knew exactly how to push you over the edge.

"Come for me," she commanded, her voice low and rough. "Let go. I want to feel you fall apart."

Her words were your undoing. The coil inside you snapped, sending a wave of intense, shuddering pleasure crashing through your body. You cried out, your back arching off the desk as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and trembling. The sensation was all-consuming, your muscles clenching around her fingers as she continued to work you through your climax, drawing every last drop of pleasure from you.

"That’s it," she murmured, her voice filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction. "Look at you. So beautiful when you come undone for me."

Your legs shook as you clung to her, your breathing ragged and uneven. You could barely think, the aftershocks still rippling through you as she slowed her movements, easing you down from the high. Emily slowly withdrew her fingers, her eyes locked on yours as she brought them to her lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, sensual swipe of her tongue.

"You taste incredible," she said huskily, her eyes dark and hooded with lust. She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

You were still panting, your body limp and trembling in her arms. "Emily," you whispered, your voice filled with awe and lingering desire. "I’ve never felt anything like that before."

Her smile was slow, almost predatory, as she cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing tenderly across your flushed skin. "You will again," she promised. "This is only the beginning. I’m not done with you yet."

A shiver ran through you at her words, your body already aching for her touch again. You knew, without a doubt, that this was just the start of something intense, something that would leave you craving her even more.

And as she captured your lips in another deep, possessive kiss, you realized one thing: being hers was exactly where you wanted to be.

[alexthebordercollie]

it's nice to see mystery trio aus that aren't fiddlestan tbh. The amount of times I'll see one, think it looks interesting, and then it just turns into "wow Stan, you're so much nicer and cooler than your lame brother! Lets date!" And act like it's some kind of karma for Ford or something.

I definitely agree with your take that so often fiddlestan is just used as a way to express dislike of Ford, while ignoring any of Stan's canonical flaws

As a side note, since this is more of personal headcanon territory, but i think Stan would find Fiddleford too reminiscent of Ford when he was young to actually be interested.

Anyway, i always love to see Stan in his natural habitat (being a chaotic uncle)

I love the idea of the Mystery Trio. I think these three would play off each other really well. They're cute and funny together, but you don't need Fiddlestan. It feels like people treat it as a given that if offered the choice between Stan and Ford Fidds would choose Stan. Which is kind of shitty. (Low key it kind of reads to me like Ford is assumed the worse partner because he's autistic :/ even if people aren't consciously treating him that way.)

I think it's kind of presumptuous to assume Fidds would be into Stan anyway. Like physically attracted to him? Sure, obviously. If he finds Ford attractive odds are good Stan would also be nice to look at, but relationships aren't just physical attraction and it's obvious from the journals and BOB that Fidds had a very strong connection to Ford. If he's in love with an autistic nerd enough to throw his life away for him why would people assume Stans's wildly contrasting personality would somehow be more appealing?

I've actually had this comic kicking around in my mind for a while and this ask gave me a good excuse to draw it. (Though it took longer than expected)

While I don't think Fidds would ever choose Stan over Ford, I do think Ford would be a bit of a jealous and insecure partner. He's used to a lot of social rejection and struggles to maintain connections with people. Not to mention trust issues, especially after Bill who tried to sabotage his faith in Fiddleford in particular.

I wouldn't put it past Ford to get antsy seeing Fidds get along with his brother even if there's absolutely nothing going on there.

Also, I hadn't considered the suggestion that Stan might find Fidds nerdiness a turn-off because it reminds him too much of his brother, but yeah I could see it. Still, I'd buy Stan being interested in Fidds before I could really see the other way around happening. I think Stanley's tastes are bit broader but Fiddleford I imagine to have a bit more of a type. At least where romantic attraction is concerned. That said I don't think Fiddleford's actual tastes are really considered, I think he gets shipped with Stanley by people who want to see Stanley get that kind of overbearing love that Fidds showed to Ford. I do understand wanting to give him that kind of partner but Ford deserves love too, we don't need to be taking his healthy romantic option away from him and leave him with Bill. (His abuser.)

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 29] || [Chapter 31]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: injuries + recovery Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: johnny is a filthy man :) but also we love him so is that a problem? no, it's not.

Chapter 30: Playing House

It took a while, but, Simon got healthy, and John and Kyle got their soreness’ settled enough to be able to go back to work.

Johnny, however, needed a little extra TLC. Being shot in the shoulder involved a longer period of medical leave, paired with a long while of physical therapy…

And that means that he decided to make himself your problem.

The rest of the lads left on a mission a few days after being cleared and, as such, left Johnny with you. Not because the lad is incapable of looking after himself, but more so because he, himself, decided he didn’t want to be away from you.

And so, whenever you leave for work, Johnny leaves for PT, then, goes to base for a bit, mostly doing work on things that he can feasibly do without straining his left shoulder/arm… Like doing paperwork and reports, going to the gym for cardio, crunches, and leg and hip workouts… Then he comes home to you.

He goes shopping for you, cooks you dinner, cleans after the two of you, despite your insistence that he rest… But, as it turns out, Johnny isn’t good at that.

Nonetheless, the flat is cleaner than ever before, Johnny’s drawing supplies are permanently stationed on the dining room table, next to your laptop, and some of his clothes have taken a permanent spot in your closet.

And, of course, he spends every night in your bed, spooning you from behind and hiding his face in your neck while you watch tiktoks, talk, or he regale you with the most ridiculous of puns.

In a way, it’s like Johnny MacTavish is your live-in boyfriend. Or, rather, that you’re playing house with him.

You wouldn’t say you hate it. In fact, it’s quite nice to have someone staying with you all night… Johnny is a good partner, he’s helpful and chill and provides wonderful cuddles…

Though you’ve jokingly started calling him ‘Johnny Price’, because, since he hasn’t been working for a month now, he’s let his beard grow out. And he looks like Price more often than he does not.

It’s on week three of your new routine with Johnny when you’re at work, that you get a text from him:

Johnny: guess what bonnie. Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

You definitely should’ve put on some headphones before you watched that video during work… His grunting and groaning was almost pornographic and definitely earned you a few confused/worried looks from your coworkers…

But all you could think of was how he was finally easing back into his arm/shoulder workouts, which meant he finally got cleared by his PT to do as such!

you: did you finally get cleared johnny? 🥺 Johnny: cleared at 50%. Johnny: not there yet. but soon. you: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! 🫶🫶🫶 Johnny: thank ye bonnie  you: this calls for a celebration! Johnny: i like how ye think bonnie but im not cleared yet to be able to manhandle ye 😏 you: get ur mind out of the gutter johnny price!!!!!!!! Johnny: oof not ye still calling me that! you: ur beard is looking like his what do u expect of me! 🙄 Johnny: yer right idk what i expected. Johnny: so about this celebration. you: i was thinking we go out for dinner? Johnny: are we going to dress up nice? you: i wasn’t thinking we’d go somewhere super fancy because i do not have money johnnyyyy Johnny: oh good because i dont think i can button up a shirt my shoulder is sore 😖 you: okay then! nando’s!!! 🫶  you: and i’ll give you a shoulder rub when we get home Johnny: speaking my language bonnie.

And so that’s what you did. You went home in a hurry to shower and change, and, for once, Johnny wasn’t there, having chosen to shower and change at base.

You met up in front of the Nando’s closest to your flat and you immediately chuckled at the sight of him. Sure, he had changed, but he was still very much wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers and a grey zip-up hoodie… Although you could very obviously tell he was naked beneath the hoodie.

“Mo leannan.” He murmured in an exaggeratedly polite tone as he popped the door open for you with his good arm.

“Thank you, my good sir…” You joked, which caused you both to chuckle and shake your head.

You got inside, ordered your food and, as you talked, you site adjacent to him, right on his left side, so you could gently rub his arm with your hand.

“Do you miss the lads?” You ended up asking him as you caressed his bicep and shoulder with your hand, watching him wince a bit at it, because he felt so sore from his first workout.

“A little.” Johnny admitted as he looked toward you. “Do you miss ‘em?” He returned the question. You found yourself nodding in reply.

“Having you here is wonderful though… I… quite miss you lot when you’re all gone together. Not to mention I worry sick for you.” You admitted and pressed your lips together a bit awkwardly.

“You do?” He asked you, to which you nodded. So, he continued. “Well.. I guess I understand. I imagine my mam and sisters worry about me too… As do the Kyle and the Captain’s families.” He conceded.

“That’s actually…” You found yourself trailing off as the waiter brought you your orders and you thanked him, unboxing your food so you could dig in.

“As I was saying…” You trailed off. “That’s actually an interesting point… I feel like I know very little about you and the guys’ when it comes to your personal lives… Outside of hobbies and what you do with me.” You mused as you glanced at him as he dug into his double chicken burger one-handed.

“I don’t know much about the others myself to be honest with you.” Johnny admitted as he stole one of your chips off your plate.

“Really?” You asked softly as you ate your own sandwich yourself, nodding along as he continued speaking.

“We try to keep our… ‘outside’ lives under wraps. Even being a team… what we talk about is always very superficial.” He trailed off.

“So you don’t know anything about the rest of them, nor them about you?” You cocked a brow in confusion.

“Oh, no, bonnie, I talk about myself a whole lot, I’m a blabber mouth, me.” He joked and winked at you. “But family is one of those topics that’s best kept under wraps in our line of work.” He told you as he leaned in, rubbing his thumb on the corner of your mouth to wipe it clean of peri-peri sauce. Then, he sucked his own thumb clean.

“What about me? Do I get to know about you?” You asked him playfully as you leaned forward, setting your elbow on the table as you lean in to him, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Tell ye what, bonnie.” Johnny leaned toward you too, licking his fingers clean and then wiping them on a napkin before he set a hand on your thigh under the table. “Anything I tell ye about my family is not going to do them justice… So how about I take ye up to meet my family over the summer… And ye meet them directly? Could even take the Captain, Simon and Kyle with us.” He offered.

Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the surprise, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

“Meeting your family? Really? Isn’t it a bit early for that…?” You chuckled a bit sheepishly.

“Aye, maybe it is…” He trailed off. “But at this point, I’m basically livin’ wit ye and ye’ve looked after me in sickness, haven’t ye?” He joked. “And I’ve fended off yer ex… so I’ve looked after ye in health, haven’t I?”

Rolling your eyes in amusement, you shook your head. You knew he was just joking, the look in his eyes showed it… “Are you implying that we’re married, Johnny?” You teased him playfully.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off playfully, a playful smirk on his lips. “And, if we were married, not saying that we are,… I’d make sure to take ye home tonight and rearrange yer guts if ye let me, mo leannan.”

Looking away and biting your lip, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shut it…” You trailed off. “You need to rest, your shoulder’s bad still.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use my mouth on ye… and that you can’t be on top.” He added before he grabbed another one of your chips and popped it in his mouth.

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[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

The Princess and The Pogue | J. M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Your daughter comes home from school telling you about a local OBX fairytale. It turns out it’s about you and your husband.

Listen to But Daddy I Love Him for full experience

Requested by @idontevenknowbsblog

A/N: This turned out way longer and more angsty than I had anticipated but I’m a sucker for the angst. I just can’t help it. I’m sorry this took me a million years to finish!

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: allusions to domestic abuse, controlling parents, forced engagement, so much fucking angst, only kinda proofread

Word Count: 3.5k

-

Your daughter’s tiny feet press against the back of your seat as you head home after picking her up from school.

“Mia, stop kicking,” You laugh, “Mommy’s trying to drive.”

“Sorry, Mommy.” Your daughter giggles. “I’m just so happy today!”

“I’m so glad you're happy, Baby.” You smile at the five year old in the rearview mirror. “What did you do at school today?”

“We got to draw all our shapes today and we sang the alphabet song a bunch of times!”

“Ooh sounds like a fun day.”

She claps excitedly. “Oh and Kylie’s older sister told us a fairytale at recess!”

“A fairytale? Very cool. What was it about?”

“Did you know a princess used to live here? A long time ago. She ran away with a pogue because her evil king father wouldn’t let them be together.”

Your eyes widen at her words, a small smile forming on your face as she tells the story that takes you back to what seems like a lifetime ago.

-

“Mom, I’m headed out,” you yelled through the foyer.

“Ok, hun.” Your mom poked her head over the stairwell. “Just don’t stay out too late. We have that business lunch with the Cameron’s tomorrow and it’s very important that you be there.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you promise, “besides I’m just going to hang out with Sarah.”

“We just love that you and Ward Cameron’s daughter are friends. It looks so good for your father’s business for the families to be close. Especially with you set to inherit the company someday.”

With Ward Cameron being the biggest real estate developer in the Outer Banks and your dad owning the biggest construction company, the two men worked closely on most of their deals. They were also the closest thing to friends that either of the men had. The two richest men in the island made for a powerful team.

“Glad I can help you keep up appearances,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that, hun?”

“Always happy to help the family.” You gave your mother a forced smile and made your escape, slipping outside and into Sarah’s waiting car.

“Ready to go see your man?” She grins at you and you return the gesture.

“God, yes.“

-

You hadn’t expected to fall in love with JJ Maybank. Considering the very different lives the two of you led it was surprising the two of you ever even crossed paths, but that was one of the perks of being Sarah’s friend. When she fell in love with John B and got involved with the pogues she dragged you along with her.

It wasn’t like you had anything against the pogues. In fact, you had admired them from afar your whole life. Their freedom and adventures were something you envied, forever stuck in your kook bubble. You didn’t have a choice but to follow the plan your parents had created for you.

JJ, on the other hand, hated kooks with a passion. He had a hard enough time with Sarah joining the group and when she brought you in, arguably the even bigger kook princess with the even bigger kook king of a father, he vowed to himself he would never accept you. After all, you represented everything he hated, the life he always dreamed of but would never attain.

He would sneer and call you “princess”, his voice dripping with disdain, doing everything in his power to piss you off, but you didn’t mind. You loved his passion and the way he would do anything to protect the people he cared about. You ignored his insults, treating him just as well as you would anyone else.

Before he knew it, your soft words and beaming smile had softened JJ. He began to actually look forward to your presence in the group, feeling sad when you couldn’t get away from your parents to spend time with them. Then, one day the two of you were the only ones to show up to a pogue hang out. You ended up spending hours just talking and getting to know each other. The rest was history and you had been together from that day forward.

Unfortunately, you knew that your parents would never let you spend time around a pogue, let alone be in a relationship with one. So, like Sarah and John B, you and JJ had to keep your relationship hidden. Thanks to the help of the pogues, the two of you had been successfully seeing each other behind your parents’ backs for over a year.

-

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 8:00,” Sarah reminds you. She pulls up to the little cove where you and JJ liked to meet. “We only have a couple of hours tonight because of that lunch tomorrow. Don’t want our families to get suspicious.”

You nod. “Got it. I’ll see you then.” You slip out of her car. “Tell John B I said hi.”

“Will do.”

She pulls away as you make your way around the rocks hiding the entrance to your spot.

“Hi, princess.” Your boyfriend grins at you in the orange light of the sunset, pulling you into a hug.

“JJ,” You breathe him in, soaking up the comfort he gives you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. Four days without you is four days too much.” JJ leads you over to the blanket on the sand, sitting back so you can settle between his legs.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get away much this week. My parents are going crazy about this lunch tomorrow.”

“Aren’t they always crazy?” JJ jokes, poking your side. You squirm a little bit, trying to escape his prodding.

“I mean, yeah. They’re just extra crazy this week.” You settle further into his chest, JJ giving up his attack in exchange for wrapping his arms securely around you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck. “But, it’s okay because at least we have right now.”

“How long do we have until Sarah comes back to pick you up?”

You let out a sigh. “Two hours.”

“That’s it? Damn.”

“I’m sorry, J.” You look back apologetically, but he just shakes his head.

“Hey, don’t apologize. We just have to make the most of the time we have, like usual. It won’t be like this forever.”

“Right.” You give him a small smile, turning back to face the sunset before he can see the doubt in your eyes. You hoped JJ was right, but you had no idea how things would ever change.

As expected, your time together flew by too quickly and before you knew it Sarah was back to take you home.

JJ was reluctant to let you out of his embrace. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right? After you finish up with all your kook business?”

“Of course, baby. I wouldn’t miss it.” You give him one last goodbye kiss, distracting him long enough to slip out from his arms. He pouts, but lets you go, knowing if it was your choice you would never leave.

-

You stare numbly at the wall, unable to will yourself to move from your position balled up on the bed. You aren’t sure how long you've been laying there looking at nothing. You didn’t feel anything, having cried out all your tears hours ago. A buzzing sounds from the other side of the room, your phone going off once again, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably Sarah calling again to see if you’re okay after what happened at lunch. You’re not.

Having sat in silence for so long, you jump when you hear a rattling at your window. It takes you a minute to clamber over to the window with the lights out in your room. You hadn’t realized how dark it had become outside.

You peek out warily, trying to determine the source of the noise. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath as you realize JJ is perched in the tree closest to your room.

You unlatch the door so he can climb inside, turning away from him quickly. You’re thankful for the darkness in that moment as you scramble to make yourself look presentable, flattening your hair and wiping at your face. You pull down the sleeves of the massive sweatshirt you’re wearing, one you stole from JJ months ago, making sure you are completely covered.

“JJ, what are you doing here,” you whisper, “What if someone sees you?”

“I was worried about you. You were supposed to meet me hours ago, remember?” He sounds frustrated.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You run your hand down your face stressed. “I didn’t mean to stand you up.”

“You forgot? Y/N, I’ve been calling and texting for hours.” JJ moves closer, but you step back. “I thought something bad had happened.”

He takes another step back. Again you back away, trying to keep him from seeing your face. Brows furrowed, JJ moves towards you again. This time you can’t move away fast enough, bumping your dresser as you try to get away.

“Woah, wait.” JJ takes your face in gentle hands. “Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you off that easily.

“Baby, what’s going on? Is it something I did?” The worry in his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You shake your head, willing them not to fall.

“No, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Something with Sarah?” You shake your head again.

“Your parents?” That stills you. “It is your parents. What is it? Did something happen at lunch?”

You don’t answer.

“Talk to me, baby. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” JJ’s voice is so sincere and his touch so soft. He really thinks he’ll be able to fix whatever the problem is.

You gather your strength and gently pull away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes when you tell him.

“My father and Ward Cameron have decided that it is in the best interest of their respective businesses for our families to be officially joined.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

You feel like you're going to be sick, but you force the words out anyway. “I am set to be married to Rafe Cameron.” You keep your eyes on the floor, waiting for JJ’s response. He stays silent.

“I had no idea they had this planned until my parent’s announced it at lunch.”

“What do you mean you’re marrying Rafe Cameron?” He tries to keep his voice calm. But you can hear the venom behind his words anyway. “You can’t just marry Rafe.”

“I don’t have a choice, JJ. They practically signed my ownership papers over to Rafe right there.”

JJ is pacing your room now, hands constantly running through his hair. “He can’t just do that. You’re an adult, Y/N. Tell him no.”

“I can’t tell him no JJ.” He stops in front of you, the look on his face half shock half anger.

“What are you talking about? You can’t just tell me that your father is marrying you off to Rafe and not even try to fight him on it.” You turn from his intense gaze, unable to handle it any longer.

‘Y/N-” JJ reaches for your arm to turn you around and you flinch back hissing in pain. Your sleeve rides up, revealing a number of dark bruises.

“I tried talking him out of it, JJ. He made it clear saying no wasn’t an option.”

JJ seethes, body tense with anger. “He hurt you.” It’s not a question which is just as well because you have no response.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He growls.

You lay your palms flat against his chest. “No, you’re not. We can’t make this situation any worse than it already is.”

“He can’t just get away with this!” JJ’s voice rises with his anger and you shush him quickly, looking back at your door.

“Please, Y/N.” His voice cracks on your name. “Things can’t just end like this.”

The pain in his words breaks your heart. You let the tears fall freely, unable to hold back the emotion any longer.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” He cradles your face in his hands like he did at the beginning of the night. “There’s nothing either of us can do to change this.” JJ brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, brushing at the tears. “You should go.”

“No, Y/N.” He has tears running down his face too. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Please, JJ. You have to go before something wakes him up. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds you here.”

JJ’s eyes flit down to your wrists, taking in the bruises once more before he nods slowly. He won’t be the reason your father hurts you again. You lips press against his slowly, both of you pouring all the love you have for each other into the kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you, too. Always.”

With those last words, he slips back out your window, closing it quietly behind him. You watch as he climbs back down the tree and crosses the property. As he finally fades out of blue, you sink down to your floor, your knees unable to hold the weight of your body as it’s wracked with sobs.

-

You don’t leave your room for days. All you can do is lay in your bed and cry, mourning the loss of the man you love and the life you had planned.

If it was up to you, you would never leave that room. Unfortunately, your parents have other plans. They parade you and Rafe all over town, making sure everyone on the island knows the two of you are “madly in love” and engaged to be married in the spring. The whole pageantry of it makes you sick.

The cherry on top of the whole ordeal is the engagement party that you parents planned for the weekend. They rented out the whole club and invited every kook on the island. You’re pretty sure it’s your own personal hell.

Sarah pins one last curl to your head. “Done. You look beautiful.”

You give her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sarah.” You were dressed in a white sundress that your mother had bought for the party and Sarah had done your hair and makeup to perfection. The whole look was stunning, but you just feel like a trophy being shown off.

Sarah gives you a sympathetic look. “You ready for this?”

“No. But I have to be.”

It takes everything in you to keep a smile pasted on your face as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out to the throng of people. Everyone smiles and hugs you, offering their congratulations. You do your best to seem gracious and excited, but all you feel is emptiness and the faces move before you in a blur.

You make it two hours into the party before you can’t take it any longer. The panic that has been creeping up your throat all night takes hold and you have to break away. You excuse yourself from Rafe, claiming a need to run to the bathroom. He gives you a harsh look and makes you promise to hurry back, but ultimately lets you go.

You hurry away from prying eyes, not letting yourself break until you get inside. Chest heaving, you gulp down air like you’ve just run a marathon. One of your hands is pressed against your chest, the other braced against the walls to hold you up as you stumble towards the bathroom.

Before you can make it more than a few feet an arm catches you around the waist, pulling you into an alcove you had never noticed. You stumble back, trying to pull yourself together, not wanting whoever grabbed you to see your harried state.

“Hey, hey. It’s just me.”

Familiar hands rub up and down your arms, grounding you. You look up to see the blue eyes that you love so much.

“JJ,” you whisper, breaths still coming fast and hard.

“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”

JJ holds you close as you will your body to calm, feeling safe for the first time all night.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you, talk to you.”

You sigh, looking at him with sad eyes. “As happy as I am that you’re here, you have to go. If anyone sees you. My father, or Rafe-”

“What if you didn’t have to worry about them anymore?”

“JJ, we’ve been over this. I can’t break this engageme-”

“What if we just left? You and me. Right now.” His eyes bore into yours, willing you to see the possibility.

You can’t act like you haven’t had the same thought yourself, but you just didn’t see how it would be possible. “How would that work, JJ? My father controls my whole life. My money, my future, everything.”

“You don’t need anything he has to give you, Y/N.” His voice is pleading.

“JJ…”

“We can figure it out. You have a degree, I have experience. We’ll get jobs. We’ll make it work.” He reaches a hand into his pocket. “I know I can’t give you a life like this-”

“I don’t want a life like this.”

“-but I will do everything in my power to give you a good life, to make you happy.” He holds up a simple, beautiful band of silver. “Will you marry me?”

You stare up at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Say you’ll marry me. We can leave right now. I have a plan to get us off the island. Your parents won’t know until it’s too late. Just say yes, please.”

“Yes, yes.” You nod vigorously. “I’ll marry you.”

You rip off the gaudy ring currently on your hand and JJ replaces it with the silver band. He kisses you so deeply you think you see stars.

“I love you, JJ Maybank,” you whisper when you part.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N, so much.”

You could stay in that moment forever, but you both know you don’t have time to waste. JJ begins to pull you to a side exit, but you stop him. There’s one last thing you have to do before you leave.

You find a piece of paper, scribbling out a few quick words and titling to your father.

Have fun explaining to the Cameron’s that your daughter ran off with a pogue

Y/N Y/L/N

You set the folded paper on the center table, placing Rafe’s ring next to it.

“Ready to get off this island?”

You grab JJ’s hand. “God, yes.”

-

JJ was right, the two of you figured it out. You both found jobs on the mainland and created a happy life for yourselves. You and JJ got married a few months after you ran off and Mia came along a few years later.

You had kept in touch with the pogues of course and they let you know when your father and Ward Cameron’s businesses had come crashing down, forcing the two men off the island. They had no power anymore, so eight years later you decided to move back to your home. People had gossiped at first, but they moved on to the next big thing when they realized that neither you nor JJ cared what they had to say. You wanted to be in the place where you grew up and fell in love, and you wanted Mia to be surrounded by the friends that you called your family.

Mia was just about bouncing in her seat by the time you got home. You hurried to get her out of her carseat so she could rush inside and see her dad. Friday’s were always her favorite because JJ got off work early and was already home by the time you brought her back from school.

She pulled you along by the hand as she continued on about her fairytale. “The evil king disappeared and they lived happily ever after.”

JJ scooped Mia up as the two of you entered the house, making the little girl squeal in delight.

“Daddy!”

“Who lived happily ever after, Mia-mine?” She giggled as he burrowed his face in her little belly.

“The princess and the pogue!”

JJ’s eyes met yours over Mia, giving you an intrigued look.

“Kylie’s older sister told her a fairytale at lunch about a couple that used to live on the island.” You tell him with a knowing grin.

“A fairytale? That’s awesome, baby.” JJ lowers Mia back down to her feet. “Hey, why don’t you go wash up and Mommy and I will make you a snack.”

“Okay, Daddy!” The little girl runs off happily.

You make your way to the kitchen, JJ coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “So the princess and the pogue, huh?” He smirks as you turn to face him.

“Who knew we’d become an OBX fairytale?” You reply.

“It makes sense. It doesn’t get much more ‘happily ever after’ than this. Right, princess?”

You give him a gentle kiss. “Right, pogue.”

-

Writing Masterlist

[literatureloverx]

Hello! This is my first time asking anything so, sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I love the way you write & your ideal type for Fyodor. I was curious, how would he have met his ideal type? I understand if you’re busy! Thank you

Hello dear!♥️ You’re not bothering at all, and I’m so happy that I’m the person you chose for your first request.♥️

I’m sorry it took me so long, and I hope you enjoy reading it!♥️

Fyodor likely saw you in a serene and sophisticated setting, such as a café, a theatre, a library, or a museum. I chose the Musée Fabre for this scenario.♥️

Religious themes, art interpretations, intrigued and manipulative Fyodor.

“A Beauty to Behold”

You move a loose strand away from your face, which reveals your small, innocent face.

Fyodor’s gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer, an odd thought crossing his mind: no one else seems to notice you. You were beautiful, undeniably so, and that alone was captivating. Yet the fact that others failed to acknowledge you, as if blind to the art before them, only heightened your allure, drawing his attention to you even more.

You, a beautiful young woman, dressed in fine stilettos and a figure-hugging, midi-length crème dress, holding a coat and a small bag of the same color in your arms, appeared to be the only one genuinely interested in the art before you—reading the text beside it and admiring the piece for more than five minutes now. ‘The Fallen Angel’ by Alexandre Cabanel.

He takes a calm stride toward you, coming to a halt just beside you—like a predator, one might think. His cool aura contrasts sharply with your warmth.

Fyodor moves a little closer to observe you more clearly, studying the way you react to the painting and the little facial expressions that appear on your beautiful features while you’re deep in thought.

After a moment, he hums, his voice light and charming.

“What do you make of this one, miss?” His eyes rest on the painting itself.

You look at him with your doe eyes, widened slightly as his approach seems to have come unexpectedly. You seem like an introverted person, and rather shy.

He finds himself intrigued by the sight of such innocence and naivety, and he can’t help the slight, cold smirk that spreads on his lips.

An unrealistically handsome man, tall and dressed in a dark suit that mirrors the intensity of his gaze, stands before you. It takes you a few moments to find your voice, but when you do, your words come softly.

“When I look at it, I feel the weight of what it means to turn away from God’s light. The angel, once so radiant and close to God, now sits alone, his face full of sorrow and defiance….”

You pause for a brief moment. “….it does not make me feel less empathetic towards the angel that is depicted in the painting. Because he does not embody the true evil that is the devil.”

Fyodor listens attentively, his smirk softening into a small, more genuine smile. Your words are not only intriguing but also reveal a certain depth and maturity. His gaze glides over you again, taking in the details of your face and figure in a subtle, nonchalant way.

“It's truly interesting, and also curious to hear someone not just throw around shallow, superficial phrases but instead look at the painting at a deeper, more analytical level, isn't it?”

“Are you in agreement with my opinion, sir?”

You say softly, with a shy undertone, subtly analysing his fine features. Clearly intrigued in your own, feminine, adorable way.

A quiet, gentle chuckle leaves Fyodor's mouth. Your shy, innocent manner of speaking and acting amuses and delights him, and he likes the way you’re looking at him, even if your gaze is shy, almost a tad timid. When he speaks, there's a slight hint of playfulness in his voice, though his sharp eyes never leave your pretty features for a second.

“That depends. Are you expecting praise, my dear?”

This was something that you did not expect, which makes you blush softly.

“Oh, I wasn't...”

You stutter.

“I…was...just asking if you agree with me.”

You recover quickly. “Do you have an opposite statement you would make?”

A smirk appears on Fyodor's lips again at the sight of your blushing and stuttering, and suddenly, he's very much enjoying this conversation. He can't put his finger on it, but there's something about this. About you. Something that is new. A lovely young woman that draws him in, makes him want to keep talking to her.

He lets out a small hum before he answers your question, his deep, melodic voice barely above a murmur.

“No, miss. I think you're absolutely correct.”

Your eyes widen, as if saying, 'you do?’. You look at the painting again, and then at Fyodor. He seems rather cold, calculating, analysing, looking into your soul, piercing through your comfort zone by playing a game of cat and mouse, in an almost nonchalant way.

He must be either bored or lonely.

“And you have nothing to add, sir?”

He shakes his head, his smirk fading into a small smile as he continues to study you, both amused and intrigued by how genuinely interested you seem in his opinion.

Your voice is so soft and sweet, he feels himself drawn to you without even realising it, the desire to prolong your conversation suddenly appearing in his head.

He can tell that you’re alone—a sweet, beautiful person like you, all by yourself in this grand museum, pursuing your passion. He figured out most of this —and more— within the first few minutes of meeting you.

The corner of Fyodor's lips curls up into a very subtle, almost mischievous-looking smile. He likes how you want to extend the conversation, and he decides to play along, simply because the thought of leaving you, this charming, beautiful young woman, alone does not please him.

He takes a step closer, now standing right next to you as he looks at the painting as well, his eyes roaming over the colors and shapes that create a fascinating composition.

“Well, I suppose I could say a few more things. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

You nod softly. “Yes, please do.”

Fyodor is satisfied to see that you seem to desire more, and he can’t help but let his gaze flit from the painting back to you, lingering on the soft features of your lovely face for a moment before he speaks again.

His deep voice is as melodic as before, but it’s clear that he’s more interested in you than in the art at the moment—a fact only he is aware of, something you could never tell.

“You're already correct when you say the angel does not embody true malice, but I think, in order to understand the pain and defiance on his face, it's important to look at what has led to his downfall.”

“You mean to say... the rebellion?”

He nods, a sly, almost mischievous smirk appearing on his lips once more with how he watches your reactions to his words, enjoying seeing you paying so much attention to his point of view.

Everything about you is sweet, and Fyodor is slowly becoming more and more intrigued, wanting to see more of it the longer you talk.

It is truly strange. He feels a certain way, and his frozen heart does not seem to keep up with this feeling.

“Precisely, my dear. The fallen angel chose to go against the Creator. That's what caused his downfall. His choice, no one else's.”

You nod thoughtfully, whispering softly.

“One is responsible for whatever one does. Only strong minds can withstand the corruption of the seven deadly sins… but no one can truly escape them, because being human means having weaknesses. One could say that human beings are sinful and foolish, for they cannot help but be corrupted. But then again… that is what makes them human. Being human is not a sin.”

The quiet, barely audible sound of your voice is like music to his ears, and his smile widens slightly at your words. You clearly possess a wisdom and intelligence that goes beyond your age, and this makes the interest and amusement he feels for you only grow. You’re so… proper.

You make for a far more interesting conversation than any intellectual or even philosophical topic he could go on about with other individuals. You lack his level of intellect, sure, but he can’t deny that you’re not someone who bores him.

Rather than challenging him, you present an understanding of his own perspective, which is more comforting than threatening. Something he is not used to. Not naive, but simply pure.

A power so few people have. An objective view on the matter of humanity.

His smirk turns sharp, and the subtle mischief in his eyes is more obvious as he continues looking at you while speaking.

“So very true, my dear. To fall... is your own choice indeed.”

You smile sweetly at him, your gaze demure and soft with intrigue.

“It is not common for me to find someone who shares my views.” You say gently.

“I heard interpretations about his tragic beauty, contrasting with the sorrow and defiance in his expression, symbolising the consequences of pride and ambition. It's often seen as a romanticised portrayal of Lucifer's fall, emphasizing themes of rebellion, loss, and the fragility of even the most exalted beings.”

You look at the painting. “But it never seemed enough to me.”

He hums in thought, allowing his gaze to flicker from your delicate features to the painting and back again as he listens to what you have to say.

Your words are eloquent, and they show an intelligence and depth of understanding that even people a lot older than you are lacking.

And yet, there is still something so innocent and sweet about you, something that makes him want to see those beautiful doe eyes of yours looking up at him in awe... He has to suppress a small chuckle, keeping his voice in a tone just as soft as yours is.

“So it seemed insufficient to you?”

“No one ever truly depicts the true evil in its pure form, don't you think? It was not easy to understand. The idea of there being a true, pure evil. I believe that is why so many people are romanticising it…”

You gaze at Fyodor. “…Because they can’t understand that he is simply, purely, evil. He chose to defy God and rebel—not out of altruistic ambitions, but because of his pride. He’s no human. He should’ve known better.”

You smile sweetly. “But it is nice to know that at least someone agrees with me.”

His smirk returns, and his expression turns sharp as he leans towards you ever so subtly, his deep voice still as soft and melodic as ever, though the slight mocking tone in his words is clear.

Ah, so you crave attention and approval from someone more capable of seeing what others cannot? How very cute. Not that he didn’t already figure that out.

“I couldn't agree more, miss...?”

You say your name softly. “…a pleasure to meet you, mister...?”

You extend your hand towards him in a warm, friendly manner. Fyodor takes it, your hand slender and delicate in his larger, paler one.

His grip is firm but gentle, as though afraid of breaking you. That is unlike him—he is used to breaking and destroying things.

And yet, there is something about you that makes him feel at ease. Your touch is almost like a relief. A sense of serenity in this twisted world.

The smirk on his lips never leaves, and for a moment he holds your hand a second too long, enjoying the feel of your soft skin underneath his fingers.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

The chemistry between you two could almost be felt from a hundred miles away.

“…Mister Dostoevsky,” you say softly.

He hums, the way you say his name causing his smirk to fade into a small smile—the first one that is truly and fully genuine.

Your voice is even more lovely when his name falls from your lips, and he can tell you’re not just another pretty young woman who pretends to have some knowledge about the topics discussed—not when just the way you pronounce his name makes a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

He gently lets go of your hand, although reluctantly, and his eyes never leave your pretty face as he continues speaking.

“You’re not a local if I’m hearing the right accent, are you, miss?”

“Yes, I’m not. I’m (any heritage). And you are… Russian?” you ask softly.

He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as he gazes at your innocently curious expression. You’re so open, so pure and genuine in the way you speak and present yourself, and it amuses and fascinates him in a way he can’t quite describe as he listens to your soft, melodic voice.

“Russian, indeed. I take it it’s rather obvious?”

You giggle softly. “The accent, yes, but the name says it all.”

He lets out a quiet, deep chuckle at the sound of your soft laughter, the corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. He likes your laugh and your voice, how gentle and sweet you are. It is like a fresh breeze.

“Ah, I was correct, then. You truly know more than the average young person.”

“I learned a little bit of Russian at home—that is why—because I enjoyed reading Russian literature, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough for me to present it to the ears of a native speaker…”

You sound shy. He can’t help the way he smiles at the thought of you trying to learn his language, and the fact that you’re doing it out of interest in his nation’s literature makes it only sweeter.

You truly are an interesting young lady, and the more he learns about you, the more your innocently demure appearance and your shy behavior intrigue him. He’s well-schooled enough to keep it hidden behind his polite smile.

“I would be delighted to hear you try, darling.”

You look shyly at him, seemingly regretting having admitted that you know a little Russian, stuttering:

“I—I’d r-rather not…”

Fyodor’s smile only grows at seeing your shy, embarrassed reaction. You truly are adorable, blushing and stuttering as you try to get out of speaking. He decides to have mercy on you.

“Very well, if you’re not comfortable doing so, I won’t pressure you.”

His eyes continue to study you, and he still has a hard time figuring out what it is about you that makes him want to continue this conversation.

You sigh softly, preparing yourself to bid this interesting stranger goodbye with your innocent gaze.

Oh dear, he can read you all too well.

“Mister Dostoevsky—”

“A moment, my dear.”

You are flustered because he seems to have such a sharp mind, which is both thrilling and unnerving in a positive way. The way he could tell that you were trying to leave without giving a real sign is truly admirable—and somewhat creepy, but you were too dazzled by him to know any better.

“I’m listening, Mister Dostoevsky.”

“There will be a party of artists and intellectuals in a few days, here at the opera. One of the more important ones, it is. I would enjoy having someone as intelligent and lovely as you there.”

(That’s a lie; there is no party and no intellectuals—only his rats, which he will use to create the ambiance.)

His amethyst eyes never leave your face as he speaks, observing every little expression you might make while listening to his words.

He can’t deny that he’s interested in you, a form of interest he’s not used to. A very dark, and deeply rooted desire that seems to shine through his icy walls.

Your eyes sparkle as you listen to his words, recognising the slightly flirty but cool undertone of his words.

His gaze is intimidatingly direct and deep, which makes your cheeks flush softly. You can’t help but be flattered by the invitation. And you certainly cannot say no to him.

There is just something about him that makes your heart flutter with joy and excitement. And you do have time during that particular timeframe before heading back to your own country. So… why not?

“I would be delighted, Mister Dostoevsky.”

His smile turns into a soft smirk, and he hums in slight satisfaction as you agree. The feeling is quite intriguing, to say the least. He gives a slight bow, not once taking his eyes off your face.

“So am I, considering I’ll get to see you there, my dear.”

You try to hide your flustered face by tilting your head innocently.

“Is there any dress code I should look out for?”

Fyodor hums for a moment. He has already calculated that you would ask this, as you seem to be a very proper young lady who does not wish to overstep. And you will, of course, wear what he wants you to.

“No, not really. The evening’s theme is white, so it would be best if you wear a white, elegant dress. Other than that, there’s not much to know. However, I am certain you shall look enchanting no matter what you wear.”

You blush. “Thank you very much. Then… s-shall I give you my phone number?” You ask nervously.

He smiles at your flustered reaction. You really are adorable, blushing like a little schoolgirl being asked for her number for the first time.

He cannot recall having had a woman so nervous about giving him, a man, her contact information, and he enjoys watching just how shy you get while doing so.

He takes your number with the same polite smile, but he does not use his phone or write it down anywhere.

“Thank you, and I will ensure to text you the details of the event later on, my dear.”

You are confused because he did not write your number down anywhere. No way he’d be able to memorise it this quickly, right?

“And… you can memorise it this instant?”

He doesn’t try to hold back his amused chuckle this time at your confused expression, and the smirk that’s back on his lips is one of mild mockery.

“Of course, my dear. I happen to have a good memory. It would truly be foolish of me not to make use of it.”

Woah!!! I had so much fun writing this. I’m down bad. ♥️